Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 3)

Taylor opened the box, and wrinkled his nose up at the smell coming up from it. It was…not pleasant. Did Mr. Woodrow even wash these clothes before bringing them over to him? It smelled like a locker room in the box, and Taylor started digging through the contents, confused about why his landlord would bring him stuff like this. It was all workout gear–and most of it made out of spandex of some sort. He thought about the workout room in the basement but he hadn’t used it once since he’d arrived–it wasn’t really his sort of thing. Taylor was thin and lanky, had never really been interested in sports or anything. Had Mr. Woodrow gotten the wrong idea or something about what he was doing here?

He dug down a bit deeper, and at the bottom, he found…something else. A leather vest, some leather straps, what looked like leather pants even. Some sneakers, and also some leather boots. The smell coming off them was pungent…but also a bit different. It was…a bit too much to think about, if this stuff had really come from Mr. Woodrow’s son.

The smell in the air was thick now, and Taylor wasn’t noticing it as much. If anything, now that he was more used to it, it smelled kind of nice. When he’d seen what was in the box, his first instinct had been to just toss it, but now…well, trying it on couldn’t hurt, right? It was just for some laughs after all, maybe a selfie to show the guys later, when they moved in. So he stripped down, and pulled on a well worn jockstrap, a set of spandex shorts and a spandex muscle shirt–both of them actually hanging a bit loose off his thin frame, even as small and stretchy as they were. How big was Woodrow’s son, that this stuff would fit him? Still, it did feel nice…and he’d never had fabric like this on before. It was…different, especially on his cock, which was feeling…electric, somehow. He groped himself, breathing deep, the scent sliding into him now, surrounding him, and he shoved his hand down into the front of the shorts and started jacking off, as mindlessly as he’d done when he’d found that underwear before.

He came, and with it, a mind blowing orgasm. He even whited out for a moment, and came too just in time to catch himself with the wall in front of him, and looked around, bewildered, a massive wet spot on the front of his workout clothes. What…had he been doing, anyway? Mr. Woodrow had come by to talk about some repairs…but had there been more to it? No–not that he could recall now. He saw the box on the table, with the leather gear inside it, but didn’t think about it–he just took it up to his room, and put the box deep in his closet, where he wouldn’t have to worry about it yet. That…that, was for later, something told him, and then he forgot about it, sat down on the bed, and pulled on his sneakers, excited for his workout.

Unknown to him, in the moment of that orgasm, all of his old clothes had disappeared–replaced instead by clothes of the same musky nature as these ones–mostly spandex, but a few basic muscle shirts as well. The fact that they were all still too big for him didn’t bother him–he…he was going to fix that. He went down to the basement and started his workout. A workout he had never done before in his life, but he lifted with perfect form like he had done it for years, and already, his muscles were tensing, and growing, bit by bit–but only Mr. Woodrow could tell at the moment.

He looked down into his scrying pool, pleased with the results. This one wouldn’t require any more work for a while, he would do just fine in time. He checked the calendar again, and saw that the next lodger would be arriving a bit earlier than expected–in another few weeks time. A young man by the name of Quinn. Plenty of time to get his room ready, in any case–and Mr. Woodrow sat back, and enjoyed the show of Taylor working out–his research project now secondary to a new one–building up his new body.


“Alright, so here’s the main rooms–you can set your luggage there for the moment,” Mr. Woodrow said, and continued the tour for Quinn. It was a couple weeks later now, early August, and Quinn came into town early both to escape his family, who was driving him nuts, and to spend some time with Taylor, who was one of his closest friends, before school started and they got sucked into their studies. The house was amazing–just like Taylor had said, and Mr. Woodrow seemed very nice as well. 

“Is Taylor around?” Quinn asked.

“I think he’s downstairs–he’ll probably come up…oh, I think I hear him.”

There was a thumping on what sounded like stairs, and the basement door opened, and Quinn’s jaw dropped. There Taylor was, but not…quite the Taylor he recalled. He was…getting buff. A few weeks down in the workout room had packed thirty pounds of muscle onto Taylor’s frame–enough that the spandex clothing he was wearing looked like it actually belonged on him. “Quinn!” he shouted, and pulled his friend into a musky hug–he reeked. Quinn tried to pull away, but the hug lasted…a bit too long, and Quinn was conscious that Taylor had pulled their crotches together too–and he could feel the outline of Taylor’s cock against his own. Then he released him, and Quinn was too confused to say much. Taylor said hi to Mr. Woodrow, and then went back down to continue his workout–while Mr. Woodrow picked up Quinn’s bag, and showed him to his room upstairs.

The room was nice–spacious, already furnished modestly. Mr. Woodrow told him to go ahead and unpack, and he’d leave him alone–and handed him the key to the house. Quinn was reeling, trying to process what he’d just seen…but as much as he wanted to talk to Taylor, his sudden change was…a bit much. Instead, he started unpacking and getting his room in order, but as he did, he discovered something odd…

What sort of magical trap has the landlord laid for Quinn in his room? As usual, you can vote for two options. If you support me on Patreon, you can find the bonus poll over here as well.



Interactive: Summer Internship (Part 5)

So much to remember! Jimmy had never been the brightest fellow. He did well in school, but lacked focus on his studies. He’d always preferred sports and physical activity to sitting around and staring at books–or what everyone else seemed to call reading. When he’d talked to the recruiter, it had just made sense, right? But the memory was fuzzy, and the harder he tried to focus on it, more it seemed to warp. At first, he could remember the recuriter as a tall, handsome stud, the perfect soldier, exactly the kind of person Jimmy had always aspired to be–but was that right? He could remember something else. A stuffy room, a big man, reeking of sweat, stripping off his shirt, seeing how quickly Jimmy would fall under his spell…

The memory shifted then–it didn’t matter all that much, he had decided. He was here, at boot camp, where he was supposed to be. Where he had always wanted to be. He was eighteen, not very bright but diligent and appreciative of authority. He stepped off the bus with the other young recruits, most of them similar to him. Athletes, mostly football. Not particularly clever, but hard headed and plenty determined. They would all serve their…their country? 

He looked around, up at the flagpole, but it was empty–like a void in his memory. Who was he serving? What was he serving?

Jimmy thrashed a bit, in his sleep, perhaps realizing what had happened for a moment in some recess of his mind. He was sweating profusely, the smell more intense than his usual musk. It was starting already. The virus calmed him down, settled his body back into sleep–there was still so much to remember.

With the other recruits, he was filed through orientation. Their hair shaved down, their bunks assigned. They would see officers on occasion, and instructors, but there was something…wrong with them. Their uniforms were messy, if they bothered wearing something resembling a uniform at all. They were bulky, and obviously strong–but fat as well, big thick guts and chests and necks, all of them hairy as well. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, his mind said, but that was the way it had to be–it was the way he remembered it, right?  Eventually, they were lined up, and Drill Sergeant Maco strode up and down the line, stripped down to a pair of olive shorts and a sweat soaked undershirt, and this close to him, his musk was unlike anything he had ever smelled before (except for in that stuffy office, except for that man, that man he’d–served, no worshiped?)

Jimmy wasn’t the first one to give in–that was another recruit Jimmy had gotten to know by the name of Kingston. He snorted suddenly, and fell forward onto his hands and knees, drooling, crawling over to where Sergeant Maco was standing, nuzzling at the man’s crotch, obviously hungry for something. Without even addressing the rest of the young men, Maco opened his fly, and fed the eager recruit his cock. Jimmy was horrified, and couldn’t stop wondering if it might taste different from that…other man’s, wondering if it would taste better, or…

No, this wasn’t right, this wasn’t right!

Jimmy was thrashing again, trying to rebel, trying to force his way out of the dream. He was sweating more now, his clothes soaked through, his body thickening with muscle, remembering now how he had been when he’d been young, remembering how he’d stood in the hot sun, inches from the sergeant now, trying not to give in, trying to fight it as hard as he could, but he’d given in, hadn’t he? They all had, he could almost remember it, but maybe…maybe he hadn’t.


What happens next? You can choose two of the four options. Patrons can access the bonus poll over here as well!
Update: some people are having problem with the embedded poll! If this is you, go ahead and use this link–it should work over on the site.



Bears at the Resort (Caption)

Kenny just didn’t understand where they all had come from, and so suddenly. He’d planned on having a nice vacation here with his girlfriend at a upscale resort, somewhere he could relax, work on his tan, and of course fuck her (and maybe a couple maids too) a few times a day. But the first day, he noticed a couple of fat chubby fellows rolled up, got a room, and spent all day down at the pool,their disgusting bellies hanging out for everyone to see, absolutely shameless.

That didn’t really bother him that much, but the next day, and the day after that, there were more. After a couple of days, there were more fat, hairy men by the pool, and in the restaurant stuffing themselves silly, than there were normal people–and he was starting to get a bit freaked out. Especially when he caught a couple of them making out in the stairwell, tearing their clothes off each other, and he had to skirt past them to get downstairs.

His girlfriend was equally disturbed, but he hadn’t seen her all day at this point, and he was down at the pool again, but he was…severely outnumbered. Still, he was so…tired all of a sudden. He knew he should get up, that he didn’t want to sit here, staring at the fat, jiggling, hairy old men jumping around, and laughing, and playing, and kissing and sucking…that he should tear his eyes away, but he couldn’t. Everything was getting fuzzy, and then it felt like he just fell asleep for a moment, and when he jolted up a second later, he was incredibly disoriented.

Everything was the same, but…he felt different. He rubbed his belly, hanging over the waistband of his swimsuit, felt like it…shouldn’t be there, but then, what else would he look like. He looked out at the men around him, licked his lips, feeling his short cock getting hard buried in his flab, feeling the stubble around his mouth still growing out. He…wondered where his bear had gotten off to…but a moment later, someone he recognized stepped out onto the patio–a tall, burly younger bear, with a massive cock held in a tight speedo. His bear, of course, with the perfect cock for plowing his horny hole into total submission. He hauled himself up and waddled over to him, they kissed for a while, but it wasn’t long before he was bent over the steps of the pool, his bear behind him, fucking him deep while the rest of the bears cheered them on, and he knew this was going to be a vacation he’d remember for the rest of his life.

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 7)

He tied him up and beat him–flogging him at first, but working up to a proper lash, leaving long red welts in his father’s back, working himself up into a froth, his cock…throbbing with excitement, but he knew not to cum too soon. If he came, his father wouldn’t let him live it down for weeks, for a disappointing session with him. He…hated how much he cared about what his father thought of him. That was it, wasn’t it, in a way? He had always cared about what his father thought of him, and now, that strange desire had twisted around into something awful. He wanted his father to like him, and if his father wanted him to be some twisted, abusive top…then that was what Carter would become, for him, at least. It wasn’t what he wanted, he knew that…but then, how did he know that? He didn’t know what he wanted, after all.

The smoke from them both built up, and Carter could stop thinking about it, in the haze, focus on his strikes, and then, once his father was begging him to stop–and meaning it–he released him, bent him over, and fisted him, pummeling his father’s hole until he came all over the concrete floor, and only then, did Carter shove his cock into the now loose hole, working it for a while until he came in deep, his father thanking him, and praising him, and…loving him. Afterwards, they cuddled for a while, Ash whispering the sweetest things into Carter’s ear, telling him what a good son he was, taking care of his daddy like this…and he felt that first spark of terrible pride in him start to blossom, and he tried to crush it before he could even recognize it. He would not like this. He would not stay like this, he would not.

When they emerged hours later, they were both starving. Ash cooked them some dinner, and Carter sat alone in his room–a room he could barely remember sleeping in, now, and thought about what he had just done, and who he was becoming. Who his father wanted him to be, and how it curdled his stomach just as badly as his father’s dreams of yesterday had–even though they were very different. It was like he had fallen through some strange, warped mirror–all the feelings were there, all the frustration, but the context was all scrambled. Mentally, and physically, exhausted after his day, he went down, ate his dinner in relative silence and shame, and went to bed early.

Ashford stayed up a bit later, trying to grapple with what he’d just done, what Pigtown had done to him…but as hard as he tried to muster substantial guilt, there simply wasn’t any. This was what he wanted, in the end, and he was too satisfied with the result to feel particularly bad about it. He…loved his son, and he knew that Carter loved him too, or else he wouldn’t still be here. His rebellion at the moment was just a phase–he’d get over it soon enough, and just enjoy it. After all, Ash knew what was best for them both, he told himself. Upstairs, he thought about pestering his son for another fuck…but decided against it. Best to let him be for a few days, maybe. Another couple of visits to Pigtown next weekend would be what they needed to help set things straight for them both.

And perhaps it would have. After all, by Wednesday, Carter had half-convinced himself that this was, perhaps, for the best in some non-specific way. After all, the sex was hot, and while he’d never really imagined himself as a top, he was already surprising himself at how decent he was at it. It felt…natural, and his dad, while a brat, was a good sub too, and plenty eager of course–that didn’t hurt. Perhaps, come the weekend, after a couple of nights in the pits of Pigtown, with some more distance, Carter could have forgotten about his doubts, and given it a shot. Instead, what happened, was he got put in a group for one of his classes at college with a young, husky fellow by the name of Justin, and things got…more complicated.

The group didn’t have too much time to work in class, but Carter and Justin hit it off as friends right away. Carter had to admit that he’d spent quite a bit of the class already keeping an eye on the handsome cub a few seats over, but had assumed he was straight. In the hall after class, a wink, and brush of his cock with Justin’s hand, and an invitation to lunch suggested otherwise. Lunch was short–the afternoon in Justin’s dorm room went on for significantly longer.

Afterwards, sitting at the dorm window, smoking a cigar into the early evening, Carter told himself this had to be a one time thing. If his father found out he’d fucked someone else…well, he wouldn’t mind, really…but Carter was feeling something else, suddenly, looking over at Justin, who was just giving him baby doll eyes from the covers, telling him that he thought his cigars were pretty sexy…

It wasn’t love, not really. Love couldn’t be this easy. But is wasn’t his father. It didn’t make him feel sick to his stomach, lying in bed with Justin. He suggested that Carter stick around for the night, but Carter made an excuse of some kind that he had to get home. He didn’t remember the lie, later, but he had to tell him something. Still, he promised him he’d be back the next day to work on their project–Justin suggested he bring an extra cigar, because he’d like to give one a try.

Carter’s heart leapt, and ke could barely croak a goodbye, he was so turned on at the thought of fucking Justin, both of them smelling of smoke…

He got home late, and his dad pestered him why–but what could he say, really? He was falling in love with someone else? Ash felt it, felt Carter pulling away suddenly, all over again, and bossed his son into another session, but while Caster performed well…Ash knew something was wrong. Carter wanted something, really wanted something, for the first time in his life, and lying awake in bed that night, he wondered if he had the guts to actually grab hold and take it, his father, and Pigtown, be damned.

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 6)

Carter tried to deny it, but Ashford was certain it had been him. He was the last person he remembered, the person he had gone home with, or who he felt he had gone home with. He’d…begged him, he’d wanted to be his slave, forever, and the man had laughed, but he’d taken him…hadn’t he?

For Carter, the idea was ridiculous. Sure, he couldn’t remember much of the night before, or anything past his first couple of drinks, which was admittedly less than usual, but he’d never done anything like that before. He’d never wanted to do anything like that before. Perhaps…he could imagine someone doing it to him, but he…wasn’t looking for that. He wasn’t there looking for anyone at all, really. He was just there looking to become the person he’d always thought he should be–the man he couldn’t wait to grow into. But who was that, anyway?

That was the question, he supposed. The question he didn’t know how to answer, the question he asked himself as he walked to the bar each night, wondering who he was going to become, excited to find out, but also wondering if any of them would…stick. Afraid that something might stick. The potential was so vast, and men there were so…wild, and he was so new still, and how could he ever know what he wanted, really? How could anyone really know what they want in the world?

“This is my fault,” his father said into the silence.

Carter shook his head, “No, I should have been honest about what was going on, I–”

“I asked for this. I wanted…it wasn’t that I just wanted to know where you were going, Carter!” Ashford said, “I…you were pulling away. Pulling away from me. I didn’t want to lose you, and…and in the bar, all I wanted to do was to find you, wherever you were. It was like…like it knew, and this guy, big guy, he pointed you out, he helped me find you, and…I was happy. I don’t want to be away from you ever again, Carter, I’ll do anything. I’m…your father, but all I want is you now, you’re the only guy I can think about, so…so please don’t leave me.”

“Dad, think about what you’re fucking saying! We can’t–we have to go back, tonight. We have to go back, and…and Rod will be able to do something, but we can’t stay like this. I’m not–I’m not your master, and I don’t want to be, alright? This is fucked up! You know this is fucked, I know you know, in there. You have to push back, alright?”

“That’s…what you said at first, yeah, but not…not what you said last night, son…Sir…”

The word send a shot of excitement right to his cock, and Carter tried not to let on how flustered he was. His dad…had always been able to get under his skin, and into his head like that. He’d been…so apprehensive, those first times he’d had sex with his dad–that, and fall down drunk. It hadn’t really occurred to him then that his father was taking advantage of him, or using him…but soon enough, it didn’t really matter, because…because had started to like it, eventually. How submissive his dad was, how eager he was. They’d started watching porn together, almost always some kind of BDSM, and afterwards, his father would egg him on to try new things–piss play, fisting, CBT, bondage–always with his father as the sub.

“Dad, this isn’t us, this is just what that place does to people! Can’t you see how fucked this is?”

“Well why don’t you do something about it, Sir? There’s all those gags in the basement, and I know how you like to punish me when I’m a naughty daddy…”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Carter roared at him, surprising even himself with the sudden outburst, and his dad sat back, face flushed with excitement. Carter…knew what the fucking pig needed, knew that there was only one way to get him to shut up about it, to quit taunting him like this, but he…he didn’t want to give in. “Fuck, get in the fucking basement.”

“Yes sir!” Ash said, and hurried out of his chair and to the stairs in the hall. Carter just sat there, shaking, unable to believe he was really doing this. He kept thinking otherwise, working his way out of it, but his mouth, and his cock, were betraying him. In the end, as always, the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could go back to trying to pretend he was just a normal guy going to college, not some…unwilling master for his perverse slut of a father, unable to escape this nightmare of a relationship. He got up, and lit himself a fresh cigar–this was going to be a long session, he could already tell. Downstairs, his father was already naked, and dressed in his favorite gear, on his knees, collar in hand, waiting for Carter to come down and put it on him. Carter made him wait, taking his time getting into some leather gear of his own, drawing it out as best he could, but his father enjoyed that too, the suspense. Why not…just leave? He didn’t have to be here, he didn’t have to do this, did he? But he took the collar from Ash, buckled it around his old neck, and fed him some of his ash…and then, things went blurry, almost like they were still in the bar, or like they had brought a bit of the bar home with them, together.

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 5)

Was he telling the truth? Ash searched his son’s face, looking for that…gruff figure from the night before, the young, muscular, leather clad master, who had chained him to the wall in the dungeon, whipped him until he begged for mercy, fucked him raw, the smell and heat of his cigar next to his ear…he’d broken him. He’d wanted it, by the end, all of it. He’d had no idea that had been his son, but now…now he wanted it to be him, more than anything. He’d been grooming him for this, teaching him how to smoke cigars ever since he was a teenager, training him at the gym, and when he’d been ready, he’d gotten him drunk, and Carter had fucked his father’s hole with his big cock for the first time…did none of that mean anything to Carter? Couldn’t he see how much effort he’d put into him, and now, he didn’t even remember the sexiest, hottest scene of both their lives?

He was reeling. All of this was too much, there was too much in his mind. Too many histories, too many wants, too many fantasies, too many realities. His son was right, this was…new. It just felt real, it was easier to want this to be real, because the truth was too…shameful to even comprehend. “What…what was that place? Where the fuck have you been going all those nights?”

“Look, dad. You need to eat something. Have your cigar, have breakfast, calm down a little bit, and then…I’ll tell you what I know about Pigtown, and then you need to tell me about what happened last night, at the bar–or at least what you remember.”

Ash…knew his son was right, but fuck, if he didn’t want to suck another load out of his boy’s cock right then and there, or better yet, get fucked by him. They could have the whole day together, chain smoking cigars, hotboxed in their bedroom, woozy and horny and wasting the whole day in a sexual haze. It wouldn’t be the first time. He pushed it away though, sat down, and ate the breakfast his son had made for them, and the normalcy of it helped break the spell of his lust, and he managed to calm down, though he had to look away from Carter, who was sucking hard on his cigar, looking flustered and uncomfortable, and sexy as hell.

They finished, and Carter filled him in on Pigtown–the legend, and the reality, and his own journey there. How, when he was nineteen, he’d started chatting with a guy who claimed he knew how to get there–who claimed he had been there before. Carter didn’t know if he was lying or not–at the time, he still wasn’t convinced that the whole thing wasn’t just…stories they all told each other. Stories they told to try and convince themselves that change was real. That there was a place for them, somewhere, where they could be what they wanted to be. It wasn’t the first time having sex, for him–he’d had a dalliance with a few guys in high school, but nothing serious. This…He was different. He knew Carter, knew what he wanted, could feel the need in him, and Carter had…thought he’d loved him. Loved him unlike he’d ever loved anyone in his life, and then he’d just vanished. Ghosted him. It had hurt, but the man had left him some leads, a few other older guys he’d fucked around with, more timidly, and those guys knew enough about Pigtown to get him closer, and closer still, until finally a year or so later, he was there.

It was the first time he’d told anyone the story. The shame he felt at it–not the shame of what he’d done (and who he’d done) to get there, but the fact that, looking back on it, he was so…weak. So contemptful. Now that he was closer, he could see how little the distance was that he’d actually traveled. He was nowhere, really. He’d taken steps, so far, that he could have taken without Pigtown entirely, steps he would have probably taken, eventually, but the place–now that he had been once, he craved it. Admitting that to his father, the one he’d been trying so hard to hide all of this from, he hated it. How weak it made him seem, how desperate. Somehow, seeing how…into it his father was, only made it worse, like it was nightmare reflection of himself, of his own desires laid bare so he could see them clearly. He wrapped up the story quicker than he’d started it–especially once he saw his father’s hand drift down to his lap, and start working his cock. Instead, he asked his father about what had happened the night before, back at the bar–and so Ash told him about how he had followed him to the bar, from the station–though it seemed odd, telling him that now–because it wasn’t him who had followed Carter, not really. That version of himself, that person, he didn’t exist anymore. Should he feel…grief, at that? He felt like he should, but he didn’t. He told Carter how he’d watched him go into the bar, and then he’d planned to leave, but before he could, three leather bears, likely bound for the bar themselves, had cornered him, and dragged him inside–and once in…well, it had been the greatest night of his life, not that he’d thought so at first.

At first, he’d been terrified. Fighting them, all of them, but there were more than just the three who had dragged him inside now. Now, there were many. So many, each of them different, and he’d scanned the crowd for Carter, called out his name, but everyone in there had just laughed and laughed, then they’d put the first glass to his lips, that first taste, and he’d fought a little less. The hands groping him, tugging at his clothes, they were no less violent than before, but now he found himself enjoying the force, and also pushing back, but everyone around him was so much…stronger than he was. Another drink past him lips, and he felt like they were molding him. Another drink, and he could feel the air itself pressing into him, the bar shaping him, like there was some other skeleton inside of him, some other lattice of self he had never known before, but this place had awakened in him–and now it was reshaping him to it, built around pleasure–and pain.

So much pain, more pain than he’d ever felt in his life. He’d fallen into the lap of a sadist, and he had been more than happy to give Ashford an introduction to his paddles, whips, the end of his cigar, the toe of his boot to his balls–and when he’d finally given into it, when he’d allowed that pain to blossom into a new kind of pleasure, that’s when the brute appeared. Huge, tattooed, from the depths of the bar (or so Ashford had thought, because he couldn’t have imagined someone like that coming from anywhere else) and Ashford could barely describe the ecstacy to his son sitting across from him, much less believe that he had, in fact, been his son the whole time.

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 4)

Ashford didn’t realize he was jacking off until his hand was around his hard cock, and once he realized it, he didn’t want to stop. It would be better anyway, to get rid of some of this…pressure, in him. He hadn’t been horny like this in years, not even when he’d been with Carter’s mom…not that he’d ever really been…that attracted to her. Was that true, or was that new? He couldn’t quite tell. It was like someone had jumbled up the puzzle of his life and fit everything together differently, not the way it should have been, but somehow this arrangement made perfect sense. More sense, maybe, than the last one. He’d been gay. He’d always been gay, and in denial. He’d divorced, and…and when his son had come out, it was only natural to…to show him…

He came hard, all over the toilet. The shame was almost enough to make him puke again, realizing what he’d been thinking, how easy it had been for him to think it at all. He made his way to his own room, where he found his wardrobe had…changed. Not only did the more…normal clothes fit him now, even though they were a size larger than before, he found a new selection of clothing hanging in the closet, everything he recognized as the leather gear he’d ended up in by the end of the night, all of it well used and smelling of smoke–fuck, he could use a cigar. He bet Carter could use one too. He grabbed a couple from the humidor, clipped them, and lit one and then the other, holding them both in his mouth while he went downstairs (the bears always got a kick, seeing how many he could fit in his mouth at once) and Carter was in the kitchen, still naked, working on breakfast for them both. He turned around when he smelled the smoke, saw his dad with the cigars, and his cock went immediately rigid at the sight.

That was enough to make Ashford feel mortified. What the fuck was he doing, walking down here naked, with a couple of cigars in his mouth. He wanted to retreat…but didn’t. He walked over, handed a cigar to Carter, and then got on his knees, exhaling a plume of smoke over his son’s cock before sucking it down his throat.

Carter was frozen. The eggs were burning, and his father was smoking a cigar and sucking his cock at the same time. He pulled the pan off the burner, and then devoted his full attention to fucking his dad’s throat–he loved his dad’s blowjobs along with their first cigars of the mornings…didn’t he? Why did this feel so normal? Why did he remember doing this so many times before?

It had been like this, after his first time. Reality warping around him, the stash of cigars in his closet, smoking one out his window after his dad had left for work, like he always remembered he had. It was normal, even though he’d never done it before, and now, this was normal too. He knew he should feel ashamed, but he didn’t. He…loved it. They both loved it, how open they could be with each other…right? With his son’s cock finally in his mouth, it was the best Ashford had felt all damn day. He pulled away from Carter’s cock, opened wide and stuck out his tongue–Carter rolled the ash off onto his dad’s tongue, watching him quiver as he ate it. Carter loved the taste of ash, but he doubted anyone loved it as much as his dad did. He held it there a moment, savoring the heat, and then took it in his mouth, soaking it with his spit, and then went back to sucking, the ashy paste in his father’s mouth rough on Carter’s sensitive cock, some of the dark spit running down into his father’s beard.

“Fuck, Ash–fuck…” Carter moaned, tugging on his nipples until he unloaded into his father’s mouth, Ash drinking down all of his son’s cum, tasting the ash with it, and after a couple pumps of his own cock, he came again all over the kitchen floor, in front of his son. Both of them looking at one another, panting slightly.

“Thanks, boy,” Ash managed to say. Was his throat dry more from shame, or from the ash he’d just eaten without a second thought? But why would he feel shame? There…there was nothing wrong with this. He’d…wanted this. From the moment he’d found out that Carter was gay, his sexy, hairy, handsome boy…Ash had wanted this. First, just with inside himself, secretly…but he didn’t need it to be a secret anymore, how much he loved turning his boy into the cigar master of his fantasies.

“Dad–we…we can’t do that again, please don’t do that again,” Carter said. “I can’t do this to you.”

“Boy, I did this to you! I did this because I wanted this–we’ll keep doing it all we want, who cares what other people think?”

“No dad! That’s just–that’s what it wants you to think, how that place twisted you. I know you’re still in there. I know it hurts, but you have to fight it.”

“Fight it? That’s not what you wanted me to do last night, boy, all you wanted last night was for me to submit, and give in…and what, now you have second thoughts?”

His father sounded…hurt. Again, Carter tried his best to remember the night before, but he couldn’t–just little bits. Red light, a howl of pain, the feel of a lash taut between his thick hands… “I don’t remember what happened last night. I’m sorry…for what I did, I wasn’t…me. That wasn’t me. No one in there is who they are, really–that’s what that place does.”