Sneak Peek: Properly Vetted

Patrons at the $5 level or higher already have access to this one! It’s sizable, and got a little bit for everyone! I’ll release the whole story next week, but for now, here’s a sneak peek.


“Sir…it’s about…my boss. About Richard Evans. I know we’ve never spoken before, and I want to thank you for seeing me, and hearing me out. I know you’re promoting him to vice president, but…but I think there’s some things you need to know about him, first.”

Kyle squirmed a bit in his seat, wondering if the older man across from him was going to say anything at all. The man in question was Gary Olson–the rather enigmatic CEO who had recently acquired the company where Kyle worked as a software engineer. Why Mr. Olson had acquired them, his plans for the company–everything was in the dark, aside from a cryptic letter the entire staff had received a few weeks before, announcing the shift in leadership. Kyle hadn’t even set eyes on him until this moment, and he wasn’t quite the sort of man he was expecting. He was…short, and a bit squat. Fat, with a heavy second chin obscuring the knot of his tie. Balding. Not very…commanding, and yet his eyes…were chilling somehow. Stone grey, and he didn’t quite seem to blink as often as a normal person. He hadn’t stopped staring at Kyle the entire time he’d been here, and he was already beginning to wonder if this was a good idea or not…but he had to say something, didn’t he? After the things Richard had…been doing to him, lately? 

He supposed he had waited long enough–Mr. Olson was still silent, and so Kyle figured he might as well just say it. “He’s been harassing me, sir. Sexually. Since about the time his promotion was announced in my department. I…He was never like that before, but…I didn’t even know he was gay, but it’s like…the power went to his head. One day he was fine, and then the next…”

Mr. Olson reacted, at last, and leaned forward, elbows on his desk, still gazing at Kyle with those stony eyes. “I see–that is a serious accusation to make against a member of our staff.”

“I know sir,” Kyle said, “But it’s the truth.”

“What has he done, Mr. Porter? Please be specific–spare me no detail. I want to hear it in your own words, if you would please,” Mr. Olson smiled then…but it did not seem particularly kind, or like it was meant to help put him at ease. It just made Kyle even more nervous. 

“Uh…well, the first…” He gulped, looked to the door for a moment, and then back at the CEO staring him down. “It was the day after I heard about it. He came by my cubicle, and I congratulated him, and…and he leaned over me, and whispered some…awful stuff in my ear, and while he did, he reached down into my lap and groped my…crotch.”

“What did he say?” Mr. Olson asked.

“I…It was…sexual and…I don’t know if–”

“I need details, Mr. Porter. Please be specific.”

“He told me…he told me that he was going to have a personal little piggy once he became VP, and that he’d decided that the piggy was going to be…me. That I was going to be his little fuckpig, his dirty little pig whore, that he was going to fuck me over the side of his desk, and…and I was going to beg and snort for it like a good little beast…” 

Kyle gave a grunt, and realized, to his horror, that one of his hands had found its way into his pants, and was currently milking his cock, right there in front of the CEO, while he recounted how his boss had talked dirty to him. His face turned bright red, and he pulled his hand free–Mr. Olson just smiled a little wider as he did.

“Did you like it, when he called you a pig?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Did you like it, Mr. Porter, when Mr. Evan’s called you a pig? It looked like, for a second there, that you were almost enjoying yourself.”

“I…I’m sorry sir, maybe…maybe this was a mistake, I…I think I should go–”

“I’m afraid that I would much rather hear more about how Mr. Evan’s has been treating you, Mr. Porter, but first–please stand up from that chair.”

Kyle slowly stood up, not sure what was going on.

“Take off your clothes, please.”

“I don’t…excuse me, sir?” Kyle said, but he noticed something odd–that while he didn’t want his hands to do it…they were already unbuttoning his shirt down the front. He tried to make them stop, or even just slow down, but they were operating without him directing them, somehow. “I don’t…why can’t I–”

“Stop talking–and just strip.”

Kyle’s mouth glued itself shut, and his hands kept undoing his clothes in front of the CEO, Kyle trying to get a grip on himself and what he was doing, but more and more, it all just felt like some fucked up dream he had somehow wandered into. He tried pinching himself, but it had no effect–he dropped his shirt on the floor, took off his shoes, dropped his pants and underwear, and then he was naked, shaking slightly, horrified at what he was doing and unable to understand why he was doing it at all. He went to sit back down in the chair, but Mr. Olson shook his head. “No, stay standing, and tell me what else Mr. Evan’s has been doing to you, that made you so uncomfortable.”

“Well, he…he whispered all those things to me, and I told him to stop, that it wasn’t appropriate, and he…he showed me his cock, sir.”

“Just showed it to you?”

“He…made me suck him off.”

“He made you suck him off–just like that? How did he make you do it? Did you yell for help?”

“No…No sir.”

“Did you try and get away?”

“At first sir, but…”

“But what?”

But he’d liked it. He could feel Richard’s hand around his throat, squeezing until he saw stars, his mouth popping open, and he swallowed his boss’s cock, and…and he’d liked it. The taste of it, the feel of it. He’d felt…ashamed that he’d liked it, but it didn’t change the facts, did it? 

“Why is your cock getting hard, Mr. Porter? Are you thinking about how much you liked his cock? Did you really come in here today to complain, Mr. Porter, or is there something else you’d like to tell me? Something you’d like to ask?”

“That’s…that’s not all he’s done sir, it got worse. It got…worse today, especially, please…I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I’m doing this…I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be his…his pig sir, please…”

Mr. Olson leaned back in his chair, one hand in his crotch, massaging his own cock, while he stared at Kyle on the other side, completely naked, chubby, his three inch cock at perfect attention. Still…there was something there that was appealing to Gary–Kyle would make a good pig for the rest of the office, just as Mr. Evans had suggested, but maybe…well, he’d have to press him a little more, see what he thought of him himself. “What happened today then? Spare me no details, Mr. Porter.”

Kyle gulped, unable to believe he was going to say this. He didn’t even really have words for it himself, he was still so…horrified, at what what Richard had done, at what…at what he’d allowed him to do to him. “I…I was in the bathroom. I had to piss,” he said, and swallowed. “I had to piss, and I think…he saw he go in, because I was at the urinal when he came in behind me, and he told me that, as the boss, he needed to piss first. I didn’t know what to do, so I moved out of the way of the urinal, but he…he shoved me down, onto my knees, got his cock out, and pushed the head into my mouth, and he…he pissed down my throat, sir. He fed me his piss, right there in the bathroom. I…I felt so fucking dirty sir, like a dirty fucking pig, but I was so afraid someone would see me, would…would, I don’t know…I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t stop myself, like…I have to do what he says. He’s doing something to me. He’s in my head! I wasn’t…this fat, before, and my cock was bigger, and…and I feel like I’m going crazy sir, you have to believe me! This isn’t normal. He told me…told me I was going to be his personal urinal from now on, and he’d…I’d have to eat out his ass too, after he shits, and…and then he fucked me. He fucked me right there, at the urinal, plowed me so hard, and my little pig cock fucking exploded all over the dirty urinal, and he made me lick it up while he laughed.”

Mr. Olson just sat there, in the silence after that, groping himself, and smiling at Kyle across from him. “And you just let him do all of that to you? He did all that, and you still came like a little dirty pig?”

Kyle gulped, and nodded in shame.

“Mr. Olson stood up from his chair, and came around to where Kyle was standing. “You still thirsty pig?” he asked, “You wanna drink my piss too? Eat out my ass? Beg me to fuck that fat, piggy hole of yours for a while? Is that why you came in here, telling me all of this? You want me to get all horny for that fat ass of yours, is that it?”

“No–No sir, please don’t…I don’t want this!”

Mr. Olson stepped closer to him, eye to eye, and stared right into Kyle. His eyes…fuck, they were so intense, that Kyle didn’t want to keep his gaze, but he couldn’t look away, and after a moment, Mr. Olson stepped back. “Well, maybe you’re right. You’re a willful one, I’ll give you that. I don’t know if Evans properly vetted you for the position. Maybe we should have him come in, and we can see about this together…”


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The House Made Me Gay (Part 9)

Marcus sobbed, in the circle, looking down at his fat body, covered in hair, stinking, unable to believe what had just happened to him. Mr. Woodrow, confident that the changes were finished, and that Marcus most likely posed no threat to him, broke the circle, stepped forward, wiped a bit of cum up on his finger and gave in a taste. Musky, yes, but most certainly entirely human. A pity really–a little bit of demon can go a long way, in his interests. Still, unless he wanted to call the demon back–a very risky endeavor, Marcus was just this now–a fat, hairy, stinking pig of a man. Not a terrible outcome, by any measure.

“Oh god, what the fuck happened to me? How…Can you change me back? Please tell me you can change me back!” Marcus said, sobbing up at Mr. Woodrow.

“You go messing around in one of my workshops, boy, and this is getting off lightly, as far as I’m concerned,” Mr. Woodrow said, with a grin, “Besides, why should I change you back? Maybe I like the way you look now. Maybe it’s an improvement.”

Marcus froze, and looked at him. “Please, I just want to be normal again, that’s all.”

“Normal, eh? I think we can manage that at least,” Mr. Woodrow said, and before Marcus could ask what he meant by that exactly, a little beam of light shot out of his finger, pierced Marcus’ head, and he went a bit limp, eyes glazed over, in a hypnotic stupor.

“Come on then, let’s get you home.”

Marcus followed Mr. Woodrow out of the workshop, unlooking and unaware of everything going on around him, as they made their way into the house, upstairs to his room, where he was still in the process of unpacking, and Mr. Woodrow shut the door behind them. “Now, you’re going to forget all about the last two hours, Marcus,” he said, plucking the key from his head, “You no longer see the shed, and from now on, everything is going to seem normal–but here’s what normal is, from now on…”

And so, Mr. Woodrow filled Marcus in on his new normal. He’d been living with Mr. Woodrow for most of the summer now, in his memory, and he loved it here, naturally. He was no longer going to college–he was too stupid for school, and he’d dropped out, opting to get a job as a trucker and delivery driver instead–something that allowed him to pursue his more…piggy interests–and what piggy interests he had.

With a wave of his hand, most of Marcus’s things disappeared from his room, and were replaced by, well, a mess. The floor was littered with filthy clothing, most of it Marcus’s, but much of the gear was from other trucker buddies–as well as Taylor and Quinn. There was also an older computer in the room, and an old TV, a stack of old VHS tapes next to it. After all, so much porn these days seems sanitized to Marcus…but he’s an old hand at this sort of thing now.

The hair on his body is turning grey now, wrinkles lining his face. Before long, Marcus is no longer college aged at all, but in his mid-fifties, with decades of knowledge and experience packed in his piggy mind, crowding out all of his other concerns. Satisfied that Marcus would me more than satisfied with his new normal, Mr. Woodrow snapped his finger, the daze lifting from Marcus’s eyes with a little spark, and then, without warning, Mr. Woodrow shoved him over the side of the filthy bed and gave him a rough fuck.

Marcus didn’t mind–after all, Mr. Woodrow gave him a discount on the rent, on the condition he could use his piggy hole anytime he wanted. Marcus usually…topped, in his mind, but for the right fellow, he was more than happy to roll over. Mr. Woodrow filled him up, told his piggy to be good, and Marcus leered at him over his shoulder. After Mr. Woodrow left, Marcus was feeling frisky–it wasn’t long before he sniffed his way downstairs, to where Taylor was working out. When he saw the fat, hairy, stinking fellow come down the stairs, Taylor knew what to expect of course–Quinn had an arrangement with their other housemate, that he could use his boy’s hole whenever he wasn’t home, and Taylor wasn’t going to object one bit…he liked how rough Marcus was.

He pinned Taylor on the floor, drove his massive cock into him with a few thrusts, and rutted with him for half an hour, until he pumped one of his massive loads up Taylor’s well used hole, then slid down and ate the young man out as well, flipping him over and sucking him off. Just another happy member of the house–and another was due to arrive the next day, as well.

That fellow was Ethan. Like Marcus, he had a hard time believing that he had someone agreed to lease a place with these three disgusting, horny, perverse fellows, but Mr. Woodrow seemed so kind, that maybe…maybe he’d been mistaken, and he found his way to his room, and started unpacking. But what was waiting for him in his room, when he got there?


Alright, I think this will be the last fellow to join the house. After this, I’ll move onto a Halloween something for October! I have a few ideas, so we’ll see what happens. As always, my patrons have a bonus poll over here!

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.