(Caption) Mind the Return Policy

October Caption Challenge (30/31)

You couldn’t get into the best Halloween parties on campus without a costume, which was a challenge for Jeff, since he didn’t have much in the way of cash to spend on anything extravagant. Some guys he knew could pull together a decent costume with just some trash and duct tape, but he’d never been that creative. Looking on the internet for ideas, he saw a good one–go buy some clothes from a workwear store and go as a construction worker. The next day, you can just return them, and you aren’t out a dime–so long as they stay clean of course.

It seemed like an easy solution. There was a little workwear shop near campus, owned by a gruff looking older fellow, who, when Jeff checked out with the gear, just gave him a scowl, like he knew exactly what he was up to. “You need a copy of the return policy?” he asked. Jeff just shook his head, bundled everything up and left the store.

The party was great. Even more amazing, the clothes were good as new the next day, aside from their missing tags, of course. But that wouldn’t be an issue he was sure. He went back to the store with the clothes in hand, and told the older fellow he wanted to return them. He even had the receipt and everything. 

The older fellow scoffed, and his sneer turned into a bit of a smile. “Sorry fella, I can’t take back gear that you’ve worked in,” he said. 

Jeff started to object, but felt the world shift around him a bit, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “What are you talking about?” he managed to say, “They’re good as new.”

“Buddy, look in the mirror, that shit is filthy.”

Jeff walked over and looked in the mirror hanging on the outside of the dressing room, and just stared at his reflection in confusion. For one thing, why was he wearing the clothes he’d bought? He’d…he’d had something else on, hadn’t he? From…school? Everything was fuzzy all of a sudden. It had been a costume, hadn’t it? But he hadn’t…done anything for Halloween, he was too tired from working all day at the site. 

“No, what the hell, I…what the fuck did ya do to me?”

“Look, best I can offer is an exchange. It’s no surprise ya wanna return them, I mean…I’m surprised ya even managed to squeeze into those to get here.”

The same sensation as before, but this time, it was centered on him, inside him. Looking down, Jeff watched as his body swelled larger and larger, packing on fat, the suspenders pushed to the side, his t-shirt riding up as a massive, hairy gut spilled out, the button at the top of his pants popping open.

“I…I mean…I don’t understand…” he stammered, gripping his gut in disbelief, but already the memory was fading, of being any other way.

“No worries Jeff,” the owner said, “You’re familiar with our return policy. Seems like ya come in here every month, after outgrowing the last set of clothes I sell you. It’s like you enjoy being a fat, hairy, stinking pig or something.”

Jeff grunted, as the hefty owner pushed up against him. “I…I uh…look, I’ll just…just take the clothes…”

“No, you’re gonna get in the dressing room, bend over like the horny asspig you are, and I’m gonna fuck that loose hole of yours. Then, we’ll get you dressed in something closer to your size eh? Don’t you want me to breed that hole of yours, you fat hog?”

Fuck, he did, didn’t he? That afternoon, Jeff was back at the site, in his new clothes. They were better, with a little room to grow at least, but that was just a challenge as far as he was concerned. In a few weeks, he’d be bursting out of these as well, and head on back to Wade’s shop to make a new exchange. He was so happy he’d found that shop–really, his return policy was the best in town.

(Caption) Notes On Reality #2

October Caption Challenge (25/31)

For a while, Mitch was satisfied. After all, who wouldn’t be satisfied with a himbo daddy, aching for your cock every minute of the day? It…bothered him a little bit, maybe, that he’d come home to find another guy from college balls deep in his dad’s hungry hole, but he did want him to be happy, right? And his dad did seem to be a whole lot happier like this, that was for sure. Mitch couldn’t help but feel a little bad about it after all–it’s not like he’d asked. But, well, it’s not like his dad knew that anything was different. Telling him about it now just seemed kind of cruel.

So Mitch kept the book a secret, and while it kept popping up, obviously eager for him to write something else within its pages, he resisted the urge for a while. But the more he thought about it, the more thoughts kept creeping into his head. Rather…dirty thoughts. After all, Mitch wasn’t exactly a top. When he’d written that in the book, he hadn’t really intended for his dad to be such a bottom, it had just…felt right, in the moment. He’d gotten fucked by his sizable cock a few times now, but his dad’s heart just wasn’t in it, not really. He was also a pretty vanilla guy, but there were a few fetishes that Mitch had always wanted to try. Silly as it might sound, he missed his dad’s cigars more than pretty much anything else about his old life. 

But he was going to take his time. Be thoughtful. Not let his horniness get in the way of his good sense. After all, they had a nice life now, but it felt like luck more than anything else. Why not spice things up a bit more?

So he tried to write carefully this time, but once more, his thoughts and desires got away from him–though not quite as bad as the last time. It was pretty clear that the notebook was pulling this out of him, as much as he was putting it down, and the notebook didn’t quite care whether what he was thinking was extreme or not–it just wanted to make it the truth.

And so, after blacking out again, he woke to a photo from his father, who had gone out for the night to one of the local gay bars–it was a school night, so he hadn’t expected Mitch to go with him. The photo made his jaw drop, when he saw what he’d done this time.

It wasn’t…bad. He’d lost some muscle, which was a bit of a surprise, but the cigars had returned, and the leather gear was…hot as hell, in all honesty. As was the second bedroom of their apartment, which his Daddy showed him when he got home that night, a little drunk, and proceeded to tie him to the cross, spank him, and then fuck Mitch’s ass with his massive cock.

But what he hadn’t planned on, was the notebook doing one of its magical appearing acts, right at that moment, while he was still tied up on the cross. 

His dad found it, asked him about it, and Mitch told him it was nothing. However, when he read it, he discovered that his entire life was scrawled out in his son’s handwriting, and he demanded an explanation. Mitch refused, but the book provided one–and when Daddy realized what it could do, he didn’t see a reason why his son shouldn’t have a bit of an attitude adjustment.

Twenty pages, and a couple of black outs later, Mitch was a brand new boy. He wasn’t going to college–he hardly ever even left the apartment anymore. He was daddy’s little rubber pup slave, kept in a latex bodysuit nearly all the time, collared, locked and plugged, unless Daddy or one of his friends was using him. Mitch didn’t mind of course. This was the life he’d always wanted, after all. Pleased with the result, Daddy didn’t feel the need to use the notebook again–but to make sure his son didn’t get any bright ideas, he made sure to keep his hands locked up and his eyes blinded whenever he was out of the cage. In time, an opportunity came to pass the book along to someone else who needed it, but that’s a tale for another time.

(Caption) Notes on Reality #1

October Caption Challenge (24/31)

Mitch had never really felt that life had dealt him the hand that he deserved, much less the hand that he wanted. Gay, but at least able to pass, growing up in a small town as the only kid of a fairly deadbeat, and rather traditional father, who tended to keep him at arms length. Mitch hadn’t done well enough in school to get into college–there was the small issue of the cheating on his permanent record. That had nixed most of his college hopes, so he found himself living with his dad, stuck in a dead end job, and with no real opportunities for relationships aside from the occasional hookup with a trucker passing through, while his dad was passed out on the couch.

However, it was one of those truckers who took a bit of pity on him, and passed him an odd little notebook. It was blank, and the cover of it said, “Notes on Reality.” 

“This little thing gave me the life I’d always wanted,” the old, cigar smoking fellow said, as he got back behind the wheel of his semi, adjusting his sizable endowment as he did. “Give it a try yourself–I think it might be just what you’re looking for.”

Mitch had no idea what he was talking about, but he took the notebook home, tossed it on h8is dresser, and promptly forgot about it for the evening–but the book didn’t forget about him. The next day, he found it tucked in his glove box at work. Then, he found it on his bedside table when he was going to bed. It clearly wanted him to do something, but what? He opened up the blank notebook, and there on the inside cover, was something scribbled that he hadn’t noticed before. Write what you wanted, and reality would bend to your whim. It sounded impossible, but then, the book kept appearing right where it couldn’t possibly be. What harm could there be in giving it a shot.

So he wrote a little something, talking about how he had cleaned his room up earlier that day, despite having done no such thing, and all around, him, from one moment to the next, the room was…immaculate. Even odder, he could remember doing it himself! It was almost like nothing had changed–it fact, even reading back to himself what he’d just written, it was difficult to remember exactly how things had been. Suddenly, his hand didn’t seem so terrible after all.

He went out into the living room, where his dad was sitting in his underwear, smoking a cigar, and wondered just how much he could influence things.

He wasn’t sure that he wanted to change himself, exactly…but why not make his stern, overbearing, distant dad a little more…relatable?

He went into the kitchen and wrote:

“I came out to my dad around a year ago, and he was very supportive and kind. He wants me to be happy, and has absolutely no problem with me being gay.”

As he finished the thought, he felt reality twist around him–and sure enough, he could remember sitting his dad down and having the talk, and he’d been…fine with it. Better than fine, really. If anything, their relationship was better and more open than ever. 

He laid awake that night, pondering and scheming and wondering. He could stop now, of course. He didn’t…need to keep using the notebook. But…why not keep using it? He hated living here, he hated so much about his life, and he could change it, all of it. So he started writing in the middle of the night, as much as he could. About living and growing up in the city, about going to college–but his thoughts turned to his father again, and what came out was…not quite what he had planned, initially. 

His dad was unhappy, he knew that. At first, he just wanted to make him happy too. He wrote about his dad going to gym, he wrote about how he had a good job that he liked. And then, he wrote about how his dad was gay too. Then, he started writing more about him, about how he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but that he made up for it with his kindness and his strength of character. He wrote about how he had a substantial cock, but was a total bottom in bed. He wrote about how his dad was attracted to him. He wrote about how his dad had begged Mitch to fuck him, how he loved getting plowed by his son’s cock more than anything. Finally, he couldn’t write anymore, after filling pages and pages with his fantasies, and the resulting wave, as reality shifted, was too much, and he passed out in his bed.

When he woke up, it wasn’t in his dad’s small house–it was in the apartment they shared, while Mitch was going to college in the city. He had been woken up by a massive, white haired, burly fellow with a substantial cock sucking him off, a man he knew was his father, but did not quite recognize as such quite yet, and then the older man climbed on and fucked himself on Mitch’s cock while he watched, moaning and panting like a fucking slut, until they both came–Mitch inside his father’s ass, and his father all over Mitch’s chest and face. 

“Fuck boy, I needed that,” he said. The voice was familiar, but lacked the drawl, and was instead a bit higher, a little freer. “I’m gonna hit the gym–you coming?”

Of course he was. Mitch always went to the gym with his dad before class. More than once he caught his dad flexing and winking at him on the gym floor, and before he could stop himself, they were fucking again in the sauna–like usual, right? 

His dad was a fucking slut after all, he needed a cock in his ass all the damn time. Preferably Mitch’s, but he’d take almost any young buck in a pinch. After a long day of school, Mitch found himself back at home, and much to his unease and muted delight, the notebook was waiting for him as well. He tucked it away in a drawer, and it seemed to stay put, for the most part. After all, he had everything he wanted, right? At least, for now.

(Caption) Rest Stop Encounter

October Caption Challenge (18/31)

He couldn’t have been gone longer that five minutes, and his son was nowhere to be seen. Nick and his son were on a little camping trip while he was home for the summer. Nick had gone to the rest area bathroom to take a shit, and when he’d come back to the car, where his son had said he’d wait, he was nowhere to be seen. Figuring he’d just gone to the bathroom himself, or maybe was walking around to stretch his legs, he walked back to the bathroom, but didn’t see him. With a little more panic mounting, he kept looking around, and saw a young man, about his son’s size, following another fellow back around the front of a pickup truck. Wondering what his son could be doing over there, he followed them, came around the front, only to discover that the young man was blowing the fellow right there in the open.

He had to focus and really concentrate…but it was his son, almost. He hadn’t had a shaved head, nor tattoos, nor had he been wearing those clothes, but it was his son, he was sure of it. “What the hell are you doing with my son!” he said, went to grab him away, but the redneck swatted his hand away.

“Buddy, I think yer confused,” he said, “This ain’t your son–I’m his daddy, ain’t that right boy?”

The young man looked up with a rather love struck expression and nodded, “Yeah Daddy, ‘course, I’m yer son!”

The drawl shouldn’t have been there, but it was his son’s voice! Nick was sure of it. “I don’t know what fucking game your playing, but let him go.”

“Buddy, I think yer confused is all,” the redneck said, lowered his sunglasses, and the eyes beneath them…Nick had never seen anything like them. The color kept…shifting, and the gaze was so intense, he forgot…everything, for a moment. Forgot his son, forgot about calling the cops, forgot about camping, forgot himself, even.

“Now, like I said, this here is my son–isn’t that right, buddy? Ya don’t have a son, do ya.”

Nick shook his head slowly. He…he must have been mistaken. He didn’t look anything like his boy–no, he didn’t even have a son, did he? “S-Sorry man, I…I guess I was just confused, I’ll…I’ll leave ya to it…”

“Now hold on, don’t go just yet. Ya like tah watch, don’t ya?”

Nick nodded slowly. He was right, he did like to watch. He groped his own cock while the fellow’s son deepthroated his daddy’s big cock. “Fuck man, yer fucking lucky that your son sucks cock like that,” Nick said.

“Yeah, he does real good, gotta say,” the man said. “Got a pretty good cock on himself too, loves fuckin’ fat truckers like you, and looks like that ass of yours could use it. Wha’d’ya say, 200 bucks, and my boy’s all yours for an hour.”

Nick’s clothes shifted to some ratty, dingy denim, and he licked his lips. He hadn’t had a nice young cock in him in ages–and hell, he sure as hell needed one. “Ya got yerself a deal fella,” he said, hauled out his wallet, and shoved 200 dollars in his hand. “Come on boy, let’s see if ya can fuck as good as yer Pa there.”

An hour later, the young man climbed out of the cab, grinning from ear to ear, and went back to where his Pa was waiting, climbed in the truck, and took off with him. Nick climbed down after him, feeling the cum drooling from his ass and down the inside of his jeans, and shuddered a bit. The boy sure could fuck! Too bad he didn’t get any contact info from them–these rest area hookups wouldn’t compete. He needed to be on his way anyway–this load wasn’t going to deliver itself! He climbed back in, still envious of the man’s son, and drove off into his new life.

(Caption) Three Lost to Pigtown

October Caption Challenge (16/31)

You don’t always know you’re in Pigtown until it’s too late.

Richard liked to take long runs around the city on his days off. It was a good way to explore, and he nearly always saw something different, that he would have never noticed in his car. Today, he found his way to a large park and decided to cut through it for a bit of nature. It started off innocently enough–families with kids playing in the sun, the occasional picnic. It was wholesome. But at some point, after the trail passed through a few dense patches of wood, he found himself in a chunk of park that was quite a bit seedier. Unknown to Richard, he had just found himself in Pigtown.

It was the light that threw him off first. He had started his jog in the morning, but suddenly, it was like the sun had set. The sodium lights were all lit, but filthy, and they only seemed to increase the shadows around him, rather than dispel them. There were strange moans, thumps and shrieks coming from the woods around him, distorted enough that he couldn’t be certain men were making them, and the few people he did see were men who leered at him, and at his spandex clad running shorts, with lust. 

But he kept running. He tried to turn back, but the path, which he was certain had been straight and unambiguous, suddenly branched and forked and looped back around on itself in countless ways. He was lost, and getting a bit winded. Finally he stopped to catch his breath and calm down, get his bearings, only to find that he wasn’t alone. There was a filthy looking man on a park bench near him, drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette. He looked up at Richard, licked his lips, and said, “Fuck man, bet you smell fuckin’ amazing.”

Before Richard could even think of how to reply, the man had stood up, thrown up one of Richard’s arms, and started licking at his pit. The man smelled horrific–like a urinal, like a cumrag, like…like heaven. Richard shook his head and gave a snort, trying to focus, but he couldn’t seem to tug himself away from the man, and all around them, more men, just as filthy as him, were coming out of the brush, groping their crotches, leering at him, the light fading more and more as they all surrounded him, touching him, smelling him, and Richard lost track of himself, for a moment. For a while.

When he came back to himself, he wasn’t at the park anymore. He was in some apartment, hands tied up above his head, and he wasn’t wearing his clothes, or at least…they weren’t the clothes he’d had on before. He had on some long underwear and a white t-shirt, all of it covered in cumstains, soaked with piss. He could smell it, and fuck if it didn’t smell amazing. 

The man from the bench came out, still in the same nasty clothes as before, and stood in front of Richard. “Fuck man, I hadn’t really planned on bringin’ anyone home tonight, but fuck me, if ya just aren’t so much fuckin’ fun. Haven’t gotten my hands on freshmeat in a long time, I forgot how fuckin’…flexible you are. We’re gonna have a lot a fun tonight, gonna have some more boys over, and you’re gonna be in heaven, I promise you that.”

Richard tried to do some math, tried to figure out what time it was. He’d left in the morning, but it had gotten dark in the park. He’d spent…hours there already, and now here, and…and it was still pitch black out the window. “I…I have to get home, I…it’s so late.”

“So what if its late, man! The night doesn’t end until we want it to, in Pigtown, and I think we can go for a while longer, don’t you?”

The man shoved the wet crotch of his filthy jeans into Richard’s face, and he couldn’t help himself, licking at the nasty denim, feeling his cock grow larger, and start to pump precum out, soaking the front of the nasty underwear he was wearing. He didn’t want it to stop, did he? No, he didn’t. Not long after that, men started appearing, and toyed with him, pissed on him, came on him, in him, fed him, filled him up, clothed him, changed him in ways that Richard could barely understand, and when Rich awoke, it was morning. 

Some morning. He looked around at the nice backyard where he’d woken up, and part of him knew he should recognize it…but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t find the memory anymore. He pulled out a cigar, lit it, and that helped wake him up a bit, but it still didn’t bring out the memory. One thing he knew for sure, was that he didn’t belong here. It was too bright, the sun…hurt, somehow, even through all of his filthy gear.

He stood up and left, following his instincts back home, back to the park. Rich never left Pigtown again after that, but why would he want to? It’s where he belonged now, after all.

(Caption) Arctos: One Size Fits All

October Caption Challenge (13/31)

James put his arms up and checked himself out in the mirror. Damn, these were some sexy fucking shorts, he had to admit. 

One of his friends had sent him a link to this online shop called Arctos, one of those bear gear supply companies. Most of the stuff on there hadn’t interested him that much, but when he’d left, he’d gotten an email with a special offer in it, to try their new One Size Fits All Underwear. It had been a great deal, so why the hell not? He’d ordered it, and a few days later, the boxer briefs had appeared in the mail. 

He had no idea what they were talking about when they said one size fits all though–these things were tight, in the best way, of course. He ran his hands down and gave his cock a grope through the material. He’d have to take a few pics for his friend to show off. 

It was a few days later, after sending them through the wash, and folding them in the living room, that he noticed the tag on the back of the briefs. It did say one size fits all, but it also had a weird little dial that you could spin. It was set to large, which must just be his size, but what, if you spun the dial, the shorts just…got bigger or smaller or something? He gave it a spin in one direction, and the sizes went up, settling on 4XL. Sure enough, the briefs got bigger, right in his hands. As a bit of a laugh, he decided to pull them on, but once he did, he was surprised to find that they still fit him perfectly.

Then again, why the hell wouldn’t they? He was a 4XL usually. He wore the briefs while he finished folding the laundry, huffing and puffing a bit from standing for so long, and when he was finished, he plopped down in his chair for a breather. He gave his gut a rub, then reached down and fondled his cock through the front of the briefs, moaning a bit. Damn these things were comfortable, he’d have to order a few more soon. Finding clothes to fit a big daddy bear like him wasn’t easy after all. Maybe he should take another look at Arctos’ offerings, see what they might have available for a daddy like him.

(Caption) Two Flubs in a Row

October Caption Challenge (11/31)

Ok, so it didn’t work out exactly how Jerry had planned it, but it wasn’t that bad of a scenario, right?

Jerry and Tim had been going out for a couple of years, but lately, their relationship had been on the rocks. Tim was a bit of gym freak, going almost every day of the week, and while Jerry had liked the gym too, after a knee injury, he’d been laid up for about six months. In that time, with nothing to really focus his energy on, he’d eaten…a lot, and packed on quite a gut. Tim was merciless about it, ridiculing him for it, all sorts of mean and snide comments, even threatening to break up with him, if he didn’t lose it. But his knees never got fully back to normal, and the few times he’d gone, Jerry had always nearly damaged it again. So one day, passing a bookstore on the way home from work, he’d stumbled upon, well, a book of spells. And in that book, had been a love spell, a spell you can use to make someone love the parts of you that…well, maybe they shouldn’t. Sure, it was a bit of a cheat, right? But their relationship was so good in every other respect, why not just use this to help Tim past his prejudice?

So, Jerry cast the spell, and now, here they are.

Tim definitely has found a new love for his boyfriend’s gut. A rather obsessive, single minded love. He worshiped the thing, and his new mission in life to to make it as large as it could possibly get. What had freaked Jerry out more than that, though, was that Tim was no longer the muscle bound beast he’d been before he’d cast the spell. No, the new Tim was about as chubby as he was, and loved his own body just as much as he loved Tim’s–determined to grow both of them as large as they could possibly get.

Jerry just rolled with it. He still had the spell book, after all. He could figure out how to reverse this, and then he’d do it right. Unfortunately, he never got the chance. The next day, while he was at work, Tim happened across the spellbook in their room, took a look through the pages, and found something that would make his life absolutely perfect. 

When Jerry got home, he felt…an odd pulse shudder through him, but didn’t think much of it. He just waddled his way into the den of the home he shared with Tim since he’d retired a few years back, shucked off his 4XL clothes, and plopped down in a recliner, while his husband focused on fixing them both their substantial dinner. Fuck, he was hungry. He dug around in his gunt for his puny cock, gave it a little squeeze, thinking about how much bigger he’s gotten since finally being able to retire, and focus on what really mattered in life, getting as fat as he possibly could. 

After their massive dinner, a few belly rubs in the kitchen, the two of them headed to bed, and feeling sexy, Jerry took a selfie of himself in the mirror to send to a few fellow gainers later. There, on the bookshelf was the spell book, but in the morning, it had disappeared, gone elsewhere to tempt another soul.

(Caption) One Lost to Pigtown

October Caption Challenge (10/31)

It wasn’t Peter’s first time in Pigtown. The bar was legendary in the city, and the entire neighborhood around it just as much. There were stories, tall tales really, about the bar having some sort of magic. Peter didn’t know about magic, but the energy there was unlike any bar he’d ever been to, in any city, on any continent. It thrummed in him, pushing him to dance harder, kiss more, drink heavy, and no matter what, he would never seem to remember how to got back to bed each night–though he rarely went back alone.

But tonight felt different. Tonight, there was more energy than before, pulsing through him. Everyone was looking at him, everyone wanted him, and he wanted them all just as badly. He was out of control. It culminated around midnight, with him getting up on the bar, already naked, and sliding up and down on a dildo one of the other patron’s placed there, drunk on both drink and the cheers and lusts of the men around him. 

Another patron came up, blew him while he fucked himself, and eventually, he made his way back onto the dance floor for a few minutes, but it wasn’t long before he was in the backroom, countless hands on him, countless cocks sliding into him, overstimulated and overwhelmed, he managed to crawl away, deeper than he’d gone before into the maze, so deep he wasn’t quite sure where he was going, anymore. 

“There you are, I was hoping you weren’t too lost, yet,” a voice said.

Peter looked up, and found a bearish leatherman looming over him, his face and beard lit only by the light cast from the cigar gripped in his maw. “You seemed to have lost yourself in there a little while ago, got a little out of control.”

Peter tried to respond, but his body was still thrumming with need and lust and anxious desire. He found himself crawling over to the man, licking at the crotch of his leather pants, and the man laughed. 

“Lucky I found you before something else down here did,” he said, “Let me help you.”

Peter felt something heavy slip over his head. A chain collar, secured with a padlock with the key still inserted in it, and the man pulled the key free. As he did, something…shifted in Peter’s mind, the energy turned solid, and looking up at the man, all he knew was that he was his master, and he had to obey him, and service him, and do everything that he demanded. 

“That’s a good boy, come now, I’ll show you the way back out of here. And then, you can thank me properly, how does that sound?”

Peter thought it sounded very nice, and did just that.

But the next morning, something was wrong. When he awoke, his body was…different. There were more tattoos, his nipples were pierced, his cock as well. He found himself craving cigars, and even stranger, there was a humidor sitting on top of his dresser. He was wearing a leather harness he’d never seen before in his life, but which he was somehow certain was his. And lastly, there around his neck, was the chain, the padlock, and the key still in the lock.

It had gone on so easily before, but now, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it off. The chain wouldn’t slip over his head, and the key wouldn’t turn in the padlock, or even come out. He struggled with it for a while, before eventually, and a bit shamefully, going to his neighbor’s next door, and asking them for help. He was a straight guy and married, but a bit of a handyman. He fiddled with the key, and it came right out of the lock–and as soon as it did, the same urge to submit overwhelmed him, and he fell to his knees in front of his neighbor–who didn’t miss a beat, hauled out his cock, and fed it to him. That evening, he had his first adventure in pigtown as well, guided by his slave for the evening, and the next morning, Peter was right back in his apartment, collar secure, key hanging free–and he realized then, that Pigtown was magic, and it had its hooks in deep.

(Caption) Another Flubbed Spell

October Caption Challenge (6/31)

Derek never found out for certain why, exactly, his father and uncle had fallen out. It had happened when he was ten or so, around the time his uncle had divorced Derek’s aunt. His mother thought it was ridiculous, but whatever the reason, it was embarrassing enough that his father refused to talk about it. Derek had always liked his uncle, and despite the fact that he knew it upset his dad, he still went over to work on his Uncle’s farm during the summer, and the two had gotten rather close. He was close to twenty now, and had even asked his uncle about it, but he’d been as tight lipped as his dad was about it. So, when Derek had found the ancient book of spells in the library, he’d decided that a decent test would be if the book could help resolve the difficulties between his dad and uncle.

The language was difficult, and Derek had only barely graduated high school, but he found a spell that might do the trick. Something about helping people understand each other better, bringing their fates into realignment. He didn’t quite know what it meant, exactly, but he cast it one night–and when he woke up, he and his mom discovered that his father was nowhere to be found. When Derek suggested he might be at his Uncle’s place, she shook her head–and finally told the truth. Derek’s uncle had come out as gay, and divorced his wife. Derek’s dad had never been able to forgive him for it, both for the divorce, and for lying to him for all of those years. Derek, however, was certain that his spell had done something. He got in his truck and drove out to his uncle’s farm, where sure enough, he found his dad’s truck parked as well.

He used his key to get into the farmhouse, and promptly dropped his keys on the ground, when he saw the two men in front of him. 

They were his dad and his uncle…mostly. But something was wrong–their clothes, their facial hair, the fact that the air reeked of sex and both of them were kissing heavily. “What the fuck are you doing?” Derek said.

But when his uncle looked at him, Derek felt something take hold–the spell, it turned out, was still hungry.

“Don’t be upset nephew, just relax,” his uncle said, beckoned him over, and Derek found his feet shuffling forward. “Take off those clothes of yours, no need to be so nervous and buttoned up–you understand, don’t you? Just like your Daddy does?”

Derek moaned, stripping off his clothes, and before he could really process it, he was on his knees between them, worshiping one cock and then another, feeling the leather gear wrap its way around him, the collar last, locking around his neck, signalling to everyone that he was enslaved to the passions of his father and his uncle.

That evening, he tried to disentangle himself from the sex, caught a look at himself, and was horrified at the hairy, butch fuckpig looking back at him, cum drooling down the inside of his thighs as he stood there. But he needed to get to the book, didn’t he? Figure out how to fix this? But they weren’t on his uncle’s farm anymore–the small town hadn’t taken well to their incestuous triangle, but the city had suited them all just fine anyway. The book ended up back in a library eventually, awaiting the next victim to approach.

Frat Daddy: Interlude #5 (Jimmy/Bear)

Jimmy didn’t understand how they could all do it. Just…go along with it. Ever since Daddy had appeared and taken over the house, Jimmy had been hoping that someone would say something, or stop it, and while there were so boys would put up resistance (like Jake, who was going out every night to fuck girls in various sorority houses around campus, no one was…fighting this. Jimmy wasn’t fighting it either, mind you, but he wanted someone to, mostly because he was, well, falling behind. But then, Jimmy usually found himself behind, if he was being honest. He was a freshman, and he’d rushed the fraternity with a couple of his friends that he’d met at school, who assured him that it was going to be the best way for Jimmy to meet, and ideally fuck chicks. Jimmy hadn’t fucked anyone before–he’d had a few near misses back in high school, but he’d never gotten further than touching a boob. Jimmy wasn’t the most handsome, or the most athletic. He kept hoping that he would find a time to really shine–that’s what his mom always told him would happen at least, that he’d find his place at school, but now that so much had changed, he only felt like he was flailing more. 

Jimmy tried to keep up with the rest of the house as best he could, but he knew he was falling behind–although falling behind of what, he didn’t know anymore. What did he want out of any of this? He’d already hated being in the frat. His friends didn’t really talk to him anymore once they’d gotten in, and most of the other guys in the house just ignored him, and he’d already been looking for a way to get out as soon as he could. Now though, the rest of the boys were all, well, thriving, he supposed. Some of them especially, like Mike and Carter, were taking really well to Daddy’s new direction. Most of the rest of the guys were guzzling shakes, working out as hard as they could, and packing on mass. Jimmy struggled. He would drink as much as he could, but he’d struggle to even hit the goal Daddy had set for them, and if he did hit it, he’d feel so gross he wouldn’t be able to join the rest of the guys for the evening workout. He’d just smoke a cigar, horny as hell but with no outlet, and go to bed early. The other guys would come up, fucking each other into the evening and night while Jimmy laid in bed and hoped no one would accost him. No one did, which somehow made him feel worse. He was just getting fat, and the fatter he got, the more he hated himself, and the more he hated everything about all of this.

Each Friday night, he would stand at attention with the rest of the boys, utterly terrified that Daddy would pick him to come over for the weekend, but also desperate for some sort of recognition. Just…to know that he was noticed, and not simply disappearing. Daddy didn’t say anything to him usually, but he did see him, see through him, into him, and that was somehow worse. Eventually, it happened. Daddy had been taking a couple boys at a time, but this weekend, he only selected Jimmy. The others looked confused–why would Daddy want that loser, they would wonder. Jimmy didn’t know either, but he followed Daddy downstairs, through the tunnel, and into his dungeon. He was terrified that they would stop there, but instead Daddy led him upstairs, where dinner had been prepared, and Jimmy devoured the first real meal he’d had in ages. Daddy ate too, but he mostly watched. They were both silent, Jimmy looking up at the older man on occasion, wondering if he should say something, or if saying something was a trap.

“Is this how you got your way through life so far?” Daddy asked as they finished their plates, “Staying quiet and hoping no one would notice you?”

Jimmy didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just kept mum, hands in his lap, eyes on his hands.

Daddy got up from the table, and motioned for Jimmy to stand as well. Daddy circled him, making a few little hmms and haas as he did, and Jimmy hated it, feeling like he was under a microscope all of a sudden. Of course Daddy had brought him here because he was a failure. He was probably going to kick him out. Would that be a bad thing? Isn’t that what he wanted anyway? A way out?

“Why did you join the frat, Jimmy? What were you looking for?” Daddy asked as he finished his circle.

“I wanted to…have sex with girls,” Jimmy said, a little horrified at how his mouth had just poured that out so easily. “My friends said it would be easy.”

“Have you been having sex with your brothers now?” Daddy asked, giving Jimmy’s cock a squeeze through his jock.

“Not…really. A few have fucked me, but I’ve never pulled out their plugs.”

“You must be a little pent up then.”

Jimmy nodded, and blushed, embarrassed that he’d admitted it all so easily.

“Do you want to fuck them?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Are you sure you don’t know?”

“I do, Daddy.”

Daddy nodded. “Alright then. Come on, let’s have a smoke, boy–Daddy’s cock needs some attention. Tomorrow, I have something I’d like to try with you.”

They retired to the lounge, where Daddy and Jimmy smoked a pair of cigars, and Jimmy spent the rest of the evening between Daddy’s legs, blowing smoke over his cock and sucking on it until Daddy fed him a sizable load–then it was time for bed, and Jimmy found sleep difficult, wondering what Daddy could have in mind for their day tomorrow.


After breakfast, Daddy left Jimmy to clean up while he disappeared for a little while, and then reappeared from downstairs. He told Jimmy to follow him down, but they stopped before they reached the dungeon. Daddy showed him three masks that were laid out on a side table. Jimmy hadn’t ever seen these sorts of masks in real life, but he’d seen pictures of things like them in porn before. There was a fairly standard looking pup hood, made of leather and neoprene. Next to it, was a rubber pig hood. Lastly was one he hadn’t seen before. It was similar to the pup hood, but clearly it was modelled after a bear, and made with much thicker leather pieces, with some metal studs to signify fangs on the snout.

“I think that each of these would appeal to you, in one way or another,” Daddy said, “A mask isn’t a solution, but it can…let us escape from ourselves from a little while, imagine something different. If you want my honest opinion, Jimmy, your problem isn’t that this place is a bad fit for you–it’s that you don’t know what you want to get from it, so you feel listless. This might help give you something to hold on to. Go on and pick one, and then we’ll go play.”

Jimmy picked up each of the masks, but wasn’t brave enough to put any of them on himself. He felt silly, like it was Halloween or something. There was one he preferred though–he handed the bear mask to Daddy, but Daddy just motioned for Jimmy to put it on. He did, not expecting anything miraculous from the experience. Daddy helped get it centered on his head so he could see easily, and then put him in front of a mirror, and the reflection…it did feel different. It was his body, but it wasn’t his face. The mask made him look tough. Like no one would want to mess with him. He tweaked his face a bit, and managed to bare the metal fangs of the mask, and a little thrill went through him, much to his embarrassment. He almost pulled it off then and there, but Daddy secured the mask to his collar and locked it, and then pushed the masked Jimmy into the dungeon, where he found himself looking at a boy on the fuckbench, hooded so he couldn’t see who it was, exactly, and there weren’t any other identifying features that he could see.

“Well, you told me you want to fuck a hole, Bear,” Daddy said, “So fuck it.”

Jimmy balked, at first, but something else pushed him forward, something…instinctual. He gripped the boy’s hips in his hands, hard enough for the young man to moan through the gag in his mouth, and Jimmy’s cock was already hard. Fuck, he couldn’t do this, could he?

He looked over at the mirror, and a new thought came to him. Maybe Jimmy couldn’t. Maybe Jimmy was too scared, too timid, too worried, too anxious. But was Bear any of those things? Bear didn’t look like any of that–Bear looked like a fat, furry, beast who was ready to fuck. He pulled the plug out without taking the time to second guess himself, and pushed his cock into the boy’s already lubed hole, and he moaned–no, no moans from him. Bear growls. Bear grunts. Bear fucks hard and mercilessly. Bear doesn’t take shit from anyone. Bear knows what he wants, and Bear takes it. Jimmy fucked hard, came once, and just kept going. Bear doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied, after all, and Bear has not had enough sex in a very long time. 

Finally, after three loads, Jimmy stepped back, exhausted and sweating, and looked at himself in the mirror again–but he wasn’t looking at Jimmy, not at the Jimmy he recognized. He was muscular, covered in hair, a thick beard pushing out from the bottom of Bear’s mask, tattoos on his chest and arms, a thick cock with a PA in the head, two massive balls swinging below it. He gaped at himself, until Daddy stepped up, unlocked the mask from his collar, and pulled it off–and the illusion was gone. It was just him standing there, and a very well fucked boy moaning on the fuck bench, obviously quite satisfied.

Daddy pulled him out of the room and took him into a bathroom where Jimmy had a shower, and when he stepped back out, the boy was gone, and the masks were as well. It was just Daddy waiting for him, and JImmy understood what he’d meant, sort of. But that hadn’t really been him, had it? No–that had been the mask, it had changed him, he’d felt it. Daddy told him that he didn’t need the mask–that if he really wanted to become Bear himself, the only thing standing in his way, was himself.

It made sense, in a way. Daddy spent the rest of the day with him in the gym, giving him some pointers on exercising, encouraging him to convert some of that bulk to brawn, but when Jimmy asked if he could wear the mask again, Daddy shook his head. “You can’t just rely on the mask–things like that can have a mind of their own as well, if you aren’t careful,” Daddy said with a slight smile, “Never put it on without me there to supervise, alright?”

That sounded like bullshit to Jimmy, but he nodded in agreement. Maybe he had a point after all. But part of him couldn’t get past the idea that Bear was…different than him, that putting on that mask had given him some extra power that he didn’t have on his own. When he returned to the house that Sunday, feeling and looking a bit better, he did his best, and to some extent, he managed. He kept up with the meals and the workouts, and the other boys that had always ignored him, that he’d always assumed had despised him, didn’t seem so bad after all. But it wasn’t easy. It was work. After a week of it, he found himself falling back into his old habits, isolating himself, but now he couldn’t blame it on everyone else. Now he knew that he was making a choice, and that hurt.

If he could just wear that mask again, if he could just feel like that again, it would help, he knew it would. He found himself hoping on Friday that Daddy would take him again, though he’d never taken the same boy two weeks in a row. He didn’t, of course, and while Jimmy knew that his hope had been irrational, he still felt betrayed. Couldn’t Daddy see that he was still struggling? That he needed help? But it was all in his hands, he knew that. He could make the change, he could do the work, he could be that person he’d seen in the mirror. But if he was the one making the change, then why couldn’t he decide to use that mask to help him along?

He knew that was a bad idea, after what Daddy had said, but it stuck with him all the same. Saturday night, after a long rough day of struggling to make progress, he couldn’t resist it anymore. He went downstairs, crossed through the tunnel into the dungeon, going as quietly as he could, and found the three masks hanging on the wall. He pulled down Bear again, held it in his hands, and if he hadn’t been certain before, he was now. It wasn’t…alive, but it was aware. It had power. Whether it had power because he believed it did, or because Daddy had put it there, it didn’t matter. He pulled the mask on again, and felt that rush from before when he looked at himself in the mirror, watched himself growing thicker and hairier, a good amount of fat melting off his body and being replaced with muscle. He saw the tattoos on his body appear again, saw his thick cock grow hard and begin to leak, and he wanted to fuck so bad. Maybe…just go back to the frat, fuck one of the boys who was still awake. He could do that, right?

He went to leave the dungeon, only for a sudden sense of vertigo to send him to his hands and knees, the room spinning around him. Something was wrong. He was still…growing? No, he was still changing, but not getting bigger. Was he getting smaller? Growing more compact, maybe, his height contracting to around five and a half feet, even more mass piling on him as he grew hairier, coated in a full pelt of fur now. The voice from the mask was louder now, so loud! Not so much a voice, just…thoughts, desires, thirsts. He tried to pull the mask off, but couldn’t get a grip on it, like the leather had somehow fused with his neck. His skin…why did it feel so rough and leathery all of a sudden? His face ached, feeling like the mask was tugging on it, contorting it, teeth aching. He roared in pain and collapsed–the last thing he remembered was the sound of feet on the stairs, and Daddy was standing over him, when he fainted.

Jimmy didn’t remember much, when he woke. Daddy was there with him, still on the floor of the dungeon, stroking his side and back, making Jimmy moan. Daddy sighed. “I warned you about this, but I didn’t think it would go this far.”

Jimmy tried to ask him what was wrong, but his mouth didn’t seem to cooperate. He could get out a few words, but between his aching face under the mask, and his addled brain, nothing made sense, really.

Daddy hushed him, and kept him comfortable, gripped the amulet around his neck, and stroked his head. “Hush now, my bear. Go to sleep. Everything will make sense in the morning. It’s not what I wished for you, but it seems you may have made a place for yourself anyway. You’ll be more than happy, I promise.”

When Bear awoke, it was on the floor of the dormitory upstairs. He looked around, a bit discombobulated, but this was where he was supposed to sleep, right? He looked around at the little corner the boys had made for Bear, someone between a brother, a house mascot, and a pet. No one really knew where Bear had come from, if you asked them–especially not Bear. No one could recall Jimmy had ever existed, and his bed and belongings had seemingly evaporated. Bear crawled out of bed and gave a shake and a yawn, showing the rather…inhuman mouth he had inside that leather mask that never came off his head. No one knew for sure if it even could–Bear had been known to snap at anyone who tried to mess with it too much. Other than that, he was completely naked. Even when the boys took him on campus to go to their football games, Bear remained nude, but no one thought it odd. 

Bear was still hard from the rather pleasant dream he’d been having in his sleep, something he couldn’t remember, but which had certainly aroused him. He bent over, and gave the head of his thick cock a little lick, his stout body surprisingly flexible. He eyed the boys around him, just rousing from sleep, saw Eric had bent over next to their bed, and before the boy could do anything to avoid it, Bear had crawled over, hauled his plug out with his teeth, growled something that was understood to be the word “Fuck,” and mounted him right there on the side of the bed, his cock driving right into the boy’s hole.

“Goddamn it Bear!” Eric said, pinned under the stout fellow’s substantial mass as Bear humped his hole. Still, there was no saying no to Bear. In fact, getting fucked by the brute was a pleasure, since his cum always seemed to have a rather…invigorating effect on the boy who got seeded. Bear responded to the boy’s annoyance by putting his mouth around his shoulder, not hard enough to pierce the skin by any measure, and letting loose a low growl as he thrust deeper. It was enough to remind Eric that his hole was Bear’s by right–and that complaining too much just meant he would get rougher. Eric relaxed, and Bear fucked, grunting and growling and snuffling until he unloaded in his hole with a roar loud enough to make the other boy’s turn in his direction. Once he’d dismounted from him, Eric pushed his plug back in, keeping all of Bear’s helpful cum in his hole. He glowered at the beast for a second, who was panting happily, and couldn’t stay mad. Bear ended up on his back, growling and grunting while the boys all gathered around him, giving him his morning belly rubs, before going down for breakfast, Bear plodding after them–crawling through the room, and then toddling down the stairs on two legs, but hands and knees were preferable for him. Later in the day, Daddy came over to check on him and make sure he was acclimating well, but Bear had never been happier. He’d found his place after all, and he’d never look back.