House Arrest (Part 3)

He was back. Zack looked around him, looked down at himself. He was back to himself, back to who he was supposed to be, dressed in the clothes he’d shown up in and everything. He looked around at the unfamiliar room he was standing in–the foyer of some large house–but it wasn’t Sidney’s house. He…knew that. He knew that because…because he could remember everything from the entire weekend of hell he’d just been put through. All weekend as that musclebound fuckbuddy, doing everything–and everyone–Sidney had told him to do. He’d…he’d fucked his son. His son had fucked him. Sure, they hadn’t been in their right minds, or in their right bodies, but still, what the fuck had he just done?

Saturday and Sunday had been spent with Sidney engaging with several business partners of his, who’d all been avoiding coming by as long as Zack had been watching the place. And he’d…serviced them all. He’d wanted to, it had been so thrilling and exciting to be used by so many different men. Just remembering how it felt, Zack’ cock had gotten half hard in his pants, his stomach turning–he found the bathroom after a little searching and threw up in the toilet, disgusted with himself. But why was he alone? Where was Sidney? Where in the world was his son? Whatever was going on, he was getting the hell out of this place for sure. He went to the front door and flung it open, stepped out onto the front step, and…and all he felt was the most gut wrenching fear of his life.

There was just…just so much space out there. So many people, so many dangers. He was back inside, the door shut and locked behind him, heaving for breath. What in the hell was wrong with him? He tried again, and with some focus he managed to get a few steps outside, but the terror was crippling. He vomited again off to the side, onto a patch of ground between a couple of roses, and retreated back into the unfamiliar house. He had no idea what was wrong with him, but he couldn’t be out there. Instead, he decided to look around the house. There had to be a reason he was here. He didn’t have his cell phone or his keys. He didn’t have a wallet either, or his gun. Nowhere in the house was there a single phone, or a computer. The house looked lived in, mostly because it’s interior was well decorated, but the cabinets and fridge were empty and half of the rooms were unfurnished. But he did find one piece of the puzzle. In one of those empty rooms, he looked out the window, across the well kempt yard and over the fence, to where he could see the side of Sidney’s home.

He was right there. He was in the house next door to the fucker, but he couldn’t fucking leave, he couldn’t call his precinct, he couldn’t do anything. He fought the urge to cry, and instead he went downstairs and hurled a vase at the wall, and started sobbing anyway. He’d fallen for it. He didn’t know what Sidney was doing, or how he was doing it to him, but he was trapped in that sick fuck’s nightmare, and he didn’t know how to get out. Then, the doorbell rang. He hurried to the front door and opened it up, finding himself face to face with a young man holding a gift basket. “Please, you have to help me!” Zack said, “Call the police, the man next door kidnapped my son.”

“Oh, Master filled me in on the situation,” the young man said in a chipper voice, which made Zack’s heart sink, “He made you this housewarming gift, and said to be sure to watch the video.”

Zack didn’t know how to respond to that, and when he made no move to take the basket from him, the young man shrugged, set it down, and walked away like…it was the easiest thing in the world, to be out there in the terrifying world. Just standing in the open doorway he was beginning to shake; he grabbed the basket, trying not to think about it, and brought it in with him, shutting and locking the door behind him. Inside the basket were some cookies, some flowers–likely intended for the vase he’d just shattered–and a DVD. He got the video, found the widescreen TV and turned it on, but instead of a random TV channel, he found himself looking at the footage of a security camera. And from the looks of it, it was a camera inside of Sidney’s house. He changed the channel, and found himself looking in another room. It wasn’t until the seventh channel that he found the master bedroom–where Sidney had his still hulked out son bent over the bed, and was…plowing his ass.

He’d gotten hard immediately at the sight, and changed the channel again–his worst fears confirmed. Found the DVD player and loaded the disk, and hit play. After a few moments, Sidney’s face appeared on the TV, and started speaking:

“Hello Zackary. I hope you’ve started making yourself comfortable here, because you’ll be remaining here with me for the rest of my sentence, under a form of house arrest of your own. I must say, I admire your tenacity, but I simply can’t afford to have someone like you meddling in my affairs again. Don’t worry–you will find the house I purchased for you rather comfortable, if a bit lonely. You’ll have food delivered to you every few days, and if you so desire, a delivery slave can spend some time with you for…a price. There is, lastly, the issue of custody. As per the agreement, you’ll be permitted to stay with your son and me every other weekend, and we’ll all have so much fun together, I promise. I’m sorry your space is so sparse, but I’m sure you’ll always be able to find something to watch on TV. See you in a couple of weeks!”

House Arrest (Part 2)

He fought his feet, but he followed Sidney inside, hearing the pulse of music playing in the other room, his butt shaking in time to the beat as they got closer, and he found his hulking son still rolling his hips and moving to the beat. “Oh yes,” Zack said with a slight moan, pushing Sidney gently back down onto the couch, “I’m afraid you’re under arrest sir, and your punishment is going to be one sexy show from the hottest cop on the beat.”

What the fuck did he just say?

He grabbed the front of his uniform and tugged, feeling the snaps break apart as he started dancing with his son, unable to wrap his head around what had just happened to him. There was a mirror on the wall, and as he danced, he was able to catch glimpses of himself in it, but it wasn’t him. His…face was still mostly right–the shaved head, the horseshoe mustache starting to turn a bit grey–but his body…he’d never looked this ripped, not even when he was in the best shape of his life. Huge meaty pecs, a ripped abdomen, thick thighs which were nearly bursting the little blue shorts he had on. It struck him, at last, that this wasn’t his uniform. This was a costume. He didn’t know how, but Sidney had turned him into a stripper, and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop himself from humiliating himself.

The look of horror must have registered on his face, because Sidney laughed the next time he turned towards him. “Yes, Officer, I’m sure you’re a bit confused. But why don’t you just relax? Look at how much fun your son is having. Aren’t you having fun Evan?”

“Yes sir,” Evan said with a thick laugh, “I’s having lots of fun. I just a dumb meathead stripper whore! I like to dance and fuck and suck and cum and work my body for sexy old men like you.”

“You…what the…hell did you do to him?” Zack managed to say through gritted teeth.

“Nothing that won’t happen to you too, officer. Now, keep at it. The more you dance, the better you’ll feel–I promise.”

Zack pulled his shirt off and kept dancing. Evan kept trying to feel him up and dance with him, but as much as this body wanted to play, he kept finding the will to push him away, but that will was starting to fade, slowly but surely. His panic was dimming, and his excitement and pleasure were increasing. He shucked his shorts, only to find he was wearing an NYPD jockstrap–and from the bulge in the front, he was both hard, and huge. He groped himself for the old man, loving how sexy he felt, his partner rubbing his hands all over his body…turning his head to the side for a kiss…

That face. He…knew that face, didn’t he? It was getting hard to think, and he felt so hot and sexy. And the hunk he was dancing with was hot and sexy too. He didn’t need to think, he just needed to dance and then he wouldn’t have to think anymore. He could just be a dumb meathead stripper too then, and everything else in the world wouldn’t even matter. They kissed, their mouths hot, rubbing their sweaty bodies together, looking over to make sure their client was enjoying their show, because this wasn’t really about them–it was about pleasing him. Most people probably wouldn’t find a client like this very attractive–middle aged, glasses, portly in odd places, a scruffy beard–but guys like this really turned Zach on for some reason. The idea of a sexy, attractive guy like him worshiping and obeying some fat, nerdy loser like this? It got him so fucking hard every time.

The man beckoned him over after the two of them had been making out for a few minutes; Zack sauntered over, climbed up on the couch facing the man so he was straddling him with his muscular thighs, moaning and swaying to the beat of the music. “Are you still in there, officer?” he asked, “Well, of course you are. Don’t worry, you’ll remember all of this once we’re done for the weekend, but for now, why don’t you kiss me, you handsome dumbass?”

He didn’t really know what the guy was talking about, but he did want to kiss him, and being called a dumbass made him really horny for some reason, so he leaned in and started making out with the client, one hand wrapping around the older man’s cock, stroking it slowly and gently, making sure to edge him. The client beckoned to his partner, who got down behind Zack and started sucking the man’s cock–Zack was jealous as hell, but the client’s pleasure was more important than what he wanted.

The man pushed him away for a moment, and let Zack focus on feeling up his flabby body while he toyed with a tablet he’d kept beside him. “I needed you two to keep your faces for a bit, just to make sure you recognized each other, but I’m sick of looking at your face, officer. Let’s make it a bit more appealing, eh?”

Zack felt an odd shift in his head, but when he looked over at himself in the mirror, he didn’t see anything different. His strong jawline coated with a bit of stubble, those thick lips of his, small nose and piercing green eyes, his brown hair short, and attractively mussed up. “Fuck, I looks sexy…” he said to himself.

“You sure do, stud,” Sidney said, and turned his face back so Zack was looking at him, “And what do you think of me?”

“Fuck, sir, I think’s you’re, like, really really hot. I mean, I’m a stud, but you’re like, my dream guy,” Zack said, gushing a bit, “Do you wanna fuck me, sir? I like being fucked a whole lot.”

“Sure slut, I’ll fuck you. I’ll be fucking you both a whole lot this weekend, I think.”

Zack liked the sound of that for sure. His partner stopped sucking, and he slid his client’s cock into his ass with a loud groan. He might not be smart, but he and his partner were the best whores in the city, and he was going to show this hot fucker the best weekend of his life.

Cabin Pressure (Part 4)

“You have a pretty hot mouth, I have to say.”

They’d been sitting quietly for a few minutes, Jeff trying to sort out his thoughts and his memories, feeling his body, trying to understand how it could feel both so…new and strange and yet familiar at the same time. He could barely fit in the seat assigned to him now, and Brian had raised the armrest between them, meaning their fat bodies were now in constant contact–something which scared jeff to death for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, and which also excited him to no end–feeling each breath of the hot fucking man beside him–he’d really…lucked out, right?

“Hello? Earth to piggy.”

Jeff blushed, “Sorry, sir, I’m…glad you enjoyed it. I…enjoyed it too.”

“I could tell. Bet you’d like me to get my cock in that ass of yours too, right?”

Jeff nodded, humiliated that the people sitting around them could hear what he’d just said to him. Why was he doing this? Letting this fat fuck do this to him? He…honestly wasn’t quite sure what had happened to him, but something was different–no, something was wrong. This was wrong, he was in the wrong body, this wasn’t who he was supposed to be, and he…he couldn’t remember who he’d been at all. Fragments–workout equipment. A woman. A…roommate. That was clear–the roommate. Kevin. He stopped thinking about himself, and focused on Kevin instead. He’d met him at…at college? In the gym–no, on the wrestling team! He’d had to have gone to college, if he’d met Kevin! And Tiffany! He’d just visited her, he…he was sure of it, even if he couldn’t remember it. That…that meant that this wasn’t him–he couldn’t remember everything, but he knew that much.

“How about, when we get off this plane, we head to the bathroom and I give that hole of yours a good plowing? How does that sound?” Brian said, leaning against him gently, exerting a bit of his pressure.

Jeff instinctively started to lean away, to pull back, but then he leaned back in, applying some pressure of his own. “No–no, I’m not going to let you do this to me anymore. I don’t know what the fuck you did, but you’re going to fucking change me back!”

“Did to you? I didn’t do anything to you, pig. This is just who you are!”

“No it fucking isn’t. I…know that. I don’t remember everything but…but I had a roommate I met in college–yeah, college! I know I went there. And I know I just…was just with a girl in Paris, that’s why I fucking went there. I…I forgot her name, but she was there, I know she was there. This is some fucked up fantasy of yours, and I don’t know how you did it, but I know your game.”

“Oh?” the man said, grinning wider, leaning harder, “More fight than I expected. Still, you’re so far gone, there’s nothing you can do but make things worse for yourself, if you keep this up.”

“Fuck you, you’re a fucking liar.”

The man shrugged. “Alright, then, Mr. Fry Cook. Tell me, how did an fast food dead-ender like you manage to afford a European vacation?”

Jeff tried to talk…but he didn’t have an answer. Where did he get the ticket? How did he even get to Europe? On one hand, intellectually, he knew the missing piece was there, but the girl, his roommate, it didn’t fit with everything else in his head…and something else, some other glimmer was forming, the man leaning harder, Jeff losing ground, feeling himself pressing against the side of the plane. “I…I couldn’t afford it, not on my own. I don’t have any savings,” he blurted out. It was…true. But it wasn’t right.

“Of course not. But the guy you were chatting with about those things you wanted, the mods. You couldn’t find anyone state side. And when he offered to pay for your ticket, in exchange for complete willingness as a test subject…well, what choice did you have?”

Jeff was shaking his head, trying to speak, but he couldn’t quite get in a full breath of air. He was feeling lightheaded, desperately trying to keep from passing out again, trying to keep Brian from changing him again, trying to keep himself from connecting the dots that he was being told to follow, because he didn’t want to see what was at the end there. “Please…” he croaked, “I’m sorry, I’ll let you fuck me, I’ll let you do whatever, please…”

“But I’m curious, Piggy. I’m curious about what you needed him to do. What were you so desperate for, that you were willing to let a stranger buy you a plane ticket to another continent, so he’d do it to you? What was so hard to find, what was so perverted, that you couldn’t find anyone closer to you, who would do what you needed so badly, that you were willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you? How long were you with him? How long were you his play thing?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!”

“Yeah, he kept you pretty well drugged, didn’t he? In that dungeon of his, kept in that cage, while you rested in between sessions? Probably a bit hard to remember the details, but I know that you know what you wanted more than anything else. What you were willing to give up your freedom for months to have done to you.”

“I’m not…You’re wrong.”

“It’s only going to get worse, if you don’t just admit it.”

“I…it…tattoos?”

“Oh, I know he was a talented artist, and I know he was excited at a thought of a canvas your size, but that–you could get those anywhere. No, what you needed was much more…taboo…”

Jeff could feel the pricks across his body, ink appearing all over his skin. It still hurt, but Brian was right, there was something else. He…he knew what he was supposed to say, but there had to be something else, right? Not that…he didn’t…really want that, did he?

“Say it pig, say it hog. Say what you begged the filthy pervert you met in Paris to do to you. Tell me what you needed, to finally feel at home in your own, disgusting body.”

Jeff had been holding his breath, knotting up his tongue. He wasn’t going to say it, he wouldn’t. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he passed out again, Brian chuckling, pressing harder, and Jeff dreamed again.

Cabin Pressure (Part 2)

It was back, the thing. But not as a weight this time, it was…the ground, the air, all around him. It smelled stale, earthy, and somehow greasy, coating the inside of his mouth and lungs every time he inhaled a bit of it into himself, and with each breath he sank a bit deeper into it. A waterbed, a beanbag chair, it conformed to him, pulled him in deeper, welcoming him and encouraging him, helping him to feel safe, secure, content, and relaxed.

A space that had been nothing was becoming something around him. His gym. A gym. Did he go to a gym? His memories…they were telling him that he had…but the thing surrounding him was doubtful. Wasn’t that a lot of work? It whispered in his mind’s ear, telling him he wouldn’t have bothered, that he was wrong. The gym was fading, slightly. The walls closing in, the workout equipment melting into the floor, or contorting into other furniture–some shelves, a TV, and behind him, a bench had grown into a couch. The floor shifted, and sent him off balance, falling backwards into the couch, the couch accepted him like the dream had, told him he was here, where he belonged, where he always was, watching the TV. The room was dark and tight, dirty. He didn’t like it here, he didn’t want to be down here. He tried to get off the couch, but he couldn’t lift himself away–the weight dragging him back, the couch pulling him in with a strange suction and gravity. He couldn’t breathe, he was stuck, he couldn’t move, he–


Jeff was pushing against something, something fleshy. He thought it was the strange thing from his dreams, for a moment, and then he realized it wasn’t. It was Brian’s body next to him! His face was pressed into his armpit–that musty smell he’d been inhaling had been the massive man’s sweaty musk. Disgusted, he tried again to push himself away, and had to haul himself out of the Brian’s grasp–his arm had encircled him, and pulled him close, while the man had slept-and now awoken to Jeff’s struggle. “Oh goodness–are you alright?”

“What the fuck, man?” Jeff said, sputtering a bit. “You fucking queer, were you fucking holding me?”

“Now now,” Brian said, his tone a bit more gruff, “You fell asleep on me first!” I didn’t mean to hold onto you, I just dozed off.”

“You fucking faggot, you just wanted to feel me up. Probably the first time you’ve touched a muscle in ages, right you fat fuck?”

Brian just cocked an eyebrow, and then sneered at him, pleased with himself. “Must have been some dream, if that’s what you think of yourself.”

Jeff glared at him, but…but something did feel off. He looked down at himself, expecting to see a chubby, powerlifting physique (was that even right though? Shouldn’t he be leaner than that?) but instead, he was looking down at his body–his real body. Fuck, he’d never set foot in a gym in his life! All he fucking did with his time was sit in his apartment, watching TV…and eating. Fuck, did he have a binge habit, and it showed. He wasn’t quite as large as the man beside him, but he’d just crested 300 at his last doctor visit, which had been pretty fucking humiliating–

No, what the fuck was he even thinking! This wasn’t right, this couldn’t be real! He pinched himself, trying to wake up. This had to be the dream, it had to be!

“Nice try, but there’s no waking up from this one,” Brian said, leering at him, leaning closer, pressing some of his weight to Jeff’s side, “Why don’t you go back to sleep, eh? We were just starting to have some fun.”

Jeff pushed back, pushed himself into the corner, trying to keep from touching his seatmate, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He reached under and unlatched the seatbelt, which was cutting into his gut, stood up, and forced himself between Brian and the seat in front of him, pushing his grasping arms away, while Brian licked his lips, and then he was stumbling down the aisle, towards the bathroom. He needed space, his own space, he had to get away. He got to the bathroom, found it unoccupied, struggled with the door for a moment, and as soon as it was open–he was shoved inside by Brian, who’d followed him up the aisle and followed in by the massive figure, squeezing in with him, and shutting the door behind them both.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Jeff tried to shout, but Brian grabbed him by the face and hauled him close, burying his face between his moobs.

“Now now, just relax, young man. Everything will be fine when you wake up again, I promise,” Brian whispered in his ear, “But we’re going to have to punish you, for being such a fighter–thankfully, I know a few ways to take the fight out of men like you.”

Jeff struggled harder, managing to get a breath of air and spin around, but froze when he saw his reflection in the mirror. Gone was his manicured, slicked back hair, his smooth face–his hair looked like it hadn’t been touched in months, hanging around his head in a mop, the scruffy beard covering his jaw and…both of his chins. He was wearing a dirty, stained t-shirt with some stupid gaming reference, and a pair of massive shorts. He looked like a slob, like a nerd. He was disgusted, he was disgusting. He couldn’t look at it, he couldn’t look at him, and he looked back, into Brian’s eager eyes, and he had nowhere else to go. The man smothered him, Jeff trying, desperately, to reach the door handle, but his hand went slack after a few minutes, and Brian held his limp body close, stroking his body while the younger man snored, eager to have some more fun when he woke again.

Dale’s Story (Part 9 – Finale)

Thank you all for the input over the last month, this has been a lot of fun to do again! I’ll probably take a break on this for a little while, and go back to just photo captions for a bit (look for them on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays). Here’s the finale, which is option #3 with a twist of #2 for all of you desperate pups out there.


His dad did look rather lonely, nursing that beer over there all by himself, looking around at the bar as more and more men succumbed to the new reality slowly taking them all over, exuded by the stranger…or the mayor, right? Dale looked over at the old man, shoving pipe smoke down George’s throat at the bar, and wondered how he could have not recognized him all this time. The damn town mayor! What in the hell was wrong with him, that he’d forget something like that? Oh well, it wasn’t like his head was screwed on too tight when it came to anything that wasn’t food and cars, so he’d make do.

The two young men, Jack and Terry, were still licking him clean, and he started tweaking their brains a bit, a little at a time, pulling and unraveling a few strings at a time, making sure they knew what was happening, but also knowing there was nothing they could do to fight it. Soon enough, they actually kind of liked it–the idea of a man having total control over them, especially someone like Dale. A big man…a father figure, even. Someone they could respect. Someone they could serve, perhaps.

The mayor gave him a funny look, and then shifted his attention to the man who, yesterday, had been Dale’s father. He’d gone to pot a bit since his wife’s death a few years ago, putting on a spare tire, and getting a bit too attached to the beer and whisky. As dale watched, his gut expanded into a firm, hard ball belly, his shirt disappearing, revealing skin coated with hair. His beard filled in but remained a bit scraggly, his nose growing red and bulbous from a few breaks, scars from brawls due to his mean streak, a real roughneck, as rough as they come. A denim vest covered with biker patches and regalia appeared on his shoulders, some well worn chaps over his jeans–Bubba, as everyone called him, knocked back another shot of whisky, stood up, swayed a moment, then stomped his way over to where Dale was sitting with the two young men, and he definitely liked what he saw, liked it even better when Bubba lit a cigar, leaned over and fed Dale a deep lungful of smoke while his two boys went to town on Dale.

Yeah, they were going to be Bubba’s boys for sure, not that the rest of the town couldn’t have a piece of either one whenever they felt like it. He looked down, and saw them changing under the stranger’s gaze. Jack first, his body bulking up with a muscle and fat, a bushy goatee around his mouth, body covered with scars, sores, welts and bruises, but that’s just normal for a punching bag fag like him. He’d grown up taking everything Bubba had felt he deserved, and Bubba thought he’d deserved a whole damn lot–thankfully, the boy’d grown to like it well enough, and generally was happy enough to let anyone abuse him as long as he got a fuck out of it in the end. Bubba tapped him on the head, and Jack looked up, mouth open, letting Bubba drop a cinder in his mouth to swallow, and then he went back to licking Dale’s chest, his tongue leaving a trail of sodden ash wherever it went.

Next came Terry, or Terrier, as everyone called him. A simple boy, he hadn’t really been up to being a man, so Bubba had trained him to be a pup instead. He was smaller than his brother Jack, more lithe and muscular, and he dropped down onto all fours, wagging the buttplug tail in his ass to and fro, as he scrambled under the table, buried his nose into Dale’s fat and started working on his cock, lapping up Dale’s cum as he moaned, and Bubba hauled out his own cock and fed it to Dale’s hungry mouth, and he looked again at the stranger, whose eyes were on him now.

He could feel his awareness dulling, his memories of the last twenty four hours dimming and dulling away into this new sense of normal. He saw Farmer Mick burst into the bar, hauling his massive pig behind him on a leash, coated with mud, and it was just…normal. His sucking Bubba’s cock was normal too, of course. He’d always had a thing for rough types like him, and Bubba had always liked pounding his big, fat ass into the ground, whenever he came in to get a tuneup for his harley. Course, Dale did have a bit of a reputation to uphold–he couldn’t just go around letting the whole town think his fat ass was open to just any fucker who wanted it, but he did have a soft spot for the big lug, he had to admit it. “Ya know Bubba,” Dale said, when he pulled away for a moment, “How ‘bout you ‘n yer boys, ‘n me ‘n mah boys, all spend a nice long night at mah place tahnight?”

“Heh, I had a date with a few biker buds of mine, but I wouldn’t pass up a chance at yer big ass, the way I’m feelin’ tonight,” Bubba growled down at him, and they shared some more smoke, before Bubba hauled him up out of the chair. Dale gave a whistle, and his two boys came over, and all six of them headed off into the night, happy denizens of the new town, where they lived happily ever after, in one life or another.

Dale’s Story (Part 8)

Well, options one and three were pretty much even, and I think I have a better idea that can pull them both together, so why don’t we go with that?


“Hell,” Dale said, “I wouldn’t mind gettin’ mah hands on a couple a Bishop’s friends, who were always assholes tah me. Bet we can find ‘em at George’s bar, right ‘bout now, too.”

The stranger grinned, “Sounds good tah me. I had plans there last night, which I put off after running intah you anyway. I’ll see ya there in a few, then,” he said.

“We can jus’ drive over tahgether, I got mah…truck?” Dale said, but when he looked back where the stranger had been standing outside the barn a moment before, he had disappeared. Dale looked back at the farmer and Bishop, rutting over the trough, and he made a few final tweaks to his brother’s mind. He’d always remember who they’d both been, but he’d find it impossible to tell anyone the truth. He also made it so that, even though this new Bishop would always love anything his master did to him, deep inside, he’d never be able to get rid of his shame, especially of his size. Lastly, he buried a few…extreme thoughts in Bishop’s new master’s head, some new ideas of what he could do with, and two, his new pigslave. Dale had a feeling he’d be in for a few wild rides, and whole lot more, soon enough. Satisfied with himself, he lumbered back to his truck and climbed in, started her up, and drove off back into town, pulling into the parking lot of George’s bar half an hour later…only it wasn’t quite the bar he remembered it being.

The building was bigger for one thing, and when he went inside, he discovered that the exterior wasn’t the only thing that had shifted. The walls were lined with all sorts of fetish equipment around the bar, and a set of stairs led down into an a darkened series of halls and nooks. The bar was full, and George was madly serving drinks wearing nothing more than a leather vest, chaps and a jockstrap, like everything was perfectly normal. Looking around, he also saw that, while the gender ratio usually was about 50/50, tonight every guy in town was here–hell, more like every guy from the three closest towns. And there the stranger was, at the bar, just like the night before.

He saw Dale gawking at the entrance, got up, and walked over, chuffing smoke from his pipe. “What do ya think? Not too bad, right?”

“Fuck, you fucking…” Dale said, and looked around, “I mean, are they all…gay now?”

“Eh, they all will be by the end of the night. If you change too much at once, there can be…issues at times. Still, we’re going to have a nice little town here, I think–we’re all going to have a whole lot of fun.” He reached out and tweaked one of Dale’s nipples–he flinched, and then looked down, discovering his clothes had shifted as well, and he was wearing just a pair of rubber overalls and some waders on his feet. “Love a big man in rubber,” he added, leaned in and they shared a smoky kiss for a few moments, before the strange pulled back. “Anyway, the guys you mentioned are over there,” he indicated with his pipe the two young men sitting at a table, sipping beers, chatting and laughing like nothing had changed at all. Dale looked around, and saw a few more familiar faces–his two boys were sucking on each other’s faces in a corner, halfway out of their coveralls already, and he also noticed his dad–or rather, the man who’d been his dad, sitting alone on a barstool, looking a bit lonely. His dad had never been a bad guy, and he’d been pretty broken up ever since his wife left a few years back, but he’d done his best. Maybe he could help him out too.

He walked over to the two young men, already slipping into their minds, and as soon as he got to the table and sat down, both of them men got up, came around, and started licking and sucking at his fat, kneading his gut through the rubber stretched over his massive frame. They were both fighting as hard as they could, disgusted at what they were doing, but also unable to stop themselves, Dale stroking their hair and considering his options.


So, what should Dale do with these two young men?

  1. He makes himself a couple of muscle bound slaves for him and his sons to use and abuse around the shop.
  2. They’d be cute as a couple of puppy dogs–one for him and his boys, and one for his old dad, to keep him company.
  3. His dad could use a couple of sons to replace the ones he’s lost, but he has a feeling these two will be in for a whole lot of abuse.
  4. George is looking a bit understaffed–he decides to make them both into a couple of sexy waiters for the whole bar to enjoy.

So, what would you like to see happen next?

Arctos: Briar (Part 4)

Cole heard that. He sat back and stood up, his face appearing from behind Miles, and he did a double take. “Jase?”

“Cole?” Jase said, “What the fuck are you–who the fuck is this? What…Where’s my dad…?”

Miles was blushing a bit, but also found it kind of sexy that they’d gotten caught by his…son? His mind immediately told him that couldn’t be right–he and Jase were almost the same age after all. No, so then…housemates? Yeah, housemates, of course. He kind of wished they were more than that, after all, Jase was one sexy fucker, but he’d settled for Jase’s equally hot coworker Cole in the meantime. He figured that if Jase…stumbled in on them a few times, he might eventually get up the courage to maybe join in. “Sorry Jase,” he said, “we got a little carried away, right Daddy?”

Cole didn’t say anything–if this wasn’t Jase, then who the hell…his mind started filling in blanks for him. How he’d met Miles when he’d stopped by the worksite one day to give Jase something from home, and the two of them had known at a glance that they were going to fuck, and soon. That very night, in fact, Cole followed Jase home and fucked around with Miles, much to Jase’s frustration. He could still recall, of course, that Jase had been his original target, but Miles was certainly a nice consolation prize if nothing else. “Yeah, sorry man…you know how I get around Miles, right?”

Jase didn’t know. Even as the other two had new memories forming, Jase was at a loss, the smoke filled room making his eyes water a bit, unable to understand where his dad had gone, and how these two strangers had gotten here instead.

“Guess he’s speechless–come on daddy, wanna keep going in my room?”

“Sure thing cub, lead the way!”

Miles got off the couch, grabbed Cole’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs, passing Jase along the way, who was still unable to process what was going on. He shared a look with Cole as he passed, the older man regarding him with a smile, but was there also a bit of disappointment there? They both went upstairs, and all that remained was their plumes of smoke, which Jase couldn’t help breathe in, and he started looking around wondering where his dad was, but the more second hand smoke he breathed, the less certain he became that his father was there at all. Still, he could remember him, right? Certainly he could remember someone else who should be here besides Miles, his housemate. No–what?

He paused. Where in the hell had that thought come from? And wasn’t Miles his father’s name? That was an odd coincidence he supposed, but not really that strange in the end. His memories felt more and more confused, and he heard a loud thump from upstairs in the master bedroom, where Miles slept, a groan, and then the squeak of his bed’s springs. Ugh, he couldn’t believe Miles liked Cole of all people. He didn’t really care that they were fags, but did he have to pick the coworker he liked the least the fuck around with? He shook his head, figuring there were just some things he wouldn’t understand, and he too, went upstairs, back to his room and inside, but where the air was clearer, the worries returned.

He saw pictures of him and his father, pinned to the wall, the memories of them here in this house so damn clear to him, but at the same time, some other part of him kept saying he had to be mistaken. He pushed that other part of himself away, and focused on his memories–coming home and talking to his dad. That strange box he’d received in the mail. It was crazy, but…but what if Miles…was his dad? Had something happened to him? Or more precisely, had Cole done something to him? He thought of the surprise he’d seen on Cole’s face downstairs, of the sense of disappointment as he’d walked past. The box…it had been for him. Was…did something happen to his dad that should have happened to him instead?

He could still smell smoke. He threw open his window, leaned against the screen, and his head cleared further still. His dad had been acting so strange about that package, and Cole was such a raging pervert…there was a piece of the puzzle he was missing though–what had been in the box? He went downstairs and searched a bit further, until he found where his father had opened it in the kitchen, but there was nothing there–just an empty box with Arctos printed on the side, a blank piece of paper beside it. This was no use–he’d have to…maybe if he spied a bit, he’d figure something out, something that would help him figure out what had happened to his dad.

He crept up the stairs, towards the door to the Master bedroom. The smoke was thicker here, the smell as strong as it had been downstairs, and he could hear them moaning behind it–he cracked open the door, smoke billowing through, and it was so thick, he could only see the outlines of them fucking on the bed. His housemate was there, Cole’s cock buried in his hole–no! No, it was his dad. Fuck, looking at him, how hadn’t he seen it before? He looked like he had in old family portraits, just hairier, and…sluttier. But he was so young, he couldn’t be his dad, and be that young. The smoke was thick in his lungs, making him feel lightheaded. Those doubts were back, and he fought harder, knowing that they were false…but the more smoke he breathed, the stronger they got. He could sense them, trying to rewire his mind somehow, frustrated that he was being as resistant as he was, and then they noticed his awareness, and they pushed harder. He focused as hard as he could, focusing on his dad, on helping him, on fighting, but it was too much. He felt a sharp pain rip through his brain as something in him broke apart, and then fell back clutching his head, trying not not to scream.

Arctos: Briar

Cole gave off another belch, then patted his gut and laughed, looking over at Jase, the younger man just rolling his eyes and walking off to get back to work on the site. “Come on, you have to admit that was a good one!” Cole shouted after him.

“You’re gross, Cole,” he said over his shoulder, “ Would you get some work done for a fucking change?”

Cole laughed, but did go back to working on the houses they were building, but he let off another belch, groped his thick cock through his cutoff jeans, amazed that he was horny again already. He’d fucking jacked off in the damn porta-potty twice today, and it looked like he was going to have to take another smoke break. Still, he kept up for a few more minutes, until his cock was aching, and then he pulled out his pipe, made a show of patting his pants, and said, “Out of fucking tobacco,” loud enough for a few guys to hear. Jase noticed, and sighed–it was just Cole being Cole, he thought, as frustrating as the fat fuck was, watching him head for his truck. He’d be missing for half an hour, leaving everyone else to pick up the slack. Still, he’d been a part of the crew for so long, none of them could imagine it without him. As annoying as he was, he was just…there. Most of which was true, except for the fact that Cole had only been working with them for about a week.

Cole hadn’t forgotten his tobacco, of course–it was in his pocket, but he needed some time alone to blow off some steam. After a week, he’d gotten used to this body for the most part, and he’d thought he’d quit getting turned on by it so much, but damn, every time he let off a belch, or noticed the heft of his gut, or caught a whiff of his musk…He lifted an arm and took a whiff, hauling out his cock before fumbling with his pipe. It wasn’t a perfect pack or light, but it did the job well enough, and the cab flooded with smoke as he stroked himself slow, smelling himself.

He’d been playing a game, the last few days, trying to remember things about himself, before he’d opened that pipe club kit he’d received from Arctos in the mail, but the image was fading, and the memories too. He’d been younger than he was now, in his thirties. Clean shaven. Working at a desk all day, but he had no clue what he’d done. Pushing papers, spreadsheets, something like that. So much fucking better, getting sweaty all day under the sun, working your body out with a bunch of other burly fuckers. Of course, this job of his was new–he’d been so happy with his pipe, that of course he’d taken advantage of the discount to order a few things from Arctos, the construction kit and a few other accessories, and here he was–a nasty pig working on the site all damn day, and he loved it. He knew, in the back of his mind, that his old self would be disgusted by what he’d become, but why in the hell should he care about that fucker? He didn’t even smoke! Fuck, if Cole had to go without his pipe for a day, he didn’t know what the fuck he’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

He hiked his dusty wifebeater up over his hairy gut, giving it a rub with his free hand, pinching one of his fat nipples, thinking about Jase. He’d been saving his referral to the pipe club for someone special, and on the first day, he’d decided that special someone was going to be Jase. The guy was young, but built–at least six four, three hundred pounds, a bunch of it muscle. Beard down to his chest, a bright red. He’d requested a kinkcub cut tobacco with a heavy musk flavor added, and expedited shipping of course. Earlier that day, he’d gotten a message from his phone that the package had arrived while they were here at work. He’d give Jase a few hours to…get acclimated, and then come knocking tonight, and the two of them were going to have some real fun. He storked a bit faster, gave a long fart, and then shot his load up onto his gut, rubbing it in until it turned sticky, and then climbed out of his truck, puffing smoke, and headed back to the worksite. Quitting time couldn’t come soon enough, in his opinion, and all day, jase noticed that Cole kept glancing over at him, rubbing his crotch, head shrouded in that pipe smoke of his–and he too, couldn’t wait to get away when the day was over.

Something Cole hadn’t bothered to learn about Jase, however, was whether or not he lived alone. In fact, Jase still lived with his father, Miles–he’d been trying to scrape money together to move out for a while now, but honestly it was just easier to stay with him. They were both pretty laid back, he helped out with expenses, he had privacy, and his dad, he thought, was mostly happy to not have to live all by himself. He was in his early 50’s, and worked a warehouse job early in the morning, and was usually home early in the afternoon–early enough to have answered the door when the burly delivery man from some company named Arctos showed up with a small package for his son. As soon as he touched the box, he felt an odd rush through his body, and along with that, an intense curiosity for what might be inside. To his knowledge, his son had never been one to order things online or anything–what in the hell could it be?

He made himself a snack, and went to watch TV, but he couldn’t focus, and kept looking at the box, and then the clock. Jase was usually home by six…but sometimes he went out for drinks with the guys. If he wasn’t home by…say, seven…would he really mind if his dad opened it for him? It was a breach of privacy, sure, but he had a growing certainty inside him, that whatever was in there was meant not for jase, but for him. It was his! So nice of Jase to get him a present! Sure, his birthday was still a few months away, but father’s day was around the corner. He’d never splurged on anything like this before–if it was meant for him anyway, what harm was there in opening it?

He forced himself to wait. It hurt, but it was, technically, Jase’s, after all. He might be angry if he spoiled the surprise, after all. Thankfully, he heard Jase’s truck pull up outside the house and into the driveway, and it was excruciating, waiting for him to come into the house, so he could show him the package, and ask him about it. He had to play it cool though, at least a little bit. So he waited, and Jase came through the door, and in a bit of a rush, Miles said, “Hey, some guy brought you a package today–it’s by the door. What did you order?”

Jase looked at him, confused, and then went over to the box. A intense jealousy shot through him, as he watched Jase turn the box over in his hands, and then set it down again, like nothing had struck him at all. “No idea–I didn’t order anything. Who was it from?”

“He just said it was a gift, from Arctos. Are you…do you just not want to tell me about my present or something?” he asked.

“Present? What are you talking about?” Jase asked. The question hung in an awkward silence for a bit, and then he said, “It’s not mine. We might as well send it back.”

“We don’t even know what’s in there though!” Miles nearly shouted.

“Jeeze dad, get a grip! Open it if you want, I don’t care. Anyway, I’m tired–I’m going to chill out for a bit, and we can have dinner later, ok?”

Jase headed off towards his room upstairs, but Miles didn’t bother replying. How in the fuck could he not care at all, just like that! He grabbed the box, clutching it to his chest, then went and found a knife in the kitchen, slit the tape open, and opened it–inside was a large pipe, a pouch of tobacco, and a slip of paper. He’d expected the need to ebb a bit, once he’d gotten the package open and sated his curiosity, but seeing the pipe, it only got worse. With a shaking hand, he picked up the nose, but all managed to read was:

Here at the Arctos Briar Division we strive to provide the highest quality of pipes, pipe tobacco, and accessories to ensure that any man who tries one of our products is determined to be a pipe smoker for life!

Included here is one pipe smoker starter kit, which has been provided to you at no cost, through our refer a friend program. By now, our patented smart memory chemicals…

Miles already knew what he needed to to, what he wanted to do. He was a cigarette smoker, had been all his life, and while he’d seen guys smoke a pipe a few times, he had never tried one himself, even though he’d always wanted to, right? He was having a hard time figuring that out, actually. He’d thought he’d never been that interested in pipes, and yet, looking at one now, he couldn’t help but ask himself why he’d never thought of trying one before. He didn’t know quite what to do with it, but he picked up the hefty pipe, surprised by how heavy it was, feeling the smooth wood and briar, and then reached into the pouch for the tobacco. The leaf was black and quite pungent, but the smell actually made him a bit horny, for some reason. He didn’t have any trouble packing and tamping the pipe–it was like his hands simply knew what they were doing, without him needing to guide them. At last, it was ready–he put the end in his mouth, lit it with the matches from the box, because he was too excited to try and find his lighter, and puffed it to light, drawing deep as soon as he could, and exhaling with a long plume of relieved satisfaction.

He took a few more long inhales, enjoying the rush he was getting off the smoke, so much more intense than anything he’d gotten from cigarettes before. He should have switched ages ago! He went back out into the den and sat back down on the couch, stretching out, staring at the TV but not watching anything in particular. The panic and anxiety had ebbed, and now all he felt was horny, which was strange. He didn’t exactly get horny very often anymore, and he didn’t exactly go out looking for women much anymore either. Still, it was good to know the old lizard could still wake up on occasion, right? He checked behind him, at the stairs, but his son usually camped up in his room all afternoon until dinner, so why not rub a load out? It had never occurred to him that he had never once considered jacking off where his son might discover him–he just pulled his cock through the fly of the boxers he was wearing and started stroking it slowly, leaning back, puffing on the pipe, and then pulled his balls through the hole as well, the cloth tightening around the base, hardening into steel, and the resulting cock ring only made his cock engorge further, the rest of the cloth tightening up around his thighs, turning black and slick, becoming a pair of rubber shorts which left both his cock and ass entirely exposed.

The wifebeater he had on was contorting as well, the collar pulling up closer to his throat, the rest tighting around his hefty, hairy gut, beginning to darken. The collar detached and tightened around Miles’ neck, thickening into a leather collar studded with short spikes, the rest becoming a tight fitting rubber tank. Oblivious, he rubbed his nipples through the rubber with his free hand, feeling how huge and sensitive they were–all that effort he’d been putting into pumping them had really paid off–same with his fucking balls. His cock wasn’t huge, but his sack was bulging larger and larger, hanging lower onto the seat of the couch–he hefted them, and then gave them a tug, his cock immediately spewing precum at the sensation.

He couldn’t see very well through the smoke, but the TV was still playing one of his favorite pornos. He waved a bit of it away, watching that thick, massively hung daddy line that cock up with that cub’s hole, hearing him whimpering with need, and start slipping it inside, bit by bit, the moaning now pained, but still so eager, and Miles bounced on the dildo in his hole a bit faster. That’s what he fucking needed, some god damn daddy dick in his hole! That thought set off some doubts, some worries–he wasn’t gay, was he? Then again, he’d thought he wouldn’t like pipes, and look at him now? Still, he was old enough to be a daddy himself, after all, Jase was right upstairs. Hopefully his son couldn’t hear him moaning…then again, Jase was sexy. Not quite daddy material, but Miles wasn’t feeling too picky. Any cock in a storm, right?

His full beard had pulled back in a bit, shortening as the grey disappeared, turning a vibrant red he hadn’t seen on himself in decades. His body hair thickened in, spreading across his chest and especially in his pits and crack, and his nose caught a smell he loved–he lifted his arm and took a deep breath of his musky stench, and shuddered, leaning his face in and licking at the sweat there. Hopefully jase hadn’t taken a shower yet; it would be so much better if he still stank from work, tasted like dirt and dust and sweat, letting his cub lick him from pit to toe, fuck! He could suck on those damn feet of his all night, if he let him. The room around him was a bit messy, and he got up for a moment, finding a pair of Jase’s work socks and taking them with him back to the couch, sniffing at first, in between puffs on his pipe, and then started sucking the sweat out of them, wiping up his own cum and sweat with them and sucking that out too. Getting close, but better to edge for a bit longer. Maybe Jase will come down, and catch him. Fuck, embarrassing, sure, but at least it would be out there. That fucker can’t know what he’s missing, plowing Mile’s tight cub hole, if he hasn’t seen it, right? That didn’t happen, but a few minutes later, there was a knock at the front door.

Someone killing his damn vibe. He ignored the door, and just kept stroking, moaning a bit louder, hoping to summon Jase down by curiosity, and there was another pounding at the door, louder, and a deep voice yelled through it, “Goddamn it cub, I can fucking smell you in there! Open the damn door and take care of this fucking daddy cock.”

Now that caught his attention. He got up from the couch, wondering who in the hell it might be, nervous and anxious, but whoever it was, daddy was hot. Now that he was closer to the door, he could smell him too–the scent was new and yet so…damn familiar. Surely he must have smelt him somewhere before. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, and Cole was standing them, sneering around his own pipe, rubbing his cock through his sweat soaked cutoffs. Daddy. Seeing him…it clicked into place. His daddy. He had a daddy, thank fucking god, a daddy to save him from himself.

Cole pushed into the house, shutting the door behind them with a slam and pressed their bodies together, slick with sweat, smelling his new boy, and moaning. “Fuck, I can’t fucking believe how hot you look, better than I fucking imagined!” Cole said, and shoved his face into Miles’ pit, snorting and licking, “Yeah, fucking reek! Just like they fucking advertised…Come on cub, give daddy one of those sloppy kisses of yours, suck my tongue like you’re gonna be suckin’ my cock from now on.”

They forgot to take their pipes out, but caught them, and kissed, Cole spinning them around and shoving his cub up against the door, hard, the wall shaking a bit, licking his boy’s bearded face, Miles sucking his tongue into his mouth, nibbling at it, both hands working his daddy’s cutoffs, hauling out his huge daddy cock and stroking it, his ass aching for it, even though it was still stuffed full with his favorite dildo. “God daddy, fuck me, my fuckin’ hole sir…”

Cole growled, bit down on his boy’s neck, hearing him hiss, back arching as he sucked at his wet throat, and let go with a pop. “Fuck, yeah, forget the fucking bj, I want that hole, I can smell it pig, get on the couch.”

Miles bounded over and got on the couch, facing the back on his knees, spread wide, crack ready. Cole shoved the coffee table back and got down on his knees behind him, hauling the big dildo out, tossing it to the side, and shoving his mouth against his cub’s hole, licking and sucking at the pucker, and Mile’s let loose a long fart.

“Oh fuck boy, you know how to turn daddy’s damn cranks…”

“Fuck yeah, I know what daddies want…”

“Wanted you since the first damn day I saw you, you know that?” Cole said, pulling away for a moment, “Now you’re mine now, ain’t that right?”

“Fuck yeah, Daddy, I’m fucking yours!”

“That’s what I wanna hear,” Cole said, and dug back into Miles’ crack, wrapping one hand around his massive sack and tugging it away from his body, listening to him moan loudly, loud enough that Cole didn’t hear the sound of Jase coming down the stairs. The sounds coming from the lower level had grown too loud for him to ignore, but he couldn’t imagine what his father might be watching, or doing, downstairs. He came down and around the corner, facing the back of the couch, and he saw a strange young man, thick red beard and short hair, puffing on a pipe and groaning in some strange rubber get up, and he froze, before saying, “What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?”

Cole heard that. He sat back and stood up, his face appearing from behind Miles, and he did a double take. “Jase?”

“Cole?” Jase said, “What the fuck are you–who the fuck is this? What…Where’s my dad…?”

Miles was blushing a bit, but also found it kind of sexy that they’d gotten caught by his…son? His mind immediately told him that couldn’t be right–he and Jase were almost the same age after all. No, so then…housemates? Yeah, housemates, of course. He kind of wished they were more than that, after all, Jase was one sexy fucker, but he’d settled for Jase’s equally hot coworker Cole in the meantime. He figured that if Jase…stumbled in on them a few times, he might eventually get up the courage to maybe join in. “Sorry Jase,” he said, “we got a little carried away, right Daddy?”

Cole didn’t say anything–if this wasn’t Jase, then who the hell…his mind started filling in blanks for him. How he’d met Miles when he’d stopped by the worksite one day to give Jase something from home, and the two of them had known at a glance that they were going to fuck, and soon. That very night, in fact, Cole followed Jase home and fucked around with Miles, much to Jase’s frustration. He could still recall, of course, that Jase had been his original target, but Miles was certainly a nice consolation prize if nothing else. “Yeah, sorry man…you know how I get around Miles, right?”

Jase didn’t know. Even as the other two had new memories forming, Jase was at a loss, the smoke filled room making his eyes water a bit, unable to understand where his dad had gone, and how these two strangers had gotten here instead.

“Guess he’s speechless–come on daddy, wanna keep going in my room?”

“Sure thing cub, lead the way!”

Miles got off the couch, grabbed Cole’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs, passing Jase along the way, who was still unable to process what was going on. He shared a look with Cole as he passed, the older man regarding him with a smile, but was there also a bit of disappointment there? They both went upstairs, and all that remained was their plumes of smoke, which Jase couldn’t help breathe in, and he started looking around wondering where his dad was, but the more second hand smoke he breathed, the less certain he became that his father was there at all. Still, he could remember him, right? Certainly he could remember someone else who should be here besides Miles, his housemate. No–what?

He paused. Where in the hell had that thought come from? And wasn’t Miles his father’s name? That was an odd coincidence he supposed, but not really that strange in the end. His memories felt more and more confused, and he heard a loud thump from upstairs in the master bedroom, where Miles slept, a groan, and then the squeak of his bed’s springs. Ugh, he couldn’t believe Miles liked Cole of all people. He didn’t really care that they were fags, but did he have to pick the coworker he liked the least the fuck around with? He shook his head, figuring there were just some things he wouldn’t understand, and he too, went upstairs, back to his room and inside, but where the air was clearer, the worries returned.

He saw pictures of him and his father, pinned to the wall, the memories of them here in this house so damn clear to him, but at the same time, some other part of him kept saying he had to be mistaken. He pushed that other part of himself away, and focused on his memories–coming home and talking to his dad. That strange box he’d received in the mail. It was crazy, but…but what if Miles…was his dad? Had something happened to him? Or more precisely, had Cole done something to him? He thought of the surprise he’d seen on Cole’s face downstairs, of the sense of disappointment as he’d walked past. The box…it had been for him. Was…did something happen to his dad that should have happened to him instead?

He could still smell smoke. He threw open his window, leaned against the screen, and his head cleared further still. His dad had been acting so strange about that package, and Cole was such a raging pervert…there was a piece of the puzzle he was missing though–what had been in the box? He went downstairs and searched a bit further, until he found where his father had opened it in the kitchen, but there was nothing there–just an empty box with Arctos printed on the side, a blank piece of paper beside it. This was no use–he’d have to…maybe if he spied a bit, he’d figure something out, something that would help him figure out what had happened to his dad.

He crept up the stairs, towards the door to the Master bedroom. The smoke was thicker here, the smell as strong as it had been downstairs, and he could hear them moaning behind it–he cracked open the door, smoke billowing through, and it was so thick, he could only see the outlines of them fucking on the bed. His housemate was there, Cole’s cock buried in his hole–no! No, it was his dad. Fuck, looking at him, how hadn’t he seen it before? He looked like he had in old family portraits, just hairier, and…sluttier. But he was so young, he couldn’t be his dad, and be that young. The smoke was thick in his lungs, making him feel lightheaded. Those doubts were back, and he fought harder, knowing that they were false…but the more smoke he breathed, the stronger they got. He could sense them, trying to rewire his mind somehow, frustrated that he was being as resistant as he was, and then they noticed his awareness, and they pushed harder. He focused as hard as he could, focusing on his dad, on helping him, on fighting, but it was too much. He felt a sharp pain rip through his brain as something in him broke apart, and then fell back clutching his head, trying not not to scream.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was gone, leaving Jase gasping and shaking on the floor, trying to understand what had just happened to him. Where even was he anyway? He looked around, found he was in the hallway outside his son’s door, which was open a crack. He must have been…been peeping. Yeah, he always liked to watch his son get plowed by the guys he brought home, and he’d been bringing that sexy fucker Cole home a whole lot lately. Damn, that pig was nasty, and a huge damn cock…

No–No, he wasn’t thinking straight. Jase stumbled up, but couldn’t catch his balance, felt like he was going to throw up. He went into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror…but the reflection was wrong! He looked so…so young, not even a hint of grey anywhere, and certainly more muscular…right? He looked more like his son, if anything–what it the world was going on? Some other part of him was trying to tell him he was wrong, that something had happened to his mind, that he wasn’t thinking straight somehow, but everything was so hazy…maybe if he had a smoke…He patted his pockets, but his pipe wasn’t there. He checked the floor where he’d fallen, but it wasn’t there either.

Downstairs, he heard the doorbell. The pipe could wait a moment–it was more important that he go down and get his package. He opened the door and found a burly delivery man there–a sexy fucker, huge cock outlined in those tight shorts, and he handed Jase a small package, told him to have a good day, and then left. Jase closed the door and opened up the box, where he found a short note:

“Valued Arctos Customer,

We’ve been alerted to a reality incongruence event, and wish to apologize for any distress this may have caused you with a complimentary gift to help ease your transition.

Enjoy!”

It was his pipe.

His favorite pipe was in this box for some reason, along with a pouch of his usual tobacco, but how in the hell had it gotten there? Then again, maybe…maybe that wasn’t worth worrying about, better to just get it lit as soon as possible. He’d feel better with some smoke in his lungs. He found his son’s lighter and packed the pipe, fumbling with it awkwardly, like his hands kept trying to fight him somehow, some voice screaming deep in him, best to shut it up quick before he got any ideas. He pulled in the first lungful of smoke, and calm suffused his body, muffling the objections he’d been feeling. Everything was alright, now that he had his pipe–now he could get back to what really mattered–watching that hot daddy Cole give his son a proper pounding. His standards seemed pretty low–maybe he’d even give Jase a fuck too.

He climbed the stairs, and halfway up his joints and muscles started to ache familiarly. He passed the bathroom and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Funny, he thought he’d looked odd a few minutes earlier, but things were looking more normal now–his frizzy mane of hair had lost nearly all of it’s red at this point, the same with his beard. He was short, with a thick gut, arms and legs withered a bit with age, that puny cock of his…couldn’t even get hard anymore, not that he’d ever had much use for it. No, he was an old pig through and through–taught his boy everything he knew, and he couldn’t be more proud of the filthy slut Miles had become.

He got back down on his knees, slowly this time, one hand on the wall to steady himself. It fucking sucked getting old–twenty years ago, there wasn’t a single pig around here who could match him. Still, maybe it was time to pass the baton to his boy, because fucking look at him. The way he’s taking Cole’s cock, god damn. Jase reached down under his sweaty, greasy gut for his short cock and found it at half mast–even that was an increasing rarity these days, but a relief to know that the old pecker wasn’t quite dead yet.

Miles and Cole shifted positions, and the cub looked over and saw the door was open, and someone was crouched down in the crack. He had no idea who it could be, but he recognized his pervy, nasty dad after a few moments. Odd how he’d looked like a total stranger for a moment, but rare was the time when his dad wasn’t watching his son get fucked by the men he brought home with him. He put on a bit of a show, watching his old man’s gut heave a bit, drool in his thick beard, old tongue on his thin lips, huffing on that ancient pipe of his. Past his prime, but damn, Miles wished his old cock could still work. His dad wasn’t much of a fucker of course, but Miles had always liked how…close he felt, getting fucked by his dad, back when he was still learning what a damn pig he was. Cole noticed him a moment later, and his reaction was a bit more extreme. He hauled his cock out and stepped back, shouting, “Who the fuck is that?”

“Just my pig dad Cole, don’t worry about it. I always let him watch,” Miles said, “Get back in me daddy, I want your damn cock, sir…”

Cole ignored him and strode to the door, opening it, and looking down at the short, flabby old man in the doorway. Jase–he could still see him in there, even as the smoke rewrote his memories. He’d always pictured him as a cub…but damn, he made a sexy old pig in the end too. “Nonsense, I think your dad should play too, don’t you Miles?”

“His cock don’t work anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jase added, “Was never much a top anyway.”

Cole smirked, “Get in here dad. Shove that fist up your boy’s cunt, and I’m gonna feed his throat. How’s that sound?”

Jase’s cloudy eyes lit up with a sparkle. Cole helped the old man up and together they flanked his son and got to work. By morning, all three of them couldn’t even fathom a time when they hadn’t been living together, their own fucked up family unit, getting more and more perverse every time a new Arctos sample showed up on the doorstep…well, that’s a story for another time, don’t you think?

Features & Bugs (Part 5)

I tried the door, but my body wouldn’t even open it. I tried climbing out a window, but even if I could have fit through, my body refused to pass an invisible threshold. Anger gave way to doubt, into terror. He really had done something to me, and I had no idea what it was. We’d been dating for months; was all of it a lie? Or was it just this? Who even was I? I didn’t dare go near the computer–I was certain that had something to do with all of this. Instead, I ate. I ate like a nervous wreck. I couldn’t stop myself. Around three in the afternoon, I realized I still hadn’t had a shower all weekend, and I reeked of cum and piss, but my body wouldn’t even touch the water when I tried to get in. I ransacked his room, his office, looking for anything, a clue, something. All the while, the horniness just kept building. Plugs helped, but they kept falling out until I found one the size of a toddler’s arm.

I wanted to watch the videos again. What would those pigs have done, in my position? I knew this was a terrible question to ask, a terrible idea to even be having, but it comforted me. It comforts me, I mean. I…really do want to be one of them, you know. That’s impossible to deny. Maybe not always, but now? This thing I am now? I do, I really do. But I resisted. I resist. I don’t know why. Austin came home that night at around seven, and I’d emptied to house of food. Sure enough, the man was with him–who I’d seen both at work and at the club–smoking, even older than he’d been, now at least in his fifties. As soon as I see the terror in his eyes, I know he’s in the same position as I am. Aware, but unable to articulate anything, unable to disobey. We both followed Austin down into the basement of his house, and he locked us into two sturdy wooden chairs he has rooted in the concrete floor, and he told us the story, from the beginning.

He’d only been intending it to be mind control, he told us. It had worked like a charm, the first version of the program, when he’d made me gay. Made me attracted to him, and we’d started dating. But something strange had happened when he’d tried to make me a bottom–he’d included in the programming a video clip of an older chub getting fucked…and when he’d used the conditioning on me, I’d become older, and fatter–just like the man in the video. This last week–this had all been version 2.0. He talked a lot about brain waves, about sensitivity. He’d gotten access to company medical records, and discovered that the two of us were the only ones the program would have that effect on, and sure enough…here we were.

He hadn’t expected me to catch on of course. He also hadn’t expected either of our minds to hold together as well as they had. Of course, neither of us could remember anything about our old selves, but we could remember that we’d been different. I don’t know if it was cruel or kind to show us old pictures he’d lifted from social media–I’d been thin and young. Muscular even. I’d had a girlfriend. We’d been engaged, and talking about having kids together. Now, I couldn’t even remember her name. I realized he could have shown the pictures of literally anyone else, and I’d have the same relationship with that person as this one. What made that old me realer than this? How could I mourn something I could barely believe? I think I took it a bit better–the daddy, Daddy Mark, he was screaming and crying by the end, screaming and shouting and cursing…I just listened. Maybe it was the pig in me, that made it easier to resign myself to what was coming next. After all, pigs were meant to be used. At least…I’m being useful still.

Now, we’re both at the forefront of Austin’s testing, blazing a path towards a version 3.0. It’s features will include remote brainwave recalibration, and mental pathway revision to go with memory repression. He’s going to kill what remains of us both, he’s already getting closer. Mark is losing it already, I can hear him over there, becoming who he’s meant to be now. Rough older daddy, smoking like a chimney, desperate to dominate anyone in his path. I’ll be next, when Austin figures out how to break me open, finally. I’m…looking forward to it. To being a real pig, finally. I’m tired of being caught in the middle here, and it isn’t like I can go back. Austin’s promised me that he’ll make me a good master. A hard, rough, muscled skinhead master to brutalize me right. I’ll be in films of my own, I hope, one day, crawling around on the concrete, head finally empty. I want to forget. I’ll forget anything if it means I can forget this. This tape will remember me, but thankfully…thankfully, I won’t.

Life Coach (Part 4)

“Please, I know…I know I’m fucked up in my head, to come up with shit like that, but you have to help me, you’re the only one who can help me, I see that now, I get it!” Shane said, on his knees in front of Evan, who was looming over him, the room full of hazy with the smoke from both of their cigars. Evan had been waiting for this. He’d known it was coming, but it hard to anticipate when, finally, someone would truly understand what they’d become.

A few months had passed, since his first session with Evan, but it already felt lifetimes away. It didn’t…it didn’t really matter anyway, since it had never been real anyway, Shane reminded himself. Sure, it…felt real to him, but that’s what made his own mind so screwed up–he couldn’t tell what was real anymore. He’d kept coming over here, demanding that Evan change him back, that he give him his old life back–back when he was stud, when his wife could look at him with laughing, when he didn’t feel compelled to suck the cocks of all the men who fucked her, no matter what it cost–but he saw the truth now, he hadn’t been willing to believe Evan, when he’d first tried to tell him, he’d been so skeptical, but what other explanation was there?

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses, Shane, it’s good to hear. Now get up and have a seat over here, let’s talk about your breakthrough. So, you finally realized that those old memories of yours, those ones where you’re some young, muscular hotshot asshole lawyer, those were all false memories, right?”

Shane nodded, a bit hesitant now that he heard it said out loud, but…but there couldn’t be any other explanation, right?

“It’s good of you to realize that, but why do you think you created those memories, Shane?”

“I…I don’t know. They’re just…there. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Well, I happen to have a theory, you know. I think, Shane, that you created those memories so you could put the blame for your shitty life on everyone around you, and deflect that blame from yourself. I mean, if I was the one who changed you, then you aren’t responsible for you’re loveless marriage. You aren’t responsible for chasing all the cock you can find. You aren’t responsible for the fact that you can’t stop smoking those cigars you hate so much. You aren’t responsible for the fact that you can’t win a single court case, not without blowing the judge, the other lawyers, and sometimes the jury. That you’re a failure in every way. It’s hard for anyone to realize their a waste of space, a worthless person, but that’s what you are, don’t you see?”

Fuck, why was he so hard? No, not just hard–listening to Evan catalogue all his failings as a man, as a person–he had his cock out and was jacking off, just thinking about how…how much of a failure he was, and realizing that, he started sobbing. “Please, it’s…it’s too much! I’m…I’m almost broke, I can’t find any new clients. I don’t know what I was thinking, I–someone like me can’t do this!” He tried to keep speaking, but he broke down, still stroking his cock, and Evan got up and crossed over to where he was sitting, stroking his balding hand, running it through his bushy mutton chops.

“I know Shane, but this is what I do, you see. You were never meant to have a life like this, you realize that, right? A fuckup like you can’t be trusted with anything important.”

I-I don’t think anyone can help someone as fucked up as me though,” Shane said.

Evan chuckled, “Always the skeptic, to the end,” he said, “At least let me try.”

“Why…why would you ever want to help someone like me? Someone as worthless as I am?”

“Oh Shane, because this is what I do! I help people. Now come on–would you like to suck my cock? You always feel better after a load of cum, and you always get cranky when you haven’t gotten enough.”

Shane nodded. “Would…you fuck me sir? I’d…like that.”

“If you insist.”

Shane got down on his hands and knees, and Evan slid into him. It was so much easier, now that he’d finally accepted the truth. He’d fought for so long, but what other possibility was there, really? He was just a failure, there was no way around it, but that brought up another question–now what? He couldn’t keep going at this, he wasn’t meant for this for a life like this, but he wasn’t sure there was any life someone as worthless and stupid as him could ever possibly manage. He pushed the thought away, and focused on smoking his cigar, on how good his hole felt, how deep Evan’s huge cock could go, his own cock close to blowing, but he held back, not wanting to make a mess–he always felt so terrible whenever he made a mess, and he’d been trying very hard lately to only cum when someone had given him permission to do so. He wasn’t very good at it, and not many people would give him permission, but all the same, it was common courtesy. Evan finished inside him and stepped back–he felt empty, but better than earlier. Freer, somehow. He pulled his pants back up.

“Now what do I do,” he asked, “I can’t go back there, I can’t face that anymore.”

“Did you forget already? Evan said, “I’m a life coach, Shane. Just leave it all to me. We can find something for you to do that you can be happy with, I think. All you have to do is trust me.”

Shane tried to object, but Evan’s hands were already on his skull, massaging the thoughts from his mind, the world fading from view again. Everything was being pulled from him, and he let it go. It wasn’t for him to worry about, after all. He would only make things worse if he tried to interfere. Instead he let himself drift off into a void, hopeful that when he woke, his only hope was that his life would be something more suited to a loser like him.