Emptied Out (Part 2)

“Yes daddy,” Nathan said, and Biff put the cigarette between his lips for him, Nathan holding it and smoking it while Biff lit a second one for himself.

“That’s good boy, breathe it in deep, just like I taught ya years ago. Two packs a day, just like yer dad, getting those teeth of yers good ‘n yellow. Yau reek a smoke all the time, and ya love it–makes ya horny as hell, right son?”

Nathan nodded, and kept smoking–and as he did, Greg noticed a few things change about him. For one, the stench of smoke surrounded him, like it did Greg, and he noticed that his teeth, and his fingers, were tinged yellow, just like they would be for a man who’d been smoking for ages. “Lookin’ good Daddy, now finish ‘em up.”

Biff nodded, “Alright boy, keep breathing in all that smoke, and after your next inhale, you’re going to feel completely full again, got it?”

Nate nodded slowly, took a deep breath, and as he did, his eyes refocused, and Nathan came back to himself, exhaled and coughed, unable to understand why he was smoking a cigarette. “What…what the fuck did you do to me?” he said to Greg.

“Well, everytime you cum now, Nathan, you’re going to shoot out a big chunk of yourself–of this self, all that brain and will and memories of being an uptight little prick–and your daddy here is going to get to fill you back up with much, much better stuff–anything he wants, in fact. After five or six loads, you won’t even exist anymore–you’ll just be Nate, and Nate is going to be everything Biff here could want in a nasty, perverse, disgusting pigson in the whole world. How’s that fag taste, anyway?”

Nathan looked down at the cigarette between his fingers, and realized he’d been smoking it this whole time like it was the most natural thing in the world. “No–no, I’m not a smoker, I…” Nathan said, but as he did, it felt wrong. He was a smoker. He fucking loved to smoke, and he…he loved his daddy’s smoke most of all. He looked over at Biff, and before, where he’d seen a complete stranger, he now felt an odd…affinity, or attraction. Definitely an attraction. Looking at him, smoking that unfiltered cigarette, he just wanted to kiss him and suck that smoke right from his lungs…he shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts, but he didn’t know where his real self ended and this new, alien person began. “You can’t do this–you fucking can’t make this happen.”

“Oh, I’m very capable, Nathan, trust me,” Greg said, “But all you have to do is not cum anymore, and there’s nothing I can do–think you can control yourself around your new daddy? Now, why don’t you two head home? I’ll come check on you in a couple of weeks, and if there’s any trace of you left, Nathan, then I’ll fix you right back–I promise. Still, I bet Biff will have you all gone here in a day, and all that’ll be left is his good son Nate.”

Nathan didn’t know how to process any of that, and just looked back and forth, cigarette hanging from his lips, wondering when they would let him in on the joke, but the punchline never came. Biff just ordered him into the van waiting outside, and Nathan’s feet marched him out to it and into the passenger seat, while Biff shared a passionate kiss with Greg on the steps, thanked his boy and master again for the privilege of raising and owning a son of his own, before getting in the driver seat and heading off, getting on the highway and heading for the city about five hours away.

The whole time, Nathan kept smoking. He’d never smoked a cigarette in his life, but every time he took it out and tried to resist inhaling from it, his brain would start screaming, and wouldn’t stop until he took another drag. He finished it in a few minutes, the air on the van cloudy and thick from them hotboxing–and he was forced to ask Biff, his daddy, for another cigarette, though he insisted he call it a fag, before Biff would give him another one, and a lighter to use.

Nathan smoked that one slower, and with the addiction satisfied, he sized up the man who had essentially kidnapped him, and wondered how he might try and escape. It was clear that Greg had some control over him, but Greg wasn’t here–that meant if he could be clever enough, he might be able to get away and get help. Certainly Biff wasn’t in any shape to fight him–he was…huge. He had to be close to 400 pounds, with a massive apron of fat hanging out the bottom of the filthy wifebeater he was wearing, stained with ash and who knew what else. He was hairy, and stank, and looked like this was the first time he’d been outside in ages. Nathan noticed, after he’d been staring at him for a few minutes, that his hand was in his crotch, groping his cock, and he tore his hand away, horrified that looking at this disgusting man was making him horny.

Biff noticed, and grinned around his cigarette. “Go ahead boy–it’s healthy fer a perverted boy like ya are tah jack off lookin’ at yer daddy.”

He felt his hand drawn back to his crotch, but he resisted the urge–while Biff had some power over him, it wasn’t nearly as urgent as Greg’s control had been earlier. He could beat this, if he kept his head about him. He didn’t reply, and averted his eyes, trying to focus on nothing in particular, and he ended up thinking about his cigarette, and how…good it tasted. He pushed out a couple of thick plumes from his nose, like Biff had earlier, and felt that horny twinge return again.

I’ll Change for You (Part 9)

It was only half an hour or so, but it felt like an eternity. When the door to the bedroom next opened, the butler was there, now naked and wearing a set of leather manacles, and Burt entered the room, clad head to toe in a perfectly tailored leather suit, gloves and hat–though it was distinctly crotchless, allowing his massive, ten inch cock to hang free. “Now boy, why don’t the two of us pick up where we left off?”

Herman got on his knees before the dean, before his…Master, at least for the night, and sucked his cock, and once again, like before, Burt could feel the arousal welling up inside him, the pendant he had on under the leather shirt almost hot against his skin. But there was no fantasy running through his mind, not this time. Instead, everything around him became more and more vivid, every flick of Herman’s tongue across the head of his cock sending shivers running through his gut, massive thighs, and second and third chins. He knew what he wanted. He knew what they both needed.

“On the bed boy–that’s enough sucking. Daddy wants to see how his new boy’s hole feels.”

Herman was all too eager. Despite the pain in his gut, he got up and laid on his back, as Burt ordered him to do, legs in the air. Burt got up as well, pushed his legs back, and slowly slid the head of his cock into Herman’s ass. It was larger than anything he’d ever taken before, but somehow it slid right into him like it belonged there–because in Burt’s mind, it did. But it more than belonged in there, Burt could…see Herman now, the true version of him, at least a hundred pounds heavier than he was now, clean shaven from face to toe, his boy cock caged up, looking at his daddy while he fucked him with desperate desire…but beyond lust, he felt…love.

Love. A deep, unrelenting affection. This was more than he had with Jules, Jules was a meer mirage of this. No–he loved this boy. Loved him to the ends of the earth, loved him so dearly he would do anything for him, be anyone his boy desired him to be. And if his lovely, lovely boy desired nothing more than he be a short, obese, pipe smoking daddy bear with a ten inch cock, mercilessly ramming it deep into his ass while he cried out for more, and more, and more–well, then Burt was going to give it to him. He was going to give this boy everything he’d ever desired.

He came. He came, and he saw the shape of the boy’s moans resting in the air, he heard the color of his smooth skin, he felt their wills bending together, their fates melding into some singular strain of life. He felt a yes–a grand, all abiding yes resonating in their bones, tuned together as his boy came as well, a massive volley of cum erupting from his caged cock and up onto his heaving belly. He felt a mighty love warping them into shapes neither of them could have imagined, a terrible love, a horrific love, and he was left weak and trembling, tears streaming down his face from the beauty of it, and the sight of his daddy’s crying filled Hermy with great unease.

“Daddy? Daddy, what’s the matter?”

Burton gave his head a little shake, his eyes refocusing on the boy before him, and he smiled. He was happy. He was so…enormously happy. So happy, he could forgive the boy cumming without permission, all he wanted was to hold him tight to him for hours–and so he did. Jules came by a couple hours later, silently slipping open the door to see, and saw his two masters sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms, the lights still on in the room. He didn’t begrudge them, not anymore, though he had been so fiercely jealous of the boy those fifteen years ago, when the dean had met the newest member of the faculty and fallen deeply, inexplicably in love.

But now–now he couldn’t hold it against them, either of them. There was a place for him here as well, in service, but he could never come between them. There was no space there, they were…inseparable, somehow, in a way Jules couldn’t explain, not even after serving them all this time. It was a beautiful love, but also terrifying. Looking at them, he was crying without even knowing why, shaking as he turned out the lights, and retreated down to his small room in the basement, where he was safe, and alone.

It was a couple of weeks later now, and Spring had begun to shake itself from a dull and dreary Winter at long last. Burton and Hermy were striding down the street, hand in hand, discussing the work of the day. Unable to maintain a relationship at the college, Hermy had instead begun teaching at a local private school. It wasn’t his passion, and he did miss the research, but he knew it was for the best, so he could be with his daddy. He felt, at times, like he’d lost something, a piece of himself he hadn’t even been aware of having. It wasn’t his anymore–he’d given it away, and there was no getting it back.

He looked over and saw a strange old man, standing outside a shop somehow wedged impossibly between a bodega and old electronics shop. He was grinning, and watching them walk down the street together. He looked over at daddy, and he too had noticed him, and Daddy gave to old man the slightest of nods, like an old friend from another life, and then suggested they returned home for dinner.

I’ll Change for You (Part 8)

He hauled himself up from the chair and went to the kitchen, where a naked man in his 40’s was bustling about, naked aside from leather manacles on his wrists and ankles, and a cock cage riveted in place–at Jules request. Burt rather enjoyed men to have pleasure, but ever since they had met fifteen years prior, Jules just a student at the time, he had longed to be Herman’s live in slave. He’d dropped out and moved into the basement, and Burt had never been dissatisfied–well, perhaps on occasion, but a session in the dungeon always fixed things right up. “How is it coming, boy?” he asked.

“Dinner will be ready right at six thirty, as you requested, sir,” Jules said, giving him a little bow from his position at the stove, “Is there anything you need from me in the meantime?”

Burt shook his head. “No–but I do need you to play the part for this one–at least for one night. I doubt Herman will need the performance after one dinner. Make sure you’re dressed by five-thirty, manacles off as well.”

Burt could see Jules’ unhappiness in a slight sigh before nodding. Clothes were strange for him in the house, and he hated taking the manacles off especially–he claimed he felt unbalanced without them. Still, Master’s orders were Master’s orders, and he kept cooking away, while Burt returned to his study, selected a pipe, packed it, lit it, and then went to relax, ordering an old fashioned from Jules while he waited, catching up on some reading while he did. The time slipped by, and Herman was early. The bell rang at five-fifty, and Jules rushed to the foyer, immaculately dressed in his house uniform, and greeted Herman at the door, before ushering him into the sitting room where Burt was sitting, pipe wafting smoke.

“Good evening, Dean,” Herman said, the nerves apparent in his voice. The title caught Burt off guard for a moment–he’d been a professor earlier in the afternoon, but apparently he hadn’t caught on to his latest position. He was a dean, wasn’t he? The Dean of Humanities, in particular, which helped explain some of Herman’s nerves.

‘Have a seat, Herman. What can Jules get for you? He makes a fine cocktail, though he’s best at the classics.”

Herman asked for a Manhattan. Burt approved, and Jules fetched a drink, all while juggling dinner at the same time. He’d been such a poor student, back in the day–so good that he’d managed to find his calling, eventually, in Herman’s employ. The drink came, and they made small talk. Herman’s eyes flitted about the room, but were drawn back to Burt’s pipe several times. Burt offered him a smoke, but he declined. It was no matter–he’d take whatever Burt gave him soon enough, the dean was certain of that.

Jules summoned them to the dining room, where Herman found a massive, luxurious feast all up and down the space–far too much for two people to hope to eat, and after the sizable lunch earlier in the day, he felt a bit queasy. “I…I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite, at the moment,” he muttered, knowing full well what was likely to happen next. Burt shushed him, and sat him down, piled his plate eye, and got him started, and only after Herman was eating well, did he take a serving of his own, as large as Herman’s, and begin eating himself. Each time Herman slowed, Burt would encourage him further, and the encouragement became orders, and orders became demands. Burt touched him–lightly at first, lying hands on his shoulders, but found his way lower and lower, over his belly, down into his crotch where he groped Herman’s hard cock, always continuing their conversation as if nothing strange at all was occurring, Jules slitting in and out, taking dishes and bringing others, until Herman, at last, insisted.

“I can’t! I can’t, sir, please…Please, I feel like I’m going to burst…” he moaned, clutching his gut.

Burt chuckled, “Oh? But we can’t forget dessert now, can we?”

Herman looked up at him in horror, unable to even imagine, and watched as Burt undid the front of his pants, and allowed them to fall around his ankles, and lifted up his gut. “It isn’t small, by any means, but I have a feeling you have the…appetite for it, don’t you boy?”

Indeed he did. Burt was so short that Herman had to awkwardly bend over the arm of the chair to get at his cock, even when sitting down, but he’d been lusting after the dean for so long now, the two of them playing so hard to get…or had they? The last two days had felt so strange to him, this beautiful, domineering man simply appearing in his life like he’d always been there, like he’d walked from his dreams and appeared fully formed in reality, and Herman wasn’t going to let this chance pass him by.

“Yes, that’s a good boy–you like sucking on daddy’s big cock?”

Herman tried to answer, but Burt drove his cock in deeper, making him gag slightly, before pulling away a bit, Herman gasping for air. After a few minutes of teasing him, Burt pulled away, squatted down and pulled his pants back up. “Jules, I think your guest will be spending the night–would you see to him? No need to prepare a guest room, I think the master will serve just fine for us both.

One last time, Herman tried to speak his doubts, that their relationship was breaking so many ethical boundaries that it couldn’t happen–and yet, when the butler helped him from his seat…he relented. He wanted this. He didn’t care what it cost him, he didn’t care what might happen if anyone found out. He wanted this. He wanted…he wanted him, Burt, more than anyone else he had ever desired in his life…and somehow, Burt wanted him just as much. The butler led him upstairs, got him free of his clothing and into the bathroom, where Herman had a shower–and the butler also helped him clean out…other things, telling him that the Master of the house preferred his men to be spotless, before entering his bed. Then, when he stepped out, imagining he would be getting into his own clothes, the Butler, instead, had something else in mind. All he found himself wearing was a leather harness strapped a bit uncomfortably tight around his gut, and a black jockstrap, before being ushered into the sizable Master bedroom, and told to wait.

I’ll Change for You (Part 7)

He looked up and down the sidewalk, planning on following Herman and making him accept the ride he’d offered, but it was no worry, really. After all, he’d just find him in his office later–watching the younger professor eat his lunch today…he’d decided what his next step was going to be. He drove back to class in his luxury sedan and rode the elevator up to his own office. No longer an adjunct professor, he was a fully tenured professor. He taught a seminar that afternoon, and had a few productive meetings with some of his teaching assistants and graduate students. Herman was never far from his mind, however, and he hadn’t seen the object of his interest return to the office after lunch. He was, in fact, a bit worried that he’d missed him, or worse, scared him off by being a bit too forward. Still, it was clear that the man had enjoyed himself–as had Burt. The pendant…it was getting closer, and he took a moment to examine it while he was alone.

The light was brighter now–quite a bit brighter in fact–but somehow he knew it wasn’t finished with them yet. It was nearly four by the time Herman tried to slip past his door to his own office, but Burt saw him, and called out, “Herman! A moment please?”

Sheepishly, Herman stepped back and into the office, Burt smiling kindly at him. “What is it, sir?”

Sir. That caught him off guard, but Burt very much enjoyed the sound of it. “I was wondering, Herman, if you had any plans this evening.”

“Oh, uh…I just have some work to get done, is all.”

“I’d like you to join me for dinner this evening, at my home. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

He could see the conflict in Herman’s eyes. He…knew it was inappropriate, what the two of them had engaged in at lunch, and yet nothing had even happened. But dinner? At Burt’s home? The two of them alone? “I…I don’t know if that would be appropriate…”

Burt smiled, “I assure you, Herman,” he said as he hauled himself up from his chair, “it can be entirely appropriate if you so desire. Just two colleagues having a nice meal, and nothing more,” he walked over to where Herman was standing and shut the door, sealing them in the office, “But perhaps you’d like something more than appropriate?” Before Herman could object, Burt pressed him to the wall, firmly yet gently, and began kissing him, tasting a bit of their sweet dessert still on his breath. Herman squirmed a moment, but relented, kissing him back, hungrily. Burt, the fantasy from the bathroom stall returning to him vividly, pressed Herman down on the shoulder, and felt him collapse down onto his knees in front of him, and the professor rubbed and kissed at his suited gut with one hand, while the other was openly groping himself. He…desperately wanted to go further, but not yet–he had to…wait. Burt pulled away, smoothing down his shirt, which had a few wet spots from where Herman had licked him. On his knees, he looked…horrified by what he’d just done, and yet he couldn’t hide his arousal–not from Burt. “Dinner this evening.” he said. “I won’t take no for an answer. Six sharp.”

“Y-Yes sir…” Herman said, blushing a bit at that formality.

“Good boy,” Burt said, the word slipping out without much thought, and he saw Herman’s eyes go wide, and he slipped out of the office, the tent apparent in the front of his slacks. Still–that didn’t bother him really. So what if someone saw it? He felt so confident and self-assured, it was a feeling he had never really known before, but then again, as a young man, it was difficult to gain this sort of confidence after years of living. Burt went back down to his sedan and climbed in–he had a couple of hours until dinner at least–and he realized he didn’t actually have dinner planned out at all! There was a moment of panic, but it was washed away by something else, a sense that everything was going to be just fine–all he needed to do, was trust that everything was going according to the amulet’s plan. He drove home, to a sizable house not too far from campus, parked and went inside. His hard on hadn’t diminished at all, since he’d left Herman’s office–it was clear that it was time for another step closer to who he needed to be, for Herman’s sake.

He went into his study and sat down at his desk, already thinking of Herman, thinking of him on his knees there, in the office–no! No, not, in the office, here. Here in his home, right there in the middle of the room on his knees, and naked. There was…a smell in the room, but it was difficult for Burt to place right away, until he felt the thing in his hand–the hand not presently stroking his cock. It was…his pipe. One of his many pipes. He slid the stem into his mouth and took a draw, the smoke filling his mouth, and he stood up in his mind, crossing to where Herman was, and blowing the smoke into his face, covering him with it, while the boy moaned in lust.

“What do you want, boy?”

“Please sir–please fuck me.”

He thought he was naked–but no. Burt looked down and saw that he was wearing a set of leather clothing, perfectly tailored to fit his even wider frame. His cock had no problem responding, and his massive gut couldn’t hide the ten inch member, either. He ordered Herman into position, and just the sight of his plugged hole was enough to drive Burt over the edge. He grabbed at a handkerchief he kept on his desk for just such an event, and carefully caught his cum in it. A gift for Herman later, perhaps. He heaved a sigh, and looked around at his study, surprised to discover it was…larger than then he’d entered it a few minutes earlier, and the walls lined with several racks of pipes, along with a full sized humidor, should he be more in the mood for a cigar. He leaned back in his chair, his gut shifting around him, though whether it was more a gut, or had begun to sag too far, was a different question. In any case, it felt wonderful, and he stroked it idly, excited for dinner with Herman, and wondering how Jules was coming along with the preparations.

I’ll Change for You (Part 6)

Was it an invitation? It didn’t quite sound like one, somehow, as he said it. Herman got his coat, and the two of them went down and decided to go to a quiet restaurant a few blocks away from town, one where the students weren’t usually found crowding up the place. Burt found himself ordering several appetizers, and when they arrived, he happily tucked it, chatting with Herman, but noticing that his fellow professor seemed rather…preoccupied. “Come on now, Herman–feel free to tuck in,” he said, and started foisting food on him. Herman was…reluctant, but Burt almost enjoyed that aspect, bringing him around slowly, encouraging him to eat more than he was planning on. When it came time to order entrees, and Herman ordered something small for himself, Burt overrode him, ordered him steak and potatoes, and Herman went along with it.

More than once, Burt asked himself what he was doing. This seemed…so unlike him. Wouldn’t this be…irritating to Herman, having some man bossing him around, ordering food for him, and the like? But Herman didn’t seem annoyed–if anything, he appeared a bit embarrassed–or was he aroused? They were sitting at a table, and before their food came, Burt moved over to a seat beside him, allegedly because the restaurant was a loud–even though they’d had no trouble hearing one another up to that point. He slid a hand over onto Herman’s thigh, and then slid it down the inside of his thigh. Herman opened his legs slightly, enough to let Burt grope him gently through his slacks, while the two of them carried on discussing their classes and latest research, the only sign anything odd was happening at all was the flush of red in Herman’s cheeks.

He did like it. He liked all of it. Burt was certainly enjoying himself as well, his own cock bulging in his slacks, thinking again about that fantasy, about…ordering this older man around, forcing him to submit and bending him to his own will. The waitress returned with their food, and Herman tried to pull himself away from Burt’s groping hand, but he refused to remove it, the young woman not even noticing where Burt’s hand happened to be, as she set their plates down. Only once she’d left, did Burt remove his hand, pick up his silverware, and start eating, encouraging Herman to do the same. He would, on occasion, check to see how Herman was responding, and as far as he could tell the man’s cock didn’t lower once–and neither did Burt’s, in fact. Still, he kept it respectable. If any students had walked in, all they would have seen were two professors out to lunch.

Herman finished his plate, and Burt ordered dessert for them both. He looked a bit…full, but didn’t object. When the single dessert to share appeared, Burt insisted Herman eat most of it, and more than once fed him bites off his own fork. When they were finished, Burt picked up the check, and then they left, and went back to campus. Burt offered him a ride, since they’d driven over together, but Herman insisted that he’d rather walk. Burt tried to insist, but Herman said he had another errand to run on the way, and then he was gone down the sidewalk, leaving Burt horny and frustrated. He walked to his car, and sensed that the horniness he was feeling was a sign of the amulet building up in power again, and so he slipped his cock free of his slacks, found a few spare napkins to catch the mess, and started masturbating, thinking about how he should have been more insisting, and gotten Herman into his car with him.

How, once he was there in the passenger seat, how he could have rubbed his belly gently, feeling how…tight it was, after their meal, taking out his own cock, and then Herman’s, suggesting one last meal to top off his dinner, Herman licking his lips and leaning over, sucking on his cock under the steering wheel, gently and sweetly, until Burt filled his mouth with his cum. He shot as he reached orgasm in the fantasy, huffing and puffing slightly, his gut pushing out a bit further, but it was the hands on the steering wheel that he noticed first.

They looked…old. Weathered and wrinkled, with a few age spots on them. They ached slightly as well, more than they should have. He squinted at them, wondering why he was having such a difficult time picking out the details of them, until he felt the glasses in his breast pocket, pulled them free and put them on, and the world grew perfectly clear. He…he hadn’t needed glasses before, had he? No–perhaps his vision had been slightly blurred, but when he took them off again, he couldn’t even read the sign of the restaurant across the parking lot. He put them back on, feeling them rest in their usual, well worn spot on the bridge of his nose, and he reached over and turned the rearview mirror towards him.

White–his hair was…white, or at least mostly grey. There were a few streaks of color throughout, but he looked to be closer to fifty at this point, and maybe even slightly older than that. He had crows feet at the corners if his eyes, a wrinkled brow, and jowls hidden slightly by his trimmed beard. He was still dressed in a suit, but this one felt…more luxurious, somehow. Still, that wasn’t too surprising, he prefered expensive clothes, after all, custom tailored to his…particular physique. A man of his girth simply couldn’t find clothes off the rack that would fit correctly, not at five foot four and over 350 pounds.

I’ll Change for You (Part 5)

He slipped away and went to the bathroom, among the throngs of students passing from class to class, but it was clear that this hard-on wasn’t going away–if anything, it was intensifying. The sensation was the same one he’d had in his dorm room the day before, when the necklace had changed him. Did that mean it was happening again? But why now? He hadn’t seen, or even really thought about Herman all day long! However, as he did that, his arousal intensified, and he found Herman centered in his thoughts, thought about them together, pressing their hairy guts together, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and forcing Herman to bend down to kiss him…

No–this wasn’t right. This fantasy felt strange, just like the last one had. He was himself, but he was also someone else–and he reached down his shirt to get the necklace off of him, but stopped. No–no, he needed to just let this happen. He had to trust that this was the right thing to do, that whoever that strange old man had been, he was doing this to help him. Besides…it did feel good, didn’t it? He pushed Herman up against a wall, in his fantasy, pinning him there, feeling his shudder with excitement, one hand up on Herman’s shoulder, pressing him down, feeling him collapse, slowly, under his guidance. He was on his knees now, worshiping Burt’s hefty gut, licking it, running his tongue through the hairy surface, and Burt gave a few huffing pants and shot his load inside one of the stalls, the cum splattering against one of the partitions and sliding down as he collected himself.

Did he…change again? Burt didn’t feel different, necessarily, but he also felt a bit out of sorts, all the same. He pulled up his khaki dress pants, tucked in his shirt and adjusted his tie–and then took a moment to wipe up his cumshot with some toilet paper and flush it. It was, perhaps, kind of sexy somehow, but best not to leave any evidence where, heaven forbid, a student might find it. Satisfied, he stepped out of the stall and went to the sinks to wash his hands, but when he saw himself in the mirror he stopped short, jaw agape at the sight of himself.

He most certainly had changed–and rather substantially at that. He was even larger than he’d been before–probably another fifty pounds heavier, and a few inches shorter which didn’t help his girth much. Still, that wasn’t the most apparent shift–it was his hair, that he noticed first. It was receding several inches now, and had quite a bit of grey streaked through it. The beard he had was fuller as well, a touch longer but well manicured, but had just as much early grey as his hair did. He looked like a man in his late thirties, or perhaps even his early forties. Still…it suited him, as did the clothes he was wearing. He’d dressed in his usual casual dress for class as a TA this morning, but what he was wearing now was closer to a suit–dress pants, a button down shirt, tie, and jacket. He looked…authoritative and distinguished, and even if the rest of the changes had him a bit uneasy, he found himself enjoying it, in some twisted fashion. The necklace was still resting outside his shirt, and he considered taking it off–but didn’t. He tucked it back in, next to his hairy chest. Whatever this magic was, it was clear that it was by no means finished. He was going to see this through, whatever it was, and if he needed to change for Herman to love him…then so be it. He would be whoever Herman needed him to be–whoever he wanted him to be, if it meant he would love him.

Memories were slowly falling into place, as he became more comfortable with his appearance. He was older now–forty-three, to be precise–and an newish professor within Herman’s department, not yet with tenure, but certainly heading in that direction. It was, he realized, about time for lunch–and with that light breakfast earlier, he was famished! He left the bathroom and headed for his office, planning on picking up a bit of work to pass the lunch hour with, when he saw that Herman’s door was open, and he was sitting at his desk. The amulet–it wanted him to do something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. Not…not what he’d seen in that fantasy, no, he realized now that as much as he might want that, it was too…forward for someone of Herman’s sensibilities, especially here at the school. He needed to take it a bit slower, lure him in–and then he’d get what he wanted, soon enough.

“Care to grab some lunch, Herman?” Burt asked, surprised, and at the same time, pleased by his deeper voice.

The professor looked up when Burt spoke, and he saw in Herman’s eyes something he’d been desperate to see for weeks on end–Herman wanted him. Herman wanted him, and Burt knew it, and Herman knew that Burt knew it, but neither of them had yet made a move beyond a cordial friendship. “Oh, uh sure! I can come along, I suppose. I’m not that hungry though.”

“Nonsense,” Burt said, “every man needs three big meals a day!” he laughed, slapping his gut, noticing how Herman’s eyes were locked on it, forcing him to tear them away after a moment. “Or you can always just watch me eat, I suppose.”

I’ll Change for You (Part 4)

It wasn’t very bright at all, like a candle seen at some distance. He turned off the lights in the room, and in the evening winter gloom, he could see it better–but what could it possibly mean? Could it glow brighter? Was there…more? He thought about putting it on, just to see what might happen…but tucked it back into his pocket. Answers first, he told himself. He needed to find that old man, and figure out what he did to him.

He trekked back to downtown and retraced his steps as best he could, but had no luck. The streets were too narrow, and the shops to clustered in the night for him to find the shopfront from before–if it had even existed. He remembered how massive the store had felt, on the inside. Maybe it hadn’t really existed at all, not like he existed, at least. Frustrated, cold, and lonely, he made the trek back to campus, his hand gripping the necklace tight, the light giving a bit of warmth on his way home, to his dorm–but the small single just felt even colder and more lonely than the world outside. He took out the necklace again, and looked at it, at the little flicker of fire in the stone, and wondered what might happen if he put it on again.

It…seemed like that’s what it wanted, but is it what he wanted? Looking around the room, and down at himself…he wasn’t so sure anymore. After all, if the necklace had done this to him after just a couple of minutes of wearing it, who knew what it might do if he kept it on any longer than that. Still, it had changed how Herman saw him–how he felt about him. Not enough, but it had been a little taste of what Burt was craving. It wasn’t enough to satisfy him. If anything, this just felt worse, knowing he would be working with the man he loved, but knowing it would never be able to go further than this…awkward moment. There had to be more, and if he had to change to make it happen, all he could hope was that it would be worth it, in the end.

He slipped the necklace over his head again, and let the pendant rest against his chest, down between his two chubby moobs, and took a deep breath, waiting for something to happen. After all, when he’d put it on the first time, he’d been almost overwhelmed with desire–but this time he didn’t feel anything at all. Well, nothing more than he was feeling usually, he supposed. Wondering if he just needed to focus, he thought about Herman, about that kiss earlier, and while that was more than enough to get him aroused, it didn’t feel the same. The intensity wasn’t there. It didn’t have direction. He jacked off anyway, going through the motions, hoping it would just work, but he was left with cum in his hand on the edge of his bed, the same chubby young man he’d been, the necklace still against his chest, the gem giving off the same dim light as before.

Was it broken? Did he have to do something else? Is this…all that he was going to get? Maybe he hadn’t loved him enough. Maybe Herman was right, maybe he was just young and foolish, and all of this was going to go away, in time. Maybe it had all been for nothing. But he could still see the wonder in the eyes of that old man, how he’d spoken about his love as this beautiful thing–who would he give him something that would take him one step closer, and then no further? Then again, maybe it was up to him. Maybe this is all he needed–maybe Herman could love him like this, but it was up to Burt to…show him. Or maybe…maybe he’d ruined it. Maybe it would have kept working, if he hadn’t taken it off like that. Maybe he’d doubted himself, and his love, and he’d never get another chance.

There was no immediate answer, and he was tired, and hungry. He got dressed and went to a nearby restaurant to eat, came back and graded some papers before retiring for the night. He never took the necklace off, even if it felt a bit silly to keep wearing it when it wasn’t doing anything for him. Still…it felt comfortable, against his skin, and by the time he got undressed for bed, he wasn’t even noticing it, and he slept with it on.

The next morning, everything felt…normal. That old life of his, when he was a skinny undergraduate, felt even further away than it had before, and this new one, the life of an overworked graduate student, was feeling more real than he would have liked. He got up a bit late, collected his things, got himself breakfast at the dining hall (more than he would have ever usually ate, but his head was telling him this was, in fact, a light breakfast) and then off to teach his first class of the day. He was nervous, feeling like this was the first time he’d ever been up in front of students–who he still couldn’t help but feel were his peers–but it turned out to be easier than he was expecting. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it. There was a certain authority that he had, and seeing all of those younger men and women looking up at him for guidance and teaching…well, he had one of the more uncomfortable boners of his life, after class.

Acceleration (Part 9)

They were ok. They were really ok! Russell looked down at the watch, only for it to smoke and spark suddenly, and they both rushed to get it off him and toss it away, where it gave a few pops, the screen cracking–but at least it didn’t explode. But a moment later, there was an odd flicker in reality, and it completely disappeared. Whatever it had done, there was no going back, it seemed–not that either of them was interested in that possibility. They were here, together, and that’s what mattered most.

Looking around, it was clear something had changed. The couch they were sitting on was, well, massive–Russell could sit on it well enough, though it was still a bit too large for him, and for Finn, he would have looked like a kid sitting on it. There was, however, a second sofa across from them with proportions more…appropriate to his size. The ceilings were higher by several feet–nearly thirteen or fourteen, most likely–but that was all Russell had a chance to notice before he heard the garage door open, and he realized their fathers were home.

Wait–fathers? From the confusion on Finn’s face, it was clear he was wondering something similar. Finn hauled himself free of Russell’s cock, still nursing his cum stuffed gut, and a couple minutes later, Russell saw a man he…somewhat recognized as his father enter the house–but he was, well, massive. Easily twelve feet tall, and completely naked–not that it much mattered. He had so much hair all over his body that he might as well have been clothed in it. His cock was easily three feet long, with a massive foreskin–and smell! It was like his own musk, but so much more intense. Looking over at Finn beside him, he was drooling and groping himself, before he struggled off the huge couch and waddled over to him, hugging him at the waist, humping at him. “I missed you daddy!” he said, and Russell’s father laughed.

“I missed you too, boy–but it looks like you and your brother found ways to entertain yourselves while we were gone,” he bent over and gave Finn’s belly a pat, throwing Russell a wink. “Looks like someone is finally getting frisky.”

Russell didn’t quite know what he meant, at first, but memories flooded in a moment later–how not even a year ago, he had been a little smaller than Finn, still waiting for puberty to kick in–and had it, in grand measure. In just a year, he’d become the massive man he was now–and his father assured him he had plenty more growing to do–he was already outpacing him, after all.

Behind his father, Russell saw a second, smaller man come through the door–who he recognized not only as his own dad now, in this reality, but as Finn’s old father as well. He was about eight feet tall, hips wide, gut distended, looking like a slightly larger version of Finn now. “Finn, I know you’re horny, but you can’t take advantage of your brother like that.”

“It was him!” Finn said, “He just smells so…good! Like…like daddy…”

“Do you need a ride on daddy’s cock, son? Seems like that’s the only thing that will settle you down,” Russell’s dad said, and looked back at his husband, “Puberty, remember?” He bent over and picked Finn up like he weighed nothing, and threw him over his shoulder before heading upstairs, and Finn’s dad shook his head, and walked over to Russell, only to get a funny look on his face as he did.

“What’s…what’s wrong, dad?” Russell asked.

“Damn–Finn’s right…you are smelling…ripe today.”

“Sorry…I can go shower, I’m just not used to it.”

His dad stopped him, and climbed up on him instead, licking at his pits. “No son–don’t…unless you don’t want to give your dad a good fuck, first?”

“Are…are you sure?” Russell asked, but he knew his dad never joked about this sort of thing.

“Come on–I got a good load from your dad at the store this evening–I’d love to feel the seed of the two men I love most in me together.” He got back down off the couch, and onto his hands and knees, “Now come on son, pump your slutty daddy full your that seed of yours–show me what kind a man you’re gonna be!”

Russell wasn’t going to object to an offer like that. Upstairs, he could hear his brother and other father moaning loudly in the bedroom, the rafters shaking slightly as they fucked–but Russell was enjoying his father’s ass too much to really notice. Fucking his brother was fun…but he just wasn’t very experienced. The things his dad could do with his hole–fuck, Russell might be topping him, but it was his dad calling all of the shots. Three loads later, his dad had had enough and sent Russell upstairs to shower. As he did, he had a difficult time believing–or even remembering–that things had ever been different. As far as he was concerned, everything was exactly how it should be.

Epilogue

The next Monday at school, everything felt like it was mostly back to normal, though some things were harder to adjust to than others. The fact that there were no women, most of all–just two types of men, though the line between them was…blurry. It was hardly uncommon, after all, to see a hulking, fifteen foot tall beast with a fill gut distended by cum. Or a (relatively) short fellow with a five foot cock, long enough to rest of the ground, smelling strong enough to bring even the largest of men to their knees in eager worship. Everything was so new, and everyone so strange, that at last, it was easy for Russell to feel, well, normal.

School, however, was strange. Mandatory showers to start the day, and every few hours, to help keep everyone focused on the tasks at hand. Still, it wasn’t uncommon to see students (and occasionally teachers) rutting in the halls, though it was preferred that such activities be restricted to the designated areas. It wasn’t until the afternoon that Russell saw Jack in the halls, and his jaw nearly dropped. Just under six feet, his hips were wide, his body smooth, and when he saw Russell standing there, the desire in his eyes was impossible to mask.

He waddled over, tugged Russell down by the front of his shirt. “You and me, the bathroom after school. You wanna?”

Russell smirked. Now that was the sort of invitation he could get behind.

Muse of Fantasy II – Reconciliation (Part 4)

“You fought back. You swallowed that inner faggot of yours, and you started beating him up too. You straightened out and manned up, and dumbed down. By the time you dropped out of school, you weren’t little Eddie, that fucking faggot anymore–no, you were Big Ed, beating up the rest of the weak faggots with your big brother. The only difference is that you promised to go a bit easier on them next time, if they sucked you off in the woods after school.”

“Nah, fuck, that shit ain’t fuckin’ right! I ain’t one a ‘em I fuckin’ hate ‘em!” Eddie said, and tried to turn away from the mirror, but even though he could feel his body moving, the mirror and the room turned with him. He couldn’t escape the face, his face, the big, hulking, sexy fucking brute in the mirror. Was…was it really him? Could it be him? He’d always…thought about it, what might have happened if he’d stayed, if he hadn’t focused on school and gotten out as soon as he possibly could. Is this…is this really what he could have been? He knew it should have horrified him, but all he felt was so fucking horny.

“Yeah, you do hate them, those faggots.”

“Nah that ain’t what I meant! Don’t go twistin’ round mah words like that, this, I didn’t wanna be this fuckin roughneck son of a bitch.”

“Come on now, Big Ed–it didn’t happen. You didn’t end up like those faggots, you can relax,” Oliver said, stroking the side of his bearded face gently, seeing some of the intellect and memory in Eddie’s eyes dim back further. “You’re a real man, isn’t the right, Big Ed?”

“N-No, I…I was a…”

“That was just a bad dream–a nightmare.”

“Y-Yeah…yeah, I’m a real man.”

“And you do everything real men do, don’t you? You smell like a man, you smoke and drink like a man, you swear and growl like a man–you even fuck pussy like a man, on occasion, ain’t that right? Of course, you can’t stand women, not really–that’s the real problem, isn’t it?”

Eddie could smell himself now, standing there. The boozy breath, the lingering smoke in his beard. The musky pits, the dirty, muddy clothes he had on. It made him feel better–more secure. Oliver was right, he wasn’t a faggot–no fucking way was a real man like him a faggot. But what the fuck was he talking about? Ed had been with plenty of women! Of course, he’d…never really been able to get hard easily, but that’s because he was usually drunk, but fucking them in the ass usually did the trick for him, and if they complained? A few smacks would sort them out quick enough.

“The real problem, is that the faggot is still in you, deep down, and you’ll never be rid of him.”

“Shut yer fuckin’ trap,” Ed snarled at him, but there was a quaver, a bit, at the end of his drawl.

“That’s why you come here, that’s why you find the mouths on the other side of the stall, that’s why you did it that night, isn’t it? Listening to him moan around your cock, listening to how much he was enjoying it–it drove you nuts, because you want to enjoy it too, instead of all the shame, instead of all the self-loathing…”

Ed gasped, and realized he wasn’t in front of the mirror anymore. No–now he was in the stall, his cock in the gloryhole, listening and feeling some disgusting faggot slurping on his fat rod on the other side, the wet slap of the faggots hand on his own wet cock–he hated it. He fucking hated it. He hauled his cock out of the hole without warning, walked to the stall where the faggot was, and kicked in the door with one solid slam from his boot, the door slamming into the bitch, stunning him. Ed reached in and grabbed him by the collar, hauling him out of there with a snarl–and froze when he saw the face of the faggot, froze when he saw his face, his old face, looking up at him in terror.

“This is what you’ve wanted, ever since that night, isn’t it? This is why you can’t stop thinking of it, why you can’t stop dreaming of it. So do it. Fucking do it, be a man, show that faggot you mean business.”

Ed didn’t want to look at that face, he didn’t want to see that version of him anymore–so he started punching it. He punched it until it was broken and bloody and almost unrecognizable, and then he rolled it over, hauled down its pants, and started fucking it roughly, his thick, calloused hands gripping the thing’s hips hard enough to bruise, so hard he could almost feel his own hands on his own hips, but he didn’t think about that, couldn’t think about that, wouldn’t think about that, and he came deep–and the bathroom was gone, and Ed was left in the kitchen, his cock planted deep down Will’s throat, watching the gimp choke on his massive load, its erection still clearly visible in the rubber suit below. He hauled his cock free of the thing’s mouth, watching it slurp the cum down with a moan, and he fell into a chair behind him, looking down at his hands, his massive fucking hands, from years working on farms and construction sites. He could…remember everything, everything about this new life, and all that remained of his old one were just fragments, shards left over from the mental beating he’d given himself. He looked back at the gimp in front of him, at Oliver standing beside him, smiling, pleased with himself.

Stinker’s Drive (Sketch)

It had been a gag, one day–a prank by one of the guys on the football team, and no one had ever fessed up to it, not that Jeff would really give a fuck who it was. He’d gone out one afternoon, after practice, to find that someone had slipped his keys from his locker, gone out, and hung his dirty jock from the rearview mirror, like an air freshener. It had been a gentle ribbing, aimed at Jeff’s hygiene, because he almost never washed his jocks and other gym clothes, so the rest of the team could smell him coming around the corner, but rather than humiliate him, he just considered it to be a source of pride–and so, rather than take it down, he decided to just leave it there for the rest of the semester.

It wasn’t like his decoration went unnoticed around town, either, since it was a small college town in a rural part of the state. He didn’t really mind the reputation though–he didn’t give to fucks what anyone thought of him, because when it came right down to it…he liked the way he smelled, and he wasn’t going to change for anyone, just to make them more comfortable. So it was, one afternoon, that Jeff climbed into his car, at the end of the day, and when he did…he noticed that something stank a bit more than usual.

He looked around at his car, which was a bit of a mess, but there wasn’t any food or anything in the back. Besides, it didn’t smell like rot–it smelled like…sweat, and piss, more than anything else. Still, he couldn’t find the source, and figured it wasn’t a big deal–he buckled up and pulled out of the parking lot, heading for the house he was renting with some friends a few miles away from campus.

Still, the smell lingered, and while it didn’t bother him, he was…surprised to find that it was making him a bit horny. He hadn’t gotten laid lately–most of the girls on campus avoided him because of his musk, but it didn’t bother him all that much. He liked his hand more, in some ways, because a pussy always seemed to be attached to something complaining. But he did want to know what in the hell the smell was, and so, stopped at a red light, he looked around again–and noticed his jock, hanging from the rearview mirror–or at least, what should have been his jock, but it wasn’t.

This thing–it was almost grey brown in color, and looked like it hadn’t been washed in years. How in the hell had he not noticed that? Was this another prank by one of the guys on the team, pushing him a bit further, since the first prank hadn’t worked? But…maybe it was his jock. It looked right, to him, and part of him was telling him that it…smelled right too, somehow, but he couldn’t quite be sure. Against his better judgement, he leaned in, took a whiff, and as pungent as it was…it did smell amazing.

He shuddered in his seat, groping himself waiting for the light. It seemed…hotter in the car, than it usually did, somehow. Sure, the sun was out, beating down on the chassis, but this…it was an internal heat too. Something inside him, making him sweat–and by the time the light turned green, it was pouring off him, soaking his hair down, and soaking into his clothes too. It didn’t feel right–in fact, he was feeling dizzy and lightheaded. He…he needed to smell that jock again. Yeah, that would make him feel better for sure.

He took another whiff, shivers crawling up and down his spine. He kept driving, but his mind was focused elsewhere–he didn’t notice his college t-shirt soaking through with sweat under his hoodie begin to dissolve away, the same with his jeans–the denim around his ass succumbing first, and then the rest down his legs, to his feet, which were similarly melting his socks and shoes. He started groping his cock openly now, looking around at the drivers in the other cars, wondering if they could see him. It felt…good to be driving naked, actually. Risky. He liked risks, and he liked showing off too. He unhooked the jock from the mirror and looped it over his neck–better to smell it, and better to let other people see what a fucking pig he was too.

The air was heating up inside the car, the seats blistering and popping, the metal warping and reforming around him as he drove. Over the course of the next two streets, Jeff’s little sedan swelled and grew into an old grey pickup, paint peeling and rusted, but man, did the cab smell good. It smelled like the jock–it smelled like him. He was breathing deep, sucking in as much of the filth off his jock as he could, hair growing in all over his chest, shoulders and back, and something else was happening to his body too–color swirling to life all over his chest and belly, down onto his legs. Thankfully, he had a ways to go before he would be home–give him plenty of time to sniff and edge himself while he drove, passing the little house where college students usually lived, and got on the highway out of town. He enjoyed the ride, sniffing his ripe pits, stroking his long, sweaty cock, hotboxing in his own heat and sweat. He got to the house after about half an hour, pulled into the garage and finally opened the door of the truck–and the scent of the place–oil, dirt, smoke and beer. He started stroking faster, jock out in front of his cock, and he shot a massive load into the pouch, feeling a pair of leather biker boots form around his feet, along with a leather bracelet and cock ring–his usual driving gear.

As he recovered from his orgasm, Jeff realized that he had no clue where he was, or how he’d even known to come here. Still, just like the jock, he could tell, from the smell of the place, that he was home. He was home, and he was finally the man he’d been meant to be, all this time.