A Dog’s Tale (Part 3)

So yeah, the story is fucking crazy, like I’d expected. Wizards? Curses? Wanting to be a fucking dog? Well, I believe that last part, given the suit he’s wearing. I keep trying to interject and get out of here–I do have a train to catch, after all, and a conference call to make, but the guy talks so fast, and with such energy–it’s like he desperate to keep me from getting a word in at all…so I end up just listening. I don’t notice the sun setting outside, the street getting dark, until another voice pipes up beside us.

“Sir? Sir!”

The dogman I’m with actually stops talking for a second, and I blink a couple of times, then look over. There’s a woman in a fast food uniform looking down at us–well, down at me really, scowling a bit. The badge on her shirt has the name Courtney, with the title Assistant Manager.

“Yeah? What is it? You don’t have to yell.”

“Sir, you can’t have animals in here. It’s against the law.”

I just stare at her for a second, then look over at the other guy, then back at her.

“Look, I know he’s a bit of a freak, but that’s fucking mean.”

“Is it a service animal?”

“No, it’s a fucking person, ya cunt!”

The anger in my voice surprises even me–especially when I stand up, ready to get in her face over some homeless guy’s dignity, and she backs up a step.

“I will call the police sir, if you don’t leave the premises right now.”

“It’s ok, let’s just go, sir. I can tell you the rest on the way home!”

The man in the suit is still grinning through all of this–if anything, he looks even happier.

“Fine, let’s go then.”

He gets out of the booth, and I notice that there seems to be…a lot more trash on the table than there should be–at least three or four hamburger wrappers, and two bags which might have contained fries at one point, which were now empty. But I swear I’d just had a salad–a salad I don’t even remember eating, but whatever. We leave the joint, I look down at my watch, and curse under my breath–it’s quarter to eight–there’s no way I can make that call now, and I can’t do it on my cell phone. I need to get going, and quick–maybe I can hail a cab?

“So where are we going now?”

“We aren’t going anywhere–I have to go home.”

“But I’m not done with the story yet! We’re getting to a really good part. I know you want to hear the rest, right?”

He sounds…almost desperate, in a really strange way, and lets loose a whine that actually is a pretty good imitation of a dog–but even if I am curious, I don’t have time.

“Look Fido–”

“Is that my name? You gave me a name!”

He’s jumping around like a fucking idiot again, and I have to actually grab him, and settle him down, before someone starts staring at us.

“Calm the fuck down!”

“I just get really excited when I hear my name, is all! But the story! Let me tell you the rest of the story–you have to hear it all now! You gave me a name!”

I scan the road for a cab, but there’s none in sight; a cab wouldn’t even get me home in time for the call anyway. I get out my phone and send a text, feigning an emergency and asking a partner to handle it for me.

“Fine, Fido, but I have to catch the next train so I can get home. You’ll have to walk and talk.”

“Ok! I like walks, walks are awesome!”

So off we went, and Fido figures out where he left off in his tale, but I’m having a hard time focusing on him, as we walk–mostly because I feel a bit…sick. Bloated even. I rub my stomach, and it definitely doesn’t feel right–kind of swollen, and even a bit soft, like…like a gut.

I stop walking and look down at myself, and sure enough, where there had been gym toned abs not hours before, I now had a sizable paunch–enough that it has untucked my shirt, and I could see my undershirt peeking through the gaps between the buttons. The rest of my outfit is tight too–my suit coat isn’t sitting right on my shoulders, like they are wider all of a sudden, my tie is too tight, even my shoes are hurting my toes, which feel like their curled up against the end of the shoe. I walk over to a shop window and look at my reflection, and I start to freak out even more. I have at least six or seven days of stubble all over my face–and my face looks as chubby as my gut. It’s no wonder my tie is too tight, with how much my neck has grown, and my usually well groomed hair is too long and shaggy–greasy even.

“You’re not listening to the story, sir.”

Fido is beside me, looking a bit concerned.

“But–I didn’t look like this before. What happened to my body?”

I don’t know why I’m asking him, exactly, it’s not like Fido would have an answer, right? But he gets close to me, and looks me in the eyes, and it’s really intense, his stare.

“Just relax, sir. You already started listening to my story, and once I get to the end, everything is going to make complete sense. You have to trust me, though. You do trust your doggy, right? I’m the best doggy in the world, after all.”

“The best…doggy in the world…”

“And I’m your doggy. I’m Fido.”

“Mine…Fido.”

He lets me go, and I realize I blanked out for a second, but I do feel a bit better. Fido…really is a good dog, you know? Still, I–we–have a train to catch, so we keep going. I do my best to ignore my uncomfortable clothing, and focus on listening to what Fido has to say, as he continues his tale, and by the time we’re sitting in the train, my attention is with him completely, as he tells me what happened when Master Joel found him one afternoon in that park, a few months later.

Use It or Lose It (Part 1 & 2)

Sorry for the missed post yesterday! Today’s will be a double to make up for it.

“You told my son that masturbation will make his penis shrink, and you’re accusing me of being immature?” she said, resisting the urge to shriek, but losing to her anger at Mr. Randal Gray, the health teacher and wrestling coach sitting across from her. “I thought your job is to educate our children, not flat out lie to them!”

“Ms. Eleway,” he said, emphasizing the fact that the mother had no weding ring, and without a man, no real standing in his eyes, “The bible is clear that masturbation, and lust, are sins. Sex and ejaculation are for procreation, not recreation! A little fib here and there is worth the preservation of innocence, in my eyes. Besides, it’s motivation! The only men who need to masturbate are worthless lazy slob who are too ugly to get any action–is that who you want your son to be?”

“This is a public school–it’s facts that matter, not your fucking beliefs!” she seethed, “I’ll fucking report you to the school board.”

Mr. Gray scoffed, and leaned back, flexing slightly against the polo he wore. “Well before you do, maybe sit on a nice thick cock, you fucking cunt,” he said, groping himself, “because that’s obviously what you need to sort your issues out.”

She glared at him, and stalked off. She was bluffing–they almost always were bluffing. And if they did call the school board? Well, half of them attended the same massive chruch he did–things would get swept under the rug as usual. God always wins in the end. It was improper of him to use such coarse language at a woman, but she had cursed at him first, and more importantly, she fucking deserved it.

Thankfully, the rest of the teachers’ communal office space was empty, aside from a few stragglers, so there had been no witnesses. Randal packed up his gear and headed towards the gym–the bitch had made him late for practice on top of everything else, and he believed in setting a good example for the youth. After all, masturbation didn’t actually shrink your cock, but abstinance was still best–goodness, he jacked off one a year at most–and that was plenty. Of course, his wife put out every night like a good christian slut should, so it wasn’t like he was lacking in action. He ran the young men a bit harder than usual, to make up for his tardiness, and then went home. He felt an odd shiver up his spine after dinner, while playing with one of his daughter’s, but forgot about it by the time he and his wife went to bed. He fucked her slower than usual, making her moan properly around his ten inch cock–thinking about that bitch from earlier while he did. He came in deep, and then pulled out. She rolled away, not expecting Randal to do anymore for her, and he fell asleep quickly–only to wake up again a few hours later with a raging hardon.

Still, that was no problem–he had a cunt to fuck after all. He tried to rouse her, but she was deep asleep, and the way she was curled up didn’t allow for…easy use. He rolled back over, determined to just ignore it, but the desire only grew. He reached down, and found himself fondling it, wondering how long it had been since he’d last jacked off. Months, at least, if not a year. What was the harm, really, in a little self pleasure? Still, heaven forbid his wife should hear him–he slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind him, and on the toilet he stoked himself. It took longer than he’d expected it to, but it felt wonderful–better than the sex he’d been having lately. She’d taken to being a dead fish, uninterested in him, just…letting him do his business. But his hand…knew him, somehow. Stifling a groan, he exploded. He wasn’t prepared for the size of it, as it shot across the small room and splattered on the wall opposite the toilet. He felt…good. Sleepy as well, and a bit exhausted, sure, and a little…wore out? It was hard to describe, exactly.

He got off the toilet and cleaned up his mess with some wads of toilet paper, and flushed away the evidence, before going to the sink to wash his hands. In the mirror…something seemed off about his reflection. As a gym teacher, he’d always kept his body in solid form, even as he’d gotten older. He’d crossed fifty a few years back, and had only resolved to work harder…but it seemed like some of his gains had disappeared. His gut was bigger, and looked to be more of a potbelly. His arms lacked definition as well, and his chest was flabby. His smooth face looked unshaven, and his hairline had receded more than he recalled. He dried his hands and stared at himself, certain he’d looked better earlier. Still, he’d get himself back into shape–he’d done it before. That, or maybe age was just finally catching up to him. He went back to bed, and the worries didn’t stop him from sleeping–he awoke the next day, and while his appearance hadn’t improved in the night, it at least seemed more…normal to him. What wasn’t normal, was that he was horny again.

Of course, being horny wasn’t an issue itself–Randal was horny often. But what he wanted…was to jack off again. In the shower, he tried to resist, but couldn’t stop himself. The load wasn’t as powerful as the one before, in the night, but it also didn’t leave him feeling tired like that one had either. He was a bit worried, when he got out, that he’d…be different again, but nothing had changed–though he did notice one more thing. Stroking himself in the shower, his cock had seemed…off, and sure enough, when he measured it, it was shorter than before–nine inches, instead of ten. Still, he could worry about that later–he was running late. He got his clothes on, surprised how well they fit despite his body being so off his usual form, and headed to school for another day.

He got to his desk and set down his things, but found an odd note on the desk, written in careful script on a blank piece of parchment:

One inch down. Keep up your new habit, or what you teach will keep coming true.

Randal looked around, but none of the other teachers were looking at him. He asked a few, if they’d seen someone leave anything on his desk, but the early arrivers hadn’t seen anyone come or go since they’d gotten in. What could the note mean? It was probably just some weird prank by some of the kids at school. He threw the note in the trash, and got ready for the day. Still, he found himself…getting hornier throughout the day, and once at lunch, and again after school, before practice, he slipped into the bathroom and jacked off again. He was starting to become a bit…worried, actually. This wasn’t healthy–he didn’t need to jack off, he had a wife to fuck, right? Still, he couldn’t resist the urge, once more in the evening, and when he and his wife climbed into bed–it was the first time in months that they didn’t have sex. He just…didn’t feel like it, and from the way she’d been looking at him, so disinterested, it was clear that she had no interest either.

It kept him up at night, all the same. It was his Christian duty, wasn’t it? Best to nip this habit right in the bud–no more jacking off. It had been a mistake to give into temptation the night before, but he was strong. His cock wasn’t going to control him! He did manage to fall asleep again, and slept soundly through the night, but when he woke up, his cock was erect…and plenty eager. He tried to suggest a morning round of sex with his wife, but she insisted that she had to be at work early. He chastized her for refusing him, but she just blew him off–the reaction stunned him. No one treated him like that, especially not his own wife! They fought that morning, and he insisted she was going to fuck him that evening, or else. She left, he moped–thought about jacking off, but resisted the urge. He was going to save it for the bitch later, he told himself.

It was Friday, and Randal was as distracted as his students–though for different reasons. He’d managed fairly well through the morning, but by lunchtime, his horniness had grown…insistant. He’d tried to find ways to stand in front of the class to disguise his tent, but he’d heard a couple of snickers–after an uncomfortable lunch, he taught the afternoon classes from his desk, to avoid further embarrassment. There was no practice that afternoon, at least, but after packing his things at his desk, he’d decided he couldn’t stand it any longer. One quick shot wasn’t going to do any harm, certainly. In the bathroom, he wrapped his hand around his cock, and once again…the experience was different than usual. It was like that first time, the day before last in the middle of the night. His cock wasn’t simply eager–it was almost aflame with desire. As quiet as he was trying to be, he couldn’t help but release a few moans into the air, but as quick as he tried to make the session, it dragged on. His cock seemed to rest on the edge forever, but finally he managed to push himself over the edge, a load even larger than that first one spilling out of him, onto the stall door, onto the tile floor. He was left sitting, shaking, feeling like an earthquake had passed through him.

Still–he’d needed that, apparently more than he’d realized. Cleaning up as best he could with the single ply the school provided, he left the stall…afraid to look at himself in the mirror when he washed his hands, but nothing seemed to have changed. His stubble was a bit thicker, perhaps, but beyond that, everything looked…normal to him. Happy, he gathered up his things, got in his car and drove off, but as he did, he found himself growing more and more confused. His hands, and his memories–they weren’t taking him where he was supposed to be going, or at least not to the home he could recall with his wife and three daughters. Instead they drove him to a rundown apartment complex in a much cheaper part of town, and parked in a covered spot, like he belonged here.

But he didn’t belong here, right? He got out with his things, still not completely in control of himself, but unable to explain how he knew that, and walked up to one of the buildings, to the second floor, and there, on one of the doors, was a parchment note, similar to the one he’d received the day before:

“Two inches gone–and quite a bit more this time. If you keep resisting, things will only get worse. Don’t worry, your wife and daughters will have a much happier life without you, and you only need your hand now, right?”

He fumbled with his keys–the house key he’d had was gone, replaced by another, which opened the door in front of him. Inside, he found…his apartment. An apartment he could suddenly recall perfectly, as those other memories of a house and a family began to dissolve like a dream. The air was stale, and there was another smell too, that he knew he should be able to recall, but couldn’t. Still, it couldn’t be real–what was happening to him? He looked for the note on the door, but it had disappeared, and his terror was relaxing as well. He was home, right? Shouldn’t he feel…comfortable?

He shut the door, and stripped off his clothes–down to his underwear. That was better–he liked being alone after all–no one to worry about impressing. Plus he could jack off whenever he wanted! That had to be a plus, right? In fact, he was pretty horny right now. He sat down in his recliner and pulled out his cock, to stroke it. This was wrong–he knew this was wrong. The shame was there, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from shooting a load all over his gut. He wiped it off…and noticed something else, as his cock started to soften. It was shorter–again. Eight inches now, when he measured it later. Still, it seemed normal enough that perhaps he was mistaken. He jacked off another couple of times, and then fell asleep in his bed, alone.

June Suggested Stories Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

This month’s requested stories are finished and ready for you all to download! All it takes is for you to support my Patreon at any level, from one dollar on up, and you can get access to these three stories, as well as all the suggestions I’ve done over the past several months now! It’s a pretty good deal. Plus, you’ll have the privilege of suggesting ideas of your own next month. If you’d like a summary of the stories this month, you can find that here. For an idea of what these stories are like, here’s one from last month to whet your appetite!

A Deeply Held Secret

“Good slave–now go on and take a look at yourself in the mirror. Tell me what you see. Tell me what you are.”

The bathroom had one full length mirror across from where he was positioned against the wall, which allowed him a full view of himself, his cock visibly throbbing in the rubber bodysuit Master had given him to wear for the night. Master Parker had outdone himself this time–he’d never even seen a suit like this before in his life. It was porcelain white from head to toe, with a full hood and urinal mask–larger than any model he’d seen before or ever worn–with a metal tube keeping his mouth forced open, ensuring he’d swallow every drop. His arms were pinned to his sides, and the bottom had no legs–only a space for him to kneel, making his body look like a seamless white hunk of rubber, with a head resting in top. He knew what he was, but he couldn’t speak with the tube in his mouth.

“You’re a human urinal, of course,” Master Parker bent down beside him, his black rubber suit a dark contrast to the slave’s white suit. “That’s what you’re going to be all night, isn’t that right? You’re going to forget you were ever anything else.”

The words felt like truth–but Master’s words always felt like that, after he’d sent his slave into his deep trance. He was a human urinal–nothing more. Designed to drink the piss of men better than him–he wasn’t even a man anymore, not entirely at least. He felt his cock go numb, and shuddered at the sensation, pleased to be an object again, like Master Parker wanted.

“It’s gonna be busy tonight, you know. Saturday night at the sleaziest bar in the city. You’re gonna be bursting tonight–but if you serve me well…if you serve everyone well, like a good human urinal…well, you’ve been in my service for a year now, and I think it’s time you finally learned the Secret.”

The Secret. It was something Master had taunted him with ever since they’d met. Master claimed he knew…something about him, something that gave him such power and control over the slave, a reason he was helpless and desperate to serve him. The slave didn’t know what it could possibly be, but he did know that Master Parker could…make him do, and feel, things no other dom had ever been able to. He wanted to know so badly, and so he would serve well, as he always did.

Master gave him his first load of piss, which he drank down with glee, and then he left the urinal to its work. Men began pouring in soon after the club opened, and seeing the freak kneeling against the wall, most were more than happy to use him. He drank load after load of piss, feeling his gut ballooning outward, the suit growing tighter against his skin as he filled up. On occasion, Master would bring in some rubber boy to fuck in front of the urinal, and had he been more than a human urinal at the moment, perhaps he would have even felt jealousy, but as he was, he was merely happy to watch his Master dominating and controlling others, taking his pleasure whenever and wherever he wanted. Hours passed, and soon it was four in the morning–the club was empty, and the slave was there, drenched with piss, gut full to bursting and aching for release, when his master finally returned.

“You did well, slave. Very well. I’m very pleased. I’m going to reveal your secret now–are you excited slave? You know what you are now, this moment, right slave? You’re a human urinal.”

It nodded.

“Good. Now–here’s the secret–you really are one of those two things, but you can’t really be both. Right now, you’re pretending to be one of them, right?”

He nodded.

“All your life, though, you’ve believed you were human–that the urinal part is fake. But here’s the secret: you aren’t human, slave. You can be human on occasion, but you aren’t really. You’re a urinal, slave. That’s what you really are. That’s the secret.”

The slave didn’t know what to make of that–it sounded ridiculous. It shook its head, and Master just laughed.

“When I snap my fingers, you’ll become what you really are, slave. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’ll be human again. Go on, prove me wrong if you can.”

He had to be wrong. He knew he was human, right? Master held his fingers together a moment, and then snapped them–and when he did, the slave felt a massive shiver run through its entire body, and it realized the truth: it had been wrong this whole time. It…it wasn’t human. It was just a urinal. The truth felt impossible–it couldn’t possibly be real.It tried to move, to struggle, but no muscle would respond–it…after all, it didn’t have muscles, right?

Master stepped to the side, allowing the urinal to see itself in the mirror across the room. The surface of its body no longer had the semi-translucence of rubber–it was porcelain. Real, solid porcelain. It’s head looked vaguely human, but it could…feel it’s mouth, it’s bowl–where it had fused to its face–to what had been its face, when it had been partly human before. To its horror, it watched a metal pipe push its way out of the front of it’s body–something which felt vaguely like its cock had felt before–and connect to the floor, and the massive load of piss it had stored it its body from the night emptied out into the pipes and sewers below.

It was true. It really was just a urinal. A urinal first…and…and human second. Only human when Master desired it. Perhaps it would never be human ever again.

“Now, the club has you leased for the next month, slave.” Master said, “After that, I might let you be a bit human again, for a while. But now that you know your secret, slave, you’re never going to be able to forget it. You’re never going to be able to pretend to be human again–and that’s what we both want, I can assure you, though you probably won’t realize it for a while yet.”

With that, he turned around and left the room, shutting out the lights and leaving the new urinal in complete darkness, still struggling to believe what had just happened. But before long, it was struggling just to think at all–after all, urinals didn’t have minds, or brains, right? By morning, it was just another soulless object, experiencing only a constant, unending thirst for piss–the only sensation it was ever certain to feel for the duration of its existence in Master’s service.

Jeremiah’s Biggest Fan (Part 4)

How much did Terrance like football? Not at all. In fact, Terrance hated football. He hated most sports, in fact. But within a moment after Jeremiah pressing a button on the Chronivac, all of that changed. Now, he didn’t just love football–it was his life. He watched as much of it as he could, all the time, followed both the pro leagues and the college teams, and so much in his head was pushed out to make room for what he would have thought of as useless stats and figures before, but now…now football seemed like the only thing that mattered to him.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me a fucking football player?”

“No Tubbs–don’t worry about that. Someone with your physique? You’re too big to even be a defensive lineman. Sure, you might have played football back in high school,” he pressed another button, “but you were much too stupid to get into college, even on an athletic scholarship, if you’d been a good enough player to get one,” he hit another slider, “Now, all you are is just a middle aged loser, a pathetic worthless slob who obsesses on football because that’s the only thing in his life that has ever given him any meaning.”

Terrance did his best to fight it, the sensation of his entire history shifting away underneath him. Some of the details were the same as before–growing up gay in a small town–but most of it began twisting into something entirely new. Jeremiah saw him begin to shift again, though more subtly than before. His eyes lost a bit of their intelligence and dimmed, a thick layer of stubble filling in across his flabby face as his hairline began to recede. His body began to smell from a lack of care and washing, and he grew even a bit larger. In thirty seconds, Terrance was essentially gone–now there was just Tubbs, a thirty-five year old faggot pig, who spent his days working a shitty job delivering pizzas, and every second of his free time was devoted to his one true love: football.

Still, it wasn’t quite enough to satisfy Jeremiah. After all, even Tubbs could figure out that knowing a secret like this of a local college football star could be…rather worthwhile to the right ears. No–what he needed was a much more personal loyalty. “Tell me Tubbs,” he asked, typing in a new specification, “Who’s your favorite football player? The one you idolize over everyone else?”

“Aww fuck man! It’s fuckin’ you!” Tubbs gushed, his voice picking up the long drawl of the rest of the hick locals around here. “First time I saw ya play last year man, I knew I was lookin’ at someone special. I…I dreamed about you man, I know you’re gonna be pro, you’re gonna take a damn lucky team to the superbowl one day! I…fuck man, and…and I…” he got off the bed and onto his knees in front of Jeremiah, looking up at him with an almost childlike adoration, “I…anything I can do for you sir. Use me, my holes–I…You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen on a field, and if I can do this for you, if I can make you happy, fuck man it would be such a fucking honor. I know…I’m not much to look at, hell, I’m a dumbfuckin’ loser, I know it, but my ass is a good fuck, and its always open, whenever ya need it.”

“What I need right now, pig, is someone to clean my filthy fucking feet.”

“Oh fuck…Fuck *snort* fuck sir, yes sir!” Tubbs got down and started licking at Jeremiah’s foot, grunting and moaning, supporting himself with one hand while the other fucked himself with the dildo he had in his hole nearly all the time. Yeah–now this is something he could get used to, Jeremiah thought, hopped up on the desk behind him and started shoving his foot into Tubb’s fat mouth, jacking his cock while he watched the pig humiliate himself in front of his young football idol.

“You like those nasty feet pig?”

“Yes sir!”

What do you say pig, when your idol–when your fucking god is nice enough to let you lick your feet?”

“Thank you sir, *grunt* Thank you!”

“That’s right pig–you’ll take anything from me, won’t you, and you’ll thank me afterwards–isn’t that right?”

“Anything sir, I’m your fucking pig sir, anything, please, I’d be honored.”

“Get back on the bed pig, I got one last load of cum for you, and then you’d better get going, or you’ll be late to work.”

Twenty minutes later, Tubbs left the dorm room, adjusting his too small uniform from the local pizza delivery joint where he’d worked since he was a teenager. The front was stained and grubby, but he didn’t care–he had the best football player’s cum leaking out of his hole right this very second, and the world couldn’t get any fucking better than this.

Inside the room, laughing, unable to believe what had just happened, Jeremiah picked up the Chronivac, stepped out the dorm room, and triggered reality to alter and adjust for all of the previous changes he’d made. The room he’d just left was suddenly occupied by a completely different student, and Terrance–investigative journalist and notorious queer–ceased to exist for anyone other than Jeremiah. Later that night, he ordered a bunch of pizzas for the frat house for fun, and sure enough, Tubbs pulled up in his pickup truck, hauled out the six pizzas and took them to the door, gushing over the football players inside, who were a bit…put off that the filthy slob knew their own stats better than they did. But Jeremiah gave him a wink, and that alone had Tubbs fucking himself with his special, Jeremiah shaped dildo in a parking lot until he came in the front of his work uniform, looking forward to the next time he’d have the honor of serving his idol–which he’d have the opportunity to do many times over the next few years, until–as everyone knew would happen–Jeremiah graduated and got drafted immediately by a pro team across the country, and he was gone.

Still, Tubbs didn’t resent him–how could he? He’d settled into his life well–packing on another hundred of pounds thanks to drinking problem and binge eating Jeremiah had helped nurture in the pig. He liked to think that, maybe, he’d helped him a little. That with his sorry life, he’d done something for the one person in the world who really mattered. He watched every game that Jeremiah’s team played, lounging on his couch, drunk, one of his idol’s dirty jockstraps or jerseys from his private collection pressed to his face, bouncing on his dildo, wishing for at least one more fuck from him–and at the end of the season, he got a package that had his squealing with joy. Jeremiah remembered him, and liked him enough to send the pig a ticket to the superbowl–and after winning his first ring of what would be many, Jeremiah gave that pig a night long pounding he was certain would last Tubbs a good long while. After all, loyalty and silence had to have its rewards, right?

Smoke Spirit (Part 5)

Douglas didn’t know what to say–and just looked from the cub to the spirit and back again. He could remember Pete–the old Pete, but looking at the cub–no, at his cub–here in front of him, he could remember him too, somehow, though those details were fuzzier, like he was trying to find them through a haze that wouldn’t quite clear from his mind. “It’s…alright, boy,” he said, finally, but the voice that emerged from his throat surprised him. It was deep, with a smoky rasp that made it seem…old. He sat up on the bed, and from there he could see himself in the mirror, and while he somehow already knew what he was going to see, that did nothing to diminish his shock.

He was old. Alright, so he wasn’t that old. His head was telling him that he was 46 now, but still, he’d just doubled his age in a matter of moments, and that wasn’t the only change which had happened to him. His old body hadn’t really been anything special–lean, average height, a small goatee, but looking at himself now, he was heavily muscled, even more so than the hulked out Pete kneeling in front of him on the bed, and his new height of six foot three only made him seem even larger. He got up, trying to push back the sense of vertigo which threatened to overwhelm him, and strode over to the spirit standing off to the side of the room, watching him. “What the fuck is going on? What the fuck did you just do to me and my son?” he asked, the word “son” popping out without him even thinking about it…and he realized it was true. He looked at the mirror again, where he could see both him and Pete, and realized just how…similar they looked to one another. His gut started churning again, but he felt a warmth against his cheek–the spirit’s hand had stroked his bearded cheek. He turned back towards it, and saw it was already dissipating into the air. “Wait! Please, just tell me what’s happening to me! What the fuck do you want with me?” he asked, and this time, he did get something in return.

It was difficult to describe what he felt. Some of it was emotion–that was the strongest bit. There was longing, and a deep abiding love that surged through him, a love for…for a family. His family! Douglas tried to think back, tried to think of his mom and dad, but he couldn’t catch anything. Instead, he could see… his son and two other people, but the haze was so thick around the others, it was difficult to tell even broad details about them, but they were there. He had to find them! No…No, “find” was the wrong word. The smoke was trying to tell him something else. He didn’t have to find them.

He needed to make them.

With that, the spirit was gone from the room, losing form and becoming a fog, sliding it’s way back into the head of Douglas’s cock, even as he tried, with his hands, to keep it from returning to him. Pete got up and walked over to his father, wrapping his own strong arms around Douglas’s broad chest, and he was surprised how comforting it felt, being close with his son.

“Don’t worry dad, you’ll help them too, I know you will! Just like you helped me. And then we’ll be a family again, just like before.”

Douglas pulled away, and went to his phone, where he pulled up Scruff. He hadn’t expected to see a reply from that fucker, but sure enough, there was. He pulled up the message and saw what Bandgar had told him in reply.

I did try to warn you. Still, I gave you someone I’m sure you’ll enjoy. Just don’t fight him, and help him make his–well, your–family. Then, when all is said and done, come find me, and we can all have some real smoky fun together. The way ya’ll ride, you’ll catch up to the tour in no time. See you soon, Daddy.

He needed a cigarette. No–No, fuck that, he needed a fucking cigar. His big hands shaking, he grabbed one of the cigars his son had brought back–they had seemed so much larger, back when he was smaller–but found lighting it to be completely natural. He took a deep inhale of the smoke, glad that Pete had brought his favorite brand, and exhaled two thick plumes through his nose. What was he stressing about, anyway? He looked over at Pete, his own cock stirring again, and fuck if his boy wasn’t the sexiest cub in the whole damn world! All he really wanted to do was plow that boy’s ass like he’d been doing earlier–or had he been doing that? He had felt, for a second, like he’d witnessed himself in two places at once, but the feeling disappeared quickly.

No–he shook his head, harder, and pulled the cigar out. He was falling into this trap, whatever it was. He could fight this, he could! But as soon as he’d thought that, a second vision came to him. The spirit leaving him, and entering his son instead. Then he…well, if Pete became the new father, then that meant he would be the new son. It was a threat, and a good one. His eyes, unlike Pete’s, were still human, and somehow, he didn’t think there was really much of a mind left in his old roommate’s head. Or at least, not much of his old mind.

Wake Up!

Lucas was just finishing up in the locker room after practice, and he was the last one out today–he’d been caught chatting with coach on the field for a few minutes, and most everyone was on their way back to the dorms by the time he’d gotten in and started getting out of his uniform. He’d just gotten into his shorts and shoes for the walk back to his room, and was getting his shirt, when he realized someone had been watching him this entire time.

It wasn’t someone he recognized–certainly not anyone from the team. He looked even too young to be in college, actually, but maybe he was a freshman who’d gotten lost. He was peeking around the corner of the locker room, and just…staring at Lucas there, in a way which was making him immediately uncomfortable. “Uh…can I help you?” he asked.

The young man didn’t seem upset that he’d been caught peeping, but his face did flush with excitement. “You…It could be you…” he said, and stepped out. Much to Lucas’ surprise, the young man was completely naked. His face seemed young, but the rest of him was very well developed–lean and muscled, with a massive cock hanging between his legs. Why in the hell was he naked? Sure, it was a locker room, but he didn’t belong in here.

“What the fuck man, are you some fucking faggot?” Lucas asked, and stood up, “Stay the fuck away from me.”

The young man didn’t approach, just stood there, cock swaying. “I would never–not yet. You need to Wake Up first.”

The young man was speaking at a normal volume, but the phrase “Wake Up” seemed to multitudes louder than anything else the young man had said, loud enough that Lucas swore he could see the room shake around them.

“Yes, it could be you! You have to Wake Up daddy! Wake Up! Wake Up!…”

Lucas tried to cover his ears, but the force swept over him all the same, and to his terror, the room was coming apart like an earthquake. The boy was still screaming those two words over and over again, and the ceiling was crumbling, it was going to crush him–

Luke jolted awake with a start, panting, in his recliner, and looked around the room. Where was he? It looked like a fairly normal den, he supposed, but…but he’d just been in the locker room! How had he ended up here? Then he looked down at himself, and the questions only compounded.

This wasn’t his body. Sure, in another 20 years or so, he might have looked something like this, with the soft gut and thick thighs, the low hanging balls and fuzzy belly, but…but this wasn’t right. He stood up and went to turn around, and there, in the doorway, was the boy.

His boy.

His…his son.

His naked son, with that…that big fucking cock of his swinging to and fro, and he could fucking taste it, yeah, that…fucking boy cock felt so good rammed down his fucking throat, and his son loved making his daddy moan like a fucking whore…

Luke shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Where–what did you do? Take me back there! I…This isn’t right!”

“Oh daddy–you know how dreams work! Once you wake up, you can never go back. I thought you might be one, and I was right. I’ve been searching so long daddy, and I finally found you.”

His son advanced towards him, and Luke backed away, but he…wanted to touch him so badly, to please him, to…to satisfy him. Teach him. He was just a boy after all, he had so much to learn.

His boy stopped a few feet away, his cock hardening. It was so fucking big, just staring at it was making Luke’s stomach growl. “Come on daddy–come make your son happy.”

He should. He shouldn’t. His knees shook, but refused to buckle. “I’m…I’m you’re fucking father boy, and…and you’re going to make this right. I don’t know what you did, but fix this right now.”

His son frowned. “Don’t be silly daddy–you can’t go back. You’re Awake now.”

“No! No, this has to be the dream–you did…something to me boy, now fix it!”

The boy smiled, “I want to be reasonable daddy–but if you think this is a dream…then maybe you need to Wake Up again.”

The room sloshed, and Luke lost his balance, one foot…falling through the floor like it was mush. “No boy, not–”

“Wake Up daddy! Wake up if you want, but I’ll always be here.”

Like before, the words had tremendous force, and the walls of the room began to sag around them, Luke’s feet sinking into the carpet. He tried to crawl out, but like quicksand, it was sucking him down, and the last thing he saw before it swallowed him up, was his boy leering down at him, and his massive cock leaking cum like a faucet.

Lou lurched over, fighting off the dream, his body sweating and shivering in terror. Still, he tried to cling to it, but it was fading quickly, and within a minute, it was lost, aside from a vague sensation of drowning. Good–he didn’t want to feel like that again, he never wanted to feel like that. He heaved himself up from the bed where he’d been napping, feeling his fat body settle around him, scratched his ass through his briefs, and waddled over to the bathroom to relieve himself.

It sucked getting old–everything hurt. It felt like just yesterday that he was young, a promising athlete, running and jumping and–

He started to shake again, and felt like he might throw up. No–no, he didn’t want that. He wanted to be old, and feeble, and…and hungry–but hungry for what?

“There you are, Grandpa,” his grandson said in the doorway, naked, his massive cock hard as a rock. Just staring at it filled Lou with such fucking lust, but his old cock didn’t get hard anymore–but he didn’t need to get hard to make his grandson happy. “I need you real bad, I’ve waited so long.”

“Well, you can wait a bit more–Grandpa has to pee,” Lou said with a chuckle.

“No!” His boy shouted, “No! Now! Now, or I’ll do it again, I swear I will!”

He didn’t quite know what his boy meant, but the threat filled Lou with terror all the same, and he got down and started sucking his grandson’s cock, the boy roughly fucking his face, slamming his huge cock down his old throat, but it felt so good. He tried to hold his piss, but couldn’t–and emptied his bladder into the front of his briefs, feeling it run down his hairy thighs and pool around his knees…but it didn’t matter. Keeping his grandson happy was most important. It was his dream, after all, and he never wanted to wake up ever again.

Method Roleplay (Part 5)

He stumbled out of the bathroom, but felt a strange sense of vertigo–he was in a hall, but not…the hall he should be in. The walls were covered with paint that was chipped and peeling, the carpet covered in stains. There should be a doorway across from him, where the computer had been in Brett’s office, but there wasn’t a door–a bit further down the short hall was one, which led to…the bedroom he and daddy shared together.

No, this had been Brett’s apartment, they weren’t living together yet, right? He opened the door, and saw the messy room covered with clothes, and he could smell them both in there, their musk, their sex…fuck, it was so hot, how much it reeked. It got Evan worked up just like it did Brett, smelling the stale, stinking air. His dad’s cum was still dribbling down the crack of his ass, and he ran one hand up it, getting it good and coated, and started licking it off, grunting and moaning as he rubbed his little cock.

Why…had he come in here again? He’d been looking for a computer, right? But…they didn’t have a computer. They were too poor for that–Daddy just had his smartphone, and that was it–but hadn’t they listened to something together? There had been something, he was sure of it, but it was like the harder he tried to grasp it, the further away it got. He…he should talk to daddy about it. Daddy would remember it right? He had to! Daddy was so smart–he was just a dumbfuck little shithead boy–or at least, that’s what daddy said he was, and daddy was usually right about those sorts of things.

He turned around and walked back towards the main room of their apartment. He could hear the TV on, and smell…smoke. The smell concerned him–was something burning? He found his daddy where he expected him, on the couch, watching sports on TV, a can of beer in one hand and a cigar in the other, but this wasn’t right. This apartment wasn’t right. Brett should be changing back to his old self, but things only seemed to be getting even worse. After all, Evan hadn’t said anything about Brett being a smoker, and now he was sucking down cigar smoke? It was like reality was moving around them, and trapping them in the fantasy they’d created.

“Daddy? I…I know it’s hard, but I think we need to change back now?”

Brett looked over at Evan, a confused look on his face, and belched. “What the fuck are you talking about, boy?”

“Re-remember? We listened to that…thing together? That song, or…or somebody speaking? Maybe it was a book. You remember that right?”

“Boy, ya know yer old man’s memory is pretty shot. Ain’t too bright, ya know.”

“But do ya remember?”

“Boy…” Brett paused, “Boy, I remember a lotta shit, but ain’t none a it makin’ much sense right now. But I’m feelin’ a whole lot better, now that I got a cigar ‘n a couple a beers in my gut, and I’d feel a bit better with my boy next to me eating out my nasty pits, so git over here, sit down with yer daddy,” he said, patting the cushion beside him.

Evan didn’t want to disobey him and get another spanking, so he did as he was told. As soon as he was on the couch, Brett threw an arm around him and pulled him in tight, Evan’s face inches from his sweaty pit, and they reeked of sex. He gave a grunt without really meaning to, and felt a bit of his cares slip away.

“Yeah, that’s my sexy boy, ya make yer daddy real fuckin’ happy, ya know that?”

“No daddy, I’m…this ain’t how I’m supposed tah look–it ain’t how we’re supposed tah look. Ya do remember, I know ya do.”

“I was just bein’ thick boy.”

“No! I was lyin’ before! Ya were right! This ain’t right!”

“People can’t git younger, Evan. I ain’t ever gonna be a kid again–the world don’t work like that. How fuckin’ dumb are ya?”

“But daddy–”

“Boy, shut up–I wanna fuckin’ watch TV ‘n not care about shit until work tomorrow.”

“Ya can’t go tah work lookin’ like that! No one’ll recognize you.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Brett said, looking at Evan like he was crazy, “I been a mechanic there fer years.”

“Ya ain’t a…mechanic…” Evan muttered, but as he did, he saw his daddy’s clothes change in front of his eyes, becoming a set of grease covered coveralls, his hands coated black, and the scent of oil and metal mingled with the other odors of their apartment. “Daddy, ya gotta stop, or ya ain’t gonna be able tah git back if ya keep goin’!”

“Course not, boy–but I got ya with me, so I’m fuckin’ good.”

“No–No, I’m–this ain’t me daddy, I don’t care what ya wanna be, but this ain’t me,” Evan hauled himself off the couch, and started fishing around for clothes to put on. He had to get out of here–maybe get back to his apartment, where he could remember himself better, and change back. “I ain’t gonna fuckin’ live like this. It was just supposed tah be a game! I don’ wanna live like a fuckin’ nasty pig!”

“Boy, watch yer mouth, ‘n sit yer ass back down this instant.”

“I got a job daddy, I got a future, and a life. I ain’t givin’ that up fer some fucked up fantasy.”

“Please. You? Git a fuckin’ job?” Brett said, standing up, “Boy, yer thick as a fuckin’ brick, ‘n fat, ‘n lazy. They even fired ya from the fuckin’ garage, remember?”

“Daddy, I don’t…wanna remember that…” Evan said, but he could. He could remember how his daddy had gotten him work there after he’d dropped out of high school, but he’d just sat around eating and jacking off until their boss had fired him. And now…now he just…

“All yer fuckin’ good for boy, is sittin’ ‘round here, stuffin’ yer face, jackin’ off like a good pigson, and when I git home ya serve yer daddy like a good little porker should. Ain’t that right?”

“Nuh-uh, ain’t…nah daddy…” Evan said, but his words were slow, and even thicker than they had been. He could feel his body growing, his gut sagging and covering his cock completely, the smells of the room growing more intense. “Mean…I gotta…” and with that, his mind broke. He really was too stupid to figure this out–what the fuck had he been thinking? He knew better than that. He was…he was just his daddy’s pig–he was never gonna be more than that. “S-Sorry dad, I know I’s just a dumb pig ‘n stuff.”

“It’s alright boy,” Brett said, put his hand on Evan’s head, and pushed his 400 pound, idiot son to his knees. “Daddy’s got some nice beer piss fer ya, pigboy–‘n then how’s about we order pizza ‘n git ya fed nice ‘n full?”

Evan liked the sound of that a lot, and he gulped down daddy’s piss, grunting and snorting as he did, and by the time he’d been stuffed full, over two hours later, neither of them would have ever believed that the day before they’d been anyone other than the incestuous pigs they were now.

Method Roleplay (Part 4)

By the time Brett was getting ready to cum in his son’s hole, he’d been plowing him for close to half an hour. The hole, which had started out tight, was now plenty sloppy, with Brett’s copious amounts of pre-cum providing ample lube, while the rest ran down between Evan’s fat thighs. Evan wasn’t think about much beyond the simple pleasures of his father’s cock–just snorting and grunting, one hand tugging at his nipples while the other rubbed the head of his short cock poking out of his fat pad. He’d already cum twice, but that hadn’t slowed either of them down–Brett had just reached around, scooped up as much of his boy’s cum as he could, and used it as extra lube, before ramming his dick back into him. His boy, after all, wasn’t really good with self-control–something he’d spent a while reminding Evan off while they’d been fucking. His son could barely keep his hands out of his pants, even when they were out in public. It would have been embarrassing, he supposed, but Brett wasn’t one to feel much shame. If anything, he was fucking proud that his son was as much of a pervert as he was, right? Still, something was bothering him about all of this, but he was so horny that he could ignore it entirely for a while longer, and feel his balls start to swell slightly, getting ready to dump one of his huge loads deep in his son’s guts, which Evan had been begging for. He started fucking harder, Evan snorting and grunting in time with his father’s deep thrusts, and at last he drove in hard and pumped shot after shot of cum into him, gripping his boy’s fatty sides tight, his sweaty, hairy gut pressed to Evan’s slick back.

“I love you boy, daddy loves you so fucking much…” he said softly, leaning over and licking up some of Evan’s sweat.

Evan was only half listening, as he was close to his third shot, and with a shudder, he blew another load all over the front of the counter, and then collapsed onto it, feeling like he’d taken enough of the edge off that he could finally think again. The bathroom mirror had fogged up, and with one hand he wiped it until he could see himself–this…other self. This wasn’t him–it wasn’t Brett behind him. He could…remember listening to something, and even he hadn’t thought it would really work, but it had done something to them, and now…now they had to figure out how to get back.

Brett’s cock was softening, and he slid out, a gush of cum following him as he did, Evan groaning at the sensation of being empty again. “Fuck boy…that…” he stumbled back, legs shaking a bit. “God, why the fuck do I feel so fucking strange?” he muttered to himself.

“Because this isn’t real, Brett–we’re just…I don’t know if we’re imaginin’ this shit or what, but we gotta go back tah who we were before–ya remember right? Ya were young, not that fat, and–”

“Shut up boy, that was just…I was just bein’ thick I thought. That wasn’t real,” Brett said, looking down at himself, hefting his gut, “I mean, I…kind of remember, but…but then how…”

“It ain’t real daddy, we gotta git back,” Evan said, turning around and looking at Brett, hoping he’d be shifting back towards…who he’d been before. Evan couldn’t really remember who they’d been–not well at least–but he could almost tell that the closer they got, the better he’d remember. Still, Brett wasn’t changing–instead, his daddy looked like he was freaking out. “Dad–Brett. It’s gonna be ok, we can fix this.”

“Ya don’t–use my name, son, ya know better.”

“Brett, we aren’t roleplaying anymore, we’re done.”

“Boy, I am the man a this house, ‘n ya do what I fuckin’ say!” Brett roared, shoved Evan around and bent him back over, before giving his ass ten hard smacks, making Evan count them off and thank ‘daddy’ after each one. When he finished, he…he found it hard to believe how turned on he’d gotten, doing that–how turned on he’d gotten by all of this. But hadn’t he hated the idea of this? Hadn’t…someone, at least? He needed to calm down, but the air in the bathroom stank of sex and sweat and he was so fucking tight–he had to loosen up.

Brett left Evan in the bathroom, and his boy tried to recover from the punishment. He’d been a bad boy, he knew better than to use daddy’s name–why had he done that? He felt awful, and yet he also knew that these feelings, this body, all of it was a lie–but he didn’t know how to disentangle himself from it. Still, getting his ass pounded had gotten him hard–like usual. Maybe…maybe a little longer wouldn’t hurt, right? He looked at himself in the mirror and knew he should be disgusted–that the old him would have been disgusted by this. This had never been his fantasy–he’d wanted to be a twink, not some dirty chubby pig like this–and incest had always turned him off, but he could…see daddy’s face in his, and it was making his cock leak again, but he couldn’t afford to get swept any further away from his real life. The file had warned about something like this, hadn’t it? That’s what he needed to do–get to the file, and maybe he’d figure out a way out of this mess.

Method Roleplay (Part 3)

Evan didn’t need to be told twice–he dropped to his knees on the tile of the bathroom floor, and scooted up to his daddy’s cock, still unable to believe that his young roommate from moments before had actually…become this fucking daddy of his dreams. He could smell the powerful musk rolling off him, and it was making his hard cock start to leak–he shoved his face into his daddy’s crotch and took a few deep snorts of the smell, enjoying it.

“Yeah, you like that smell don’t you boy? You want daddy’s scent all over you.”

“Fuck daddy, you know I do.”

“Pretty fuckin’ lucky that a slobby daddy like me found a nasty boy like you, ready to worship my fucking filthy body.”

“Oh…fuck daddy…”

“Perverted fuck–you want daddy to soak you down in his smelly piss? I bet a filthy boy like you would fucking love that.”

In fact, watersports had never really been much of an interest for Evan, but for this man? He…he’d probably do anything he asked him to do, without any doubts. He nodded, and after a could of moments, Brett started pissing, aiming his stream all over Evan’s face and chest–and he nearly came just from that alone. Why had he thought he wouldn’t enjoy this? Of course he fucking enjoyed this! He…he bathed in his daddy’s piss every…every chance he got, didn’t he?

He opened his mouth wide, and Brett directed the stream there, watching his boy gulp it down, stroking his cock, and grinned. “Gonna fill up that gut of yours boy. You want a big gut like daddy, don’t ya?”

Evan nodded without much thought, and kept drinking.

“Yeah, you wanna be just like your daddy, don’t you boy?” Brett said, grabbing Evan by the back of head and pulling him closer to his cock, pushing the head into his mouth as the piss slowed, “Fat, stupid, hairy, lazy, horny all day and night. Just like your daddy.”

Part of Evan was trying to push back–after all, for him, part of the pleasure of older men was the difference between them. Him–old, fat, grungy, and perverse–and him–young, slender, clean, and corruptible. But…had there been more? He had always liked the idea of an older man corrupting him, ruining him, hadn’t he? It seemed like he had, but everything was a bit fuzzy.

“Course, ya ain’t gonna be like your old man in every way, right son? Not with that little boy prick, and that hungry ass of yours. Still, I’ll keep ya plenty satisfied.”

Evan could swear something strange was happening to his cock, while he started sucking on daddy’s cock. It wasn’t growing soft, but it was getting smaller. And his hand kept brushing up against something else–his belly–but he’d been toned, hadn’t he? No–he shouldn’t be worrying about these things, he needed to focus on his daddy, and making him happy, getting him good and horny so he can fuck his boyhole, and make him scream–fuck, that’s what he needed. He’d feel better after a nice ride on daddy’s cock.

“Fuck boy–talkin’ bout it makes me fuckin’ want it. Git up and bend over the counter.”

Evan didn’t need to be told twice–he knew what happened if he ever disobeyed his daddy after all–and it wasn’t like this was an order he’d ever disobey anyway. He hauled himself up–which seemed a bit more difficult that it should have been, and daddy had to give him a hand, but he made it, turned to the counter and leaned over, facing the mirror, and he froze. That–that wasn’t him. That wasn’t his face, with the scraggly beard, overgrown hair and zitty skin. That most certainly wasn’t his body either, behind him, with that big gut hanging off him, his ass much, much wider than he remembered…or…or did he? Something didn’t seem right, but before he could sort it out, Brett, behind him, had slicked up his index and third finger with slobber and shoved them into Evan’s ass, making his boy shudder and groan, pushing back onto his daddy’s fingers.

“Oh fuck, thank you daddy…”

“You’re welcome, son. You know it’s always a pleasure for me, and you want to make me happy, don’t you?”

“Oh…Oh fuck daddy, more…more than anything!”

“Yeah, because you’re a good boy aren’t so? A total slut for your nasty father? My fucking pigboy? That what you wanna be son?”

“Oh fuck daddy, that sounds…fucking hot…”

“Fatten you up even more, open up this hole of yours, cleaning my body and drinking my fucking piss all day long?”

“Dad, get your big fuckin’ dick in my piggy hole, I can’t fuckin’ take it. Ya know I hate it when you tease me!” Evan said, grunting and snorting and shoving back on Brett’s hand, trying to get as much inside him as possible.

Brett was stroking his own cock with his free hand, and didn’t notice was it was growing again, to nearly eleven inches, so thick he couldn’t meet thumb and finger around the shaft–even with his big hands. He let a gob of drool roll off his tongue and land in his palm, which he used to coat the head of his cock–he liked it a bit dry in his boy’s hole–and then started pushing it inside. Evan suppressed a cry of pain, but he’d take it for his dad–he’d do anything for him, after all.

Method Roleplay (Part 2)

“Did it work?”

Brett didn’t want to say that it had, but he certainly had fallen asleep, hadn’t he? And he felt…kind of strange, almost like he wasn’t all here at the moment, or like some little hole had opened up in his head, and something was…coming in, or going out. “I don’t know…do you feel…kind of strange?”

“I feel pretty good, actually,” Evan said, standing up, “Even if there was nothing to it, at least I got a good nap. So, come on–you ready to give it another shot, daddy?”

“You know, I don’t…actually feel that horny right now–how about later tonight?”

“That doesn’t sound like my daddy–my daddy is always fucking horny,” Evan said, got close and started groping Brett’s crotch through the shorts he had on, and to Brett’s surprise, his cock had gone from flaccid to hard in less than a second…or had…hadn’t be been hard the entire time? It was hard to remember, exactly. “Please don’t…call me that Evan. I’m serious, I feel really weird–don’t you?”

“I always feel weird when I’ve been too long without my daddy’s cock in my holes. And why don’t you want me to call you daddy? Whenever your boy calls you daddy, it turns you on, doesn’t it? I can feel your cock throbbing daddy, don’t lie to me.”

“B-Boy, you’re…fuck…” Brett leaned back, just enjoying the sensation of Evan’s hand kneading his cock and balls.

“Yeah daddy, let your boy take good care of you–you just lay back and play with that big furry gut of yours, and those meaty tits while you’re boy gets a taste of thick daddy cock.”

Yeah, fuck, that did sound hot all of a sudden. He leaned back in the computer chair while Evan started hauling open the fly of his shorts, and as he did, he felt his shirt ride up–he pulled it up the rest of the way, rubbing his big gut, coated with hair…but…it felt bigger than usual. He just had a bit of a paunch, but this gut…it was big and round, like a beach ball, and it obscured his vision of his boy sucking him off more than it should. There was more hair than before too, and when he pulled his shirt up, and off, he saw that his nipples were both the size of pencils, jutting out from his fat chest, and he started to breathe a bit quick. “Evan…Evan, this isn’t right, I’m not…I don’t actually look like this!”

Evan pulled away and stood up, blinking at Brett’s bigger gut and tits–and realized the nine inch cock he’s been sucking on was only supposed to be five and a half. He reached out, and rubbed Brett’s furry gut, unable to believe it was really there, but more turned on than he could really imagine. “I…I mean, I guess it worked then, didn’t it?”

“This…I don’t think I can do this, Evan. Change me back!”

“Calm down, it’s just an illusion caused by the hypnosis. It’ll go away. Just calm down.”

“Then how in the hell are we both seeing the same fucking thing! I’m 26, I can’t look like this.”

Evan didn’t have an easy answer for that one, but he didn’t really want to answer it–he was too fucking turned on looking at his boyfriend there, becoming more of the man he’d always wanted him to be–could it go even further? “Daddy…you’re just confused is all. You’re just remembering things wrong. You aren’t 26, you’re turning 50 next month.”

“Shut up boy, I’m fucking serious.”

“You had a bad dream–this is who you are. A big bellied, extremely hairy, big dicked daddy bear. You get confused sometimes–after all, you aren’t that smart. Pretty much all you think about is all the dirty, kinky sex you want to do to your boy, day in, and day out, isn’t that right?”

“Boy, you need tah listen to your fuckin’ daddy.”

“No daddy, listen to me. Go on, look at that big flabby gut covered with silver hair, give this huge cock of yours a nice stroke, feel that thick beard of yours and how much you’re balding. You aren’t 26. You aren’t that young kid you think you remember–you’re my big, dirty, perverted daddy, aren’t you?”

“Boy, ya need tah fuckin’s shut yer fuckin’ mouth!” Brett growled as he hauled his ass out of his chair, shoved past Evan and made his way to the bathroom in his apartment. It couldn’t be true. He was so…so fucking sure, but when he got in there and turned on the light, and say himself in the mirror…there he was. His huge gut hanging out, covered with a thick layer of hair, his half erect and leaking daddy cock hanging out the front of his grungy boxers, thick beard across his face, a month or two overgrown, crawling up his cheeks. Hair a mess and balding badly, more silver than the brown of his youth. What…what in the hell had he been thinking? His boy was right–he wasn’t some young kid! God, he can be fucking thick sometimes…and yet, something was still nagging at him all the same–still, it probably wasn’t important, right?

“Fuck, I can’t…believe it,” Evan said beside him. He’d gotten to the doorway behind Brett, and he still could barely believe his words had really done that to his boyfriend. It didn’t seem real–in fact, the changes he’d just seen were seeming less real by the moment. Words…they couldn’t do this. No, this was just his daddy, of course–the same he’d always been.

“Fuck boy, sorry, daddy was outta his fuckin’ mind, but I’m feelin’ a whole lot better now,” Brett said, leering at Evan–at his boy–stroking his fat cock nice and slow while he did, “Yer horny daddy’s ready tah play–now git the fuck down here ‘n help daddy out.”