Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 8)

They stood in their small living room, the pills settling in their stomach, wondering when they were supposed to start feeling something. “Is…somethin’ supposed tah be happenin?” Kevin asked, looking around.

“Uh…I think somethin’ is man, look at yer gut,” Alex replied.

The last few months on the road hadn’t been particularly kind to Kevin’s waistline. Spending so much time on the road didn’t exactly leave him a lot of time to try and keep the shape he’d had when he was living in the city, and the constant diet of truck stop fare only made matters worse. He’d remarked a few times to Alex that he was a bit disgusted by it, but as he watched, his gut was pushing out his shirt, making it ride up, and he let out a little groan of dismay. “Nah, fuckin’ hell, I don’ wanna get fatter!”

He tried to push back against it, but nothing he did made a difference, as the weight piled on him. He’d started out around 200 pounds, and after a few minutes, and a few hastily removed clothes later, he peaked at around 350–a substantial gut hanging down over his waist, two heavy moobs where his chest had been, rolls under his arms, thighs touching, and two prominent chins under his round, puffy face. 

Alex, on the other hand, was experiencing something rather different. He’d bulked up a bit since he’d started working at the garage, just from the physical labor he’d never had to do before, but this was something else entirely. Every part of him was swelling with muscle, his chest, his arms, his ass, his legs, everything. He flexed, and he could…feel the strength running through him, and looking over at Kevin, he was almost embarrassed by his good fortune–at least until he felt his cock twitch, and start to shrink. “What the hell?” he muttered, and saw that his rather average cock was indeed shrinking up into his body–until he was left with a two inch long nub, wider than it was long, with a sizable sack of balls hanging underneath it. A foreskin grew over it as well, making the whole thing seem even smaller, like it literally had slid inside his body. He looked over at Kevin, and saw that he’d hadn’t noticed his own new addition yet–the eleven inch cock swinging under his gut, with balls even larger than Kevin’s below it. 

Kevin looked over at him, then down at his cock, and realized what must have happened. He reached down, and while he couldn’t see his new member, he could feel it–one hand couldn’t even reach around it, and touching it was electric. “Fuck…that’s…I ain’t felt one that big before, gotta say…”

Alex was distracted from their dick measuring by a new sensation–a body wide itch. From the look on Kevin’s face, and from his discomfort, it was clear he was feeling something similar, but the results appearing on their bodies were entirely different. Alex saw the body hair on his body–something he’d never had much of–start to spread and grow in thicker and thicker. Across his chest, down his firm muscle gut, all over his legs, over his shoulders and down his back, down his arms and onto the backs of his hands, and even on his knuckles. His face wasn’t spared either, and a heavy beard sprouted all over, growing up high on his cheeks, long enough to reach his belly. His hair grew in as well, and grew long into a heavy mane of hair. Then came the first prick, in his ears. He reached up and found two gauges in his ears, and then more and more pricks came, as heavy metal rings, bars, and pins appeared all over his body. His tiny cock and balls weren’t spared either–his cock had a massive doorknocker as a PA, almost larger than his cock was, and his balls looked like a pincushion from all the metal in them.

Kevin, in the other hand, found himself losing the body hair that he did have–and in its place, tattoos were appearing on his skin. Not particularly flattering one’s either–everything was about being a redneck, being a trucker, being a glutton, being a smoker, or being a total sex pig. The He ran one hand over his scalp, and all of the hair on his head fell away, leaving him with a perfectly smooth cueball, and his scruff from not bothering to shave the last while disappeared as well–making him seem even fatter. Tattoos appeared on his scalp now, over his ears on across the back of his head, things he’d never be able to hide, no matter how hard he tried. 

But something else was happening to them–they were looking at each other, and they found themselves impossibly attracted to one another, and also incredibly horny. “Git over here, and put that giant cock in my ass, boy,” Alex said, and bent over the couch. Kevin didn’t need to be told twice, and after lubing up his tattooed cock with amble engine oil, just how Alex liked it, he rammed it into his muscular ass, and Alex nearly screamed from the size of it, but he couldn’t stop. 

The last changes were finishing as they fucked, the hair all over Alex picking up a bit of grey as he grew a bit older, and Kevin’s skin softening as he lost a few years, back to his mid-twenties. Alex found himself taking charge of the scene, and Kevin was more than happy to do as he ordered, their positions in the relationship shifting slightly. Despite his small cock, Alex tended to call the shots from now on, and Kevin was more than happy to do as the older muscle mechanic told him to do.

After they both came, they pulled apart and took stock of what had happened to them, both of them horrified, and yet also turned on by their new bodies. It was Kevin who noticed the new envelope that had appeared, and handed it to Alex to tear open and read:

We hope you enjoy your new bodies you two, we think you’re a perfect match now. They do, however, come with some new resolutions to enjoy as well, of course

Alex, you resolve to get fucked or fisted at least three times a day from now on. Since your cock isn’t really good for topping anyone anymore, you’re going to become obsessed with getting as much dick, and hands, in your ass as you can.

Kevin, you resolve to become a gainer from now on. You won’t be able to get that big dick of yours hard unless your stomach is stuffed full, and the act of someone else feeding you is going to turn you on more than most anything else from now on.

Enjoy you two–you’ve made so much progress. You should be proud of yourselves!

Alex moaned, reached around, and felt his ass–he needed something else inside it, desperately. Preferably Kevin’s massive cock, man, that boy could fuck! “Come on Kev, get that cock hard again, Daddy’s ass needs another fuck.”

Kevin nodded, but then a loud grumble came from his gut, and he gripped it, surprised by the hunger that overwhelmed him in a moment. “Fuck daddy, think we could eat first? I’m starvin’.”

Alex growled a bit, annoyed that his boy’s insatiable hunger was getting in the way of his own cravings, but nodded, and ordered some pizzas for them both. First, he’d stuff his boy’s face, and then his boy would spend the rest of the night stuffing his hole. That was the way it ought to be, right? He felt like he was…forgetting something, but he had more important things to think about from now on.


Alright, that brings Alex and Kevin’s tale to a close. Let’s do one more, I think. Here’s a poll of the other three options I suggested last time. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as usual!

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 7)

“Uh…Alex? Where are we?”

Kevin had set up in bed, only to find himself staring at a rather unfamiliar wall. It was not the wall of the condo that he shared with Kevin, most certainly. The room was…smaller, for one thing, and outside the dingy window–much smaller than the large ones he was used to–were the sounds of songbirds, not the usual call of city traffic below them. He got up and looked out the window, and found himself looking out the side of a small double wide, set down on some property in a mobile home park, and beyond that, woods. This was not the city anymore. 

Alex had left the bedroom and gone into the rest of the small house, and came back. “This…isn’t where he live, how the hell did we get here?”

Kevin looked around and spotted the envelope on the dresser. He tore it open, and read it aloud:

We here at New You Resolutions feel that, given the current lifestyle you two are enjoying, your current residence and former employers were not the sort best suited to two men like you. With that in mind, we feel it would be best for the two of you to relocate. As you can see, we took care of moving you while you were sleeping. I’m sure you will both enjoy your new residence much more. Here, as well, are a couple of resolutions to help you settle in:

— We resolve to behave, act, and speak like two men who have been poor white trash all their lives. We will speak in a heavy drawl, and by next year we resolve to completely forget that we had ever lived in the city at all.

Given the fact that your prior possessions, savings, and investments are currently being liquidated for use by the New You Corporation, it is rather important that each of you acquire a new means of employment. Not to worry, New You Resolutions has already matched each of you with a great employer–and each of you has an envelope of your own to ease you into your new positions. You start today though, so you’d both best be on the road as soon as you can.

P.S. Remember, all of your other resolutions still apply! We’ve updated your gear selection to be a bit more rural–more leather and industrial rubber, less spandex and latex since that no longer is the sort of thing a couple rednecks like you will be wearing.

“There ain’t no way they coulda moved us all the way o’er here without us…” Alex said, and then slapped his hands over his mouth. That…was not his voice–how in the hell had that happened?

Kevin didn’t really want to try and respond, and hear what he might sound like as well. Instead, he handed Alex one of the smaller notes tucked into the first card, the one with Alex’s name on it. Kevin looked at his own, and they read them silently. Here was Kevin’s:

Kevin, you are going to be working, from now on, as a long haul trucker! No need to worry–as an owner-operator, you’re your own boss, and New You Resolutions will be sure to supply you with regular work. In addition, you have a few new resolutions:

— I resolve to stop at every rest area when I drive. I will not leave until I have either had sex with another man there, or until I have drank a load of piss from another man there.

— I resolve to have a smoke fetish. I chain smoke cigarettes or cigars in my truck. The sight of another man smoking is irresistible to me, and I will feel compelled to try and have sex with them.

Alex’s note was as follows:

Alex, you are going to be working as a mechanic from now on! We’ve taken the liberty of getting you a job at Mick’s service station down the road. No need to worry, Mick’s on our team, and he’ll be more than happy to help you satisfy your sex quota while Kevin is trucking. In addition, here are a couple other resolutions for you.

— I resolve to start smoking, along with Kevin, though my fetish will not be as strong as his.

— I resolve to have a grunge fetish. In particular, I love coating myself in oil and grease before jacking off or having sex. From now on, the only lube I will use during sex is engine oil.

Alex looked up, and Kevin was already getting dressed, though he was struggling a bit as well. He tugged on a pair of filthy jeans, a wifebeater, a leather vest, a trucker hat, gave Kevin a pitiful look, and then left. Outside, his cab was parked next to the double wide, and though he’d never driven anything like it before, it came naturally to him, and he was off down the road. He didn’t even notice the cigarette in his mouth until he was a few miles off–he couldn’t even recall lighting it, it felt so natural, and the taste of the smoke was getting him hard as a rock. Thankfully the first rest area came quick, and he was compelled to pull over, and start cruising for dick–it didn’t take long for him to strike up a conversation with another trucker on a smoke break, and take him back to his cab for a blowjob. Then, he was back on the road. 

He picked up his load a little before noon, and then he was off–two days there, and two days back. The rest areas all blurred together. At night, in the back of his cab, he’d smoke and jack off, thinking about Alex, and shoot a load all over his little mattress, and then pissed on it too. At least it would smell like home soon enough. Four days later he was back home, finally. Exhausted, he pulled in next to the old pickup Alex drove, went inside, and found him there on the couch, watching TV, his cock soaked with motor oil, slowly jacking off and smoking a cigarette at the same time.

Alex’s first work week had been just as eventful. He’d pulled on his filthy coveralls and work boots, along with a leather cap, and then driven over to Mick’s garage to meet his new boss. True to New You’s word, Mick was just as filthy and greasy as Alex and Kevin, and the two of them wasted no time getting to know each other in Mick’s filthy office, before getting to work. Alex was a natural, and by the end of the night, exhausted, he’d agreed to go out with Mick for a night cap–and they’d ended up at the little porn shop, getting their greasy cock’s sucked off in the gloryholes by who knew who, and then gone home. Alex arrived back, took out a cigar and started smoking it, noting all of the ashtrays that had appeared around the room, and figured there was no way out of this new habit either.

They were so relieved to see each other, that Kevin hoped right onto Alex’s greasy cock and rode it, both of them sharing smoky kisses while they fucked for the rest of the evening, and then for the rest of the weekend while they were at it. Then, come Monday, Alex went back to the garage, and Kevin drove off again for another long trek.

They fell into a routine easily enough. They would force each other to talk about their old lives, just so they could hold onto them, but more and more often, they were forgetting details, entire histories, and finding them replaced with all sorts of lewd tales of their time here in the trailer park, and in the small town they were on the edge of. Mick would come over with some regularity and they would all play together, or head over to the porn shop to suck and fuck at the gloryholes. It was a few months more before the next envelope arrived, signalling another round of changes:

Now that your sex lives are much more interesting, we feel like the two of you could use a little more character as well. Besides, like they say, opposites attract, right?

Inside the card was a pill pack, with a green pill and a red pill, and directions for each of them to take one–but nothing about what the pills would do to them. Alex took the red one, Kevin took the green one, and they swallowed them together–wondering what the company had in store for them now.


Alright, so this poll is a little odd. Below, you’ll find a list of opposite qualities.  The ones that get the most votes will have the most extreme changes. So, for example, if Hairy—Smooth is the top result, one character will have a full pelt, while the other won’t have a hair on their body. Changes in the middle will be less extreme, and changes at the bottom of the rankings will be left out, or the characters will both fall on the middle of the spectrum. As for which quality affects which character…well, that’s for me to decide! You pick the intensity, and I’ll figure out how to apply them. You all have three votes, and Patrons have their bonus poll over here!

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 12)

Sorry for the delay on this, Christmas week turned out to be a lot busier than I was planning.

WARNING: SCAT


Skip could do nothing as the genie twisted Jason’s words yet again:

“Please, I just wish we would get fuckin’ dumber!”

“God fuckin’ damnit! Shut yer trap!” Skip said again, feeling a slight sense of deja vu as it happened, looked over at the genie, who snapped his fingers, and Skip could almost feel the thoughts in his head slow down to a crawl. “Fuck…I…Fuckin’ feels so…so fuckin’ good,” Skip said, and gave a great guffaw as he pounded deeper into his son’s hole, “Don’t it feel good boy?”

“Fuck, I…I didn’t mean tah, why, I…why’s it so hard tah think?” Jason said, his hole finally adjusting a bit to his daddy’s cock, and the pleasure started to overwhelm him a bit as well. “Fuck…feels…better Daddy, feels good havin’ ya inside me.”

Skip didn’t reply, he didn’t have the mental processing power to fuck and talk at the same time. He was just grunting and snorting behind him, driving in faster and harder until he exploded inside his boy’s guts, an even larger load than the one he’d shot in the restroom just a few minutes before this…but had he even been there really? Everything seemed like a dream to him all of a sudden, and his simpler mind couldn’t really comprehend what was happening to him. He pulled his cock free of his boy’s hole, suddering a bit, and whirled on the genie where he floating in the corner of the filthy bedroom, and stomped over to him. “I might not be the smartest fucker, but I can tell when someone’s fuckin’ with me. What the fuck are ya doin’? Yer messin’ with the shit we say, ain’t ya?”

“I can assure you, Skip, that I am fully within the bounds of the contract of my service to you, that you consented to when you made your first wish with me.”

“Contract? What fuckin’ contract?”

The genie waved in the air, and a thick document appeared in his hands, written on rather ancient parchment. He handed it to Skip, who stared at it for a few moments, and shook his head. “I can’t read fuckin Arab or whatever this is!”

“Oh, I gave you a copy in English, Skip,” the genie said.

Skip stared at it again, and realized that his son’s wish had made him illiterate on top of everything else. He threw the document in the genie’s face, who made it disappear again before it got anywhere close to him. “Fuck you, I want ya tah change us back!”

“I only accept requests in the form of a wish,” the genie said, shrugging and smiling at Skip, who scowled at him, and turned back to where his son was lying on the bed, sweaty, fat stinking, trying to sort his own thoughts out. 

“Come on son, we gotta figure this out. If we put our heads together, we can figure out a wish that’ll fix this.”

Skip concentrated–or at least he tried to concentrate. His face turned a bit red, and just as a thought was coming to him, a loud fart escaped his ass, and distracted him. Jason thought that was a hoot, and laughed on the bed, his dad cracking a grin as he did. “Oh ya liked that, huh? Ya like yer dad’s smelly farts?”

“Fuck no Pa! Yers are the worst!”

Skip lifted a leg, gave it a shake, and let another one loose in Jason’s direction, before climbing up on his boy, already feeling a bit horny again, his worries about the genie pushed to the back of his mind where they disappeared.

“Fuck Pa! Git offa me,” Jason said, “I can’t breathe with yer stink in the damn air everywhere.”

“Hell boy, wish the stink a mah farts made ya as horny as hell.”

Too late, he realized he’d just made a wish. The genie twisted things around, and what came out the second time chilled Skip to the bone:

“Hell boy, wish the stink a mah farts made ya hungry as hell fer shit.”

Skip saw the swirl of color in his son’s eyes, and Jason liked his lips, his stomach growling. “Fuck Pa…ya…ya got a load fer yer toilet boy yet? Sure smells like ya do.”

Skip shook his head, and looked over at the genie, “Ya fucker! What the fuck?”

“Come on Pa, yer boy’s so damn hungry, feed me yer shit.”

“Fuck no, git a hold a yerself, that ain’t…I mean, we’re dirty fellas, but that’s just gross.”

“I wish Pa loved feedin’ me shit,” Jason said, as Skip looked at him in horror, and it only got worse after the genie twisted it:

“I wish Pa loved feedin’ on shit with me.”

Skip felt his stomach give a great big growl, and the smell of his farts on the air was…enticing. “Fuck…fuck, you sick son of a bitch…”

“Come on Pa, feed yer dirty fuckin’ pig boy.”

Unable to stop himself, Skip got on the bed, squatting over his son’s face, and bore down, licking his own lips as he did, smelling his own shit, hoping his boy saved him some…but then, his boy loved feeding him too…didn’t he? Yeah, of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?

***

The next morning, they awoke to the sound of an alarm on one of their phones, still in the pocket of their pants, and Skip and Jason untangled their filthy bodies from one another, still in the bed. Shit was…everywhere, but then, when wasn’t it, when they got down to business? “Fuck boy, we’re gonna be late fer fuckin’ work,” Skip said, checking the clock on his phone. Gotta…gotta make ourselves a least a bit…presentable…”

Skip went into the bathroom to wipe some of the worst shit off his face, and Jason rolled out of bed, licking the dried shit off his lips. “Fuck Pa, I don’t wanna go tah work.”

“Gotta pay the bills son, come on.”

The genie was still there in the corner of the room, and that was when Jason had the idea. A great idea. An idea that could fix everything, right?”

“I wish we got paid just tah eat shit.”

The genie’s smile grew wider than Jason had ever seen it:

“I wish we got paid just tah eat trucker’s shit ‘n piss.”

Skip didn’t hear his son’s wish over the running tap, and after they threw on some clothes, they got in the truck, and headed down the interstate to a little truckstop owned by a friend of Skips–one who understood the special sort of needs a father and son like this could have. There, they took up their place in the back of the trucker’s showers, ready to take whatever the trucker’s passing by wanted to give them–piss, shit, cum–they had no limits. They were infamous really, and they truckstop was always busy with all sorts of nasty fuckers off the interstates, but Skip and Jason were happy. They had a job perfect for a couple of illiterate, filthy shit-scarfing rednecks like them, and the genie left them there, certain they would manage well enough on their own from here on out.

Where did the genie go next? We’ll have to find out some other time–but needless to say, be careful what you wish for.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 11)

“I wish we were big, filthy rednecks!” Skip said, full of enthusiasm, but he realized, a moment after the words came out of his mouth, that they were not quite the words he had meant to say. “Wait, what? I–”

It was too late to take anything back though–the genie snapped his fingers, and both Skip and Jason shuddered as the changes swept through them, and both of them began to grow. Taller, first–neither of them had been very tall to begin with, Jason coming to around five foot ten, and Skip a couple inches shorter than that. Their bones swelled, and both of them were soon pushing six foot three, and the rest of their bodies were growing as well. Thick with muscle first, but it wasn’t long before a layer of fat started to cover that up. It was more pronounced on Skip, who was older. He ended up with a sizable beer gut hanging out over his waist, making him lean back a bit just to keep it well balanced. Jason had a gut of his own, but broader shoulders and hips to carry it a bit better, giving him the general shape of a barrel. 

The filth came next. Their uniforms went from relatively clean to looking like they hadn’t been washed in weeks–the fronts of both were covered in food stains, oil, dirt, grime, and who knew what else from all of their tasks around campus. Skip caught a whiff of himself and gagged a bit, before he found himself growing more accustomed to it. He swung around and looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, at the hair growing down the back of his head (he’d had a mullet ever since high school after all, and Skip wasn’t really one to change something that worked), the yellowed, crooked teeth (he’d never taken good care of them after all, and all the cigarettes he smoked had, well, his boy didn’t seem to mind the taste of his mouth at least) and the scraggly beard around the rest of his face (why cut it? It just grew back anyway!). He shook his head, pushing the rationalizations away as best he could, and looked over at his son, sweaty, his own bearded face covered with acne, smelling just about as rank as his father did in all honesty. “Fuck Pa, what the fuckin’ hell happened tah us?” Jason asked, looking down at himself, running his big, grimy hands over the front of his soiled uniform, “Why the hell’d ya make us a couple a filthy rednecks?”

“I didn’t, I mean, it ain’t what I wanted tah wish fer!” he said, and turned to the genie, “Ya’ve been fuckin’ with me, haven’t ya? Messin’ with what I was tryin’ ta say!”

The genie just shrugged, “My powers allow me a small amount of leeway, to ensure that my Master’s wishes are fulfilled in ways that are most amenable to reality, and to me.”

“Ya fuckin’ piece a shit, change us back right the fuck now!”

The genie smirked, “Would you care to phrase that as a wish, Master?”

Skip scowled at him, not really willing to risk it. He didn’t know how the genie was messing with him exactly, and so he couldn’t try and reverse this.

“Pa, who ya talkin’ to?” Jason asked, and Skip looked at his boy, wide eyed and a bit terrified, obviously, to see his father talking to air.

“Fuck, would ya just show ‘em?” Skip said, and the genie nodded, and appeared for Jason as well, who’s jaw just about dropped to the floor. “That’s…that’s how ya been doin’ it? There’s a fuckin’ genie! Fuck you, you…you fuck!”

“Now son, calm down,” Skip said, “We gotta think about this.”

“Fuck you! Genie, I fuckin’ wish this fucker had never run intah me!”

The genie smiled, and Jason felt the odd sensation of time running backwards, his words knitting themselves together into new patterns, and what came out instead was:

“I fuckin’ wish this fucker would always piss intah me.”

“As you wish, Master,” the genie said, and snapped his fingers, both of their eyes clouding over for a moment.

“Get down on yer knees son, Daddy’s gotta piss after ya sucked the cum outta me,” he said, and Jason found himself unable to resist. He got down, took his Pa’s cock in his mouth, and Skip pissed right down Jason’s throat, while the genie just laughed and smiled at them both. When Skip was finished, Jason sprang back up, stormed over at the genie, tried to punch him, but his fist went right through him.

“Now now, Master, I can only grant you what you desire,” the genie said, and Jason punched at him again. 

“Fuck you, ya fuckin’, if I could hit ya, I’d…fuckin’ hell!”

“Jason! Calm down!” Skip said, but it was clear Jason wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon.

“I wish I was back tah normal!” Jason shouted at the genie, but again, the words twisted, and out came:

“I wish we was back home fuckin’!”

“As you wish, Master,” the genie said, and with a snap, the smoke engulfed them both, and when it cleared a moment later, they weren’t in the bathroom anymore–they were home. Or rather, they were in the single wide trailer the two of them now called home. The place was a sty, with dirty laundry, empty take out bags and containers, and beer cans strewn about everywhere. They were in the bedroom, Jason on the bed, naked, his father behind him, and without any warning, Skip found his cock thrust into his son’s hole, making Jason holler in pain.

“Fuckin’ shut up, you dumb fuckin’ shithead!” Skip shouted at him, unable to stop his body from forcing his cock in deeper. 

“Fuck it fuckin’ hurts! Stop!”

“I can’t stop boy! It’s what ya fuckin’ wished for!”

“But it fuckin’ hurts!”

“Take it like a fuckin’ man, I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Jason started blubbering a bit, and even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good, he said, “Please, I just wish you would stop fuckin’ me!”

“God fuckin’ damnit! Shut yer damn trap!” Skip said, but it was too late–the genie was already warping his next wish, and giving Jason exactly what he asked for next.


Use the poll below to vote for the final chapter! You get two choices like usual. Patrons can access their bonus poll over here.

Early Access: The Christmas Imp's Secret Santas #1

I have a series of Christmas vignettes that I’m working on this month! I don’t know how many I will get done–the goal is always twelve with these sorts of things, but you know, we’ll see how things go. All of these are based on Patron suggestions, and as such, they’ll get access to them all first! If you’re a patron at the $5 level or more, you can find the full version of this story here. They’ll all start to go public after Christmas for everyone else. In the meantime, have a teaser…


Jesse went into the apartment’s living room on Christmas morning, not really expecting much. He lived alone, and hadn’t really had the time this month to decorate anything. He hadn’t even bothered to go get a tree or anything either. He had a few presents on his table from some college friends and family members around the country who had sent him things at least, but that could wait until after his morning coffee.

But as the pot brewed, and he inspected the small pile, something stood out that he didn’t recognize at all. It was a very small present, wrapped in simple brown paper, and the tag on it didn’t have a name–all it said was that it was from his Secret Santa. His office had already done a secret santa this year though, and he had the socks to prove it. While the coffee finished brewing, he figured he might as well solve this mystery quick–he tore into the paper, and was left with a can of chewing tobacco sitting in his hand.

He just looked at it in confusion. Who in their right mind would have given him this? He didn’t even smoke, much less use chewing tobacco, the entire idea was vile to him. But as he was about to put it down, there was a puff of smoke in the middle of the room, and a strange creature appeared before him. Jesse had no idea what he was looking at–the creature was quite short, no more than three feet tall, and covered in green fur from head to toe. The thing was naked as well, with a stubby cock leaking green tinted precum on the floor of his living room, the beast grinning at him, baring all of it’s sharp teeth in the process.

This was the Christmas Imp. A rather fateful mistake by Santa Claus when he tried to use genetic engineering to make a more perfect elf, he instead ended up with a rather filthy minded monster–one Santa had managed to keep looked away for quite a few years now. However, the imp had escaped in the midst of a rather hectic year at the North Pole, and was now ready to fulfill a few Christmas wishes of his own, though his ideas tended to be a bit…filthier than was traditional for Christmas. “Go on boy,” the imp rasped, one clawed hand toying with his cock, “It’s a special can that Daddy made just for you…”

Jesse wanted to run–he wanted to do pretty much anything other than twist off the top of the can of tobacco and look inside. He didn’t know what chewing tobacco was supposed to look like, but he was pretty sure that the scummy, pasty goo on top of the leaf wasn’t supposed to be there. What in the hell was it? He tried to pry his gaze away from the imp, but he couldn’t. His fingers pushed their way into the gooey leaf, and as he did, he realized what the substance was–it was cum. Someone had cum on top of the leaf, and closed the lid again. It made his stomach turn in disgust, but he couldn’t stop himself as he put the cummy leaf in his mouth, between his teeth and lip.

“More, you need it all, Daddy made it special…” the imp rasped at him…


If you want to read more, and see the other entries as I finish them, support me on Patreon at the $5 level or more!

Patreon Teaser: Gobble, Gobble

Posted a Thanksgiving themed story for Patrons today, based on a couple of suggestions! Here’s the first couple of parts as a bit of a teaser.


Grant turned into the driveway of his brother’s house, and heaved a short sigh, trying to keep the tension in his chest from growing even tighter. It was Thanksgiving, and that meant a three hour drive out of the city, back to his hometown where his brother and father still lived after all of these years. It wasn’t that Grant didn’t like seeing his family, really. He liked seeing his brother, Marshall, and his brother’s wife, Martha–she was always a good time. His two nephews,Marshall Jr. (everyone called him Junior, mostly) and Will loved him. He was the cool uncle after all, from the big city. They loved hearing about what was going on in his life there, though Grant had to edit out the…gayer parts for the sake of the rest of the family, even though both of them were in their twenties at this point. It was his dad, Hugh, that made Grant really nervous. While they had long since made a sort of peace around Grant’s sexuality, it was, well, difficult all the same, do deal with his dad’s judgemental attitude. Things were usually alright, but he could never be sure. At least his mom usually helped keep things civil–she had always loved Grant, and he was somewhat certain that the only reason his dad was at all soft with him was because of her.

He pulled into the driveway and got out of his car, and was surprised to find a truck parked there that he didn’t recognize. The nephew’s beaters were parked off around the garage, so it wasn’t theirs. His Marshall and Martha usually parked in the garage. His dad’s car was there too–so who was the extra guest? He went inside, and found his answer pretty quickly, when Jimmy introduced himself.

He was a new neighbor of the family, lived alone, had moved in a couple months before. He worked around town as a handyman, and it was hard not to like him, in all honesty. He had a firm handshake, a nice laugh, and was quite handsome–a bit older and more hairy than Grant’s type, but he could appreciate him all the same.

He got swept up in the conversation, and with his nephew’s pestering him to see his new car, that it took him half an hour to notice the rather glaring omissions. Martha wasn’t there, and neither was his mom. It was just the boys of the family, plus Jimmy. Grant asked his brother about it, and he just deflected with a strange non-answer, and no one else would say much about it either, not even his dad. It was all…rather strange.

It wasn’t too long after that realization, after the boys had gone back inside, and Grant had decided to slip off for a cigarette before dinner. His dad hated smoking, after losing his dad and brother to lung cancer, that Grant had always been very careful to never smoke around him. He was surprised when Jimmy made a sudden appearance beside him, with his own cigarette in hand.

“So how was the drive over?” Jimmy asked, making small talk. 

Grant told him a bit about the trip, and found the conversation moving around to family, and holidays.

“You live alone?” Grant asked.

“Yeah, just me! Moved here from the city this year, and I gotta say, I love it out here. Everything moves a bit slower, you know?”

Grant nodded. He’d always thought boring was a better word than slow.

“How about you? No one with you, I see. Guess that makes us the pair of bachelors, don’t it?”

Jimmy gave him a little nudge, and Grant wasn’t sure if that was code or not. “I guess so,” he hedged, not sure how much Jimmy knew about him. If he was from the city, he doubted that Jimmy would care he was gay, but…well, best to be on the safe side.

“You visit often?”

“Not really. My work keeps me busy.”

“Too bad. You have a really great family here, you know? You should be thankful.”

“Yeah, I know,” Grant said, thinking about all the arguments he’d had with his dad. Not as rough as it could have been, he supposed, but it was raw.

“Well, you know what they say,” Jimmy added, taking a last drag off his cigarette, “gobble, gobble, buddy.”

Grant just looked at him, confused, but Jimmy didn’t say anything else, and headed into the house. He took a long drag off his cigar, trying to figure out what in the world that could possibly mean, and then shrugged.

Jimmy took one last look at Grant as those magic words of his took hold, Grant’s slender physique rounding out slightly as he stood around the side of his house, the thick cigar clamped in his jaw, the short beard sprouting across his face. Grant reached around shoved his hand down the back of his jeans and scratched his ass without a second thought, and Jimmy smirked. This would be a great family soon enough–one that Jimmy would be more than happy to be a part of too.


Grant snuffed out his cigar after a few more minutes, and went inside. His dad was sitting in the living room watching TV from the couch–that was usually where he stayed for the whole holiday. He avoided him for the moment. He didn’t want his dad to smell the smoke on him and have a total shitfit about him smoking, like he did a couple years before. Instead, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, saw his brother, both his nephews, and Jimmy out in the backyard, discussing a game of football. Figuring that was better than nothing, he went outside onto the porch, and decided to watch.

In the end, Jimmy ended up with Junior on one team, with Marshall and Will on the other. Jimmy started with the ball, and wanted to be the quarterback, with Junior receiving. They designated the end zones, and then started the game–with Jimmy calling out, “Gobble, gobble, hike!”

The change hit all of them in earshot, not that any of them noticed much of anything. Grant, from the sidelines, was the only one to be struck with a little sense of confusion, as he watched the men of his family all change slightly. Junior seemed to grow a bit thicker, his frame growing more muscular as he ran off to receive the ball. Will chased after him, but had a hard time keeping up as his gut swelled a bit. Marshall grew a bit too, with more muscle and fat on his body, but also quite a bit of hair appearing down his forearms as he counted down the seconds out loud, until he could try and sack Jimmy.

The game continued, and each time Jimmy had the ball to throw it, he would call out “gobble, gobble,” again, and all of the men would shift a bit more. Marshall was soon sporting a buzzcut with a thick horseshoe mustache. Will was growing taller and even more muscular, his head shaved down, with a thick beard on his face. Will was shorter and rounder now, a thick goatee around his mouth and quite a bit of hair on his chest, under his dirty, grass stained overalls that he always wore. On the sidelines, Grant just watched, packing on more and more weight with each gobble, another cigar appearing in his hand that he started smoking without even really thinking about it, his own beard growing longer, one hand working it’s way down the front of his grungy jeans to massage his cock, spurting a bit of precum whenever there was a nice tackle out in the yard.

Grant lost it, however, when Marshall got a good sack in on Jimmy, pinning him down on the ground, thrusting against him, his well worn leather chaps and boots shoved against Jimmy’s ass…and Grant hurriedly forced himself upright, and went inside, passing his father, and went into the bathroom, where he sat down on the toilet, and jacked off, replaying that in his mind, removing Jimmy and Marshall’s clothes, thinking about his brother’s tattooed body pinning him down, working his big cock into his ass, growing, spitting, biting…

He lost his load all over his hand, the floor, and his jeans. After panting for a couple of minutes to catch his breath, he stood back up, hauled his jeans back up by the suspenders, without even really caring about the wet patch he’d managed to shoot all over the inside of them. He didn’t understand what had come over him, really. He’d always thought his brother was hot, of course, especially in his biker leathers that he was always wearing, but seeing him pin Jimmy down…fuck, that was a real nice show.

He got up off the toilet, and spent a couple of minutes looking at himself in the mirror, trying to piece together what seemed so…off about his reflection all of a sudden. Was it his hair? He’d been balding for years now, and had never done much to cover it up. It was long, with quite a bit of grey, a little stringy and greasy, but then he never had much time to wash it. His greying beard was much the same–down to his chest at this point, but he liked the look of it too much to consider cutting it. He’d been growing it for years now, hadn’t he? Was it his clothes? No, those were the same he always wore too. A t-shirt from some truck stop somewhere. It was old, but then most of his clothes were. He lifted up an arm and saw a hole in the armpit, his pit hair sticking out, and he gave it a scratch, then sniffed his fingers, the scent making his cock jump slightly. He had on a pair of ragged looking jeans, held up by some suspenders that had long since lost some of their elasticity, but they still kept his pants up well enough. Everything was…right, but then why did it feel like he was looking at a stranger in the mirror all of a sudden?

He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it was a bit thick somehow. It probably wasn’t worth worrying about, in any case, but for some reason, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and his heart was pounding. The only thing he could think to do, was to go out, get a beer, chug it, and get another one. Best to just focus on enjoying the holiday, and time with the family. Everything would sort itself out in the end.

Caption: The Mason Boys and the Cop

It wasn’t the most glamorous place to be a police officer, he supposed, but maybe that was for the best, Mitch thought. He had always liked the small town life, after all, as sleepy and boring as it could be at times. The occasional drunken brawl at the tavern was about as exciting as it ever got around here–at least, until that fateful night when the Mason boys were screaming down the highway at over a hundred, and Mitch was waiting in the cop car behind some bushes, though most people knew better than to race through there.

When the car sped past him, Mitch was always too surprised to give chase. Cussing a little, he put his coffee in the center console, flicked on the lights, and raced off after them. If he hadn’t–if he’d just let them go, maybe the Mason boys would have never come to the little, sleepy town of Garrison–and the town wouldn’t have become nearly as interesting as it has, as of late.

The car slowed down as soon as Mitch pulled out from his hiding place with his lights on, and pulled over to the side of the road–which seemed a bit…too easy for Mitch, and set off a few little red flags in the back of his head. Still, it was probably just some guy who, in the middle of the night, thought no one would be around to catch him, but he was wrong, wasn’t he? Mitch radioed in the stop to dispatch, and proceeded to the driver side window–there, he found something similar to what he’d expected, an older fellow, looking a bit…terrified. He was in a suit that seemed a bit…dirty, and he stank, or at least, something stank. That was when he looked back, and saw the two men in the backseat–the Mason boys.

Both of them were grungy looking fellows, with big beards and lots of tattoos, both smoking sizable cigars, and filling the whole cab with smoke, making Mitch cough. The smell of everything made him a bit…lightheaded, and woozy in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“Please, you have to help me,” the driver said to him, “I…I can’t control…what they tell me to do, please, please, I–”

“Hey! Shut the fuck up, you stupid faggot,” one of the brothers said in the backseat. “Evening officer, what can we do for you tonight?”

Mitch wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation–the whole thing just looked…strange, to him. “Is…everything alright, Sir?” he asked the driver.

“Go on, bitch, tell the handsome cop why you were speeding,” the other brother said, and the two laughed.

“I…I was speeding because…because I like sucking cop cock, Sir,” the older man said…but to Mitch, it didn’t look like he wanted to be saying it. It looked like he was being forced to say it, but he didn’t see a weapon on anything in the back. “Please, Sir? Can I suck your cock?”

“Are they making you say that, Sir?”

“No sir, I’m just…just a fat old faggot who loves cop cock, please, please fuck me, I want you to beat me with your billy club, and shove it up my old hole, and then cum all over my face, right on the side of the road, please Sir, please…”

The man was crying, and what Mitch wanted to do, was order the other two out of the car, arrest them, and get the story straight from their captive–but what he did instead was order the driver out of the car. He threw him over the front hood, right there on the highway, and started smacking his ass with the club, while the Mason boys got out, cheering him on, the driver sobbing in pain, as Mitch yanked down the man’s pants, and shoved his club into his hole. Once it was good and deep, he forced the man onto his knees, and started fucking his face, the two men urging him on, telling him what a hot fucker he is, their musk making his head spin more and more until he came all over the driver’s face, and Mitch, panting, felt control return to him.

The Mason boys were laughing, the driver sobbing, and before anyone could do anything else, he pulled his gun on the two men, and ordered them against their car. He didn’t know…what they’d done to him, but he hadn’t wanted to do that–he was going to put them under arrest, and figure out what to do about them. He handcuffed them both, and then got them in the squad car, leaving the driver on the side of the road, his club still shoved in his hole, but the Mason boys weren’t scared, they seemed…happy. Thrilled even, as Mitch radioed dispatch, told them he’d resolved the stop, and was quitting for the night. Then, he drove his two captives home, answering all of their questions that they asked him…and only realized something was off when they pulled into his driveway, instead of the station.

“Why…why did I bring you two here?” he said.

“Don’t think about it too hard, bitch–you’re way more fun, and sexy, than that old guy–come on, let’s go inside for some fun–won’t that be nice?” one of the boys said to him.

Mitch couldn’t stop himself as he got out, took off the handcuffs, and followed the two men into his house, where he lived alone–after his last girlfriend had left him. The Mason boys had come to town, and now that they were here, they were going to be staying for quite a while–and Mitch was going to be their first toy.


“So you think you’re ready to go to work at the station? Are you sure?” Teddy Mason said, while his brother, Edd, just chuckled.

“Yeah, I…I think so,” Mitch said to them both, standing in the hallway of his house. He…he couldn’t quite remember much of what had happened the night before, after bringing the two dirty men home with him from that traffic stop, but…but his shift started soon, and he was a cop, so he had to go to work. It was important. It was hard to think though, and so he’d been struggling to get ready all morning. Thankfully Teddy and Edd had helped him out.

“You have your uniform on?”

“Yep! It’s blue and everything.”

“Is it clean?”

“It wasn’t but I went I rolled in the dirt out back like you told me to, Teddy. Now’s it’s clean.”

“You get breakfast?”

“Still working on my third can,” Mitch said, as he took another long sip from the beer he had in his hand.

Teddy and Edd were laughing now, but Mitch didn’t know what was so funny, really. He was just getting ready for work.

“You go to the bathroom? Take care of business?” Edd said, sneering at him.

“Oh…uh…no, I didn’t piss this morning yet.”

“Well I bet you have to after breakfast for sure–but you’re running late–better finish that beer and piss yourself to save some time.”

That…that made sense, didn’t it? Mitch downed the rest of his beer, and then felt piss flood the front of his uniform as he stood in the hallway, grinning like an idiot, while the Mason boys just laughed. Something must be real funny–Mitch found himself grinning along, despite not knowing why.

“Alright, I think you’re ready Bitch–go get to the station, and hurry. You’re almost late.”

“Thanks you guys, it was…real hard getting going this morning for some reason.”

“No worries Bitch, we’re here to help.”

Mitch went out to the driveway and climbed in the squad car. It was a bit hard driving after three beers, but he managed alright, and got to the station in one piece. He was half an hour late–the sheriff was going to be so pissed at him. He went in, and sure enough, Sheriff Biggs was there, huffing, and when he saw Mitch there, his face went bright red…and as soon as he was in the station, Mitch…remembered, everything, with perfect clarity.

How the Mason boys had humiliated him all night, fucking him, teasing him, and then this morning, how…how they’d dressed him up in these filthy denim clothes, and now he was here, in front of his boss, looking like some dirty fucking pig…and as hard as he tried to explain himself, no sound would come out of his mouth.

“Mitch, what the fuck are you wearing?”

“My…My uniform, Sir,” he blurted out, unable to say anything other than that, just like the driver the other night. “It’s…it’s blue, right?”

“Have you been drinking?”

“I had…I mean…”

The sheriff sniffed his breath, and wrinkled his nose. “You fucking piece of shit, you’re fucking fired! Give me your fucking keys, your badge, and your gun.”

He had remembered his badge and gun–probably because the Mason boys had known he’d have to turn them in after this stunt. Then, the sheriff booted him out of the station–without a car, he had to take the bus and walk home–and he got there in the early afternoon, fuming, but unable to tell a soul the truth about why he was dressed like this, and soaked in piss.

But the boys’ hold on him was too strong. He went inside, found Teddy wearing his uniform, minus the badge, and when he tried to cuss them out and hit them, he couldn’t move. Instead, he ended up on his hands and knees, cleaning his own boots with his tongue while Edd fucked him, making him recount everything that had happened to him that morning. Mitch cried, finally. He cried, but that just made the boys laugh louder. 

“Fuck bro, this town seems fucking boring, you know?”

“Yeah Edd–and I like our bitch here a lot–you don’t mind if we stay with you for a while, do you Bitch? I think my bro and I could have a lot of fun here, don’t you? You want us to stay with you real bad–you’ll do anything we say, as long as we stay, isn’t that right?”

Mitch had to agree of course, he’d agree with anything the Mason boys said, after all. Soon, all the rest of the men in the town would too, if the boys had their way.