Redneck Haunt (Part 3)

Jay didn’t last much longer at the smoke shop–a few weeks later, his manager caught him sleeping on the job for the last time, read him up and down the wall, and kicked his ass out. Jay tried to muster the energy to care, but he was too drained and exhausted to put up much of a fight any longer, and so he went home. He didn’t want to go there, and the thought of not having a job to go to for all night scared him in a way he couldn’t quite understand, but once he was inside, it was too hard to think about anything at all. It was about one in the morning, and he could hear something happening in Kerry’s room. He opened the door a crack, and saw his friend, on his knees, thrusting his hips into thin air. He was completely asleep, or at least his eyes were shut, and his mouth slack, his body seeming to move more like a puppet, than by any internal force or desire. Still, he was too tired to think much of it, and so he climbed into bed, and fell asleep almost immediately–the boy could sense him, but focused on his daddy for the rest of the night, only joining Jay once Kerry had woken for real, late, and hurried to get ready for work.

After that…Jay didn’t wake up much any more, and the boy drained him even further, now that he no longer had to worry about him having to leave the house for any reason, feeling the young man’s strength and life flowing into him with every load of cum. Kerry was too focused on what was happening to himself to focus much on Jay–his mind was a riot of memories, old and new, real and created by his boy, that he wasn’t even quite sure who he was anymore. What he did know, was that he loved his boy. He shouldn’t love him, but…but he did, and the feeling was so strong it was impossible for him to deny. He also knew that his boy was going stronger. He would possess Jay regularly, and each time, he was shocked to see what had happened to his friend’s form. He looked closer to sixty now, his hair receded back past the crown of his head, now just a dingy grey. His muscles had all collapsed, and his gut was heavy. He stank, and not like healthy musk–he stank of death, his teeth rotting out of his head, and yet…Kerry desired him anyway. Party, because his boy was inside him, but also…also because it was Jay. Because he’d always wanted Jay, and that desire persisted, somehow, even as his body seemed to age and decay right before his eyes.

One day, when he was feeling particularly guilty, watching his boy suck his cock with Jay’s throat, he pulled together all of the strength he could muster, and pushed him away. “No boy, no–no, you have to stop this, you can’t…he’s going to die, if you keep doing this to him. You have to stop, please, for me–for daddy.”

Jay’s sunken eyes looked at him, and then his body stood, and they looked down at his body, “I could kill him, that’s true. I was planning on killing him–or rather, I assumed I’d have to. But I’m almost strong enough daddy, I just need a little bit more.”

“I…I don’t even recognize him anymore. How did you do this to him?”

The boy smiled a toothless, unsettling grin, and then went back to sucking his daddy’s cock, pushing back, making sure Kerry wouldn’t fight back or protest, not until after he’d gotten another load from him. But Kerry kept pushing, thinking about that smile that had turned his stomach in a knot, looking down at himself through the cigar smoke, really looking, down at his hairy, sweaty gut, smelling himself, lifting up a hefty arm and snorting at his stench. It made his cock jump, his heavy balls pumping out a bit of precum which his boy drank down eagerly into Jay’s gut. This wasn’t him, was it? Whose clothes was he even wearing?

He had on a pair of coveralls and filthy workboots, neither of which he could remember buying in his life, neither of which should have fit him. He shouldn’t be this fat, he shouldn’t reek, he definitely shouldn’t be smoking, or drinking another warm beer from the 24 pack he’d started bringing home on an almost daily basis. What was he becoming? Who was he becoming? Who was he forgetting in the process? He came, and it made him feel dirty–he finished his cigar, and then his boy told him to get to bed.

The dreams became stronger. He lost sense of where the dreams ended, and real life began. His boy was always there. Jay was there too…or…or was it just his pig? He still cared about him, but the love he’d felt started to curdle into disgust and contempt, his desire for company into a deep pleasure in control. He enjoyed abusing the pig’s toothless mouth, slamming his massive cock deep in it’s filthy hole, his son cheerleading from the sideline, the two of them sharing smoky kisses while Jay drooled on the floor, his own cock and balls barely a nipple, completely inert.

One night, as winter was thawing slightly into an early spring, Kerry came home from a long day at work, hungry for a beer and his boy’s holes, maybe a rough fuck for his pig too, and his boy was there, shaking with excitement…and he touched him. It was electric, it wasn’t just…force. It was flesh. His boy was there–really there, in front of him. “I’m here daddy, I’m back.”

He knew, in his gut, he should be happy, but all he found welling up was absolute terror. His son had anticipated this, and forced his daddy to the floor with his mind, tearing away his filthy overalls and running his hands over his filthy ass.

“Now I can finally give you a piece of me, daddy, after I’ve taken so much from you. I seeded Piggy earlier, and he’s never looked better, don’t you think?”

He looked over, and saw Piggy curled up in his bed, fatter than before, looking healthier as well, like a kind of life had returned to him, but his eyes were so empty, empty of everything that had been Jay, just…just a slave, a pig, a thing. “Don’t…not like him, please…”

“Oh daddy, I’d never make you pig–not unless you made me very, very angry. No, but we can get rid of that young man now, forever. You won’t be troubled by him anymore, you’ll just be my happy, nasty daddy, and we can be happy together again, like before. Isn’t that what you want?” he ran his cock up and down Kerry’s crack, making his shiver, his cock leaking against his own desires, and after a quick fuck, Kerry was gone. The boy’s daddy let off a great big belch, feeling his boy’s cum leak from his hole, gave him a long, sloppy kiss, happy to be home at last.

Redneck Haunt (Part 2)

Jay woke that evening, after sleeping through his alarm, feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. He could remember that he’d been dreaming…something, but couldn’t remember any details, beyond the fact that it had been sexy. He was still pretty horny actually, but try as he might, he couldn’t manage to jack off, no matter which hot chick he was thinking of, like his dick was already spent. Frustrated, he threw on a fairly clean uniform for the smoke shop and went out, finding Kerry watching TV, legs spread wide…and was his cock hard? Jay tried to talk to him, but he seemed pretty out of it–they’d planned on throwing that basement crap out today, but with Kerry’s exhaustion and the fact that Jay had overslept, they didn’t have time. In fact, over the next few months, exhaustion became a norm for them both, and it began to show around the house, neither of them cleaning up after themselves much like they had. Kerry hoped that his boy would just leave him alone–but from the moment he stepped in his house, he was by his side, talking to him, sucking him off, kissing him, licking him from head to toe, and Jay never noticed a thing. He tired to avoid coming home, but he felt some strange compulsion to return every night, and his boy was always there, and Jay too–though Jay was looking a bit…haggard lately.

Unbeknownst to him, every morning, while Kerry was working and he was sleeping, the strange boy was in his room, sucking his cock and draining him dry. At this point, he was so exhausted he’d been caught falling asleep on the job multiple times, and was given one more chance before his boss told him he’d be fired–but the sleep at work was the only time he actually felt like he’d slept at all. He had deep circles under his eyes, but there were other strange changes going on. Jay had always been in good shape, fairly muscular with barely any fat at all on his frame, but ever since he’d stopped sleeping…it was like his muscles had been sagging and draining away, bit by bit. He had the beginnings of a gut, too. Other little things, as well–his hairline had started receding, and he’d lost interest in shaving, letting his stubble fill in as a scraggly beard. He was perpetually horny, but hadn’t jacked off in months. At first he simply hadn’t been able to cum, but now he couldn’t even get hard, and both his cock and balls seemed…smaller. He looked like he’d aged into his late thirties in a matter of months, and as scared as he was by the sudden change, he also felt almost no interest in doing anything about it.

Until one day in late fall, when things changed for the worse. Kerry arrived home, as usual, bracing himself for the boy again, terrified of his own mind, which seemed…muddled lately, like he couldn’t trust his own thoughts and memories, and he kept…confusing his dreams with his real life. He opened the front door, and nearly let out a sob of relief when he saw that the boy wasn’t there to greet him. Was he gone? Had he left? Was he better? The relief was short lived, when Jay came down the hallway, naked, cock hard as a rock, a sly grin on his bearded face, and he said, “Hey daddy, look what I can do now.”

It was him. He didn’t know how he knew…but he could sense his boy there, in Jay’s body. He tried to run, but the door slammed shut behind him, and refused to budge. “What–what did you do to him? Get out of there, boy!” Kerry said, his voice shaking, and his boy just laughed.

“Oh but Daddy, wouldn’t it be nice to fuck a real hole this afternoon?” his boy said, walking closer, “Besides, I know the real reason why you wanted him to move in here–and you should really fuck him now, because there won’t be very much left when I’m done with him.”

“No–No, this is. Get out of him, right now boy. I’m…I’m your…father, and I want to know what you’re doing to him.”Something that felt like a massive gust of wind swung into Kerry, sending him off balance. He tipped back and landed on his back–he tried to get back up, but he couldn’t lift his arms or legs. Jay’s body walked over, unzipped Kerry’s jeans, and tugged down his pants and underwear, letting his hard cock out, where it jutted straight up. “Oh, it was a nice try, but we’re still just playing our little roles. Maybe in a while, I’ll let you boss me around for a little bit…” He squatted down over Kerry’s cock, and slid down onto it, with a shudder and gasp, “Oh…oh fuck, daddy! I forgot…I haven’t felt you inside me in…in so long…”

Kerry was powerless, as the boy forced Jay to fuck himself on Kerry’s cock. It was true, what he’d said–he was gay, but in the closet, and he’d always wanted Jay. He’d never dared tell him that, given what a raging homophobe he was, but he’d always held out hope that one night, he might get him too drunk, and sneak a taste. But not this, not like this. Fuck, it did feel good though. He’d fucked a few truckers in his life, and that was about it–but this–fuck, he could, he could get used to this. With a moan, Jay groaned, and shot his load into his hand, before slurping it all up. Kerry came a minute later, deep inside Jay’s hole, and when the afterglow had faded a bit, they boy lifted Jay’s body off the cock, stumbling a bit. “Fuck, took…a bit more energy than I expected. Better get him to bed again–wouldn’t want him to catch you with your pants down daddy…right?”

Kerry remained on the floor for a while, crying a bit, wondering what, exactly was going on. He’d managed to get his pants back up by the time Jay–the real Jay–had gotten up, yawning, and headed to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. The boy followed after him, got down, and kissed his daddy on the floor. “Don’t worry daddy, I’ll be with you soon, and then you can fuck my hole for real.”

Redneck Haunt (Part 1)

“I still can’t believe ya actually bought a house though! Fuck, I mean, I know that shouldn’t seem so damn outta reach, but I can’t even imagine,” Jay said, looking around the place, Kerry beaming a bit in the kitchen. It was a simple ranch house, a bit rundown, but plenty livable, “Gotta admit, I’m pretty fuckin’ jealous, since I’m still crashing with my damn dad.”

“Well actually, I wanted to talk to ya about that,” Kerry said, “This place has a second bedroom–you want it? I wouldn’t mind a little help with the bills, but mostly I’d just like the company, and ya can help me fix the place up!”

“Fuck, never thought the first person to ask me to move in with them was gonna be a guy,” Jay said, laughing as Kerry rolled his eyes at him.

“If ya don’t wanna, you can keep sleeping on your dad’s couch, I just thought–”

“No, Kerry, I mean…are you sure? I’d love to get the fuck out of my dad’s place, you know that.”

“Sure I’m sure!” Kerry said, grinning, “We can move you in next week–how’s that sound?”

Kerry and Jay had been friends since they were little tykes, running around the small, rural town they called home. The economy was struggling, but chugging along well enough. Kerry had always been the smarter and more diligent of them both–he ended up getting a technical degree and fixed farm equipment around the entire county, which was how he was able to afford a first home at the age of twenty five. Jay had never been the school type, preferring to run around chasing girls. He hadn’t knocked anyone up, thankfully, but he’d dropped out of high school, and the best he could find was the night shift at one of the smoke shops on the nearby indian reservation along the highway. Still, they’d been fast friends for ages, and neither figured living together would be much of an issue, especially with their opposite schedules, and sure enough, for a few months, everything went fine. Jay would work all night, and come home as Kerry was heading out the door for work. He’d sleep the morning, and wake up about the time Kerry came home. In the afternoons, they’d scour thrift shops around the area to furnish the place and make it a bit more livable, or they’d work on some chores around the place, putting a fresh coat of paint on the walls, but when they went to clean out the attic, cellar, that’s when things started going a bit…odd.

The first time Kerry had gone down there, he’d found a bunch of boxes of junk down there along the wall, which he assumed was from the previous owner. He’d called the real estate agent, but hadn’t received much of an answer. They’d decided to just go through it and get rid of it themselves one day, and see if there was anything in there which might be worth salvaging, but the boxes mostly contained a bunch of filthy work gear in sizes way too large for either of them, some kid’s toys, a few assorted knick knacks haphazardly stored away, and a few pieces of furniture in decent condition but filthy. Jay suggested they just haul the whole lot of it off to the dump, but Kerry said he was too tired to do it that day, and they could do it later. True to his word, he headed right off to bed as soon as they got upstairs, and he didn’t get back up before Jay had to head off for his shift at work.

When he got back early the next morning, Kerry was at the table looming over his cup of coffee, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink. “Fuck man, you look like shit.”

“Yeah, I fucking feel like shit,” Kerry said, taking a sip of his coffee, “Didn’t sleep very well.”

“Bad dreams or something?”

“Yeah…s–something…” Kerry said, but didn’t elaborate. Jay himself had had a long night, and so he headed to bed himself, unaware that the two of them weren’t alone in the room, that right there beside Kerry, was a young man, his hand on Kerry’s shoulder, which Kerry was trying to ignore as best he could.

“He’s living in my room, daddy?” the young man whispered in Kerry’s ear, “I’m not sure how I feel about that…Still, since I’m sleeping with you, I don’t think it’ll be a problem for now.” He looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, shorter and stocky, with a solid mix of fat and muscle, and a goatee around his mouth which would have looked good, had he had a few more years of life to grow into it.

Kerry ignored him as best he could, unable to understand how the strange young man who’d appeared in his dreams the night before had somehow been in bed with him the next morning, stroking Kerry’s cock, and then he’d sucked him off He knew, that the young man wasn’t quite real–or at least, he wasn’t real in the same way as he and Jay were, because when he’d tried to shove him off, his hands had passed right through him…but when he’d rested his hand on the back of his head a while later, as he was moaning, he’d been able to feel the young man’s greasy hair under his fingers. He couldn’t tell Jay about this–this didn’t make any sense at all, and his friend would just think he’d gone insane. Hell, he probably had gone insane, right? Isn’t this schizophrenia or something? He needed to get help, he needed–

The young man was still naked, aside from the pair of ratty boxers he’d appeared with, and he leaned in closer, kissing Kerry’s neck, one hand finding his hard cock and stroking it gently, the young man helpless to stop him, and he moaned again, his worry’s lost in pleasure. “It’s so good to be back, daddy–I’ve missed you so much. Don’t worry, now that your boy is back with you, you’ll be happy again in no time.”

“Please–I have to go to work…Don’t do this again.”

“Nonsense Daddy, we have time for another quickie, don’t we?”

Kerry came as quickly as he could, his cock shooting his cum right into his underwear, and then the young man returned control to him, letting Kerry scurry out of the house, and off to his job, trying to shake his dreams and waking nightmare as he got in his truck and drove off. His boy watched him from the front window, and then walked to his old room, where Jay was already sleeping soundly, slipped his hand through the covers, and started toying with his cock as well, before sucking him off all morning long, in his dreams.

Still taking votes on part seven of Dale’s Story! We’ll be wrapping the interactive up in the next few weeks I think, so come help me figure out the conclusion!

Another day, another workout. The locker room was always fairly deserted at this time of day, at least, and Ian walked across the room towards his locker, having just finished his shower. He didn’t have the easiest shift at work, but at least he usually had the gym to himself when he got off late–and he’d always been a bit of a night owl anyway. Even if there had been someone around, Ian had never been shy or ashamed of his body. He undid his lock and opened the door, only to be nearly knocked off his feet by the stench that rolled out of the small chamber when he did.

He coughed, tears streaming down his eyes. He’d never smelled anything like that before in his life. Had someone put something in his locker or something? What even was that? It didn’t smell rotten exactly, more like…well, it was hard to describe, but it was more like sweat and BO or something, but way more powerful than should be possible. Holding his breath, he pulled out his gym bag and opened it up, but his clothes weren’t in there–it looked like some strange, disgusting work gear or something, and now he could detect other scents in the powerful aroma he’d begun to breathe in a bit more deeply–beer, piss, smoke, cum.

His cock was hard, and he was stroking it. He pulled out a disgusting jockstrap, pressed it to his nose and snorted in the scent, finding himself craving it–and then hauled out a disgusting, mud crusted work boot, shoved it to his face and huffed in the powerful scent, his cock exploding all over the bench.

“Sorry fer borrowin’ yer locker, pig, but I didn’ think ya’d mind.”

Ian looked over at the man who’d appeared at the entrance to the locker room, soaked in sweat, reeking with the same musk Ian now couldn’t imagine living without, and he ran over, shoving his face into his master’s pit and licking out as much sweat as he could get.

“Heh, prefer not tah shower after I workout, but suppose we can make an exeption tahnight.”

Dale’s Story (Part 4)

Thanks again for all of the participation with this one! I hope you’re all enjoying how this is shaping up so far. Option four won handily over the last few days, with a solid plurality of 44%. Despite an early lead, option two came in second, with 27%. Here’s the next chunk! Hope you all enjoy.

The stranger smiled, and said, “Boys, why don’t we make sure your daddy doesn’t run off with a few more pitchers of beer and some greasy bar food.”

“Yeah!” Mike said, “I’ll go get some food from George. Jerry, you make sure daddy finishes his pitcher.”

“Heh, sounds good to me–sound good to you, Daddy? Come on and have a seat, you must be starving.”

“Starving is right,” the stranger said, and before Dale could object, his gut let off a massive rumble, and the hunger he’d lived with his entire life doubled or tripled in force. “Come on and sit back down Dale–we all know you aren’t going anywhere for a while yet.”

Dale fought his body, he fought the desperate need to eat gnawing away inside him, but he sat back down at the table, Jerry picked up the pitcher, skipping the glass, put it to his daddy’s bearded lips and tipped it up. All Dale could do was drink, and stare at the stranger leering down at them both, feeling the beer take hold of him, making things…fuzzier. He felt the beer running out each side of his mouth and down his front, soaking his coveralls, his cock hardening at the thought of what a mess he was making…and…and at the thought of Jerry cleaning him up. Yeah…fuck yeah…

The pitcher came away from his lips, nearly empty, and Dale let off a massive belch, groping his soaked gut for a moment, before unzipping the front of his coveralls. “Made a right mess a mahself boy, go on and lick daddy’s fat tits clean.”

“Ah fuck daddy…” Jerry moaned, swung a leg over his Daddy’s lap so he straddling him, his son’s cock pressing into his daddy’s expanding gut, leaned in and started licking up the beer from his dad’s fat chest and neck, listening to Dale groan and belch, feeling him pull his boy closer, grinding into him.

“See Dale? I knew you’d start to enjoy yourself eventually,” the stranger said, then looked up, “Oh good, Mike’s got your evening snacks I see. George knows what you love, of course.”

Dale looked over at the door as it opened, both terrified and desperate to see what his other son was bringing. The sight of fried chicken, piles of fries and onion rings, all drenched in ranch and barbeque sauce made his mouth water, and he licked his lips. “Fuck boy, get that shit in mah big belly, I’m fuckin’ starvin’…”

“Heh, sure thing daddy, but Jerry’s in the way.”

“Git down there boy, daddy’s gotta eat!” Dale said, and pushed Jerry down, under the table, where he unzipped his daddy’s coveralls further, his massive flabby body spilling out, and started digging around for his cock in Dale’s inflating gunt, while Mike started shoving food in his dad’s open maw, Dale focusing on chewing and swallowing as fast as he could, kneading his fat, feeling himself grow even larger still than he had been. Every little while, Dale would get a break, and guzzle some more beer straight from a pitcher, and then keep eating, his focus collapsing to just him and his two boys, getting drunker and heavier until he came with a long, food muffled moan, down Jerry’s throat, having demolished all of his snacks, Mike kissing and cleaning up his food coated face.

He looked about the patio for the stranger, but he was gone–when had he left? He couldn’t recall. “Where’d mah friend go?” he asked Mike.

“Who? Daddy, it’s just us out here.”

“Nah boy, thar was another guy. Older, with a pipe.”

Jerry crawled out from under the table, and got up, dusting off his knees. “Dad, it’s just us–I think ya had too much tah drink–let’s git on home. Ya good tah drive, Mike?”

“Sure bro.”

Together, they hauled up their massive, 600 pound father from his chair and led the very drunk Dale back through the bar, as he kept insisting to talk to the stranger, but everyone just ignored him–they knew how Dale got when he’d had too much to drink, and the fat ass had too much to drink quite often. At least he had his two boys to take care of him, right?

Dale was in the office at the auto shop the next day, working on some paperwork, shoving chips in his mouth absentmindedly, thinking back on the night before, wondering how much of it had just been his imagination, how much had been the beer, and how much had been real. He’d woken up in his own bed, two boys beside him, and after a morning fuck and a big breakfast, they’d gone to work, like normal…right? But then why did this feel so new to him? He knew what he was doing, sure, but…but something still didn’t quite feel right. Even a big lunch at the buffet hadn’t improved his mood much.

The office door creaked open, and he looked up to find himself looking right at the stranger from the night before, and his jaw dropped. He was real! Then…then did that mean…everything else was real too? “Sorry I disappeared so suddenly yesterday, but I had plans to make, people to see. But don’t think I forgot about my promise Dale! It just so happens that brother of yours is having some car trouble–he’ll be calling here to make an appointment, I think.”

Before Dale could respond, the phone rang, and Dale answered it. Sure enough, it was Bishop–his car was making an odd noise, and he couldn’t figure out what it was, and Dale told him to bring the car by in a couple of hours so he could look at it. He set the phone down. “He…he can’t be my brother…but he was by brother, wasn’t he? Fuck, what did you do to me?”

“This was the deal, Dale. This is my town now, and everyone’s going to find out what that means soon enough, but you’re the first. Now, here’s the deal–I have three powers at my disposal–the power of body, the power of time, and the power of mind–and I’ll give you one of them, so you can have some fun with your brother and his friends, so you can get the revenge I know you still crave. So Dale, the choice is yours.”

Actually, the choice is yours! Here’s the three options:

Power over time – the user can manipulate the strands of time to create alternate outcomes, including control over age, fate, the past and the future.
Power over body – the user has control over the body’s natural form and processes, including control over physical features, physiological function, and size.
Power over mind – the user can manipulate and control an individual’s mental states , including control over desires, memories, belief and intellect.

I have various ideas for each option, but if there’s something you’d like to see in particular, let me know and I’ll consider it! So, what would you like to see?

Interactive: Dale’s Story (Part 2)

Thanks all who voted! Here’s the second chunk of the interactive. For those curious about the vote breakdown, here are the results:

Dale becomes dominant – 30 votes
Dale becomes submissive – 12 votes
Dale gets muscle – 15 votes
Dale becomes a slob – 15 votes
Dale becomes older – 20 votes

So the 1′s have it with second place going to 5! There are still plenty of changes to come, so don’t be too disappointed if your first choice lost.

The patio was rather small, placed on the back of the bar, facing out onto pasture, like most of the small town where Dale lived. He’d finished high school a few years ago, hoping to go to college, but even though he’d gotten accepted, he hadn’t gone. The money, the distance, all of his other insecurities–he was still here, working a retail job at the Walmart in town that had drained the rest of the economy dry as a bone. Living with his older brother and his dad, sick of them both, sick of everything about his whole life. God, he’d get rid of the entire thing if he could.

“You should be careful what you think you want, you know,” the stranger said. Dale had been staring out into the dark pasture, but he’d replied like he could hear what Dale was thinking.

“This…this is stupid,” Dale muttered to himself, and set the pitcher down on the table, “I’m gonna go–have the beer yourself.”

“Sit down Dale, and pour yourself a drink while I get my pipe going,” he said…and Dale did what he said. A couple of glasses had just appeared on the table, from nothing–he poured one full of beer and then took a sip, grimacing, and set it down.

“How in the hell did you do that?”

The stranger didn’t answer right away–he was focused on tamping his pipe and lighting it up, smoke billowing from his mouth and out into the night air. “Do you want to know out of curiosity,” he said, then looked Dale in the eye, “Or because you want to know how to do it yourself?”

“Because I want to know how,” Dale answered without a second thought, then slapped a hand over his mouth in surprise. He hadn’t meant to say that! Or at least not say it so bluntly.

The man laughed. “Most people find it pretty hard to lie to me, Dale, don’t let it worry you.”

“This is crazy.”

“More like magic, really.” Dale just stared at him. The patio was empty, and he could barely hear the crowd inside the bar. The man let off another plume of smoke, and smiled. “I like you Dale. I like you, but you’re…well, you don’t quite belong here, I don’t think. That’s why this is so hard for you. You don’t belong here, but you also can’t escape, stuck here like you’re invisible. I don’t like people who don’t fit, Dale–so here’s the deal. You can have that power you want…but in exchange, well, let’s just say you’ll be finding yourself a bit more at home here, in my town.”

Dale just stared at him, “I don’t understand…”

“Yes, but you want it, don’t you? Nobody telling you what to do anymore–a master of your own destiny. I can help you Dale–just say yes.”

He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the stranger’s. He hadn’t noticed how…black they were, before. He was trying to say no–he was trying very hard…but he couldn’t lie. He couldn’t lie, and his voice squeaked out a small, impossibly quiet “yes” that still rang loud in his ears.

“Excellent–to celebrate, why don’t we get started?” the man took a deep breath from his pipe, and then blew it into Dale’s face. He coughed, his eyes and lungs burning, trying to wave the smoke away, but it seemed to cling to him. It did eventually dissipate, but not into the air–he absorbed it into him–he looked down at himself, and found much of his view was obstructed by a large, grey beard reaching his chest, his hands lined with wrinkles.

“What the–” he said, his voice deeper, raspy, with a now inescapable drawl he’d spent his life trying to minimize, “How the hell’d ya do that? What the hell’d ya even do tah me?”

“Need a better look?” the man pulled a mirror into being in front of Dale, and he stared at himself–he looked to be about fifty, balding heavily, eyes slightly sunken, brow wrinkled. His fat had lost some of its firmness, and settled about him more comfortably. “I just made you a bit more mature. Settled in. After all, we can’t give you a proper history here if we don’t have time to fill, right, old timer?”

Dale couldn’t quite remember how to breathe–he was interrupted by the door to the patio opening, the mirror disappearing, and both he and the stranger looked over at who’d just joined them outside.

Choice time! Here are some options for who might have just shown up on the patio. None of them are Bishop, but don’t worry! We’ll see what happens to him later. The following choices are a bit vague, but you all have read my stuff enough to guess what might happen in each of these cases:

George, the bartender, checking to see if Dale’s alright.
A group of bikers, who have become rough and violent.
A slobby pig farmer, very drunk and reeking of manure.
A couple of younger greasy mechanics, coming out for a smoke.

Also, to clarify voting “rules” I should have made a bit more explicit last time, the way I tally these up, is everyone gets two votes that can either be split between two choices (i.e. “I pick 3 & 4″) or both can be given to one choice (i.e. “I pick 2″). So you can give a nudge to two choices you like, or a bigger nudge to one choice in particular! It’s confusing and kind of arbitrary! So, now, the big question, who should come out onto the patio and interrupt their little chat?

Interactive: Dale’s Story

I feel like doing something a bit different for a while, that just captions on Wednesday, and I’d like to start up another interactive story like I’ve done in the past. I’ve you’ve been a reader for a while you probably remember these: I write a chunk, ask you all for input on what you’d like to see in the next chunk, and I follow your direction until the story reaches some sort of conclusion. I’m going to shoot for two entries a week, probably on Wednesdays and Sundays. I’ll try to have a couple captions during the week, but that largely depends on time/inspiration/how much other shit I have going on at any given moment.

Regardless! Here’s the first chunk! I wrote this a while back, but could never quite decide how to continue it, so I’ll leave it up to you all!

“Bro, why don’t you go get us another round of drinks, eh?” Bishop said, turning to Dale beside him at the table, slapping him on the back as he did.

Dale could feel Bishop’s friends looking at him, see those smirks–his cheeks flushed red, “Uh…sure. What…should I get?”

“A pitcher. George knows what we like.”

“O-Ok.”

Dale hauled himself up out of the chair with a grunt, and he could hear a snicker or two, his cheeks deepening another few shades. He thought about asking Bishop to go get it instead, but he was already up–getting up was the hardest part, always had been. He shuffled off towards the bar, lumbering, feeling so self-conscious of himself. This is why he never came out, this was exactly why. At least at home, watching TV and snacking he didn’t have to have anyone else staring at him, scowling at him for even daring to exist. It wasn’t fair–Bishop had grown up in the same family, eating the same food. It wasn’t Dale’s fault he hated sports, that people had always teased him, that he’d…just wanted to eat, for as long as he could remember. But here he was, trying to will himself through a minefield of tables and chairs which had obviously been arranged by someone much thinner than he was. He kept bumping into people, stammering a sorry, but everyone just glared. He turned back and saw Bishop and his two friend’s laughing–probably at him. People were always laughing at him, especially Bishop. Why the hell had he agreed to come? Why in the hell was he such a sucker for Bishop’s fake brotherly love olive branches all the time?

Finally he got to the bar. George, the bartender and a nearby neighbor who’d known both Bishop and Dale since they were kids, walked over and asked him what he needed. “Bishop asked for a pitcher–he said you’d…know what to pour.”

George shrugged. Dale wasn’t sure at first if that meant he didn’t know, but before Dale could figure out what to say, George had walked over to a tap with a pitcher, filled it up, and then set it down in front of dale. “Ten bucks.”

Dale fished through the pockets of his overalls until he found a wad of bills, handed some to George, and then surveyed the best way back through the mess of tables in the bar to his the table where his brother was…except he wasn’t there. The table was empty, and he looked around, a bit frantic, in time to see Bishop disappear out the door of the bar with his friends, laughing. For a second he thought to chase them, to remind them that they’d forgotten him, and then he realized that ditching him had been the plan. He felt like an idiot. No, he was an idiot. A fat, stupid, idiot loser, and here he was with a fucking pitcher of beer. He didn’t even like beer! He turned around and set the pitcher back down in front of George. “I…they left. Can I get…my money back? I don’t want to drink this.”

“No refunds,” George said, “Sorry kid.”

“I don’t even drink beer though!”

George shrugged, and walked off. What Dale really wanted to do was to scream, but all that would do is draw even more attention to his fucking humiliation. He couldn’t cry either, his eyes wanted to fucking cry, but he balled them up and fought them off, pressing his fists into the bar as hard as he could, hating his body, hating how big he was when all he wanted right that moment was to be as small as possible.

“Well, no reason to let it go to waste, right buddy?”

Dale looked over, and saw an older man, long beard down to his gut smiling over at him from a bar stool. “If you can’t drink it all, I’m happy to keep you company a bit and help you out.” He patted the stool next to him, “Come on, have a sit.” Dale just stared at the tiny surface of the stool, imagining his wide ass perched on that thing for more than a few minutes, and how much his lower back already hurt at the thought. Almost like he was reading his mind, the guy shook his head and got up. “Nevermind that actually. Let’s…hmmm…you know, let’s go on the patio. I could use a smoke. Come on.”

Dale just watched the older man go–he didn’t look back. He’d…always hated that. Bishop had always walked like that, when he’d told Dale to follow him. He’d never looked back to see if Dale was actually coming, he’d always just…just assumed Dale would come, and he always had. He always had. But he, fuck, he’d spent his entire life looking back, his entire life looking for the next way everything he’d planned on was going to crumble to pieces, because no one gave two shits about him, about what he wanted. Maybe he’d always wanted to take up so much space, so people would have to notice him, but he was still…invisible. Looking around at who was looking at him, who was pretending not to see him at all. He looked over at the pitcher of beer beside him, picked it up, and walked after him. Why not, right? At least he didn’t have to be in here anymore, either way.

Now the fun part! Here’s some options that you all might like to see:

The stranger helps Dale discover a more dominant side of himself.
He takes control of Dale for his own pleasure and humiliates him more.
Dale trades in some of his fat for muscle.
Dale becomes lazier, a slob, an alcoholic, and a chronic smoker.
He decides Dale should become a bit more “mature”.

Fell free to pick a couple options–I’ll probably mix the two or three most popular together. You can reply below with your answer, or send me a message/ask with your preference. I’ll need answers soonish, so I have time to write the next chunk, so it’ll be open for the next day or two. You’re welcome to submit your own alternate ideas as well! If I like it, I might use it.

So then, which of those options do you want to see in the next chunk?

martikhoras:

Oh this so needs a caption story

@wesleybracken @ursinityunchained ANYONE get one this!

Arctos Industry has begun rolling out our newest product, Daddy Drops! For when you want to feel like the Daddy inside you!

WARNING – May cause: hair loss, hair bleaching, hair growth, memory loss, memory changes, personality changes, shortened lifespan, aggression, dominance and other unanticipated side effects. Use only as directed on packaging.

We’ve already released this exciting new experience is several test markets, and we’d like to share one testimonial from a very happy could of brand new daddies!

I gotta say, when I went over there, after mah friend Jerry called me up, tellin’ me he’d gotten this amazin’ new product in the mail, I was purty skeptical. Hell, it didn’t even sound much like Jerry on the other end a the line. The voice seemed…deeper, and had a bit of a southern twang tah it. Both Jerry ‘n I were students at the local college, and came from the Northeast–there was nothin’ southern ‘bout either a us!

I got there, and fuck, I was right–It wasn’t really Jerry sittin’ there, ‘r not the Jerry I ‘membered. This hot fuckin’ daddy, damn! Big gut, thick tits, sittin’ there naked, strokin’ a big ol’ cock! I mean, at the time, I wasn’t tah keen on it. Hell, I was freakin’ out, when he told me he’d found these drops in the mail, made ‘em intah a proper daddy. He took another one, and damn, I watched as his hair on his head shrank back and disappeared, that goatee growin’ longer, a pure white, though a bit yellowed at the mouth, on account a all his cigar smokin’. Cock grew a nother two inches, damn, and he…I mean…

He was my…daddy, ya know? Ya just know, sometimes. I couldn’t fight ‘em off, when he pinned me tah the wall, forced open mah mouth, gave me a couple drops of the stuff as well. I’m not quite the daddy he is, but fuck, I don’ care. I just wanna serve that fucker all day ‘n night, can’t git enough a that cock in any a mah holes. We both used tah hate rednecks, but now we’re too stupid (and old) tah go tah school, so we’re truck drivin’ cross country. Good money, and we make a daddy here ‘n there tah fuck around with. So thanks Arctos! From Daddy Jer and Daddy Mick, ya got two customers fer life!

Source: matureandruggedmenredux

Yeah, ya weren’t too sure ‘bout it, a month ago, were ya? Rolling up here, that prissy dad of yers telling ya a couple months here with me on mah ranch would be good fer ya. Didn’t think he knew what he was talking about, and sure, ya sulked for a while, bored without yerr video games and books and shit, but we’ve found better ways tah keep ya occupied, haven’t we?

Yeah pig, lean back, take another long drag off that cigar. Ye’re learnin’ real good, real quick. Might as well put that brain power to good use before we ruin the rest of it–can’t have a pig smarter than it’s owner, right? Yeah, you have permission pig, I know hearin’ me call ya that makes ya hard in an instant. Now that ye’re startin’ tah show all that weight proper-like, the name fits a bit better, don’t you think?

Too bad ya ain’t hairier–I love a hairy pig. Still, once we get a few dozen more tattoos on ya, ya’ll look like a right nasty pig anyway. Tug on those tits a yers, yeah, that’s it. Yeah, everyone can see ya pervin’ out, but ya like that, I bet. Don’t worry non, all the neighbors know ‘bout mah pigs–ya’ll get to know a few of them a bit better before too much longer. Hey, there’s Buck–go on pig, wave to Buck–that’s good. Buck’s wife might think he’s a good Christian shithead, but he’s one dirty minded bull when he comes over here, trust me.

Fight all you want boy, but there’s no escape. The sooner ya give in, the better it will be. The more ya’ll enjoy it. The hotter we can make ya before that city slicker bro of mine comes back tah pick ya up in a few more months. Oh don’t worry, ya ain’t gonna be goin’ home with him or nothin’–but we gotta make sure he don’t remember ya bein’ human or nothin’. Nah, he’ll stay with us for a few days, plowin’ mah new pig, becomin’ a bit of a bull himself, ‘n then ya’ll really be mine–ya’ll like that, trust me.

Buck’s still watchin–how about we give him a show, pig? Drop trou’ ‘n bend over–and I want him tah hear ya squeal all the way over there, or ya’ll be sleeping with the pigs tonight–I know ya don’t wanna sleep with them anymore, right? Then me a good pig, and give a good fuckin’ show, ya hear me?

Source: cigarcub33

Family Portrait (Part 3)

When reality snapped back to order, the effects were seen far beyond the trailer park where Keith now lived with his older brother–his now ex-wife and sons were forced into new realities as well. The two older sons, David and Terrance, were living out on their own, working and renting an apartment together while they attended the local community college, trying to make the leap to a four year college when they could afford it, and both of them avoided their father like the plague. His youngest son, Bobby, split his time between his mother’s house and his father’s house, but only because he was still seventeen for a few more months. In all honesty, he hated every second he had to spend with his filthy uncle and father–he was ashamed to even be related to them. His mother understood, but there was nothing she could do, until he reached eighteen and could legally decide for himself. And so, Marty decided that the next easiest target would be Bobby, when he arrived to stay with his dad and uncle the next week.

That gave him plenty of time to get adjusted to life with his new stupid, lazy younger brother, and he loved every second of it. While he couldn’t make any massive changes to him, now that the picture had become static again, just like his wizard friend had said, he could continue making small changes and suggestions for another few days, all of which Keith was more than happy to obey, and by the end of the week, he reeked of cum and sweat, he hadn’t had a shower in months, and he spent all day and night drunk, passing out on the couch with the TV on every night, when he wasn’t busy in his brother’s bed, servicing his every sexual desire. Still, they both knew that as soon as Bobby arrived for his week of custody they would have to control themselves…for a little while. Marty didn’t think Bobby would be returning to his mother’s house anytime soon, that was for sure. All he’d have to do is get the young man relaxed and focused on the portrait, and everything would be perfect.

However, from the day Bobby arrived, it became clear it wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as Marty had thought. The boy had some…problems with authority, especially parental authority. He spent almost all of his time in his room, giving his uncle no real chances to exert much influence on him in any way. Marty thought he had him the second night, when he managed to successfully enchant Booby with the portrait, causing a third blurry figure to appear beside the images of his father and uncle, but when he tried to influence the boy, and turn him into a chubby, submissive cub for them both to use, nothing seemed to work–Bobby fought his suggestions, and after an hour, the image of him had faded from the picture entirely.

Angry and frustrated, Marty called his wizard friend, demanding to know what was wrong–the wizard was a bit flummoxed, but said that the reason for Bobby’s resistance probably had to do with his perceived relationship to his family–that is, he didn’t want to perceive himself as Keith’s son, but he didn’t have an easy solution for him. Marty’s mood stayed sour for a few days, until he overheard a fight between Bobby and his father one night. Bobby told him that Keith had never been his father, that Bobby was the only person in the room who could act like an adult–and that gave Marty an idea: if Marty thought he was the adult in the room…well, why not make him one?

The fight ended, Bobby stormed off to his room. Marty waited for half an hour, and then knocked on the door, letting himself in–the portrait had appeared on the wall of Bobby’s room, looming over him. “Bobby, I know you aren’t a fan of us, but you need to accept the fact that we’re you’re family, and there isn’t anything that can change that,” he said, and pointed at the picture, “Look at us up there, wasn’t that a good day?” Bobby looked at the swirling paint, his eyes drawn in immediately, a fleshy blob appearing in the picture, but Marty could see him fight, see him resist his placement between them, where a son belonged. So Marty tried something different, “But you’re a man now, you know? And you know, we don’t treat you like that enough. You aren’t a boy anymore, Bobby–no, not Bobby–Bob. You’ve grown into a fine young man, haven’t you?”

Bobby resisted for a moment more, but then visibly relaxed where he was sitting on the side of the bed. Marty could see his body changing, hair growing up his forearms, thick like theirs, his body bulking, as he grew older, into his mid 20’s. Finally, finally he had him, and Marty knew exactly what this young prick needed–if he wanted to be an adult, then fine, let him.

“You know Bob, I’ve always admired you. I’ve never seen you as a nephew, not really. I’ve always thought of you as a real brother to me. And I know Keith get’s on your nerves, but he’s, well, he’s younger than us, right? He’s always going to be a bit immature.”

Bob kept growing older, his face growing a bit more lined, hair receding back past the crown of his head, becoming flecked with gray, and he chuckled, “More like a fuckin’ baby–we should just put him in diapers, right?” he laughed harder, but something about the way he’d said it…it just made Marty angry. Still, Bob was under his thumb now, right where he needed to be.

“Look, come on back out, the game’s almost on. I know you wouldn’t want to miss a good football game over a stupid fight with your little brother.”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right Marty–you always have a way of…of making so much sense, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, now come on, I have a feeling it’ll be a game to remember, big bro.”