redneck – Page 17 – Bracken's Corner

“Sure kid, I can give you a ride home I guess, as long as we’re heading in the same direction. Sure, that little trailer park there? I know the place, in fact, I have a friend who lives there too–one of my workmates. Climb in, and we’ll get going. What’s your name, kid? Ben? Nice to meet you, Ben.”

“Heh, yeah, I guess it does reek a bit, sorry. I still have my gear from the job site back behind the seat–the smell doesn’t bother me anymore. Nothing I can really do about it–I don’t get a chance to wash it very often–laundromat’s all the way in town, and I don’t have a washer at my place. How about you? Where do you work?”

“You don’t have a job? Seriously? How old are you, twenty? twenty-two?”

“Only nineteen eh? Still, your old enough to vote. Old enough to get a bitch pregnant. Old enough to hold down a job. That’s the problem with your generation, you boys don’t know how to work like men. Hell, you probably think you’re too good to work in construction, something where you get sweaty and dirty by the end of the day, something that involved actual work.”

“Heh, college? Seriously? In the fall. Whatever, college is for fuckin’ pussies, I think. Are you a pussy?”

“Hey boy, calm the fuck down already, I’m just yankin’ your chain is all. Still…I didn’t need no college. And a boy should learn how to work is all I’m saying, you know?”

“What do you mean you feel funny? The smell? Well I told you there’s nothing I can do about that. Can’t even roll down the windows–they’re broke. You’ve just probably never smelled a real man like me before, is your problem. Sweat and dirt and grime–fuck! Nothin’ better than a day in the hot sun, working up a sweat. Makes you feel like a real man. Here, yeah, my fuckin’ hard hat. Been wearin’ this thing for years now, smell that! Don’t screw your nose up at me! Fuckin’ smell it, boy!”

“Yeah, that’s it–nice deep breaths now. Get it deep in those lungs of yours. Smells better now, don’t it? Like a man? You still smell like a boy, all fresh ‘n flowery ‘n shit. Fuck. Go on, put it on if you want, I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, I know it smells good. I’m just glad I’m givin’ you a proper education in manhood.”

“Oh…good…oh, you mean good…as in sexy? Well, don’t worry none about that. That’s just natural. Hell, I remember when I was twenty, I was horny all the fuckin’ time. I remember the first time I got a good whiff of a real man–my uncle, fuck, now there was a man. Big gut, huge fuckin’ uncut cock. The fuckin’ cheese he’d get up under there, tasty. You ever tasted cock cheese boy? Nothin’ better–food of the god for real men like me.”

“A faggot? I’m not no faggot you little mouthy fucker! I’m pullin’ the fuck over…Does a faggot smell like this? Yeah, get the fuck over here boy, smell these sweaty pits. No faggot can reek like this, I’ll tell you that. Quit fightin’ boy, yeah, that’s it…smell those pits. Those are real men’s pits. Hold on, let me get this shirt off…yeah, there we go, look at these hairy fuckin’ pits boy, look how soppin’ wet they are. Now lick it. Get that fuckin’ tongue over here and lick boy!”

“Yeah, that’s it. I remember my first taste too. Like a fuckin’ light bulb went off in my head. Couldn’t get enough of my uncle’s sweat. Damn boy, that cock of yours is hard as a rock! Good size too. Let me see here…Oh, what the fuckin’ hell, your parents cut yer fuckin’ skin off! Too fuckin’ bad, but no wonder you’ve never gotten a taste of cheese before. Man, I was eatin’ my own once my uncle taught me how great it tastes. Guess you’ll just have to taste some of mine.”

“I know you’re not a faggot boy, you don’t have to be a fag to appreciate a real man like me. This is your fuckin’ education. Yeah, look at that–got a huge skin on my cock, get your mouth over here, taste this shit, fuckin’ delicious. Yeah, that’s it boy, get your tongue down in there deep, where it belongs. I hear you moanin’ now, see? See how good cheese tastes? That’s the shit a real man makes, you remember that. Now keep suckin’, I gotta get back on the road.”

“Cheese is just the appetizer though, boy. Don’t feel bad ya ain’t got none a your own. What really matters is cum and piss–not every man has a cheesy cock, but I’ve met some men, no skin, but damn was their piss rank! Fuckin’ hot men, every single one of ‘em. Let me give you a taste boy, here it comes, som real fuckin’ man piss for you. Don’t fuckin’ sputter it out! This is a fuckin’ gift of the gods, boy! Do you want to be a real man or not!”

“You don’t know? You don’t fuckin’ know if you want to be a real man like me, or some fuckin’ college pussy boy? Some college faggot? I got something else for you back here, something else for you to smell, something that’ll change your mind. Fuckin’ boots. Yeah, look at these, been wearin’ ‘em for years. In fact, they were my uncles–he gave them to me when I told him I wanted to be a real man like him. And here, I’ve been wearin’ these socks for weeks now, suck the sweat out of those.”

“Yeah, look at you go, boy. Rank, right? Shove that boot over your face, get a good whiff of my feet. Get that cock out of your jeans, I know you wanna jack off, go on, jack off while you drink in my boot stench. This is what real men do. Real men enjoy each other. Real men get off on stench, they drink piss, they fuck, suck and swallow.”

“Fuck yeah! Look at that load you just blew. Damn, and your cock’s still hard. Go on then, keep jacking boy, but tell me again. Tell me you don’t love this. Tell me you don’t want to be a real man…Louder boy, I can’t hear you through that boot over your mouth…Yeah, that’s good, that’s what I want to hear. You’re gonna be a real man just like me, aren’t you?”

“Now, you wanna drink the rest of my piss, or do you wanna be a pussy boy? Yeah, I didn’t think you wanna be a pussy. Get down here, that’s it. I’ll start a bit slower this time…that’s it, that’s real good man, drink it all down. Fuck, like a fuckin’ champ! Now suck my dick man, suck it, I’m gonna blow a load of cum down your fuckin’ throat! Fuck yeah, here it fuckin’ cums!”

“Shit man, that fuckin’–ran me off the road, I should know better than to pick up men like you. Heh, hell yeah you’re a man! Take a fuckin’ look at yourself in the mirror there. Look at that nasty face, look at those dumb fuckin’ eyes. That’s not the face of some pussy who’s goin’ to school. Smell those pits of yours–yeah, see how they reek now? You worked up a fuckin’ man sweat in here. You gonna go home and shower that off? Heh, I didn’t think so. In fact, if you’re unemployed, why don’t you come work for me? I got a few opening on the crew, and all of us are real men like you, you’ll fuckin’ love it, I promise.”

“Now, how about we celebrate man? Go on, piss those fuckin’ jeans of yours, I want this cab to reek of your piss for days. Don’t be shy, I piss myself in here all the fuckin’ time–why do you think it smells so bad? Just relax man, relax and let it loose…yeah, that’s it, look at that stain. Damn, you had a full bladder too, didn’t you? Let me have a fuckin’ taste man, I gotta taste your piss…Oh fuck, this is some of the nastiest piss I’ve ever had! You’d better fuckin’ save this for me at the job site, put it in a fuckin’ thermos for me if you want. Shit man, fuckin’ hot.”

“Come on, we’d better get you home–you start work in the morning. Oh? You don’t want to go home? You want to stay with me? Look, I know parents are a drag, but I already got a couple of men at home to keep happy, and I’m not looking to bring in another. The four of us have a good thing goin’ already…sorry man, maybe…maybe you can come on over and play sometime, but that’s pretty quick.”

“Hey man, don’t look so fuckin’ bummed. Look, how about…how about I take you to Todd’s place? He’s a bit of a loner–fuckin’ loves to jack off more ‘n anyone I’ve ever met, but you might like him. If nothing else, it’s a place to stay for a while until you can get a place of your own, right? Yeah, his pits reek, trust me on that, you’ll like him. He lives in the same park as your parents, let’s turn in here.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty run down, I know. Oh? You like that? Yeah, it does look like a real man lives here, don’t it? Wait here in the truck, I’ll go talk to him.”

“Hey Todd, I got a new friend of mine waiting in the truck, his names Ben. He needs a place to stay for a bit, and I thought…well, I know you like bein’ alone, but here’s the thing, Ben’s new to manhood, and I was thinkin’, well, he’s pretty open minded, you know? Some of that porn you watch, man, that shit’s filthy, but Ben, man, I think he might be open to some of that nasty shit you like so much.”

“Yeah, I know he’s skinny, but then feed him up! He’d look fuckin’ hot if he got as fat as you.”

“Look, if you don’t like him, it’s just for a little while. I’m not tryin’ to set you up with anybody, I just think, you know, you just seem lonely sometimes. I’m just tryin’ to help. Just give him a chance to get out on his own at least, eh?”

“Alright Ben, he’ll let you stay. Yeah, he is fat, isn’t he? Still, I think you might like that–he gets so fuckin’ sweaty man, all those fuckin’ rolls of fat. He’s a filthy fucker, and I know how you like us filthy men. Besides, it’s better than your parent’s right? Now be a good man, and do what he says. He’s letting you stay rent free, so you gotta be amenable, alright? No, nothing in particular, just keep an open mind, and keep him happy, is all. He works with me too, and he’ll give you a ride into work.”

“Oh, no need to thank me man, I’m just helpin’ you out like my uncle helped me…but wait. Before you go, here, I want you to have these, take the hard hat…and take the boots too. No, I want you to have them, they’re yours. Treat them well, like a man, alright? I’m just helpin’ you like my uncle helped me is all. I’ll see you tomorrow? Be good to Todd. He’s a bit rough, but once you two get to know each other, I think you’ll hit it off just fine. I’ll see you in the mornin’ and you better save that fuckin’ piss of yours for me, I fuckin’ mean it. Thanks man, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Look, this is ridiculous, even if…I mean.”

“All it costs is one blowjob, and I’ve seen you staring at my crotch all night. Boys like you, only one reason they come here. The rest of it…well, I can tell just by looking at you. I’ve seen you two around town, seen how you look at him. This could help.” The older man turned the cigar over in his hands, “but, if you just want to follow him around, be the best man at his wedding to some fat skank, suck him off once, and only when he’s drunk as hell, then that’s your choice.”

The older man was hardly a looker. Probably from somewhere out in the sticks, missing teeth, big gut, stinking of cheap beer and stale smoke, grey beard to his chest. Still, he was kind of Ben’s type–though he wasn’t really a fan of sucking…This was probably how the guy always got laid though. Magic cigars? Control anyone who you smoke around? Still, for a bunch of closeted queers, lusting after their straight friends…it was tempting. Ben bargained him up, the man promising him a blow job too, and he followed him out to the man’s truck, where they blew each other in the parking lot, and then Ben left, cigar in his pocket, still feeling like he’d been a bit cheated.

Chet was his one weakness. Friends since they were babes, Ben had been lusting after his friend for so long, but he was as straight as could be, and was a big fan of bashing queers. Chet was also an alpha through and through, and as much as Ben chafed at submitting to anyone, he’d learned to let Chet get his way to keep the friendship going. But now…well, now nothing was going to change, but at least it was a nice cigar. He usually stuck to cigarettes, while Chet preferred chewing, but he’d bought a cigar now and then for fun. An opportunity to light up didn’t come for a few days, when he and Chet were hanging out at his little trailer, watching B movies. Heart beating fast, he lit up the cigar, blowing it off in Chet’s direction, watching as he inhaled the first couple whiffs. He sneezed, and rubbed his nose, eyes a bit bleary. “Dang man! That cigar’s strong as fuck. Where the fuck’d you get it?”

“Strong? Nah, this…this is pretty smooth. In fact…” did he dare? “In fact, I don’t think the smoke really bothers you at all. I think you like how it smells.”

“No way, I mean…sure, it’s not botherin’ me as much…” Chet said, fidgeting. He always fidgeted when he lied.

Had it actually worked? How in the hell could he really know? Then again, the man had said it gave him complete control, body and mind. He muttered something under his breath, quietly so Chet couldn’t hear, and a few seconds later, a thick beard sprouted across Chet’s stubbly face. He just gawked for a moment, and Chet reached up to feel it, and yanked his hand away. “What the fuck!”

“Hang on Chet! Calm down…”

Chet grabbed the side of the chair, and his breath slowed down.

“Fuck, it actually works…”

“What fucking works? What…what’s going on?”

He’d never heard Chet scared before. He liked how that sounded, actually. His cock was getting a bit hard, in fact. “Looks good on you, but you know? I just think you’re a bit too young to pull it off. Now, how about we age you up a bit? Say…fifty? Yeah, make you a sexy, submissive, chubby, daddy bear.”

Chet stood up calmly, but the changes were already starting. He watched his smooth stomach balloon outward into a gut, hair filling in across his arms and under his shirt, speckled with grey. “How in the fuck!” he wheeled towards Ben, and blinked. Fuck…fuck, his friend was one…sexy cub. He licked his lips, feeling his tongue brush through his new beard. Ben undid the fly of his pants and let out his cock. “See something you like, Chet?”

“Fuck…fuck you. Fuckin’ faggot. You did…something to me.”

“You’re right Chet…you’re right, I am a faggot. Been one as long as I can remember. And you know what? I’m fuckin’ sick of ya bashin’ us, and I’m fuckin’ sick a yer fuckin’ jokes. Now get the fuck down here and use that nasty mouth of yours for something useful, bitch!”

Chet tried to resist, but all he could do was get down, suck his faggot friend’s cock, and listen to Ben describe their new life together. Ben, the master, and Chet the useless, small cocked, bear slave. Incredibly turned on by pain and humiliation, he started leaking when Ben ground the toe of his boot into his tiny balls. The cigar burnt out, and exhausted, Ben led the collared and harnessed Chet to his cage for the night, and filled his slave bowl with his piss. Chet thanked his master and lapped it up obediently.

“Hang on, I just gotta take a quick piss,” Nick said to his friend Doug waiting by the truck, smoking a cigarette, heading home from their summer road trip. A biker smoking a cigar watched Nick head into the rest stop bathroom, and followed after him.

At the urinal, Nick felt a hand cup his ass suddenly, a plume of smoke blowing across his face. He looked up, still pissing and saw the biker staring at him. The hand slid up the butt of his jeans and down the back, the biker groping his ass. “Wanna be mine, boy?” the biker asked, leaning in close, “Could make this hole of yours happy as fuck.”

Nick was frozen in place, the man’s hand sliding down his crack, one finger at his hole, “Say it boy, all you have to do is say yes.”

Nick’s breath was quick and shallow, and all he could get out was a stammered, weak “No.”

Still, the biker, chuckling, slid his hand back out, sniffed his hand, and clomped out of the restroom. “Suit yourself. I always get what I want though.”

Alone again, Nick collapsed against the urinal, nearly crying. What in the hell had just happened? A couple of minutes later, Doug popped his head in. “Are you still pissing? Come on, let’s get home before dark.

On the ride home, Nick was silent, and Doug could sense something was wrong, but couldn’t drag it out of him. How could Nick tell him he’d just been molested by an old biker in the middle of his piss? Doug hated faggots—and he didn’t want his friend to think he was a faggot.

Doug dropped him off at his dad’s doublewide and drove off. Nick did his best to forget that anything had even happened, and went inside, told his dad he was tuckered, and went to bed without dinner. Down the block, a motorcycle idled, and the butt of a cigar burned in the dark.

***

It was a couple of days later that Nick came home from hanging out with Doug, and found his dad on the couch, home from work, smoking a pipe. Nick found this odd–his father always preferred to chew, and when Nick asked him about it, his dad didn’t seem quite able to tell him where the pipe had come from, or why he was smoking it. The smoke smelled familiar, and Nick was uneasy all evening until he finally realized it had the same stink as that biker’s from the restroom. Still, it was probably just tobacco from the same brand, right?

His dad was acting strange. He kept…staring at Nick, and not in a normal way. In a…hungry way. When he thought Nick was out of the room, he kept seeing his dad grope himself in his camo pants, but never when Nick was around. His dad broke out the whisky early, and was out on the couch by midnight when Nick went to bed himself. It was several hours later that the door to his room opened, and his dad staggered in, pipe lit, cock hanging out the fly of his pants. He threw the covers off Nick, waking him up, but forced Nick onto his stomach and climbed on top of him. Nick tried to scream, but his father shoved his face into the pillow as he rammed his cock into his hole raw and unlubed. It was quick–four thrusts, and his father exploded in his ass, before collapsing on him, breathing hot smoke and whisky breath onto his son’s neck. Without speaking, he got up and stumbled back to his room.

Nick couldn’t move. At first, he thought he just didn’t want to move, but then he realized, he actually couldn’t move. Another man was in the doorway–the biker, his room full of smoke, but he didn’t say anything. The room was full of smoke now, and Nick realized he must be dreaming. Not all of it was a dream. He woke up, feeling his father’s cum dried down the crack of his ass, but that was normal, right? His dad always liked fucking his hole when he got too drunk. Nick stopped, realizing what he’d just thought. His dad had never done anything like that to him before–so why in the hell had he thought…

The door opened, and it was his dad, morning wood jutting straight out. Nick lipped his lips as his father climbed on him and skullfucked him, blowing his load across his son’s face before getting dressed in his workgear and heading to the construction site. Nick got cleaned up, everything feeling more normal suddenly, and then left and started walking to Doug’s house, when a motorcycle pulled up next to him, the biker smirking at him.

Nick went to run, but the biker grabbed him and pulled him close, one hand twisting Nick’s nipple. “How about now, boy? You’d rather have your hole fucked by your dad, or by me? How about a nice ‘yes’?”

Nick was frozen, but again said no. The biker released him, and drove off, saying once again, “I always get what I want boy!”

***

Nick arrived at Doug’s place, knocked on the door, and was his friend opened it, cigar planted in the corner of his mouth. Nick just stared at him, and asked him where the cigar had come from. Doug told him he always smoked cigars, and pulled him inside. Doug suggested that they take a walk in the woods, but when Nick told him he just wanted to stay in today, Doug instead insisted. His friend had never been so forceful before, and something in Nick…something made him feel compelled to obey.

They hiked out into the woods, and Nick swore that as Doug smoked, something was happening to him. He was getting…bigger. In fact, by the time they reached the river, his friend, who had been an inch or two shorter, was now six inches taller, his body filled out with muscle, and his eyes. His eyes were cruel. They reached the river, and Doug turned to him, “Kids at school–you know, they’re saying your dad’s a faggot.”

“He’s…he’s not a faggot,” Nick said.

“They say he’s a faggot, and they say you’re a faggot too. That you let your dad fuck your ass, that you want him to fuck you.”

“That’s not fucking true!” Nick shouted, but Doug grabbed Nick’s groin in a huge hand and squeezed it until Nick let out a groan.

“Not true? Then I suppose that the thought of your dad’s old cock won’t get you hard eh? I suppose that the thought of him coming in your room doesn’t get you all excited, that you don;t get hard at the thought of sucking his scummy cock? Of taking a load of his in your asshole? I bet you started it. I bet you’re the one who begged him to fuck you, you made your dad into a fucking faggot for your hole.”

Nick was listening, but there, across the river, was the biker. The smoke was flowing over the water like a fog, about to envelop them. He was hard. He was hard, thinking about his dad’s cock, thinking about how he’d gotten his dad drunk and sucked him off that first time, how his dad hadn’t wanted to, but Nick was so fucking horny, he was such a fucking faggot for nasty cock…

“It..it’s true…”

“No shit–I’ve been friends with a faggot this whole fucking time.”

Nick nodded, and was unprepared for Doug’s fist to slam into the side of his face. There was so much smoke, and yet his view of Doug was perfectly clear, the biggest guy at school, he’d wanted his cock forever. He could see the bulge, probably close to nine inches–how would that feel buried in his ass?

“Please…please, I just want…I just want to serve you, please…”

The words were him, but he couldn’t imagine himself saying them.

“Clean my fucking boot, faggot.”

Doug smashed his boot onto Nick’s face, and he licked at the dusty tread, anything for his friend’s cock, anything, he was just a worthless faggot for cock. He licked both boots clean, and only then did Doug reward him, shoving his giant cock deep into his hole, making Nick scream, but it felt so fucking good. Doug came in his ass and tromped off into the forest, telling him he never wanted to see the faggot again, and Nick looked down between his legs, and saw that he’d shot his own load on the dirt trail.

The smoke had cleared. He stood up, and started out of the woods, pleased with himself. Sure, Doug would tell everyone at school he was a stupid faggot, but he’d finally got that massive cock in him. It was worth it. Besides, he was just a worthless faggot, after all, right?

Waiting for him at the head of the trail, he found the biker, cigar burning. Nick approached him, hesitantly, felt the leather jacket–it was too cold compared to the summer air. “What do you say now, boy? You want to be mine? Be my little cubby faggot?”

Nick reached down and felt the biker’s cock through his jeans. Big, but not as big as Doug’s. And he liked his dad. He liked getting fucked by him. And maybe…maybe more guys at school would want to fuck him now. And he knew Doug would want to fuck him again, sometime. No one could resist his faggot ass. “No, no, I don’t think so,” Nick said, and walked on. The biker looking at him as he left, a bit perturbed, but he got on his bike and drove off.

***

Nick found his dad’s truck in the driveway when he got home, and was excited for an afternoon fuck. He went inside, but the father on the couch was not the one who had left home that morning. The pipe…it was much bigger now, as was his father. Sometime during the day, he’d packed on close to three hundred pounds, and now, heaps of blubber cascaded off of him. Nick could smell him from across the room, the stench of cum and sweat and…piss? He stood in the doorway, not noticing the tendril of smoke curling in from the kitchen.

“What the fuck are you waiting for, faggot? Get over here and suck daddy’s cock.”

Nick wanted to ask what had happened, he wanted to resist. He didn’t want to serve this fat, disgusting man, but the smoke curled around his feet and drew him closer. He knelt down, feeling the smoke wrap around his body, dissolving his clothes, leaving him naked aside from a set of manacles on his wrists and feet, chained together so he couldn’t walk upright, only crawl. He shoved his face under his father’s apron, searching until he found his short, three inch cock, and started sucking. He hated his father’s cock–mostly because it meant on fuck was satisfying, and his father said his slave’s ass was reserved for him alone. Most fucks were just his father grunting and grinding his tiny cock up Nick’s ass crack until he came–it was miserable. It was difficult breathing as he sucked, but he’d learned some tricks in his years of service, ever since his father had enslaved him. It took some work, but he managed to suck out a load of cum, but he remained, waiting for…something. He didn’t remember until his father released a load of piss for him to swallow; only after could Nick extract himself.

“Footrest,” his father said.

Nick crawled over dutifully and allowed his father to set his booted feet on his hunched back. He remained perfectly still for hours, eventually cramping in his tight position, but he didn’t dare move. Eventually, he heard the grumble of a truck outside; it was Doug’s. What would his friend think if he saw him like this?

That thought struck him as strange. Doug was no longer his friend….Doug was….something else to him.

“Sounds like your trainer’s here,” his dad said, and removed his feet, allowing Nick to uncurl slightly. “Gonna work on your pain tolerance tonight, he said. I do love hearin’ my bitch scream, so be good and loud tonight.”

Doug tromped up and let himself in–now even larger, his body packed with hair and muscle, wearing leather pants and a vest, tattoos covering his body. “Into the dungeon, slave.”

Nick crawled after Doug into the room which had been his, but which now contained a large selection of dungeon gear. He was paddled and whipped until he bled and sobbed. His balls and nipples were stretched, Doug telling him how, soon, his father might let Doug castrate him, and replace his balls with a couple of heavy, iron eggs instead. Doug taunted him with his ten inch cock, telling him he’d never let a slave as worthless as Nick serve it. How Doug would only be serviced by real men, not faggots like Nick.

The room was filled with a haze of smoke, and in the doorway, the biker. Nick pleaded with him silently, begging him to be merciful. The biker simply regarded the scene in silence, until Doug finished training and left, leaving Nick restrained on the table, balls stretched out to the wall, nipples dragged up to the ceiling. Only then, did the biker approach.

“I think…I think I will only ask one more time. Would you rather this be your life? A worthless, castrated pig for your father and his sadistic friend’s twisted pleasures? Or would you rather be my cub? What do you say boy, can I have a yes?”

Nick nodded.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Y–yes. Yes, please.”

***

Nick blinked, and when he opened them again, he was back in the rest area bathroom. But now…now things were different. His master leaned over, watching his leather biker cub piss in the urinal.

“I like the look of that PA, cub. Makes you even sexier than you already are.”

“Thank you sir,” Nick said, looking down at the thick ring in the head of his cock, the piss spraying out around it, some of it splattering against the leg of his leather chaps. He took a drag off his cigar–and shared the smoke with his master as he shook piss off the head, and then the biker grabbed his boy by the thick chain collar he wore, dragged him into the stall, and fucked his hole.

Outside, Doug finished his smoke, and felt like he was forgetting something. With a shrug, he climbed back into his truck and started home, but saw a biker and some disgusting fag leave the restroom together. He rolled down the window and shouted, “Faggots!” as he rolled past.

The biker smirked, “Nice friend of yours.”

Nick looked over at him, confused, “I don’t know him, sir.”

“Well, what do you say we follow him, and when he stops next, we turn him into a nasty trucker, who cruises for piss as truck stops?”

“Only if I can make him four hundred pounds with a tiny cock and a hungry hole I can fuck,” Nick said smiling, and they climbed on their bikes, smoke trailing behind them as they drove off down the highway after Doug.

Happy Labor Day

Why work? That was the question Jack had asked himself one day, and he’d realized that he didn’t have a good answer. And so, he decided to just not work. Well, he had been working in one fashion–figuring out every way he could to get money from the government. Hell, he’d even pretended to have a pregnant girlfriend to pick up an extra 200 a month. For years now, he’d been living alone in the old single wide his uncle had died in, where Jack had just started squatting while the rest of the family didn’t actually care. He’d even kept collecting his uncle’s social security–since no one had bothered to let the government know he was dead. It wasn’t a comfortable life, but he didn’t have to work. He could set his own schedule, drink beer, smoke, and watch TV, which is everything that made him happy anyway. Still, he always figured that one day people would catch on–it just didn’t quite lead to the result he was expecting.

One day, instead of his usual check from welfare, he received a large package on the doorstep. Inside, he found a letter:

Congratulations! You have been selected as a candidate for our new Eager-to-Work! Program. This pilot program is tailored to those members of the long-term unemployed who have shown a reluctance to find work for themselves. As part of this program, you have already been accepted to work at a local small business in need of labor. Inside this package, you will find your uniform for your new job…

The rest of the letter had information about where he would be working, and said he would be starting the following Monday after the weekend. Of course, he had absolutely no intention of starting any kind of job. Besides, he was “disabled” anyway. Couldn’t these organizations figure their shit out for once? He got on the phone with the welfare office, but the woman he spoke to, while very congenial and apologetic, informed him that for as long as he was a member of this pilot program, he would be ineligible for other forms of public assistance. Furious, he hung up, and decided that he just wouldn’t go at all. No one was going to make him work, especially not after this long. He went to throw out the package, but decided to take a look at what the office had sent him for a “uniform.” Nothing in there was at all clean, and along with a set of grubby red coveralls, there were even socks, some boots, and even a grey stinking jockstrap. Really stinking, actually. He put the jock to his nose and took a deep breath of the fabric, smelling the sweat imbedded in it.

He stripped off his boxers and pulled the jock on instead. After a moment’s hesitation, he went and pulled on the rest of the gear as well, and when he was done, the grungy, sweaty smell had his cock rock hard in the jock, and he couldn’t stop himself from jacking off. In fact, that was all he could do all weekend long. He never once removed any part of the uniform, even sleeping with the boots on. As the weekend passed, he found himself imagining all sorts of new fantasies. How he could be working for eight hours, come home all sweaty, smelling absolutely disgusting. Fuck, it would be amazing. He still remembered his sworn promise to never work another day in his life, but for the first time he actually found himself regretting it, and wondering if he’d made the right choice. The idea that he might actually enjoy working scared him–and on Sunday he took off the uniform, but before he could throw it away, he felt something strange happening to his body. In the mirror, he noticed that his hair was suddenly starting to recede and turn grey, his goatee turning grey as well, as his body softened and began fattening up. In a panic, he threw the uniform back on, which halted the aging, but back in the stinking sweat, he found he actually kind of liked how he looked. Older, a bit weathered–like a man who’d spent his life working rough, sweaty jobs.

He was back on his bed then, jacking off, smelling his pits, wishing they were even nastier. Hopefully the job would be one where he could work up a good sweat every day–then he could spend his whole weekend smelling himself and jacking off, before doing it all over the next week. He shot his load up onto his stomach and rubbed it in there, feeling a bit of clarity well up in him. This was insane. This couldn’t possibly be legal, but he knew that if he kept this up, he would definitely be going to work tomorrow. Then, he realized that he still didn’t know where he was even going to be working! Sensing an opportunity, he rummaged around in the clutter until he found the sheet from Eager-to-Work! and burnt it to ashes with his lighter before he could see his new place of employment.

That Monday, he soon realized that there were other good reasons for him to go to work. All day, he had so much energy he was practically bouncing off the walls, but the one thing that wouldn’t cooperate was his cock. It was completely soft, and wouldn’t get hard for anything, even as he grew increasingly horny. Tuesday was even worse, but he refused to give in and call the unemployment office to get the information from them. It was Wednesday that a new package arrived, unbidden, along with another letter:

Due to your continued attempts at unemployment, you have been selected for Eager-to-Work!’s mentorship program! Included in the package are some things that will help you get to know your mentor a little better, before he arrives for your first meeting Wednesday afternoon at 4 pm at the following location.

All that was in the package, however, was another pair of boots and a jockstrap. But these…as soon as he smelled them, he knew that they weren’t his. and yet…he picked up the jock, and he could smell the cum soaked into it, and his cock was hard again, and he was jacking off, unable to even help himself. Then, he started smelling the boots, and he nearly retched, but he could handle it, he could take it all in. The feet that were in those boots, fuck! They must be huge, and stinking, and he could just image them smashed against his face, against his cock, shoved in his mouth sucking on their toes. He came three times on the floor by the door, the jock stuffed in a boot covering his nose and mouth, while he shot multiple loads across the other boot’s toe and laces, which he then licked off, tasting the dirt and grime of work. Yes, this was a man who worked! This was a man who worked like he could work, if he could just stop being such a lazy dumbass! He had to meet this man, he had to, he could help him be a good worker.

The clock moved so slowly, but finally it was time to leave. He drove to a small house not too far from the trailer park where he lived, and he found the garage door open, a squat man sitting in the back of his pickup. “You must be Jack,” he said, “Come on in here–I’m gonna be your mentor.”

Jack couldn’t get into the garage fast enough, the door closing down behind him as he hopped up into the bed of the truck, and found himself face to face with his mentor’s huge feet. He started slobbering all over them, wildly jerking his cock, and listened to everything his mentor had to say about the thrill of work, about how hot it was getting dirty and grungy with other men, smelling them on the worksite, begging them to let him lick them clean and suck their cocks and massage their feet. Jack promised his mentor that he would go to work tomorrow like a good man, and once the mentor was satisfied that Jack was telling the truth, he finally let Jack suck the cum from this thick cock, before sending him on his way.

Jack discovered that he was going to be working for a construction company, and it was everything he could have hoped it would be. Sweaty, hard work with a bunch of other men who had been selected for the Eager-to-Work! program like him. It was hard containing themselves for eight hours of hard work, but it was all worth it after closing time, when Jack and the rest of his co-workers would all stick around and fuck each other’s lights out for several hours. Jack would still have doubts on occasion, but at his bi-weekly fuck sessions with his mentor, there was nothing he couldn’t get past. Soon, he was just another happy worker, wearing his stinking coveralls day and night, eight hours of work, eight hours of rest, and eight hours of fucking.

“Please wait while neural interface is established…”

The screen of his computer froze while the small box plugged into the USB port flashed. Lucas sat at his desk, cock hanging out of the fly of his slacks, massaging himself half hard, eager for the session to begin.

“Participant: Nathan Oberlik, has been uploaded, transferred.”

Nathan was one of Lucas’ coworkers–or rather, one of his subordinates. When Lucas had discovered that Nathan was gay, he’d invited him to have a shared session with him through The Network, and Nathan had been his playmate ever since. It helped that Nathan was naturally submissive–he was perfectly happy to allow Lucas to select the bodies they would inhabit for a few hours of sex. There was a buzzing in his ears growing louder, and suddenly his vision faded to static. A moment later, he was sitting on some ratty couch in what looked like a single wide, wearing a ballcap, wifebeater, and some shorts that he shucked off immediately.

Lucas was staring, inhabiting the body of some bearded roughneck, licking his lips. The additional request seemed to have been honored–The Network could, in the process of a download, alter the thoughts and fantasies of the people it was processing. Nathan had requested that Lucas be implanted with an insatiable desire for cum, and the perverse desire lick clean filthy, sweaty bodies–like the one Lucas was now residing within.

“Don’t just stand there, pig,” Lucas said, rubbing his new body’s cock to full mast, “Get sucking.”

“F–Fuck…” Nathan said, and got down, “I…I must have been hornier than I thought, cause…” but he never finished his thought, focusing on swallowing Lucas’ cock to the hilt. While he sucked, Lucas took a survey of his borrowed body, running his hands through his furry chest, feeling the young muscles flex. It was a pity that it was only temporary. He shoved Lucas off his cock and back onto his ass.

“What gives man? I’m fuckin’ thirsty!”

“Beg for it.”

“What?”

“Go on pig, beg for my cock.”

Lucas’ face turned a bit red. “Please…please can I have your cock?”

“Network, pause Lucas.”

Lucas froze suddenly, his pupils flickering with static.

“Please give Lucas’ voice a southern inflection. Also, make him turned on by verbal humiliation.”

Sparks shot out of Lucas’ body for a moment, and then he unfroze. “Please, can Ah suck yer cock, man? Fuckin’ hungry fer some cum…”

“Tell me your a horny pig for my cum.”

“I’m…I’m a horny pig fer yer cum man…fuckin’…please…”

Lucas stood up and began skullfucking Nathan, calling him a cocksucking faggot pig, listening to his coworker grunt and jack off his own cock while Lucas humiliated him. They both shot their loads, and they spent the rest of the session in a pleasant afterglow, Nathan happily cleaning off Lucas’ sweaty body with his tongue, and he made sure he spent extra time on his body’s asscrack.

Their two hour session was coming to a close, however, and they began to prepare for departure, watching the clock, a bit eager to get back into their own bodies. However, two hours passed and nothing happened. Then, two hours and five minutes. “Network,” Lucas asked, “End session.” No reply. “End session!” he shouted, and then added, “This wasn’t part of the fucking deal, and you know it!”

“Deal?” Nathan asked, “What fuckin’ deal, man?”

Lucas was silent, but Nathan just stared at him.

“What the fuck did ya do?”

“I…I didn’t have the money to pay them, alright? They were going to come after me, and I threatened to out them to the Justice Department.”

Nathan just gawked, “Wha the fuckin’ hell man! ‘N ya thought we could jus’ continue on as fuckin’ normal?”

They offered a free session on the house!”

“Yer a fuckin’ idiot, I oughta–”

Before Nathan could finish speaking, he froze in place, his pupils full of static. His mouth opened, and a voice which was not his own came from his mouth. “I know this wasn’t part of the deal, Mr. Henderson, but Chuck and Trent are so happy in your bodies, and they were more than happy to agree to a payment plan to cover your debt. I’m afraid this session will not be ending anytime soon, for either of you.”

“No, you can’t fucking do this! I’m the vice president of a huge company! They’ll know it’s not me.”

“Yes, which is why I will be needing to download your memories, like I have for Nathan here. It’s a pity you had to drag him into this. Still, I think he’s going to enjoy his new life with you, once I finish these personality alterations. Oh! And we have a new process which is currently in testing, but you two will make such good subjects. Did you know that we have discovered how to alter the bodies of our clients now too? The central nervous system is so full of wonders. It takes several hours for the changes to fully manifest however. Now, I’m almost done.”

“Please, I’ll do anything, please don’t do this to me, don’t take my mind.”

“Oh, Lucas,” the voice said, “While I am deleting Nathan’s mind, I have a feeling yours…well, you’ll just have to wait and see. But how about this? Let’s play a game. When I’m finished with Nathan here, he’s going to be very, very horny, and I have a feeling he’s going to want to fuck your ass very badly. If you can keep your hole virginal for, say, ten minutes, I’ll give you your freedom.”

“Just fucking let me go.”

“Oh, but then who will Nathan–I mean, Chuck here, his name is Chuck now–fuck? Alright? Ready, set–go!”

Lucas watched Nathan stumble on his feet, before he caught himself, blinking, trying to figure out what had just happened. “Fuck–fuckin’ horny, man…” he looked up and saw Lucas standing there, and smirked, “Oh…hey Pigg, when did ya get here? Eh, who fuckin’ cares–turn the fuck around, I wanna plow that greasy hole a yers.”

“Nathan,” Lucas said, backing up a few paces, “Nathan, you have to listen to me, it’s the Network, they fucked with your head. You just have to trust me, I can get us out of here.”

“Nathan? Who the fuck’s Nathan? My name’s Chuck, but you can just call me sir, Pigg.”

Chuck advanced on him, and Lucas looked around, spying a baseball bat leaning against the wall. He grabbed it and swung it right into the side of Chuck’s head–he crumpled to the ground, eyes blank, blood leaking from an ear.

Lucas panted and dropped the bat to the ground–at least his hole was safe. It was too bad about Nathan. Still, he could figure something out.

“Oh Lucas,” a voice said. He looked down, and saw that The Network had taken over the body once more, “You’re so violent! So vicious. Murdering your friend here. Well, don’t worry, I can fix that. Still, I don’t think Chuck is going to be too happy about that, right Chuck? Heh, Chuck can’t say anything right now, but he agrees. Now, how about we try that again? You still have…nine minutes and fifteen seconds.”

Chuck groaned and started picking himself up off the floor. Lucas went to grab the bat, but Chuck beat him to it, wrestling it from his grip. “Bat…” Chuck muttered, his mind still knitting itself back together, “Bat…P-Pigg, yer gonna get a fuckin’ beating, I fuckin’ swear.”

Lucas turned and ran the length of the single wide, but realized the door out was the other direction–past Chuck. With nowhere else to go, he locked himself in the bathroom, and in moments, Chuck was hammering on the cheap wooden door with the bat. “Open up Trent! I’m comin’ in there to get your hole!”

The door cracked apart, splinters flying into Lucas’ face. Chuck ripped open the door, grabbed him by the neck and dragged him out, Lucas fighting for breath. He tried to fight Chuck off, but his friend landed one solid punch to his eye, sending him reeling back and crashing to the floor, and then he was on top of him, Chuck’s hard cock pressed against the small of his back, one hand with a vice grip on the back of his neck, pinning him to the floor until he could find his hole and start working his dry cock into it. Lucas let out a weak scream, unable to catch his breath. Tried to claw himself away, but Chuck was inside him, he’d lost, and he felt his body freeze in place, his vision static, but a voice, he could hear a voice in his head.

“Oh Lucas, that really was a good try. Well, I shouldn’t call you Lucas anymore–you’re new name is Pigg–with two G’s–it really was smart of your parents to give you a name like that, eh? It’s almost like they knew from the time you were little, that the only thing you’d want is to serve a nasty roughneck like Chuck here as his filthy pig slave. So here’s what I’m doing. I’m going to hardwire you with all sorts of new, wonderful instincts. The instinct to serve men, the instinct to sniff out and eat cum, the instinct to drink and bathe in piss. And as for that whole bat incident earlier, well, let’s just say you’re going to have a very different relationship with pain from now on, Pigg.

“Oh, and this body of yours? Well, I don’t think it’s very pig like, do you? I’ve already slowed down your metabolism–so in a few hours, well, I think you’ll find yourself quite a bit more curvy. As for Lucas–well, how about this? I’ve already copied your memories off for Trent back in your old body, but I’ll go ahead and leave these with you, to think about. And I mean that you should think about them. I went ahead and rewired your brain here, so that your long term memory is more like a sieve than a bowl. Why, if you don’t pay attention, you might just go ahead and forget everything! You might end up an empty headed pig slave, operating on instinct alone, no thought, no memory, just an empty shell. I know that must scare you. Goodbye Pigg–it’s a pleasure to know we’ll never meet again.”

The voice and the static was gone–he was alone, Master Chuck ramming his huge cock into his piggy hole, and Pigg pushed back, hungrily, unable to stop. The motion was simply bypassing his head–he had no control over himself. Instead of thinking about the pleasure coursing through him every time his master smacked his ass, he tried to hold onto his memories, these memories that weren’t his, but he had to keep them. His name Lucas, his job, his old life, but things were slipping away faster than he could hold onto them. It didn’t help when Chuck, after blowing his load, took the bat Pigg had assaulted him with and worked the head deep into Pigg’s asshole. It hurt so good that Pigg forgot to keep thinking for a moment, all he could do was grunt and snort and squeal and feel his shrinking cock shoot load after load of cum onto the bathroom floor.

Later, after slurping his own cum mindlessly off the floor, the bat lodged deep in his ass still, as he licked and cleaned his master’s feet, feeling his gut growing as he knelt there, rubbing it with his hands, toying with his sensitive nipples, he tried to sort through what remained of himself. The hazy face of some old man. A flickering, frozen computer screen connected to something called The Network, but that probably wasn’t important. A name, “Lucas”. That’s not his name though, his name was Pigg. He decided to just let them all fall through. Thinking was too hard. Better to just serve, and fuck, and eat like a good piggy slave for master Chuck.

wesleybracken:

Sketch #9 – Mark and Jerry

Mark furrowed his brow, not entirely sure what to make of the email he’d just received from his boss down the hall. Part of it he could understand, but about halfway through it all just sort of…became a bunch of gibberish. Looking it over again, he didn’t want to have talk to him about it. Jerry had been acting strange all day, and he’d seemed a bit meaner than usual lately, and Jerry already hated Mark—he’d rather hire someone younger to replace him for half the wage, but Mark was too good and Jerry knew it. Any sign of weakness could become an excuse.

Still, he did need to know what in the hell Jerry was talking about. He got up, and brought up the email on his phone as he walked down to Jerry’s office, knocked on the door and stepped in before he could hear Jerry warn him not to. He gaped at the sight of his boss, naked aside from a pair of filthy looking, oversized underwear, tattoos coating his body that Mark had never seen, and was he jacking off?

“Get out! Get out, you fucker!”

Mark got out. He got out and he left work and he headed home before the shit could hit the fan, but something wasn’t right, a smell he couldn’t get out of his head, a buzzing at the base of his skull. He arrived home and immediately lit up a cigar—it was an old habit, but one that kept his nerves under control all the same—but this wasn’t the usual brand he smoked, was it? It was sharper and foul and…and…

Mark groaned and started rubbing his cock in his pants, his suit was changing, morphing around him into a pair of overalls that started out clean, but quickly became grubbier and full of holes, his beard whitening and growing long and tangled, his head balding aside from a thin horseshoe, but all he could think of was Jerry, that brief glance he’d gotten at the office, he couldn’t even remember what his face had looked like, but he wanted that filthy cock. He fumbled with his phone, snapped a pic of his dirty old cock and sent it to his boss.

horny wanna cum over

It was a few anxious minutes that he waited, until he got a reply.

still at office, cum fuck me daddy

Mark grabbed a couple extra cigars and climbed in his old, beatup truck. He had a boy to pick up, and they were going to have a wild night together.

He stepped out of the elevator and found a bear fucking a young, chubby cub on the carpet right in front of them.

“Fuck dad, you’re cock is so fucking big, I hope my cock is as big as yours when I grow up.”

“Well, if you want to get bigger, yer gonna have tah eat a whole lotta protein son,” the bear panted, biting and licking at the boy’s neck. “Good thing daddy’s got plenty tah feed ya.”

Mark was really fucking turned on watching them, but he had another date with Jerry. All through the office he could hear the hoots and hollers of rednecks fucking each other’s brains out, and in his boss’ office he found Jerry still in his chair, and he was even filthier than Mark remembered. Tattooed from head to toe, he reeked from across the small room, it was humid with his sweat and musk. He wasn’t alone–some overly buff brute with a shaved head and vacant eyes had his nose suffed in Jerry’s armpit, snorting and licking, jacking his cock wildly, his hairless muscles covered with a sheen of sweat.

“Fuck boy, yer even hotter ‘n I remember,” Mark said.

“Shut up ‘n fuck my filthy hole,” Jerry groaned, putting his legs up on the armrests of the chair.

Mark already had his cock hanging out of his crotchless overalls, and he worked it into the hole. It felt loose and sticky–he wasn’t the first in, but he didn’t care.

“I always hated you most of all, Mark,” Jerry said, and Mark immediately felt his balls tense up and shoot a huge load into Jerry’s ass. He couldn’t stop fucking though, he had lost all control of himself suddenly. "Fuckin’ hated you so much.“ Another massive orgasm, it nearly crippled him but he had to fuck, had to fill the hole up, had to keep going. Jerry was in his head now, he could feel him there, and he came a third time, his balls shooting dry now, blue with pain, he couldn’t think straight, and finally Jerry let him pull out. But his cock was small now, and his balls had shriveled up.

"Bet you’re hungry Mark. Come on piggy, I got some food for you right here,” Jerry said, and let loose a wet fart, cum leaking out of his hole. Mark just stared at it, knees collapsing, crawling forward, lapping up the sweaty, shitty crack, eating his cum out of his boss’ hole, eating all of the cum out of his hole.

“Gonna be my cumpig Mark, fuckin’ hate you, always fuckin’ hated you. Hey, Devon,” he added looking at the muscle brute beside him who had been the office intern, “You hate Mark too now. Fuck Mark’s nasty pighole, fuck it rough, and make him scream, big boy.”

Reunions (Part 5)

[Pictured: Zach, the morning after his first night staying in Brent’s apartment.]

The reunion lasted a month that year. At the end of it, Aaron separated Brent from his uncle Mick–a harder task than he’d expected, piled Brent into the pickup and drove him back across the state. Brent, eyes glazed, kept nosing over and licking at his Cousin Aaron’s spent cock through the filthy, cumstiff denim of his overalls, until they arrived in front of a rundown apartment building where Aaron had arranged a room for Brent to live in. He was family after all, and Brent was a man now. It was time he had a place of his own, not a life in a college dorm. Aaron carried him upstairs and inside, where he gave him a bath, one last fuck, and laid him down to sleep it off. He left a couple thousand dollars and a note on the nightstand, then climbed back into the truck and sped off again.

Brent slept for nearly two days straight, and when he finally did wake up, it was with the sensation that the past month must have been a dream, but the knowledge that it most certainly wasn’t. He saw the note and cash next to him, and puzzled over what was written there. The words were all in his head still, but he had to search for them.

Money for bills. If this is what you want, keep at it, but you’ll always have a home with us. See you next summer.

Love,

Master Mitch, Cousin Aaron and Dad

There was some lasting damage. Brent’s hair never did grow back in, his scalp now smooth for life. Over the summer, he grew out a goatee, preferring to have some hair on his face than none at all. He’d gained close to one hundred pounds that month, and couldn’t shed it for the life of him. Some of the piercings would come out but the septum ring was impossible to remove–it was jointless, and nothing he tried could cut it away. The tattoos faded over time, but his memories didn’t. He’d lost his assistantship after going missing for a month, but he returned to class in the fall, desperate to pick up where he’d left off, trying not to think about the reunion, trying not to think about Aaron, and Mitch, and his Dad’s thick, raunchy cock.

The horniness was, at times, unbearable. Money kept arriving from his family, which allowed him to live alone in the apartment with a substantial amount left over for him to spend as he wanted. He splurged on food, and gained another twenty pounds by December, the 250 on his short frame giving him a firm beach ball that he waddled in front of him everywhere he went. On the worst nights, he was reduced to climbing into the bathtub and soaking himself down with his own piss, grunting and snorting, fucking himself with the largest dildos he could buy, cumming over and over again, but he held out. This life grew to something close to normal for him. The urges grew less intense over time–he found that if he skipped showering his normal musk would keep his lust satisfied enough that he would only go whole hog every couple of months.

The spring of his junior year came and went, and after his finals Aaron arrived to take him to the reunion. Brent didn’t resist–he was all too happy to be back in his leather gear, Master Mick leading him around the camp on his leash, drinking down his uncles’ and cousins’ piss, fucked at both ends, stuffed with food all the time, everyone’s favorite pig on the compound. A month later, it was back to his life, but now he found himself missing his family. It was lonely here, without them. He told himself that this was for the best, that he had to make something of himself, but he couldn’t escape his family anymore. He would be dragged back in every year whether he liked it or not, so why keep at it? Why make something of himself that he couldn’t be?

He slipped badly, that fall. There was construction happening all over campus, and this one roughneck, fuck, he had Brent drooling, and Brent’s attention drew them together, even though the worker insisted to himself that he was still straight, even while he had his cock buried in Brent’s ass. He fucked the pig back behind the student union building by the dumpsters every day, and the pig was all too happy to clean off his scummy cock afterwards. Brent found his fantasies overwhelming them both, before long. Zach, his new master, stopped showering and moved into Aaron’s apartment. He quit his job and they became staples at the city’s leather and biker bars. The entire apartment was soon trashed, as they fucked day and night. Brent tried to end it a few times, but he’d already ceded too much will and control to this stranger in a desperate bid to end the loneliness. He stopped pretending in January, and refused to enroll for his final semester.

They spiralled deeper down, and six months later, when Aaron arrived, he found Brent sucking Zach’s cock in the filthy living room. He was covered with tattoos now, his piggy cock locked up in chastity. Without any stimulation, his brain was turning to mush, but he didn’t need to think. His family could think for him. Zach, shaped by wild fantasies, was now six and a half feet tall, over 400 pounds of bulk, and stank like an outhouse. He smoked cigars and chewed tobacco at a near constant rate, Brent serving as both ashtray and spittoon. “You must be a long lost cousin of mine,” Aaron said to Zach.

“Am I? I don’ remember, fuck pig, suck it–fuck yeah…”

Aaron led Zach and Brent down to the truck, Aaron riding in the bed in a kennel bought for him before they left town, Zach next to Aaron, who filled him in on his new life, and Brent felt the cool air of the highway blow the last remnants of himself apart.

Reunions (Part 4)

[Pictured: Uncle Mitch training his nephew in the garage.]

A few miles away from the family compound, Brent finally spoke up.

“What did they do to you?”

“They didn’t do anythin’ to me. I did it to myself.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fuck you, you…you know what Brent? Fuck you. You don’t want anyone to be happy, and you can’t be happy for anyone. You’re such a whiny fuckin’ faggot.”

“Then why in the fuck did you come get me! I didn’t want to fucking come anyway.”

“Cause we’re family—”

“We aren’t fucking family, you just…I mean, you can’t just, make up family.”

“I’m not making it up, fucker. Yer such an asshole, you know that?”

Brent sulked for a moment, still clutching his bag and not at all sure what he was going to do now. They drove down the gravel drive and Aaron parked next to the trucks already there, and Brent saw Jed and Butch were hanging out, watching people arrive.

“Hey Jed! How’s it hangin’ man?” Aaron shouted as he stepped out of the truck, and Brent looked back in time to see Aaron grab his uncle’s crotch in one hand, shove their big bellies together and lock lips, and he looked on, horrified. Jed was caught completely off guard, but he didn’t push Aaron away—in fact he blushed, and leaned in a bit, so that when Aaron pulled back abruptly Jed fell forward a step to keep his balance and licked his lips.

“Brent, get the fuck out of the truck, come over here and say hello to your uncle.”

Brent was frozen now. He couldn’t get out there, he didn’t know what was going on, he just wanted to go home. Aaron waited a moment for him, and then tromped around the truck, opened the passenger door and dragged him out onto the ground. “Ya little shithead, show some fuckin’ respect for family for once in your goddamn life.”

“Aww, leave the faggot alone,” Jed said, coming around to Aaron and giving his belly a rub, “He just doesn’t get it, and he never will. Now come on Aaron, how about you and I…you know…”

“Latter Jed, promise, but I gotta get this fucker situated before he runs off and hides in the barn like usual.”

Aaron dragged him and his bag over to the pasture proper, Aaron explaining along the way that Trent and him had decided it was high time that Brent joined the rest of the Taylor men, and quit sleeping with the boys like a damn coward. Brent asked if he was going to be sleeping with Aaron, and he laughed. Aaron was bunking with Brent’s dad in the farmhouse—Brent was going to be sleeping with Mitch—his second or third cousin twice removed, who Brent met shortly, a short, thin and very musky redneck at least fifteen years his senior, already reeking of whisky, and he pulled Brent into an uncomfortable hug which lasted several beats too long. Brent immediately decided he would never be sleeping here, even if that meant he stayed awake all week long.

Unlike previous years, the reunion hit full capacity early—the pasture seething with barechested, heavy gutted men by the first day. It was a particularly hot summer, the stench of redneck was overwhelming, but every time Brent tried to worm away from the throng, Aaron was there dragging him back into the thick of it. He fought him at first, but after a particularly fierce backhand broke his nose and left him streaming blood all over his shirt, he relented—allowing Aaron to ply him with other things instead. Against his will, Aaron and three other cousins forced him into a kegstand—he wound up blackout drunk, and woke in his tent in the early morning, wrapped in the arms of Mitch, the older man’s hard cock leaking against Brent’s bare leg, his ass raw and aching. This did not disturb him. For a moment, he pushed back into the smell of his cousin, until he woke up and realized what must have happened.

Disgusted and terrified, he struggled out of Mitch’s grasp and scrambled out into the camp, totally naked, and found himself surrounded by the sounds of sex in every direction. Aaron was up and waiting for him, also naked, hard and starring Brent down across the camp, but he made no effort to approach him—he only wanted to remind him who was really in change here. Brent looked down and realized he was hard too—and still quite drunk from the evening, and he wrapped his hand around the shaft, Aaron grinning at him.

The terror and panic overwhelmed him again. He spun and raced out of the camp, unable to let go of his cock, away from Aaron, hearing men surge out of their tents after him, his old friend leading the charge, and they caught hold of him before he could reach the wooded edge of the clearing, dragging him back, kicking and shouting and screaming and dumping him at Aaron’s feet.

“Please—please stop, why are you doing this to me?”

“Shut the fuck up, faggot, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“With me? What about all of you? You’ve all gone insane!”

Aaron bent down and picked the struggling Brent up under the armpits, kicking and writhing, and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I love you, you stupid faggot, I fuckin’ love you to shit,” Aaron said in his ear, and then started kissing Brent, sucking on his unwilling face, and Brent felt that same sloth he’d felt in the tent. He was still drunk, he was tired and exhausted, and Aaron was warm and sweaty, almost the same temperature as the night air, and he was hard and horny, grinding his cock into Aaron’s gut mindlessly now, kissing back, when without warning Aaron dropped him to the ground.

“Better. Now how about you and Mitch finish getting acquainted? I think he’s going to have to keep you on a shorter lead though, since you have a tendency to run off.”

Brent got up, wiping Aaron’s slobber from his face and tromped off. He knew where to go, but had no idea where he was going. The men watched him round the farmhouse and head towards the side door of the garage, and they all returned to their earlier fucking, now simply coalescing into a large orgy at the center of the pasture, Aaron in the center, his cock buried down Jed’s throat.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Brent felt his mind clear. He turned to leave, to run as far away as he could but a leather hood came down over his entire face, blinding him. He struggled with his attacker, hearing Mitch laugh as he dragged him into the middle of the garage. sawhorses had become slings, wrenches and hammers were now paddles and dildos. “Gonna break you in real good, yeah,” Mitch panted, “Gonna break you in piggy, gonna make me a hot fuckin’ piggy by the end of the week, yeah…”

His mind was clouded again. He fought against it, but he couldn’t get enough air in through the small holes near his nose. The collar Mick forced onto him, while only supple leather, was so heavy Brent collapsed to his knees, and when Mick tugged the leash he felt compelled to crawl after him. A zipper releasing his mouth, something pressed to his lips—something gritty, the toe of a boot. Lick the boot, lick it all, lick it for Aaron, for Mitch, for Dad lick it, lick it good like a good little piggy…

***

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Reunions (Part 3)

[Pictured: Aaron after returning to campus in the fall.]

Brent spent the summer back on campus. He’d spent much of his Freshman year cultivating relationships with several professors in various sciences, and one of them had offered him a research assistantship, which included a small stipend on top of room and board for the summer months. After the near silent ride back from the reunion, Aaron dropped him near the dorm and drove off again, heading home to live with his parents for the summer. Brent wondered what exactly had happened to drive such an invisible wedge between them–he was encouraged when they managed to regain some of their ease of conversation over the next month, chatting on facebook about their plans for the next year, until in early July, shortly after Brent received a tearful call from his mother telling him that his father had left in a rage and promised divorce, Aaron disappeared from the internet, and couldn’t be reached. In some desperation for a ride to visit his mother, he bought a bus ticket out of town, but by the time he arrived home he found she had already seen several doctors for a variety of pain medications and she wandered the trailer in a stupor, tended by two of his sisters who hadn’t yet found some poor match in the trailer park to wed young. With work to do back at the college, he spent a short time consoling her meekly and then returned to campus, hopeful that he might not have to return again.

Aaron remained unresponsive, and Brent assumed his friend was giving him the silent treatment for some unknown reason, but his annoyance turned to concern when he received a message from Aaron’s mother, telling him that after a terrible argument between Aaron and his father, he had left and not returned for two weeks. Since Aaron was legally an adult the police had been no help, and she wanted to know if Brent had seen Aaron at all, but he had no news to give her.

In mid-August, just in time for training camp for the upcoming football season, Aaron rolled into town in his Corolla, mud splattered up to the windows. As soon as Brent heard he was back, he went to find him, and discovered that wherever he’d been for the summer, he’d made some changes while he was there. He was a good fifty to seventy pounds heavier, almost all of it fat, and his moderate southern accent had grown thick and rough. He refused to give Brent any information about where he’d been, and simply said he’d had enough of living at home, and when pressed, he cussed his friend out and stormed off to the dorms to get changed for his first practice.

Between Aaron’s rigorous schedule, and Brent finishing up his summer research work, the next time they spoke was when Brent moved out of the dorm he’d gotten for the summer and back into the one he’d be sharing with Aaron, and discovered that along with his new look, Aaron had let a few other things slip too. He’d only been there two weeks and the room was already trashed–dirty laundry was piled everywhere, beer cans and whisky bottles lined every shelf, and Aaron found a few cellophane wrapped cigars by the window, the same cheap, reeking brand his father smoked.

They fought almost constantly. By the end of the first month, Brent would take any chance he could to get out of the room, and had even taken to sleeping in the dining hall on occasion–one of the few places open all night on campus. Aaron was ornery, aggressive, and unapologetic. The football coaches were unhappy with his weight gain, but with some long hours in the weight room and personal coaching from the assistant coach, Aaron was converting much of the fat to muscle. He stank of smoke and alcohol, refused to shower and clean up after himself. It was a relief, almost, when the homecoming game fiasco struck and Aaron hightailed it off campus.

Not one for sports, Brent was alone in the room while the game was going on, relishing a moment without Aaron around, when his roommate burst into the room, still in his uniform, shaking with rage. After the fact, Brent managed to gather that in the second quarter, Aaron had sacked the opposing team’s quarterback, climbed on him, and started grinding his crotch into the opposing player’s ass, howling and shouting, and he’d been ejected from the game. Aaron was furious, but before Brent could calm him down, there was a knock on the dorm room door. Aaron flung it open to reveal the quarterback he’d nearly raped on the field, and as soon as he saw Aaron, he dropped to his knees and started sucking at the front of Aaron’s uniform pants.

Unable to believe what he was seeing, Brent slipped out of the room and didn’t return until the next morning, where he found the quarterback asleep on Aaron’s bed, ass up, cum leaking onto the mattress, but Aaron was gone. He’d packed a bag in the night and fled. Brent had no idea what to make of the strange two months Aaron had been there, and he tried his best to forget them entirely. However, both the quarterback Aaron had fucked and the assistant coach made it hard, because both of them would show up once or twice a month, usually drunk, asking Brent if he had any idea where Aaron had gone. They looked desperate, like they needed drugs. The assistant coach quit a month later, and the quarterback stopped coming around in December, but the look of need in their eyes was something Brent couldn’t shake.

By the time spring semester arrived, the campus had calmed down, and the story of the homecoming football rape had passed into history and rumor. Brent focused on his school work. His mother had recovered from the shock of the divorce, but Brent hadn’t heard anything from his dad. He decided early that he wouldn’t go to the reunion this year. Besides, he didn’t have a ride to get there anyway, so the point was moot. He’d managed to nab another summer research position, and after finals he moved into his summer dorm. All was fine for a couple of weeks, until someone started banging on his door early one morning.

“Hey Cuzz! Your ride’s here. Get up, ya faggot, or we’re gonna be late to the reunion!”

Brent had no idea who in his family might care enough to drag him all the way across the state to the family reunion, but he knew he was going to tell them to fuck off. He got up and opened the door to the hallway, and found himself facing Aaron, wearing a flannel shirt and grimy overalls, smoking a cigar and grinning. He looked confident. Happy in his own skin. He’d never looked like that before–even towering over nearly everyone on campus, he’d seemed to shrink into the background. Now he managed to fully occupy the space he was in, and the six and a half foot monster, reeking of musk and grime and smoke caused Brent to take a step back, allowing Aaron to step inside and shut the door behind them.

“Where’s your bag? I’ll throw it in the truck.”

“I–I’m not packed…” Brent said, I wasn’t, I mean, I didn’t think…”

“ What do you mean ya ain’t packed?” Aaron said.

He couldn’t go–he couldn’t go, he couldn’t ride with him all the way there, not in a truck, not with that smoke. What had happened to him? Small details were leaping out at him now. The full beard, the tattoos running all the way down his arms and onto the back of his hands. “I can’t, I won’t…”

“You have to, Brent.”

“No–what happened to you? What did they do to you?”

Aaron laughed, and then grabbed Brent’s forearm. “I ain’t leavin’ here without ya, Cuzz. Family comes first, you know that! Now, ya can either pack some shit in the next five minutes, or I can pick ya up in yer boxers and carry ya out to the truck. Yer choice.”

“You’re not even my fucking family! Get the fuck out of here.”

He tried to wrench his arm away but Aaron dragged him closer, looming over him.

“Alright.” Brent said, “alright, I’ll come. But let me pack some stuff and put some clothes on.”

He threw together some clothes in a bag, hands shaking, and they climbed into the pickup and sped off out of town, windows down and neither one speaking to the other. Brent clutched his bag to his chest, dreading this week more than any other in his life. Aaron turned up the country music on the radio, and sped off down the highway at close to ninety, and they reached the family homestead in record time.

Reunions (Part 2)

[Pictured: Brent’s father, Trent, in the garage on the family compound.]

***

Each year there were two Taylor family reunions–one for each gender, held in different places. The woman’s reunion was held at the Holiday Inn at Marysville, and was generally a calmer affair than the men’s reunion at the old family farm. Grandpa Buck (everyone called his Gramps even though most were related in other fashions) had left the farm to a family trust, as a home to any and all of his sons and male progeny, and the number of Taylor men who lived there throughout the year grew steadily, until it sustained a population of fifty year round. For the reunion proper, the numbers swelled to nearly three hundred. The oldest were given spaces in the old farmhouse, which had now been expanded multiple times into a large complex of rooms and annexes. The young boys were given the loft in the barn. Everyone else brought camping gear and pitched their tents on the main four acre pasture, flanked by dense woods on three sides, and the highway on the fourth. It took until the third day for everyone to arrive, but it was on the second day that Aaron noticed the ebb and flow of men in and out of a dense thicket to the south, with the most traffic in the evening. He thought about it all day while keeping Brent company in the barn, but out the loft window he watched them go back and forth, and when he went off for dinner, he instead delved into the thicket.

He sucked two raunchy cocks in rapid succession, and then grabbed some steaks for him and Brent. He ate quickly, and then went back to the thicket, and didn’t return until after midnight. The next day he abandoned Brent entirely, spending almost the entire day in the thicket with the men flowing in and out, and his reputation as a skilled sucker spread through the camp by that afternoon. He was forced to create an alibi–becoming a third cousin to everyone his age, and a distant nephew to everyone older, but by and large he avoided pairing faces to cocks for his own safety. The only cock and face he would remember arrived in the heat of the afternoon lull, a thickset man blundering into the brush–obviously a newbie, and Aaron ambushed him, pulled out his cock, and swallowed it down before the older man could even ask. In the midst, Aaron heard the man mutter, “Fuck you suck better than my fuckin’ wife, just like everyone said. I was gonna tromp in here and beat your ass, but fuck…fuck, I don’t…I mean–how’s that hole of yours, boy?”

He assumed it was just talk. He sucked down the man’s load, and was surprised when he crouched down, breath stinking of cigars, giving Aaron a clear view off his face. “I asked how your hole is, boy.”

Aaron wasn’t sure how to answer–would an affirmative scare him off or entice him? Would playing coy seem endearing or hesitant, would a no make him seem scared or hard to–

“The garage, three in the morning, I’ll be hard as hell and waiting for you.”

One sloppy kiss, and then he was gone. Three in the morning–that was fucking hours from now.

Time didn’t pass in the lazy, sweltering evening, and back in the pasture, he discovered that Brent was out looking for him. With his alibi in place, all he could do was dodge him as best as he could or put himself in a precarious position. He did see Brent get into a shouting match with an older man smoking a cigar, who matched the description Brent had given of his father, Trent. It wasn’t until Aaron had circled around to get into earshot that he saw the face was the same man who’d promised to fuck him that night.

“This is for family only, boy! What the fuck do you think you’re doing, bringing a stranger here?”

“He wanted to come along! I don’t see what the big deal is–all you fucking do is sit around and get wasted all week anyway.”

“Just because you packed yourself off to some fancy college don’t mean I can’t still bend you over for a paddling, shithead.”

“Look, if you see him, just tell him to come find me.”

“If I see him I’m gonna kick his ass to the road!”

Brent puffed himself up for a retort, but instead turned around and stomped off back to the barn loft. Aaron felt bad for abandoning him like this, but he wasn’t sure if he felt bad enough to go see him.

“Hey, Cousin Aaron!” a voice said behind him, and he turned to find two burly roughneck brothers he though he remembered sucking off in the bushes that morning. “Uncle Marty’s got some ribs on the grill. You hungry?”

“Hell yeah,” Aaron said, but checked over his shoulder to make sure Brent was gone before following his cousins for dinner. They fed him dessert in the thicket, but even then it was only dusk, and nervous, he started drinking beers, getting drunker than he’d intended before midnight.

Few people were still partying in the open, but the bushes were rustling even though the wind was still. Aaron sat up in a chair next to a cooling grill as men had peeled away to return to their tents or sneak off for their own time. Alone, he checked his watch nearly every minute, and at quarter till three he slipped past snoring tents and over to the country house proper. Around the side of the garage a side door was propped open–inside through a haze of smoke he saw Brent’s dad, shirt unbuttoned to the waist of his jeans, waiting for him.

He was on his knees, face pushed against that firm, hairy gut. The air in the garage was stuffy and still held in all the heat from the day, pulling the sweat out of them both, their scent mingling with the smell of sawdust and diesel.

“Get up, fuckin’ get up, man.”

Trent yanked him up by the collar and kissed him, his tongue explored Aaron’s entire face, the cigar spit coating and mucking his eyes and nose, but he was so hard he didn’t care, he yanked off the flannel shirt and pulled him close, rubbing his smooth belly against the man’s thick gut. Trent pulled off Aaron’s shirt, one hand squeezing down the front of Aaron’s jeans, groping his cock, dragging him over to a sawhorse and bending Aaron over it, letting him drop his pants and briefs, and then Brent’s dad gave Aaron’s hole the same slobbery treatment, eating him out hungrily for close to half an hour, shoving his tongue deeper each time, Aaron moaning and pushing back and opening up for him, so that when he’d finally eaten enough of the boy’s hole, his cock slid right in all the way up to the hilt, and he licked his bearded lips as he rammed it in deeper with each thrust.

Aaron’s head was fuzzy with the smoke now. He couldn’t seem to get a full breath into his lungs, he couldn’t seem to keep his heart from racing away in his ears. Trent started jacking him off as he fucked, but his grip was too tight and he jerked too slow to do much for him. Still, the cock head grinding up against his prostate sent him over the edge in due time, spraying his cum all over the concrete floor.

Trent cuddled with Aaron on a beat up couch for a while. They shared a cigar, but didn’t say much. Aaron left the garage not too long after that, with the early summer dawn tinging the sky and dimming the stars, and he crept back up to the barn loft. Brent was awake, but he said nothing to him as his friend slipped into the sleeping bag next to him, facing away. What was there to say? He didn’t want to know where he’d been going the past couple of days, he didn’t want to know. He felt betrayed. The next morning, when Aaron sensed that Brent was unhappy not just with the reunion but with him, but instead of trying to console him he abandoned him again and dove back into the thicket. Trent was in the garage every night after their first fuck and their sessions grew increasingly longer, until the final night they fucked from dusk until well past the roosters had crowed.

Aaron finally returned to the loft, stinking of smoke and sex and booze. Brent was already packed, and waited in silence for his friend to throw his gear together so they could leave. Aaron started for the car, but Brent told him he needed to say goodbye to his father before leaving, and suggested Aaron meet him before they left.

“That’s really, I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Just real quick. If I don’t say goodbye he’ll beat my ass later.”

Trent and Brent had a short, terse conversation, his father more dismissive and gruff than Aaron had seen earlier, and Brent stormed off. Aaron realized Trent had driven him away on purpose, when Trent got close to him, breath hot.

“So you’re my faggot son’s roommate?”

“Yeah, I mean, but…”

“Where you livin’ this summer? Never had a hole as nice as yours, and my bitch wife won’t give me anal. Gonna divorce the cunt this month, ‘n I’ll need a place to park my dick.”

“I mean, look, I just…do you think it’s a good idea, I mean–”

Trent pulled Aaron close and gave him a deep kiss. “Next month, I’ll be livin’ here. Bitch can keep the trailer, I want you. Come stay with me, ‘nephew’. We’ll have a nice time.”

The two hour drive back to the city was silent. Aaron couldn’t seem to slow his breathing the whole way there, and Brent couldn’t drag anything out of him. He’d ruined it, his one friendship, Brent thought. No, his family had ruined it, somehow, just like everything else. Everything was broken. You only assume things are whole because you discover the cracks long after the damage has already been done.

***

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