Tag: redneck

Of Favors and Family (Part 4)

“Well Jeremiah, I’m gonna level with you. You’re a bit late with the blackmail, because your dad is already threatening the same thing, and honestly? His word in my favor is going to count quite a bit more than the words of you and your friends, whether you have a tape or not.”

Jeremiah went a bit pale at that, but didn’t say anything.

“But I’ll tell you what–maybe we can come to a compromise. You won’t have to go to war, and your dad will think you’ve gone to war. Wait a couple of years, come back, honorably discharged, and everything will be just fine.”

“How the hell is that going to work?”

“I grew up around here–still have lots of my family pack living up in the hills around here. They keep to themselves–I’m the only one around here who even knows where they live. You stay with them, and I’ll cover for you here.”

“Bullshit, I’m not going to live in the fucking hills with a bunch of dumb mutts!”

“Well, even if you stay here, you really think your dad is gonna stop trying to get you sent off? You’re going to war one way or another, whether I get you there, or someone else. You’re going to have to give up something, if you don’t want to die in Vietnam–because trust me, I know, when I send a boy off, if I’m sending him to die–and you wouldn’t last very long–and I have seen a great many young men in my office, and my accuracy would haunt you, trust me.”

Jeremiah was weakening, and Wade refused to budge. In the end, he gave in, signed the enlistment form, but didn’t get on the bus with the rest of the recruits at four in the afternoon. Instead, he called his friends, told them he was going into hiding, but to hide the tape in case anything happened to him, and then got in Wade’s car and drove off into the hills.

He’d told him to wait in the car. That had been close to half an hour ago, and Jeremiah was growing more and more suspicious by the minute that all of this was bullshit cooked up by this idiot recruiter to buy himself more time. They’d been driving for hours now, following twisting back roads up hills and back down into valleys, going deeper into the country than Jeremiah had ever been himself, where his nannies had told him when he was younger feral packs of hounds and wolves still roamed around, looking for trouble. Those had all just been stories of course, but there were old families out here–hell, Jeremiah knew he came from a few of them himself. All the hounds in the city could trace themselves back here one way or another, Wade too, he was sure. But why park here, and tell him to sit tight? He had no idea where he was, he had no way to get help. He was starting to wonder if he was the idiot for agreeing to these terms at all.

The sun was setting, but he couldn’t see it behind the ridge. He was already in shadow down here, the light growing dimmer with each passing minute. They hadn’t eaten all day long, and his stomach kept growling louder each time. Could he really do this? Live out here in the sticks? Now that he was here, it just seemed…so damn uncivilized. It…only had to be for a little while. Long enough for his dad to think he really was shipped off, and then he could come back down and just skip town for a while, live with some sympathetic family one state over. Just a couple of months, and then he could have a normal life again.

There was a rustle of brush, and then Wade turned the corner on the dirt road, hauling ass, hat in hand. He slid to a stop by the car, nearly losing his footing, then climbed in, fumbling with his keys.

“Are–what happened?”

“Shut the fuck up, and keep your head down.”

Jeremiah didn’t know what to think of that, until he heard the gunshot in the near distance, followed by a whoop.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Family issues, get your damn head down!”

The car started up, and Wade through it in reverse. A few overall clad cur-looking hounds bounded onto the road, holding rifles and shotguns, and leveled them at the car as it rolled back. Then, Jeremiah finally got down. They were lucky–none of the windows ended up getting busted out. Wade was sure it was meant more to scare him off than actually hurt him–he was, after all, family…just not as close to family as he might have been when he was younger. He’d been hoping for a slightly more sympathetic ear, but the great uncle who had been the local alpha a decade back had passed on, leaving his much more…aggressive son to take the helm of the family. The negotiation had started strong, until the alpha wanted to test the newcomer for the purity of his bloodline, and Wade had made…a misstep or two, and now he was rolling back down the road, night falling, cursing himself for being an idiot.

“What the fuck–are those the fucks you were going to have me stay with?”

“I never said it was going to be a hotel.”

“They were fucking shooting at us!”

“Well, usually they’re a bit more welcoming to family.”

Wade slid the car to a halt, now that he was sure the pack wasn’t following them, and sighed, wondering what to do now. There were a few other pockets of family around that he could check on, but he’d thought this one might be most…accommodating, and now that he’d riled up one part of the family, leaving Jeremiah with another chunk was liable to rekindle old feuds.

“I’m done with this–take me home,” Jeremiah said.

“This is not a deal you can back out off just because you’re a little uncomfortable now.”

“Look at those crazy fucks! I’m not staying with them!”

“Boy, if you go back now, your daddy will ship you off himself.”

“If you don’t take me back, then I’ll make sure that tape sees the light of day, as soon as I get word to my friends.”

“Yeah? And how the fuck do you plan on getting back there?” Wade said.

Jeremiah just glared at him, and then got out of the car. “I’ll fucking walk.”

Wade…had not expected that, and so he didn’t quite know what to say. Walking back was impossible of course–they were a good 20 miles away from town at this point, and he knew Jeremiah hadn’t been paying well enough attention to get back there. He couldn’t risk it though–and he also…well, he might be alright with the cocky brat getting a limb blown off in the jungle, half a world away, but the thought of him getting lost and dying in the woods (and with it being far more directly his own fault) wasn’t something he wanted to live with. Wade got out of the car, and started after him. “Hey–get your ass back here, we had a fucking deal boy.”

“The deal is off, faggot–I’m done. Once I get back there, the whole fucking town is going to know what a pervert you are, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Wade growled, and wished he’d brought his pistol along–not to hurt him, but a shot between his legs would do more to straighten the boy out than pretty much anything else. He felt the cuffs there on his belt…Jeremiah was younger than him, and probably a bit more fit…but he had a feeling he wasn’t particularly used to roughhousing. Wade on the other hand–well he had too much at stake to lose. He charged at Jeremiah’s back and slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground where they rolled about and tussled. Jeremiah was surprised that someone would dare attack him–anyone, and when Wade landed a paw across his face, leaving a nice scratch across his cheek–he just laid there, stunned. Pain, apparently, wasn’t something he was accustomed to. It gave Wade an opening, and he rolled him over and cuffed him on the ground, panting a bit…and his cock hard in his uniform slacks.

“You fucking piece of shit, get these fucking things off of me?”

Wade just watched him squirm there, and fuck, if it wasn’t turning him on something fierce. He’d only cuffed a few boys in the past, usually one’s he’d already broken in, or who were enjoying the treatment themselves, and every time, it had been…a rush. But what could he do? They were in the middle of the woods, night falling…and he wanted that ass, badly. He’d wanted that ass this whole time, but had been restraining himself out of a sense of respect for Jeremiah and his father–well, his respect had run out, and Wade had a feeling a good, rough fuck would put the runt in his place faster than words could anyway.

Jeremiah had managed to push himself up onto his knees, and Wade shoved him back down, snout first, into the dirt, and then got on top of him. Jeremiah began to struggle further, now that he could more…directly feel the older man’s erection, and he started to shout for help.

“Who the hell do you think is going to come save you boy?” Wade said, “Everyone out here is my kin–not yours. They won’t take too kindly to a racket like that–but I’ll be in the car and gone, and it’ll just be you out here, cuffed and alone…and shoot you in the back is the kindest they can be to an outsider like you–trust me. I know all the old stories…”

Wade tugged down Jeremiah’s pants and underwear, running one of his claws up the boy’s crack, feeling him shiver. He undid the fly of his pants, and his cock was already hard and out of its sheath–he thought about warming the boy up…but he didn’t deserve it, and honestly, Wade liked hearing them shout, and beg, and pull away from him. It made it all the more exciting. He pressed the head to Jeremiah’s ring, and felt the boy try and crawl away–he didn’t get far, and Wade bore down, sliding the head in, and then the shaft, shuddering with pleasure as jeremiah started shouting in pain and anger. Wade ground the boy’s snout into the dirt, hard enough to make him shut up, and started fucking him, driving his cock in deeper, inch by inch, with each thrust, panting as he did, feeling how close he was. “Maybe I should just take you home with me boy instead–keep you in my basement. You have a real nice hole, I have to say. Better than Ashton and Dusty–I’ll be sure to tell them that, next time I see them.”

Jeremiah was whining now, just wanting it to be over. It was…less sexy, but probably better. Wade pumped a little faster, pulled out, and nutted all over his ass, tugging his pants back up, watching the cum seep into the fabric in the twilight, before hauling the boy upright, and half dragging him back to the car, and shoving him in the backseat.

The fuck had helped clear his mind, and had also brought back some…memories, of fucking in these woods with his family, usually during family reunions that seemed to be happening less and less as of late. Still, when he’d been a cub, around Jeremiah’s age or a bit younger, he and his cousins had run off regularly to go “exploring”, though they spent most of their time exploring each other some days. But one memory in particular stood out to him–of his third cousin, Bart, once removed (that is, his great great grand aunt’s grandson–one generation older than he was) had caught him and another boy playing…and joined in. He’d…particularly enjoyed fucking Wade that afternoon, but he seemed to have a thing for cubs around that age–around Jeremiah’s age. He’d be pushing sixty at this point, but Wade knew he lived alone, and that he was on generally good terms with the rest of the family. He’d probably be more than willing to keep an eye on Jeremiah, especially if he could get a fuck out of it. Sure, giving Jeremiah to his family as a sex slave was going to…complicate returning him later, but he was low on options, and as far as he was concerned, Jeremiah deserved it.

He put the car in gear, and drove off again–thankfully, Bart’s shack wasn’t too far off from here–assuming he still lived there. Then again, Bart’s family had lived there for ages, though Bart was, as far as Wade could recall, the last of the line. He took a little too firmly to cock, to be able to pick out a wife and bed her for an heir–or maybe that had changed too, in the last few years. Still, he was an old hound, and particularly stubborn, as far as Wade could recall. He doubted much would have changed.

The Three Daddies and a Spoiled Brat (Caption Sketch)

From the right: Me, Jeb, Nate and Mitch

The four of us were on our way to Jeb’s parent’s cabin for the weekend, and we were getting there late, so we stopped at a bar along the way to get some food, and a drink. Now, I’m the only one of us who was under 21, but I had my fake ID with me. I don’t fuckin’ know how that old cunt knew it was fake, but when she refused to serve us…I got pissed, and maybe I said something I shouldn’t have. I didn’t fuckin’ faze her though–she just stared at me, and I felt this…chill run down my spine, and then she looked at my three friends, and told us to get the fuck out of her bar. We…did, but as I was leaving, she whispered to me, “If you want to act like a spoiled baby, you might as well be one.”

I felt weird for the rest of the drive. We all did, really. No one said much of anything, and we were all hungry, and I felt dumb for making a scene, and for being called out by some old bitch. We got to the cabin and started unloading, but as we did, I noticed that something was off about all of my friends. They seemed…older. Mitch had some grey hair in his beard, and his hair was receding. Nate’s beard was a bit longer, and he seemed chubbier than he had before. It was about that time, that I realized the crotch of my jeans felt warm, and when I looked down, I realized I had pissed my pants without even noticing.

Horrified, I ran inside to the bathroom, stripped out of my pants and got cleaned up–hoping no one had noticed. It took me about…half an hour? I walked back out, and found all three of my friends on the couch–fucking making out with each other like a bunch of fags! That, and all of them were white haired, and had stripped down to their underwear, showing off their hairy, chubby bodies, and I was so stunned that I fell down–and I couldn’t stand back up, no matter how hard I tried, and…and I fucking started to cry.

My three friends on the couch in the cabin, shifting

Jeb told me everything was ok, but before I could stop him, he put me in a diaper! I couldn’t even speak, everything came out as gibberish, and I watched all of my daddies having sex…and I got jealous. I got hard in my fucking diaper, and started groping myself, and when Daddy Nate saw, they gave me a spanking for being a naughty baby, and put these damn mitts on my hands! I just wanted to be a big boy like my daddies, but I was so naughty, all I could do was work myself into a fit of horniness.

Me the next morning, after falling asleep finally, still hard as a rock in my diaper

Thankfully, after the weekend, we all changed back–mostly. I…still have to wear a diaper, I can’t control it, and the only people who can change it are…are my daddies. Whenever I’m with them, they get old again, but they hate it–and they’re all avoiding me, but I don’t have a choice! I…I need to go back, and beg her to fix this, but I’m terrified. Terrified…she might just make it even worse. But what choice to we have?


My Summer Job (Caption Sketch)

Trevor had just graduated from high school, and had the summer stretching out ahead of him–his last summer stuck here in this small, rural town, before he went off to college in the fall, which, he hoped would let him get out of this place forever. However, college was…expensive, and while he had a good amount of assistance, he needed cash too. However, the town was…not in the greatest of financial shape, and so it was difficult finding a job. In the end, he just advertised around town as willing to do whatever work people might have for him on his property, and it ended up working out well–at least, until he drove out to Arthur Johnson’s rundown old lot a ways outside of town.

Arthur was well known as a bit of a loner, and he wasn’t seen around town very often. Trevor was nervous, but the old man greeted him warmly enough, shirtless and smoking a cigar in the already hot morning, and set Trevor to work clearing blackberry bushes from the side of his house. After a few hours, Trevor was exhausted, and when Arthur offered him a break and some lunch, he was more than happy to take him up on the offer. After they’d eaten, Arthur also offered him a smoke–Trevor had never smoked a cigar before, but smelling Arthur’s all day long had…piqued his interest. Arthur showed him how to punch and light it, and Trevor took the opportunity, once Arthur had left the room, to take a picture of himself with it, for something to tell his friends later.

A selfie, before the changes.

But a couple of minutes later, he started to feel…a bit strange. Still, he passed it off as nothing important, and got back to work, still smoking, but the stick was making him feel a bit sick, and his head a bit…thick, somehow. He saw Arthur watching him from the porch, smoking as well, and Trevor found himself…aroused, somehow. Still, he pressed on, the nausea passed, and he felt…invigorated. After another couple of hours, Arthur offered him a beer on the porch, and one thing led to another…and Trevor found himself on his knees in front of the fat redneck, sucking his cock, groping his own member, but it felt…strange. A bit shorter than it had been, and hadn’t he had a gut, and…and why was it so hard for him to think, all of a sudden? Arthur fed him a load, and Trevor asked to use his bathroom–and in the mirror, he just stared at himself–at the body he had suddenly. He looked to be in his forties, with a thick goatee, heavily muscled, skin tanned from hours and days working in the sun, with a short, thick cock drooling precum…but was that so wrong? He fiddled with his cock until he came, and as he did, the nausea came back–as did his real body.

He fled, Arthur laughing as he ran off, got in his car and drove off, vowing never to go back there again…but that was before the headaches set in the next day, and the nausea, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to cum, no matter how horny he got. He…could still taste the cigar smoke on his tongue, and a few days later, drived by desperation, he went back to Arthur’s place, took another cigar from him, and spent another day as Arthur’s burly handyman, fixing up his house between servicing Arthur’s cock.

He told himself that he only had to get through the summer…but as time wore on, and he spent more and more time smoking Arthur’s cigars, he found himself…losing his younger identity more and more. His car changed into a beat up pickup full of tools. His body would change back less and less. He couldn’t think as well, and the accent he had grew slower and thicker. No one else seemed to notice a thing–and when the end of August rolled around, he said a tearful goodbye to his mom and dad, but didn’t drive to school–he drove to Arthur’s, knowing that this was the last time he’d ever be his real self again.

Trev, after a day of work, with his old truck.

Trev appeared in town like he’d always been there. He was none too bright, but he could fix pretty much anything that needed fixing, and he was never hurting for work around town as a capable handyman. He lived with Arthur, and everyone suspected they might be a couple of faggots, but no one knew for sure–no one, except for any man who got a good whiff of Trev’s cigar smoke while he was working. Any man who did would find themselves unable to resist using Trev’s holes, filling the stupid, muscular redneck with their cum while Trev begged them for it, always paying him for the pleasure, but forgetting about having done it soon after–but Trev never forgot. Deep inside, Trev knew this was a lie, but he was far too addicted to go back to who he should be, and in time, he learned to accept it, and even, at times, believe it. Still, when he found out he would be spending a week fixing his parent’s roof–he rebelled, as best he could, but Arthur had plenty of ways to put Trev in his place.

And so, Trev found himself passing his father the cigar Arthur had given him. He watched as his father turned into a musky, hairy, big gutted and big dicked redneck biker, who beat Trev into submission before fucking him raw. He tried to deny liking it. He tried, but he couldn’t. And when his dad begged him for another cigar the next day, even knowing what would happen to him, and another the day after that–he knew that Arthur had plans for their little town far beyond just Trev. They both ended up back at Arthur’s that night, Arthur and his brute of a father fucking him senseless…but what could he do? He was just a stupid, weak, hick faggot, like they said he was, and that was all he’d ever be, forever. At least, once Arthur opened his cigar shop, he wouldn’t be the only one–hopefully.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 4)

“You made me like this, don’t forget,” Jay said, as Bruce squealed in panic, desperately trying to move himself with his too short, too weak legs, “You made me! I know I’m right, because I’m just a reflection of you–you wouldn’t have made me want this, if you didn’t want it too, but you’re just too stubborn to understand your own head! I know what’s best! I know what you really want! And I’m gonna fucking show you…I’ll…fuck!” Jay said, and stormed out of the barn, slamming the door behind him, leaving Bruce there, squealing still, trapped within his massive, nearly nine hundred pound body, realizing that he had just made things so, so much worse without even trying.

All of this. He’d made all of this. This was all him, every decision, every false step, every idiotic word, every cowardly choice. All of it had led him here, trapped in a relationship with the same man he’d been with before, when he’d been human. Neither of them had changed, just the dressing, just the obsessions. He had to get out of here, he had to get help–but how? He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak–as far as most people were concerned, he probably just looked like a pig–an ugly, strangely shaped pig in some ways, but just a pig at the end of the day. Maybe he’d always been this pig. He gave up for a moment, and just laid there, listening to the farm, listening for Jay, really, wondering what, exactly, he was going to do next.

He…had never seen Jay this angry, he didn’t think. He had been upset when Bruce had left that day, and said he wanted to break up with him. Upset, but not…mad. He’d seemed more upset at himself, than he’d felt angry at Bruce, like he had failed somehow, or angry that he was letting something slip away. Mostly, he’d…done everything he could to avoid alienating Bruce further, he’d left the door wide open to keep going, and that was all Bruce had needed to come back–because all of his protests aside, all the good reasons he had for leaving, he’d always wanted to come back–he just…had never thought it would end with him here.

Time passed again, just as slow as the morning, but now, instead of mildly eager anticipation, all he felt was a dull, muted terror, and the certainty in his gut that all of this, in the end, really was his fault, but even then, he couldn’t quite put everything together, how all of his little weaknesses had compounded together into this nightmare, like the fat pinning him to the earth that he occasionally tested himself against. Denial struggled along anyway. This couldn’t be his fault. Sure, he had made every choice, and every action, that had landed him here. Sure, he was weak, and terrified, and both Jay and Jean had just wanted what was best for him, both of them just wanted him to be happy in the exact way Jay and Jean thought he should be happy, a happiness that terrified Bruce more than just about anything else, because he wasn’t happy. Because happiness would require change, and work, and acknowledging that something inside himself didn’t want to be happy, didn’t think he deserved someone else, didn’t think he should even exist. But this wasn’t his fault, this couldn’t be his fault. It was the app, it was Jean, it was Jay, it was anything else, everything else conspiring against him. But still, he was left pinned there by his own mass, grunting and squealing, wondering if he should cry, wondering if he should scream, he should think of something to tell Jay when he got back, he should be ready to beg, anything other than this mute acceptance, which was all he could seem to muster.

He didn’t have to wait as long this time, at least, before Jay did return, the sound of the barn door creaking open behind him, and he tried to twist his fat neck and see him, Bruce unsure of what either of them was going to do now. He couldn’t see him, though–but he could smell something…something unlike anything he’d smelled before in his life. It smelled like sex, it smelled like beautiful, fragrant desire and rutting and cum and sweat, and unable to stop himself, he was drooling, his cock hardening deep within his flab, and he started rocking back and forth, trying to pleasure himself, even as the smell grew stronger. He could barely focus on anything at all, beyond the smell, when Jay finally rounded Bruce’s massive frame and stood in front of him, only wearing his overall now, but he was no longer the same man who had stormed off from the barn an hour earlier.

Jay had been furious. Furious not so much at Bruce, but at himself. Furious at how weak he was, at how desperate he was, at how this stupid pig could get him so riled up, that even when Jay had all the power in the world, he still felt helpless before Bruce’s terror at himself. He’d gone back to the farmhouse and stared at himself, trying to sort out what he was feeling, wondering about who he had been before this, wondering what he had done to Bruce to make him turn him into this thing. Bruce…had to want this, didn’t he? Bruce had made him! He was just a reflection of Bruce’s desires in the end, right? But if he was just a reflection, then who was he really?

He had to be someone, he had to be someone himself, someone beyond Bruce! He thought about the lonely nights here, after Bruce had abandoned him, how empty he’d felt, how he’d been willing to do anything not to feel that anymore. How everything without Bruce had felt…pointless. He couldn’t go back to that. He couldn’t be without him again, he couldn’t go back to feeling that empty despair, he would kill himself, or he would let Bruce do it for him, undo him, try to bring back whoever had been here before him. But he didn’t want to die. Didn’t he deserve happiness? Didn’t he deserve a chance to get what he wanted out of life?

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 3)

“Well, even if ya don’t want to stay like this tomorrow, I gotta say, that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life, pig,” he said, and stood back up, “How about you? It seemed like you were having a good time.”

Bruce didn’t quite know what to say about it. He had…enjoyed it, he supposed, but then again, he hadn’t really had a choice in the matter. His body had just done what it wanted to do, and he’d just been along for the ride. “I–*grunt*–I did, but…but hell,” he said, paused to shake his face, flinging bits of slop everywhere, “I…it was intense…” was all he could really think to say. He looked back and up at Jay, and saw it wasn’t exactly the effusive praise that Jay was looking for from him, and while he felt bad…what was he supposed to do? Lie? “Look, I…it was hot, yeah, and I…fuck, that was a damn good orgasm, but none of that…was me, you know? I didn’t have any control of myself! I was just so damn hungry, and so horny, and…and is that what you really want from me? Is that it? Is this all I’m really good for, to you?” The question hung in the air, and too late, Bruce realized that he had spoken something that should have never been spoken aloud. It had broken something between them, a contract, one Bruce had only been aware of as subtext–and the look of confusion, and then reproachment on Jay’s face…did not seem to bode well for him, particularly.

“I’m just trying to show you how good things could be if you just let go for a little while!” Jay said, sidestepping the question, “Maybe it’s good that you felt like things were out of your control. Maybe you don’t need to always be wondering if something is right–maybe you can just relax for a while, and do what feels good! What’s so wrong with that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! I liked it, I just…you know what? You weren’t even having sex with me, just now. You were just fucking a pig–a pig you made…me inhabit, a pig though, just an animal. You always told me…you always told me you liked me more because I wasn’t just a pig, but is that…what am I to you, really?” he asked, turning around to face Jay, feeling more hurt the more he thought about it, the more he felt…used, the more he felt like something in this had violated him, somehow. “I think you should change me back now, and…and I’d like…I don’t know, just…not like this.”

“Look, why don’t we just calm down for a little bit. You just told me you liked it!”

“Jay, this…this is a fucked up, and I know you know it. Just change me back, alright, and we can talk about it, but this is fucked!” he shouted, “I know you get off on me acting like an animal, but I didn’t think you literally just wanted to have sex with a fucking pig, you know? Fuck, I…I fucked you up so fucking much, I’m so fucking sorry, I…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I–”

“I didn’t ask to be like this!” Jay shouted over him then, “I don’t know who the fuck I was before this, and you can’t just fucking lord that shit over me, like you fucking know me! At least I fucking know who I am, you know? At least I fucking know what I want! You’re the one who comes crawling back to me. You’re the one who wants this, but is too fucking cowardly to do anything about it!”

“Fuck you! You’re a bigger fucking pig than I ever could be, you know that? Some fucking loser farmer out here, fantasizing about fucking his pigs all day long, so fucking excited that he could make it happen finally. You’re the fucking coward–just go fuck that big hog of yours, and leave me the fuck out of this!” Bruce shouted back. He wanted to get out more, but Jay pulled out the phone from his pocket, moved something around on the app, and he heard the click of the shutter. A moment later, his words dissolved away into nothing more than oinks and squeals–he could still think all the words he wanted to say, but nothing would come out other than pig noises. He quit lunged for Jay’s hand that had the phone, hoping he could grab it with his mouth, but he was much too unwieldy–and after another shutter snap, Bruce could feel his body growing again, piling on even more fat, his gut growing down until it brushed against the ground, and then laid on it, his legs straining, trying to move his sudden mass, but having no luck at all. He was…immobile, and all he could do was squeal and grunt at Jay in anger and frustration, while the farmer looked on at him, scowling and furious–mostly because he knew that Bruce was right, mostly.

Jay…did like pigs. He liked pigs more than people, and always had, but not…for sex. Not until he’d met Bruce, had that bridge been crossed in his mind, and ever since they’d met…he’d been so frustrated. Frustrated by the fact that Bruce was so close to giving into his inner pig at any moment, so close to giving Jay what he needed, and yet…that irritating, fallible, doubting human would somehow always get in the damn way, every time! He just wanted him to let go, he just wanted to show him how happy Bruce could make him, if he just…if he just stopped being so damn human all the damn time. It wasn’t right, what he’d done, he knew that–but it was what he wanted…and to hell with what Bruce wanted, he told himself. Bruce didn’t know what mattered. Bruce wasn’t doing shit with him life. He…owed this to Jay, for what he’d done to him.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 2)

He didn’t have to wait long, at least–Jay headed straight for Bruce’s stall, unlocked it, and swung the gate open. He was dressed in his usual gear for his morning routines–overalls, waders, a flannel shirt. “Sorry for the wait, pig,” he said, “Chores took a bit longer this morning than I expected. Now, how about breakfast?”

Bruce just grunted in affirmation, not really needing words for this, as Jay led him down the row of stalls to a large trough, with several buckets of slop beside it. Bruce bellied right up to the metal, and Jay tipped the buckets into it, and Bruce could barely control himself–the hunger was so damn powerful, he didn’t even think twice about shoving his face right into the muck and chowing down as fast as he could. It was…instinctual. Inside himself, Bruce tried to pull back, tried to contain himself, tried to measure the gluttony that had been growing inside him for the last few hours in the stall, but this body refused to be limited–it wanted food, and it wanted…it wanted to get fucked, and anything else going on inside Bruce’s mind didn’t even matter, beyond those physical demands. He felt Jay run one hand along his back, and Bruce…shuddered, wiggling his tail and his ass, hoping Jay would know what the pig needed–but of course Jay knew what he needed. After all, Jay had made him like this.

Looking down at Bruce, Jay was…ecstatic. It wasn’t everything that he wanted, but he had a whole day to get there. This was the start of it, this is what he wanted Bruce to feel first–he wanted him to give up that control, that constant, aggravating need to constantly hold himself back from the pig he could be, if he just let himself go. So now, he didn’t have a choice. His body would want what his body wanted, and there was nothing that Bruce would be able to do about it, besides enjoy the ride–because Jay knew he was going to enjoy it–he’d make sure of it, one way or another.

“I knew you would make a handsome piebald,” Jay said, running his hand further back, and down Bruce’s quivering rump, “a handsome pig over all, I should say. I’ve been waiting all morning for this pig, you know, been so damn horny, doing my chores, and I bet you are too. Aching for some hot, farmer dick at this point I bet–well how about I make us both feel a bit better, eh?”

Bruce gave a squeal through a snoutful of food, doing his best to signal his desperation, and the moments while Jay undid the fly of his overalls and hauled out his cock seemed to stretch out longer still than the hours spent waiting in his stall. At last, he felt Jay’s cock press against the entrance to his hole, teasing him, forcing Bruce to slide back to fuck himself, pulling himself free of the slop, his hunger pulling him back forward, caught between two instincts he couldn’t reconcile, his mind just a brick of frustration, until at last, Jay thrust into him, forcing him forward, shoving his entire face into the slop, and everything felt…right.

Where time had stretched out for so long before, now each moment felt weightless. He ate. Jay fucked him. His own hard pig cock throbbed beneath him, beating against his gut, and he could feel his balls throbbing and churning, his own load building slowly but surely as well. He lost track of how much he ate, how long Jay fucked him, all that mattered was that he was getting what he needed. Getting what he wanted, more than anything, feeling something he had never experienced before, a complete and utter moment of satisfaction. This was all he’d needed. This was all that he’d ever needed. Food, and a fuck. Is this what Jay wanted him to feel, or is this just the natural result? In any case…it was seductive. He’d felt so many worries for so long, so many concerns that he wasn’t…enough. That his life should hold more than it did, that being happy wasn’t enough, that he wasn’t enough, that his relationships weren’t enough, that his life wasn’t enough. But in that moment, it was. He felt it, that peak, that sensation that everything he needed was met, and he could…rest, perhaps. His mind could rest at least, for the moment, and he could just enjoy the wave of emotion and sensation rushing though him–and then, his cock exploded, and everything else grew even fainter, as the orgasm ripped through him.

His orgasms had always been powerful before, usually holding strong for a few minutes at a time, before ebbing away over another ten minutes or so. This, however, was something else entirely. The pleasure struck him, and just…held there, the intensity not falling away at all, his mind so overwhelmed with sensation that it simply shut off. Bruce didn’t remember what happened for the next half hour or so, because Bruce didn’t really exist for that time. He wasn’t…needed. His body did what it wanted for the next half hour or so–it ate, and kept slamming his ass back against Jay’s cock–and when Bruce became aware of the world again, when there was space inside him to think, he saw that the trough had emptied itself, and he was left licking the metal for scraps he had missed, and Jay was finished fucking him–and from the cum running down the inside of his thighs, had obviously finished inside him at some point while he was gone. Jay was beside him now, at the trough, one arm draped over his broad shoulders, stroking him while he finished eating, and the needs were finally sated enough that he could tear himself away, panting, somehow exhausted, and look at him. Before he could say anything though, Jay leaned in and kissed him, licking some of the slop from the end of his snout, sliding his tongue into Bruce’s mouth, and it was so…gentle, so calming after the whirlwind he’d just been through, that Bruce just kissed him back, enjoying the tenderness they could share for the moment, until Jay pulled away again, grinning that cocky grin of his–obviously thinking he’d already won.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 1)

Bruce didn’t wake up in the bed he’d fallen asleep in–instead, the sun beamed down on him through the thin cracks between the old barn walls, as he began to stir on his bed of straw, stretching out his legs as he opened his eyes. He’d…slept really soundly, harder than he had in a long time, and it took him awhile to realize that he wasn’t imagining things, that he really was out in the barn, alone in a stall, lying on his side here, just thinking about…nothing in particular. After all, he didn’t need to think about anything. All he had to do was wait for breakfast–which would probably be here soon…though he might be able to sleep for a little while longer, if he just shut his eyes and relaxed…

But Bruce didn’t do that, because Bruce could feel that this was off–he could still remember, distantly, that he had fallen asleep in a bed the night before, that everything telling him this was normal was…wrong, somehow. He focused, and things came back to him, slowly–the deal he’d made with Jay coming back into focus, and with a loud grunt, he realized that it had happened! Jay had changed him in the night–he hadn’t even waited for him to wake up to do it. Part of him couldn’t help but feel a bit violated, that he hadn’t even had a chance to prepare for this, but the other part of him was so…well, content, that it was difficult for Bruce to muster the emotional energy to really care. Still, he wanted to see what had changed, exactly–he tried to roll up, but his hands and feet didn’t seem to be working the way they remembered–he focused on his hands, and saw that, well…he didn’t have hands.

Instead of his usual, thick arms, he had legs–two front pig legs, ending with thick black trotters where his hands should be. He bent around, and saw that his legs were also no longer mostly human as they had been–they were just his back legs. It looked like, unless Jay changed his mind later, that Bruce was going to be spending the day on all fours for the time being. Wondering how he’d be able to manage, he went back to trying to roll upright, and it proved easier than he was expecting. His body…knew how to manage well enough with the four legs, and so it was only a few minutes before he was standing on them all, shaking a bit, getting used to the new sensation of his trotters against the ground, and once he was stable, he tried walking.

The stall wasn’t very large, but it was large enough that he could get a few paces back and forth. He only fell down once, when he was trying to hard to make his legs work how he thought they should work, but once he stopped focusing on it so much, it became more natural–this was…just how he walked, after all–or that’s what the new chunk of his mind told him, even though the old Bruce knew it wasn’t true, not really. He took the time to examine the rest of his body, though it was difficult without a mirror, but not too much else seemed to have changed overall–his body seemed a bit chunkier perhaps, but it was hard to tell if that was because of something changing, or just because of how his new body looked, it was hard to tell. One thing that was definitely different was his skin tone. Where before he had been pink all over, his skin was now mottled in a piebald pattern, with large brown spots all over him. He remembered that Jay had told him once how handsome a piebald pig looked, and apparently, handsome had also meant sexy.

He turned circles a couple of times, trying to quell the panic in his chest, but eventually he realized there was nothing he could do, especially without actual hands, and he plopped back down on the straw, figuring he would just have to wait for Jay to come see him, hopefully with breakfast in tow, because one thing Bruce knew for sure was that he was hungry–hungrier than he could ever really recall being, in fact. Left with nothing but his thoughts in the stall, all Bruce could do was think about this, about what Jay wanted out of this exactly. He knew that Bruce had always liked it when Bruce pretended to be a real pig on all fours, but was that what he really wanted from him? To…be a pig? It seemed…simple, somehow, but then, what exactly had he expected Jay to do to him? More importantly, he supposed, did he like it himself? That was the bar, after all–Jay was doing this to show Bruce not only what Jay wanted, but to prove to Bruce that he wanted it too. But so far, the only thing Bruce was feeling was, well, boredom. Well, boredom and hunger, and increasingly, horniness. Perhaps worst of all, there was nothing he could do about any of them.

The minutes ticked by. Or, he imagined them ticking by. He didn’t really have a measure of time in the stall, aside from the impossibly slow shift in the bars of light from the sun on the side of the barn. He got up and paced occasionally, had some water from the basin in the stall, and mostly just…laid around, feeling the needs inside of him building and welling, taking up more and more of his attention, until he wasn’t sure if he was more desperate for food or a fuck, or just both of them together. Mostly, he was just eager for something to happen–why was Jay making him wait? Why just change him and leave him here? Was there some…point to it? Bruce realized, then, the sheer scope of the power he’d handed to Jay when he’d given him the phone and the app. He only had Jay’s word, after all, that he would change him back after today, and while Jay was trustworthy…given the revelations of the day before, who knew what Jay was thinking? He called out, after a while, relieved that he could, at least, still speak words, though his voice had shifted down into something more guttural, and his words were always accompanied by a series of grunts and oinks that he couldn’t control. His cries were never met with an answer though, and so he waited, feeling his stomach churn around an empty pit, his cock and ass aching…and finally, he heard it, the familiar sound of the barn door opening, and he scrambled up onto all fours, squealing, desperate for attention.

The Frat’s Dirty Laundry (Caption Sketch)

I’m posting captions and taking requests for captions over on my discord server for patrons supporting me with at least $5 a month! Here’s a couple from a five part series I wrote for them over there–if you’d like to get access to the rest, and to all the other captions I post there, you can sign up on my Patreon here and get access!

Alpha Beta Sigma was a dirty frat on campus–drugs, rape, drinking and partying–but because all of the young men who belonged to the frat were legacy students, or similarly important to the schools reputation and bottom line, no real punishment ever really came down upon it. Well, one group of students is fed up with it, and has decided to cast a spell over the young men of ABS–from now on, all of their laundry will be as dirty as they are, and they won’t have a choice but to air it out for all to see.

The first young man to fall victim to the curse was Lyle Everston. He was a legacy, the son of a senator from a southern state, and Lyle’s conservative politics were apparent, but well hidden. Still, there had been a rash of hate crimes across campus, and while no one could pin them on Lyle…well, the washer and dryer in the basement of the house knew the truth.

Most of Lyle’s clothes were dry clean only, of course, but he did have some things that he could wash onsite. He went down into the basement, went to pull his clothes out of the dryer…but they weren’t his clothes, and they most certainly were not clean. Instead of his underwear and lounge clothes, he found a pair of filthy beige work pants, some rubber boots caked with mud,a tattered john deere hat and a sleeveless shirt with the rebel flag across the front. They smelled rank, and yet somehow familiar. In a daze, he found himself stepping out of his clothes in the basement, and pulling on the ones from the dryer instead, his physique packing on some muscle, stubble spreading across his face. Part of him fought–but it no longer had control of his body–Lyle was trapped inside himself, watching and feeling his body change, feeling his body start to tug on his cock, a grungy, cheesy foreskin growing up over the head, and he drooled some dark spit onto it to lube it–dark from the tobacco leaf that had appeared in his mouth.

“Hey boy,” a voice growled behind him, “If’n yer gonna tug on that thing, might as well do it o’er here, wit’ yer Pa.”

Lyle spun around, but as he did, the room blurred–he found himself not in the basement, but in a filthy, rundown trailer, and there, on a small couch, lounged…his daddy, his pa. Not the pa he’d had, no, this one was a lazy, fat, nasty piece of redneck trash…just like Lyle was now. Drooling a bit more spit on his cock, he went and sat down next to his Pa, the older man’s thick musk making the boy moan, and it wasn’t long before they were swapping tobacco spit, hands on each others’ cocks, and inside his mind, all Lyle could do was scream.

Slowly, the house began to feel a bit…empty. None of the remaining young men inside could quite understand why it felt empty, why the rooms that had been doubles were now singles, why the common rooms were a little less filled, but laundry–well, laundry always had to get done.

The next young man to try his luck with the washer and dryer was Henry, one of the school’s star football players. He was an egotistical narcissist, assumed he was the paragon of masculinity, meant to be worshiped by everyone–well, by women of course. Men, especially fat men, were there to be ridiculed and humiliated–and so that’s what he spent his time doing, bullying other fellows on campus. However, when he went to pull some of his practice gear out of the dryer…well, it was a jersey that he pulled out, it just wasn’t his.

It also wasn’t the least bit clean–instead, the front of it had all manner of stains on it–food and drink stains as far as he could tell, and the fabric was stretched out, faded, and, well, reeked. Reeked like it had never been washed in ages…but the smell was familiar. It was…his. His smell, of course. Because it was his jersey. He could remember it better now, but he knew he’d have a better memory if he put it on, so he pulled off the undershirt he had on, and pulled on the jersey, and the memories can flooding back to him–as did the horror of what he’d just done to himself, but it was too late.

The jersey was his, of course. But he was no longer a star running back. No, he’d been a linebacker in high school and college, before he’d dropped out, and not a particularly good one, but man, he’d always loved wearing his jersey. It…made him feel young again. He tugged it down, knowing it had fit better than this at one point, but he wasn’t in college anymore. He’d just turned fifty five, in fact, lived in a shabby single wide all by himself, and spent his days working menial labor, and his afternoons and evenings glued to the TV–usually watching sports.

Football was his favorite. He loved watching his crushes on TV, cheering them on, fucking himself when they scored, imagining they were fucking him in celebration. When football season was over, he usually found solace in wrestling instead–but that was for later. The game was almost on, after all. He pulled on his tight, cum crusted sweats, chugged down most of his beer, and headed to the living room to get settled with the rest of the twelve pack and his favorite dildo (one he’d had custom cast to match the hard cock of his greatest football crush), hoping this game would be a damn good one.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Parts 3 & 4)

Jay let go of his wrist, but just stared at him as Bruce backed a couple paces away. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I can’t explain it right now, Jay, I just can’t.”

“You sure as fucking hell can–there’s someone else, ain’t there? What, you had to come back and compare, is that it? Am I just some joke to you, something you can dip in and out of whenever you like? I fucking love you, you fucking pig! I never fucking stopped loving you, and I know you love this too, I know you love me, you love what I can give you that no one else can, but don’t fucking stand there and try and sell me some pigshit line like that.”

“Jay, you just have to believe me.”

“Then ya gotta give me somethin’ to believe. Out with it–just fucking say it already.”

He owed him an explanation. He owed him much, much more than that, but at the very least, he owed him the full story. Whether he believed him or not…well, he couldn’t do anything about that, he supposed. “Fine. Fine, I’ll…try and tell you what happened, what I remember. But you have to believe me. I can…show you proof, but later, once I tell you what happened.”

So they sat down on the porch, and over the next half hour or so, Bruce told Jay what had happened since he’d downloaded the filters app on his phone–or at least, as much as he could recall, since after two resets to reality, things were a bit…muddied. He could recall the broad sweeps at least, how unhappy he had been, how being a pig had felt so much…easier, so much simpler, and how he’d wanted someone who understood that…and so, he’d created Jay. In fantasies at first, but then, the night before, he had…done something he couldn’t easily take back.

“Look…you aren’t supposed to exist, and neither should I. I made both of us, kind of, but it’s more complicated than that. I never asked you, and I’m so fucking sorry, it was so fucking twisted of me to do that, and I…I can fix it, I can contact the company, see if there’s something I can do–”

“Just…show me the program. I wanna see how this thing works.”

Bruce pulled up the program, found a basic filter to give himself an earring, used it, but Jay couldn’t see the difference, and just glowed at Bruce in annoyance. Puzzled, the pig poked around in the settings, and say that he could add others capable of seeing the changes–otherwise, everyone other than him never noticed a thing, even if it changed in front of them. He added Jay to the approved list, used the filter again on his other ear, and Jay just looked at him, amazed.

“Fuck–it’s just…there.”

“Fully healed too, like it’s always been there,” Bruce said, and removed both filters, the gold studs disappearing as easily as they had arrived, “and gone just as easily…usually. What I did to us…that’s more permanent. A lot more permanent, but I can fix it, I know I can, I just need some time, and some space, and…and do you understand?” he asked, pleaded almost, with Jay.

The farmer just looked at him, and at the phone in his lap, silent for a moment. “I don’t think there’s anything to fix.”

“Jay, you can’t…we can’t stay like this.”

Jay looked like he wanted to say something, but held back–not something he was used to doing, and then looked up at the sun in the sky. “I’ve wasted too much time on this shit, I have work I have to get done.”

“How the–it doesn’t fucking matter, Jay! None of this is even real.”

“It’s real to me. Besides, I need some time to think, but before you go off and do anything reckless, and make shit even worse, give me your phone, and your keys.”

“What?”

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you, not until we figure out what we’re gonna do about this. You can help if you want, with the work, or you can wait in the house. We’ll talk about it after dinner.”

“No, I’m not staying here another moment, I just want to go, I want to be normal again, I don’t want to deal with this shit!”

Jay just chuckled at that, and held out his dirty palm. “Give ‘em up, come on.”

That cocky tone always rubbed Bruce the wrong way, like Jay knew what Bruce was going to do before he’d even made up his mind. “How…do I know you won’t do anything to me with it?”

“Have I ever–ever–done something to you, without you saying yes first? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Jay was right about that…but he felt uneasy anyway, getting stuck out here with Jay…again. Still, he did it, passing him his keys and his phone. After all, he was right, in a way. All Bruce had done so far was make a mess of things–maybe with Jay’s help, maybe if he’d just talked to him about this to begin with, talked to whoever Jay had been, none of this would have happened at all.

“Good–now, you wanna help, or wait here? I’m running behind after that story of yours, and I think you owe me a bit of work, for breakfast.” That last bit was tacked on a bit later, implying that Bruce definitely owed him for more than that, and Bruce was happy to help. The thought of sitting around the house, just thinking about what was going to happen next, made him feel a bit sick. Better to be useful at least.

The work went much faster between the two of them. Bruce had always enjoyed the farm work here, it felt so much more fulfilling than anything he’d had to do back in the city, when he could find someone willing to hire him at all. There weren’t many pigs like him around, and most of them…well, they survived, but thriving was harder. Here, everything had always seemed to come so easily to him–at least, when Jay wasn’t busy trying to force him to try some new, stranger idea of his that had occurred to him. After a couple of hours reminiscing to himself, he realized that none of these things had actually happened–all of these memories were lies. After that, he mostly felt uneasy. They finished on time, thankfully, and headed back to the house where Jay set to work making dinner for them both, and Bruce was left waiting. He tried to broach the topic of his phone and keys more than once, but Jay just told him to wait until after they’d eaten. So they ate–another massive meal, just like breakfast, but while Bruce was happy to stuff himself, there was none of the playful banter from that morning. Jay just ate his own portion, not speaking, obviously still thinking about everything.

When dinner finished, they cleared and cleaned up the kitchen, and then Bruce insisted that they talk–and that Jay give him back his phone and his keys. Jay nodded, and handed them back, before showing Bruce into the parlor, and there, he finally spoke about it.

“What were you going to do, when you left here? What was your bright idea exactly?” Jay asked him.

“I just wanted to fix this. I wanted to try and make us who we were before this, before I went and messed everything up like I did. It wasn’t fair, and it was fucking cruel to do this to someone, to just turn him into someone he…he never had a choice.”

“Yeah, that’s true–he didn’t get a choice. But he’s gone now, and I’m here, and so I get a say in this now, don’t I? And you know what I think? I don’t think there’s anything here to fucking fix. I like my life. I like who I am, and I’m not about to let you get rid of me just because you did something shitty to someone else.”

“That person was you though! I know you don’t remember it, but you’re the same.”

“Nah, we ain’t the same. I don’t know anything about him, I only know about myself. So, you wanna fix something? You can fix yourself, if you want, but you don’t get to change me, not unless I say so.”

Bruce didn’t really know how to reply to that, and so he just sat quietly, thinking about it, about what he did.

“But I do have one demand–not one I can enforce, exactly, but I think you fucking owe me, for all of this shit you did. If you really think we’re the same person, then he should get a chance, right? Well, here’s my wager. I want one day with that program, and you. Tomorrow, here. I get one day, and I get to do whatever the hell I want to do to you, I can show you exactly who you should be. Who you want to be, but are too afraid to face. I get one day, and then you get to decide if you want to stay. Hell, you know what? If you don’t want to stay, I’ll let you try and change me back. I’ll let you talk to that other fellow, see what he wants. You want a normal life? Then fine, you can take it. Cause in all honesty, I don’t…fuck, I love you, you fucking pig, and I…I get fuckin’ lonely around here, and nothing has been as good since you left. So give me one day. One day, and if it isn’t the best day of your life…then I don’t really want to be here anyway, I don’t think. How does that sound to you? We got a deal?”

There it was again, that cocky fucking voice, that little smile. The fucker knew he wouldn’t turn him down, because in all honesty, the thought had already occurred to him, thinking about what Jay might…do to him, if he had the filters, and whether he’d…want it to happen or not. It also would give him a chance to put everything right, or at least, close to right, if…if he decided he didn’t want it, in the end. “Alright, it’s a deal.”

“Then I suppose you need to give me that phone, and those keys, back then, don’t ya?”

Bruce got up, and handed the phone back over to Jay, feeling his heart beat quicker as he did, his cock springing up against the front of his pants, and while he hoped Jay hadn’t seen in, when the farmer brushed his hand against it, he knew he’d been found out.

“For someone so adamant that this isn’t what you want, why are you so hard all of a sudden, piggy?”

His mouth was too dry to answer, and part of him wanted Jay to fuck him right here, do whatever he wanted to with the program to him, just…just make him happy, in the end, but that didn’t happen. Jay opened up the app and started poking around in it, and Jay just sat back down, watching him. “So, what are you going to do with it tomorrow?”

“Still not sure yet. Gotta see what kind of options there are. Why don’t you go up to bed? You’ll see what I have in mind when you wake up in the morning.”

Bruce thought about pressing him, seeing if he would give him an idea of what he had in mind at least, but if he knew Jay…Jay had been thinking about this a whole lot longer that Bruce had, and he already knew exactly what he was going to do to him. Given how Bruce tended to react to Jay’s suggestions, it was probably for the best that he not tell him what he had in mind either. In any case…it was just for one day, right? There wasn’t anything he could do to him, really, that would last longer than that–well, now that he had the phone, he supposed he could…but consent was always something that mattered to Jay. He wanted Bruce to want this. He wanted him to believe that Jay knew best…and yeah, Bruce had always wondered if, maybe, Jay was right. If he was pig first, and man second, and not…the other way around. He tossed and turned in the bed upstairs, alone, but eventually the exhaustion from the farm work earlier got the better of him, and he drifted off. Not too long after that, around midnight, Jay let himself in, phone in hand. He would show Bruce what he needed–he’d show him more than that. He’d show Bruce who he was, really, on the inside, who he needed him to be. He just didn’t know that Jay knew better than he did–but after tomorrow, he’d understand. Bruce would understand perfectly.