Curse of the Homophobe (Part 5)

No–no, this isn’t him. This isn’t his life! He was younger, he was younger and he…he lived in the city, and he was going to school…but so many of the details were missing. This life seemed so much more real than that one–he’d let himself get sucked in too far. The pig was sucking on his foot, and he kicked it off, making it squeal, and ran to the bathroom. He needed to be alone, he needed some time to think. The bathroom was filthy, filthier than anything he’d seen before in his life, but he felt so…comfortable in it. He looked at himself, at the hulking, stinking man he’d become, hair everywhere, and he…hated himself. He hated that he’d let himself become this disgusting thing, this thing he’d never wanted to be, and he wanted out.

But do you remember?

Was that his voice? No–he remembered that voice. Is was that darkness, from that night in his room, a room he couldn’t remember, but the darkness he knew very well. It terrified him, the searing laughter in the question. It knew he couldn’t remember, not all of it.

You can’t go back if you don’t remember–just forget it all. Wouldn’t it be easier to stay?

He shook his head, hair flying. He focused on what he could remember. On youth, on…school, of some sort, on sports…he could remember something about sports, and being a jock…or had that been another life? It all seemed so muddled together in his memory, and trying to pull any of it apart only made it seem like it would crumble at any moment. It was working, though. He could feel his body shifting–shrinking somewhat, his mind clearing, the redneck pig farmer slipping away into the dark, back into the spirit that had conjured it. His memory was becoming clearer now. He could remember school–college. College? Hadn’t he been going to high school?

He opened his eyes and saw his face. A face he could recognize better, without all of the hair around him. Younger, but still grungy. He had a short beard now, mostly because he was too lazy to bother with shaving, or really much hygiene at all…right? Hadn’t he been cleaner? It was too hard to remember, and resisting the spirit was too much of a struggle. This wasn’t…right, but it was better. It was what he had. He splashed some water on his face, and the room around him started to twist as well. Still a bathroom, but not the bathroom from the trailer…but also not his own bathroom in the dorm where he lived. Where…was he?

There was a knock on the door. “Hey, sexy fucker–I’ll throw in another 200 if you…leave me something in that toilet.”

His guts twisted–it was Robbie, the filthy construction worker he’d sleep with on occasion because he’d pay him 500 for a fuck–and honesty…Evan did kind of like how much of a filthy pig he was. Didn’t like him enough that he’d fuck him for free of course, but he couldn’t get sex like this from anyone else. Robbie would do anything to lick Evan clean after football practice, among other things…and 200 hundred extra dollars couldn’t hurt. He sat down, did his business, didn’t flush, and then left. Robbie took a look, shoved the 700 into his hand and pushed him out of the apartment, barely giving Evan a chance to get his shorts and shirt back on, and then he was out, his life sorting itself out in his mind as he left the shoddy apartment building where Robbie lived a few blocks from campus, and headed for his dorm.

His memory was clearer now–he could remember better who he’d been–Evan the slender twink, a senior in high school–but the opportunity to get back there had closed. Who he was now was…substantially different, especially physically. His body was packed with muscle and fat, the perfect build for an offensive lineman. He’d aged up, and was a junior in college, on track for a potential pro career, if his sexuality didn’t torpedo things for him. He was also out of the closet–a rarity, and the team kind of hated him for it, but he was so good, no one gave him shit…usually. In fact, walking back to campus, it was the first time he could remember walking anywhere in the city, and no one called him a queer, or a faggot…or even really noticed him much at all. It was a relief in some ways. It meant that the curse was less likely to trigger, if nothing else.

He got a text on his phone, and saw, with some surprise, it was from Curtis. He, apparently, was going to college now too, and had sent him a pic of him naked, bent over, ass to the camera–one of his standard booty calls. Evan’s cock jumped to attention, tenting out the front of his mesh shorts. Even though he’d just plowed Robbie’s fat ass…he could always use a round with Curtis. No one had a hole like his…but he couldn’t. He needed help–someone somewhere had to know about this curse, and how to get rid of it, but where could he go? He didn’t know anything about this stuff, after all. Maybe it would be best to try and forget about it, if there was nothing he could do about it. So he headed for Curtis’ dorm instead, let himself in, and spent the next half hour fucking the twink’s tight hole until it was nice and loose, loving how high the bitch could moan, loving how he could make him beg–loving the power he had. The power he had over both of them now, he supposed, since Robbie was the same…just with different inclinations. No one was going to talk shit about him, not to his face at least. Maybe…maybe he could be safe like this, if he just kept his head down, and didn’t make waves. Maybe the spirit would get tired of him, and go away on its own, if he refused to give it what it wanted.

He did his best, for a few days. He went to practice, and went to class, fucked Curtis regularly, finding the rhythm of this new life. Not once in that time did he hear a slur…and he was beginning to have hope that he might be normal enough now to get through this. The curse was willing to be patient though, because it knew he would hear something soon enough–not even something necessarily directed at him. Someone would be talking about him behind his back–or he would hear a slur directed at someone else he was with. It wouldn’t matter–he’d change again, and the spirit would have its satisfaction.

***

Alright, who’s going to insult him this time?

His preppy, conservative roommate complains about him.
He overhears two coaches talking shit about him after practice.
He and Curtis get stopped by cops after going to a gay bar.
Some ROTC members gossip about him nearby.

Here’s the twitter poll

Here’s the patron poll

Voting ends on Tuesday!

Curse of the Homophobe (Part 3) [Interactive]

“Fuck, I ain’t been this drunk in years, what the fuckin’ *hic* hell?” Robbie slurred. Evan was half carrying, half dragging, him along the sidewalk, back to his truck, feeling buzzed for sure, but he’d drivin’ drunker than this before plenty of times.

“Yeah, well, just be thankful I’m feelin’ generous tonight. Could just leave ya passed out on the sidewalk, let the faggots git ya.”

“Fuck Ev, fuckin’ faggots would be better than the rank stink rollin’ off yer pits.”

“That’s what a real man smells like, one who actually works instead a just standin’ around like a lazy fuck all day,” Evan grumbled, then added, “Ya probably like it anyway, ya smell worse than I do.” When he did, he felt the shiver of the curse roll though him, which he hadn’t felt much at all that day, aside from a few weak, casual remarks. Sure enough, the smell from Robbie grew a bit more intense–and he felt a stirring in his guts. Thankfully they were at his truck so he could unsling Robbie against the passenger side and let him lean there, and get a hold of himself. After all–he had a job to do first, if he wanted out of this awful life.

“Did…smell kinda nice…” Robbie muttered under his breath.

“What the fuck was that?”

Robbie realized what he’d said, and his face went pale, “Nothin’ just…just drunk shit.”

Evan glared at him, and then looked down, “Is your fuckin’ dick hard?”

Robbie looked down, and saw that he had a tent in the front of his jeans, “Just…happens when I get drunk, sometimes…”

“Didn’t realize eight beers could turn you into a faggot,” Evan said, and felt another shiver as he walked around the truck and climbed in, Robbie following suit, trying to wrestle with the feelings of attraction for Evan he’d never expected, but which he could not deny. The truck smelled like Evan–and that did nothing to make his sudden hard-on go away. If anything, all he could think about was how good his pits had smelled before. He scooted over a bit as Evan pulled out, hoping to catch another whiff, and then just…leaned over onto him, feigning he was fainting, got a good sniff before Evan cursed and shoved him back upright. “Fuck! I’m tryin’ tah drive.”

“Can’t…I lean on ya, sleep it off a bit?”

Evan sneered at him, “Tell ya what, faggot–I got a place ya can rest yer head–smells ‘bout as good as my pits, too,” he reached under the wheel while he was stopped at a light, undid his jeans, grabbed Robbie’s face and shoved him into his crotch under the wheel, where the smell of Evan’s piss and cum stained underwear made Robbie release an unexpected moan. Horrified at himself, and knowing how this looked to Evan, he tried to pull away, but Evan shoved him down harder, holding him until he stopped fighting, and then got on the highway–heading for his trailer, rather than Evan’s home. None of his usual bitches would be around this late…and in all honesty, having this faggot all horned up on his stink was turning Evan on in a way he hadn’t quite felt before. He wasn’t a faggot of course–but real men like him could use faggots for whatever they fucking wanted–and faggots at least never whined like bitches did, when he wanted to put it in their ass.

Robbie had stopped fighting, but when Evan saw his hand drifting towards his own cock, he slapped it away. “Get your filthy hand off that thing, faggot–focus on what you really want.”

By the time they reached his trailer, Evan was already hard and leaking, and he could see that Robbie was too, judging from the wet spot on the front of his jeans. He parked and hauled Robbie up by the hair, his beard matted with slobber, eyes dazed with drunkeness and the discovery of new delights. Robbie wiped his lips with the back of one hand, “Didn’t…think you were a fag too…why…this ain’t my place, where–”

Evan snarled and slammed him against the door of the truck, one huge hand around his neck, “I ain’t a fuckin’ fag! I’ve fucked every cunt in a twenty mile radius, and they all want more. You ain’t here cause I’m a fag–yer here because faggot pigs got their own qualities I happen to enjoy. We ain’t the same. I’m a real man, and you’re a faggot. A stupid, nasty minded, perverted pig faggot who’ll do fuckin’ anything to get a taste a real man’s body once in your life–you understand that?”

Robbie nodded, and the shiver ran through them both. “Yes, sir,” he croaked out.

“I could kill you, bury your worthless corpse out here and no one would ever know. No one would care about a worthless fag like you. That means, yer only gettin’ through this if you keep me very happy, and do everything I say–got it faggot?”

Robbie tried to speak, but Evan gripped him tighter, and all he could do was croak. Then he released him, and got out of the truck, leaving Robbie heaving for breath, horrified that as terrified as he was…he was still more turned on by this than he’d ever been in his life. Evan came around, opened the passenger door, grabbed Robbie by the collar of his shirt and hauled him out onto the ground. He started to get up, but Evan planted a heavy work boot on his back, “Pigs crawl in the presence of real men–understand?”

Robbie snorted in agreement, and followed Evan into his trailer on his hands and knees. He was horrified that someone might see him…but did he really care? Anyone who looked at him could see him for what he was. He couldn’t deny it anymore, feeling his heavier gut scraping the gravel as he crawled, smelling the stench of his body around him–but it wasn’t the same as Evan’s scent. Evan…he was a real man, not like him at all. He deserved to be worshiped. He’d…do anything for him, anything he demanded, and as humiliating as that revelation was, he couldn’t deny any of it.

The next few hours passed in a haze for them both. Evan didn’t need to encourage Robbie much further than he had, to get the fledgling pig to give up the last remnants of his self-respect, groveling on the flithy floor of the trailer, begging him to allow the pig to taste his feet, eat out his pits, and wash out his sweaty, hairy crack with his tongue. As he did, Evan felt himself warping too, loving the power of his musk, feeling his body full of strength and vitality even as Robbie seemed to grow fatter and filthier. He ended up filling the pig’s ass with his cock on the bed, making him snort and grunt and beg for more, beg him to go deeper, sealing his fate as he came–but even as the curse’s power ebbed within him, the desire to fuck didn’t. He…could go further. Push the pig further, or hell, go find another pig around here. He knew of a few assholes in the trailer park who could use a little…discipline from a real man like him. He could make a weekend of it. After all, he could always find his way back to himself on Monday….right?

Alright, so, this vote (and others that will follow this one) has a bit of a twist. Because of how this curse works, Evan always has a chance of being trapped in these personas, and the deeper he goes, the more likely he will forget his real self, and be stuck as the curse’s twisted persona for the rest of his life. The first choice below, “pull out now” comes with no risk of him being trapped. Evan will change back, suffer some consequences from his time as a musky construction worker, and will continue on until he gets insulted again by someone else. The other options below will continue along with this persona, each with a risk of trapping him in this persona permanently–which will be a game over for this branch. Not a total ending to the interactive though! I’ll backtrack to the beginning, and we can pick a different path to pursue instead.

Pull out now and change back to himself. (0% risk of ending)
Turn an abusive neighbor into a cuckold. (20% risk)
Some young redneck brothers get a little closer to each other, with his help. (40% risk)
Spend the weekend focused on Robbie, making them both filthier. (60% risk)

Here’s the twitter poll!

Here’s the Patron poll!

Voting ends on Wednesday the 6th!

Curse of the Homophobe (Part 2) [Interactive]

It was pretty close, but the construction workers pulled ahead by a few votes, thanks to everyone over on Patreon.

The next morning, Evan looked at himself in the mirror, at his slightly taller, slightly more muscular self, and tried not to be sick to his stomach. Had he really done that to Curtis? Turned him into a sex-addicted little twink? It didn’t seem possible. Maybe it had all been a dream or something, the whole day…but he knew that was a lie. He could feel the spirit in him still, biding its time, waiting for someone else to trigger the curse. Waiting to change him again, into some new homophobic nightmare.

He tried to get his mom to call into school and say he was sick, but she refused–he had never been that good of an actor, unfortunately. So he got his books and notes together, and decided the best thing he could do would be to just play hookie, and find somewhere safe he could hang out and try and figure out what to do next–but he hit the sidewalk outside his apartment building, and there, waiting for him, was Curtis. Curtis wearing a bright pink tank top, barely long enough to cover his waist, a pair of short jean shorts, hair bleached and coifed, lips pouting, and Evan’s cock throbbed.

“Took you long enough, hot stuff,” Curtis said to him with a smirk, “You never replied to my pic last night.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw it this morning,” Evan said, looking around him, seeing who might see them. With his curse, he couldn’t afford to be around Curtis looking like this–it was an insult waiting to happen.

“Well if we hurry, we can get to our usual spot, come on.”

Usual spot? As they walked–well, Evan walked, but Curtis strutted–he felt memories filling in the gaps. He and Curtis were, for lack of a better word, fuckbuddies. Their usual spot was an abandoned alley on the way to school where Curtis would usually suck Evan off–or if they were feeling bold and extra horny, he’d fuck his tight hole instead. Evan was horrified, but he was so horny, and he could feel the spirit warping things so that when the time came, he wouldn’t be able to resist.

And so, it was a bit of a relief, in some ways, that they passed by a crew of construction workers renovating a building along their route. Talking to themselves, but loud enough that Evan could hear, one of them said, “Look at that kid–those faggots get to them early now. Remember when men were fucking men, like us?”

“Yeah, might as well be a bitch. All the boys these days are just sissy little cocksuckers like that.”

Evan prayed that it wouldn’t affect him, since technically they’d been talking about Curtis, but apparently, to the spirit, any homophobic remark made around him was enough to satisfy the curse. Curtis just flipped off the workers and kept on strutting, while Evan grabbed his stomach, lurched against the wall, and then into a little doorway of a business that was still closed. It was the same as when he’d changed at school the day before–the heat of his muscles expanding, the hair growing in all over him…but there were differences too. He packed on a substantial gut for one thing, and this time, he also grew a thick beard all over his face. The clothes he had on shifted, becoming a grubby, dirt covered shirt and hi-viz vest, some patched up jeans held up by suspenders, and a pair of work boots that had definitely seen better days.

“Fuck! Nah, come on, I ain’t some fuckin’ dumbass worker like them!” he said, looking at himself in the glass, hardly even recognizing the face looking back at him. It was a good mug though–little worse for wear over the years, and missing a couple of teeth, but it gave him character. Let everyone know he was a real man who didn’t turn away from a fight. Evan was receding into the back of his mind, clawing at it, but helpless as the spirit gave him a new reality. He was in his mid-forties, and unlike the rest of the guys on the crew, a confirmed bachelor–not that he didn’t sleep with bitches on occasion, of course. He just preferred life of his own–just him and his trailer in a mobile home park a outside of the city. He told himself that he just didn’t want to deal with women–but the truth was, he much preferred the times he got his cock sucked at the rest areas on the highway, years ago, while he was truckin’, before he got fired for drinking on the road.

Evan hiked up his pants, gave his ass a scratch, then put on his hardhat and walked back to the work site.

“Where the fuck ya been Evan, you lazy fuck?” Robbie said. He was the one who’s insulted them first–and Evan could sense he was the main target of the curse. If he wanted his old body back–he was the one he was going to have to change…somehow.

“Lazy? The only weight you pull ‘round here is that gut of yers,” Evan said, watching Robbie’s stomach balloon out with another fifty pounds. Maybe if he was quick, he could get it over with, and move on.

Before he could do anything else, though, the foreman hollered at them to get back to work, and his persona took over, Evan receding into the background, but never entirely gone. He spent the whole day on the site, part of him loving the work, happy as could be doing manual labor like real men were built to do–but inside, he seethed, and the spirit laughed. When work was over, he tried to catch Robbie alone, but found him with the rest of the guys on the crew getting ready to go out for a beer–it was Friday after all. Evan’s guts churned a bit–if he didn’t change Robbie tonight, he wouldn’t see him until Monday–and that meant a whole weekend spent in his trailer, drinking beer…and probably calling over one of the single hags for a fuck, so he could feel like a man for a bit.

So he went out with the boys, and stuck close to Robbie the whole time–plying him with extra booze, calling him a “lightweight” and getting him plastered. When he called it quits, Evan offered to take him to his truck–but instead piled him into his own, and drove off–already knowing where he was gonna take him, and what he was gonna do to him.

Alright, what sort of treatment is Evan going to give Robbie? Keep in mind, what you choose will also determine the changes Evan suffers too, as he changes him.

They go to a rest area, turns him into a derelict trucker whore.
They go to a biker bar, he becomes a biker gang’s slave pig.
He takes Robbie back to his place, makes him worship his feet and musk.
They stay in the city and he turns him into an old pervert hungry for twinks like Curtis.

Here’s the twitter poll

and here’s the Patron poll

voting ends in two days on Sunday!

My Town (Part 5)

Kyle, Todd’s older brother, had always been a brute. Even when they were kids, long before Todd had realized anything about his sexuality, he had known that, in his family’s house, there was only one true law of power, and that was sheer physical might. Perhaps, had his brother not been such a violent bully, things would have turned out differently for everyone, but as it was, he had never once allowed Todd to forget that Kyle was the one with the might. That the only person who could usurp him was their father, and so, when they were alone, he had no choice but to obey, or face the consequences.

Now that he was an adult, his violence had served his less successfully. He worked in construction, one of the few jobs around here where he could exercise his might, and still hadn’t settled down, despite being nearly thirty, and had instead settled for a series of relationships with young women he’d attempted to beat into submission. If he’d been smarter about it, he likely could have controlled them with it, like a normal abuser, but for Kyle, it was only violence that mattered–even Todd, as a child, had recognized his brother didn’t have the instinct for control, only power. It was a shame really–with more mindful violence, in this town, in this world, he could have been someone.

Instead, he lived in a trailer park, respected only because he remained nominally within their father’s orbit. He worked, and he worked out, and he worked over whatever bitch he happened to be seeing at the moment, who hadn’t yet wised up to his brother’s abusive games, or who had been lured back by his relative charm and occasional stability. The next morning, Todd relaxed around his father’s home, still a bit hungover from the rush of the day before, taking in the changes of his own body the gloves had brought on. It was a curse, allegedly, but to Todd it was a curse he was more than happy to live with. For the first time, looking in the mirror, he saw a man looking back at him, a man he’d always pictured in his head, a body he’d always desired but never been able to achieve. He was horny too, and the gloves were more than happy to encourage that, stroking him gently, but as hard as he tried to push himself over the edge, the gloves held back, merely milking his longer cock to near orgasm. They knew what he had in mind, they knew what they really wanted. Frustrated, he threw on some clothes, now a bit ill-fitting, climbed in his father’s truck and decided to stalk his brother for a bit, until their meeting in the afternoon.

He found him working on some road work downtown, and took up a spot in a small restaurant across the way where he could observe. He was…big, but not as big as he had always seemed in his memories. In fact, he seemed…almost disappointingly small after all of these years–maybe five foot ten, two hundred and twenty pounds. Thick, certainly, but he’d gone a bit to pot as well over the years. In any case, he was no longer the ripped jock stalking him in the hallways of his childhood. Still, the years hadn’t bruised his ego, apparently–he could see how he interacted with everyone on the site, the air of assumed superiority, it had him gritting his teeth, gloves aching to touch and beckon and work on him, but he waited.

He followed him home to his trailer, gave him a few minutes to settle, and then pulled up and parked, taking a moment to light himself a cigar in the cab, the smoke helping to settle his eagerness, and then he got out and walked up to the door. It took Kyle a few moments to answer, and it was clear, when he saw the stranger on the steps, he had absolutely no clue who Todd was–then again, Todd wouldn’t have recognized himself either.

“Who the fuck are you? I ain’t buying anything,” Kyle said, “Get off my property if you don’t want your face beaten in.”

It was a classic line, really. How many times had he said that to Todd when they were kids?

“Come on now Kyle, no time for a brother?” Todd said, and while it took him a couple of seconds to click the gears together, he saw recognition light up his face.

“Holy shit, Todd? What the…you fucking faggot, what the fuck are you even doing back here? Dad’s gonna have a fit if he sees you, you fuck, I oughta kick your fucking ass for showing up here, you piece of shit…”

“Trust me bro, Dad has much bigger worries at the moment–I’m here to see you.”

Todd could see the thought forming in Kyle’s mind, the violence short circuiting the rest of his reasoning, but before he could threaten and then follow through, he reached out one gloved hand and laid it on his brother’s shoulder, and saw his eyes glaze slightly.

“Bro, let me in–we need to have a conversation, don’t you think?”

Kyle found himself nodding, and when Todd gave him a gentle push back, he stepped away from the doorway and let Todd step into the trailer, the screen door shutting behind him.

“How…what the fuck was that?” Kyle asked, shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t worry too much about that,” Todd said, taking a long drag off his cigar and blowing the smoke into the trailer’s air. “Or I suppose, you can worry about that if you want, but trust me Kyle, pretty soon, you won’t be worrying about much of anything anymore.”

He was getting ready to strike. Todd could see all of his tells. He let the fist come flying, and he caught it in one gloves hand, gently, and Kyle let off a groan, his knees giving way in sudden pleasure. “I don’t think you’ll be trying that anymore, bro. We need to find a better way for you to…express yourself, don’t you think? Your fists have done enough talking for a lifetime. I want to hear some moans from now on.”

The Carnival (Part 3)

I already announced that the winner of the first poll was the cow option, and the victor of the runoff poll, by two votes, was the gator option! Hope you enjoy!

“Cowboy!” the audience shouted, and Adam let out a moo of surprise, as his cock and balls began to inflate in front of the entire audience. It was clear he was trying to say something, or object, but the only sounds he could make were low and mooing, and as his genitals inflated, his cock bulging out and filling out with his balls until they were more udder than cock, two short horns pushing out from his forehead, and a thick brass ring appearing in his nose with a click of Dr. Watch’s fingers.

He gave a tug on the ring, and Adam stumbled forward, the intellect draining from his eyes as the rest of his body shifted, losing muscle and gaining fat, especially around the hips, until he had a thick, wide ass, his hands and feet growing together into heavy, useless hooves that he stared at dumbly, certain that something was wrong with him, but no longer smart enough to understand what was even happening to him. The one thing the cowboy was certain of, was that his udder was full–so full that it hurt.

With another moo, he gripped it with his hoof-like hands, hefting it up and letting it all–the slapping sound it made against his thighs was loud enough to be heard throughout the entire auditorium. “Now Mr. Addison, you said you were a farmer, right?” Dr. Watch said to one of the townsfolk.

A man in a suit stepped forward, but when he stepped and nodded, “Yes sir, been on a farm all my life!” The audience laughed–he’d gone up on the stage a banker, but accounts were now the furthest thing from his mind.

“Well, why don’t you help out our cow here. You can milk a cow, can’t you?”

Mr. Addison nodded, Dr. Watch handed him a bucket, and he started squeezing the cowboy’s new udder, and Adam moaned in delight, humping his wide hips as Mr/ Addsion squeezed out his fresh manmilk into the bucket, the whole audience either shrieking in disgust or laughing at the absurdity of it. When the bucket was full, Dr. Watch told Mr. Addison to take a taste–and as he guzzled it–he too began to inflate, the suit bulging against his growing waistline until it could hold no more, and it shredded to pieces, leaving Mr. Addison as naked as the cowboy next to him, weighing almost 400 pounds, licking his milky lips.

Roger had watched all of this in horror, and had tried to move off the stage, but his feet were rooted in place. “One more animal everyone–what do we have to say to Roger here?”

“Gatorboy!”

Roger shuddered, and the first thing everyone noticed was his skin. It dried out immediately, and started to flake and turn into scales, his nails growing into long claws. His frame bulked up substantially, filling out with muscle as his neck disappeared, his face broadening and growing out into a short snout, his mouth filling in with tight rows of sharp fangs, his eyes turning yellow. His legs bowed slightly as a thick tail grew out above his ass, but he ended up taller than he’d been to begin with, and as his human mind faded, a hunter’s instinct took over, and he gazed hungrily over at the cow still full of milk next to him.

However, before he could lunge and go for the kill, someone else slammed into him–the third member of the townsfolk, dressed in only a pair of muddy overalls, tackled him with a whoop and a holler, got him into a headlock and rolled with him all over the stage, to the thrill of the audience.

“See? And you all thought I was crazy for giving our hypnotized hillbilly here a penchant for gator wrestling! Look at Billy Bob go–think he’s gonna break that big ol’ gator, or is the gator gonna break him?”

In the end, Billy Bob came out of top, Dr. Watch handed him a collar, and he forced it around Roger’s neck. Immediately, the gatorboy grew calm, and the big hillbilly hauled his cock free of the muddy overalls, and slid it into the gator’s ass, the lizard humping the stage, his own slimy, reptillian member sliding free of its sheath to rub against the wood of the stage, until it spewed a load of cum in a spectacular climax, along with Adam and Jared still sucking his own cock in a grand finale–and then the lights went down, and the stage was empty.

The frat bros, none of them quite able to believe what they’d just witnessed, hurried out of the tent. Jared, Adam, and Roger were nowhere to be seen…and somehow the group knew that they needed some time to be debriefed by Dr. Watch before they could be released back into the wild again. They would catch up with the group later in the carnival, maybe, or they’d find them back at the house the next morning.

In the meantime, the remainder of the group ended up splitting into two smaller groups, who each headed in a different direction. One group of three headed for the tunnel of love ride, thinking they’d seen some sorority girls head in that direction, while the other three went into the funhouse across from it, to see what they might find in there.

This next poll is going to be a short one! We’ll get to both locations eventually, but which would you like to see first?

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Emptied Out (Part 10)

Leonard had to admit it felt good too. Sliding deep into his son’s filthy ass, but he knew it was a tempting delight, one he needed to resist…but when he tried to pull away, he couldn’t. He didn’t have access to the rest of the body anymore–Leo had managed to lock his mind away in the cock, and as pre-cum leaked out, Leonard felt his strength ebbing more and more.

“Yeah, it feels real good, don’ it? Just let go ‘n enjoy yerself. Don’ worry ‘bout nothin’, I’ll take real good care a yer body fer ya–and yer boy here.”

Leonard tried to rouse himself one last time, for the sake of his son, but he couldn’t–and so he just rode the pleasure, feeling more and more of himself draining away, the pleasure building higher and higher in his balls as Leo fucked Nathan harder and harder. Then, his balls contracted, there was a great wave of pleasure, and he was gone. Leo felt him go, felt his entire body belong to him and him alone, finally, and collapsed on Nathan with a grunt, hugging him close, groping his flabby sides and fat belly. “Damn boy, yer a real good fuck–gonna have to make sure Master let’s me visit ya on occasion, help me blow off some steam while I’m on the road.”

He hefted himself back up and let his cock side from Nathan’s ass with a wet fart, and whistled at the new cock he had, now that he didn’t have to lug around that worthless, stodgy fuck anymore. It was a real man’s cock–nine inches, thick as a beer can, with a thick foreskin hanging over the head, even when it was erect. He rolled Nathan over onto his back and straddled his fat chest. “Here boy, got a treat fer ya–clean off my nasty cock. Make sure ya get under that foreskin fer yer dessert too.”

“Please…” Nathan said, “Please, don’t…just leave. Just leave me be, please, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Leo ran one huge, greasy paw over Nathan’s buzzed scalp and jaw. “But boy, I ain’t ‘bout tah leave ya unsatisfied–that just ain’t mah way. ‘Sides, ya mean tah tell me a dirty pig like you is gonna pass up the oppontunity tah give me a real nice tongue bath?” He drooled a stream of tobacco spit onto Nathan’s chest, and felt the boy’s breath quicken under him. Leo took off his sweaty shirt, revealing a barrel chest covered in hair, and leaned in close. Even from a foot away, Nathan could smell the powerful stink of Leo’s pits, and his nose was drawn to them, licking at them tentatively at first, but with a bit of encouragement from Leo, he dug into them, savoring them in between drags off his fag. Leo hauled off his cowboy boots next, and once Nathan got a sniff of those, there was no going back. He spent half an hour with his face plasted to the soles, giving them long, loving licks from heel to toe, torn between his absolute shame and humiliation, and a lust he could neither articulate or deny.

Leo’s cock didn’t stay down for long, not with Nathan paying him such good attention, and he fucked him again, slower this time, with his real cock–his bigger cock. Nathan tried to hold off, tried to keep his fat from jiggling too much against the head of his dicklet, but it was too much. With a series of snorts he came, pumping the last remaining traces of himself onto the mattress below him, and Nate’s dumb grin spread across his face once again, bucking back harder into Leo’s cock.

In the corner where he’d settled, invisible, Greg watched the former father and son continue to fuck, pleased with the latest additions to his stable. He allowed them to finish, before revealing himself, and walking over to Nate, where he was dazed on hands and knees, feeling empty again. After all, he needed to get filled up one last time, and so Greg filled him in on what sort of life Nate could expect going forward. Greg had lots of daddies, and many of them traveled through the city on occasion–daddies like Leo, who was going to start work as a trucker the next week. Nate was going to be a very good host to all of them, Biff’s little whore boy, satisfying all of them, doing whatever they ordered him to do, and loving every moment of his new life, because it was exactly what he wanted.

They didn’t stay for dinner. Leo and Greg got back in the car, and Leo thanked his Master for the body by giving him a quick blowjob in the cab–Greg enjoyed sex most when he knew they could be discovered, after all, not that anyone would be able to stop him, of course. Leo finished, wiped the cum into his beard, and drove off to the bank. There were some papers that needed to be signed, by “Leonard”, transferring all of his assets to his new young dependent for safe keeping and dispersal, but Leo didn’t want to be rich. No, all Leo wanted was a life on the open road, smoking cigars, dipping, and drinking whiskey, fucking pigs in rest areas, resting his feet in front of some porn on the weekends. It might be an empty life, but for all of Greg’s daddies, it was the only life they could imagine ever wanting.

Emptied Out (Part 9)

Greg opened the door, and there, in the midst of the flithy laundry, on a mattress that reeked of piss, was the fattest, nastiest fucker Leonard had ever seen–but he couldn’t deny it, it was Nathan–it was his son. He rolled over from where he was snacking and looked at the door, “Oh hey! Ya must be daddy’s friends he said were comin’ o’er. Ya…wanna come play with me?”

“Hawt damn boy! That’s one sexy fuckin’ pig, it’ll be a fuckin’ honor tah pump a load in his dirty hole.”

“No! Nathan, Nathan, you have to listen to me, you have to get out of here!”

“Nah boy, just stay right there, and get that ass ready fer some redneck fuckin’.”

“Both of you shut up for a second,” Greg said, and both Leo and Leonard felt their lips knot up, while Greg stepped inside and went to Nate on the bed, pulling a used condom from his pocket. “I’ve been saving this for you, Nate–the little bit I saved of Nathan back before you left, one load of cum you pumped out for me on the couch before Biff arrived. It isn’t much, so be careful with it. Biff told me how fast you lost the rest, so maybe now you understand how important this is a little better.”

Nate didn’t quite know what Greg was talking about, but he did love cum, and so he guzzled down the chilled cum from the condom, and when it hit his guts, Nathan shuddered in horror. He was so fucking filthy, and all the filth he’d done with Biff over the last two weeks…he looked over at his dad in the doorway, or the nasty fucking redneck who had been his dad, and still was his dad…sort of.

“Now, why don’t the two of you spend the afternoon together? Just so you know, if you can refrain from any…funny business, both of you will be back in control, eventually. Somehow, I don’t think you’ll be able to manage, right Leo?”

“Fuckin’ right! I’m fuckin’ that fuckin’ piggy, and gettin’ mah big, nasty fuckin’ redneck cock, just like Master promised me!”

He lunged for the bed, and all Leonard could do was tip him off balance so he missed, and landed among the filthy laundry around the bed. He did his best to keep control of his body–but Leo was horny, and fucking strong willed. It made sense, after all–he was the brains, and Leonard was just the balls. Nathan stayed on the bed, paralyzed. He didn’t know what to do, or even what to believe. He hadn’t had any Nathan in him in so long, the clarity, and the shame, was…horrifying. He didn’t really hate himself this much, did he? He grabbed for another fag and lit it, holding it in shaking fingers, trying to sort out what was real, and what wasn’t. He looked for Greg, but he’d slipped from the room–maybe. With all the control over them that he had, maybe they just couldn’t see him.

Leo smacked himself in the junk. “Ya ain’t in fuckin’ charge no more. Master gave this body tah me, ‘n I happen tah fuckin’ like it! Now, yer gonna get blown intah yer son’s hole, ‘n there ain’t nothin’ ya can do tah stop me.” Leo lunged for the bed again, but Leonard pulled him back, both of them screaming and shouting at each other, but Leo had another idea. Instead of going for the bed, he instead hauled his cock out of his jeans–or Leonard’s cock, since that was the one thing Master hadn’t changed about him yet–and stroked it slowly. Caught off guard, Leonard moaned in sudden, unexpected pleasure. His cock had never felt like that before, but then again, he’d never been entirely in his cock and balls before, had he? Leo just kept stroking, and Leonard lost focus, Leo whispering sweet things to him, telling him he was going to make him feel so good, and he made it onto the bed.

Leonard knew he should stop him, pull him back, but…but he didn’t want Leo to stop touching him. Nathan put up a bit of a struggle, but while Leo was fat, he had much more muscle than Nathan did at this point. “No…no, I…let my dad go, let us go, please let us go…” he said.

Leo slapped him–hard. Harder than Biff had ever hit him, and Nathan just sat on the bed, stunned. “Pig, I can fuck ya real gentle ‘n nice like, right here, right now, ‘n have ya squealin’ in delight, or I can go git the rope outta mah truck, hogtie ya, beat ya, ‘n ream yer ass raw. I don’t care how I gits this load in ya, but it’s goin’ in. Now–ya gonna go easy like?” Nathan looked at the filthy roughneck leering over him, and rolled over, presenting his hole to him. Leo…was kind of sexy, and he…he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He didn’t want to be this, and he didn’t want to think about this anymore–it was too tiring, the horror of it all. It had been so easy just…feeling good, and when Leo slipped the head of Leonard’s cock into Nathan’s ass–it felt like the answer to all of his problems.

Emptied Out (Part 8)

***Three weeks later***

Leonard drove the rusted out pickup truck he’d been forced to trade his Tesla in for, by his fucking boy, into the dilapidated apartment complex. “This is the place?” he asked, “This is where my son is?”

Greg, sitting in the passenger seat beside him nodded. “Yep–I’m true to my word. You’ve done so good for me daddy, doing everything I asked, just so you’d have a chance to see him again.”

Leonard scowled at him–it wasn’t like he’d had much of a choice in any of it. He’d arrived at the college to pick up his son for the summer, and this fucker had been waiting for him, and…and Leonard didn’t know what he’d done to him, but these last three weeks, he’d turned his life upside down. Quit his job, sold his car, started dressing like some hillbilly redneck, drinking cheap whiskey, smoking cigars–usually with a lip full of dip too. He felt like a fucking freak…but if it meant getting him and his son out of this crazy fucker’s grasp, then yeah, he’d put up with it. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t get all of it back soon enough, once he got a chance to call the cops on this faggot. He just wished he could explain why in the hell he couldn’t seem to disobey any of the freaks orders–that, and why he seemed to be remembering less and less of his time with him. He would blank out for hours, and every time he came back and realized it, Greg would be standing there, staring at him with that dumb grin on his face–a dumb grin that seemed a little too clever.

They crossed the complex and made their way to an apartment on the ground floor. Greg didn’t knock, he just pulled his keys out from his pocket (it was a ring with a substantial number of keys, Leonard noticed) unlocked the door, and stepped inside. “Daddy Biff? Where are ya, you fuckin’ nasty pervert?”

The stench made Leonard’s eyes sting, and he gagged. It was horrid–who in the world could live like this, and what was his son doing in a place this filthy? He pushed in after his boy, and Greg shut the door behind him. It was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he did eventually see the massively obese man, Biff he assumed, sprayed out on a couch in front of a TV showing some of the filthiest porn Leonard had ever seen.

“Hot damn, Master, made yerself a handsome one this time. Hope he gets tah hang out here on occasion, wouldn’t mind feelin’ that big beard round my cock, or rubbin’ against my hole,” Biff said, blowing a cloud of smoke in Leonard’s direction.

“We’ll have to see, Biff. Is he back in the bedroom?”

Biff nodded, “Just like ya asked. He’s pretty eager, and bored.”

Greg led the way down a short hallway, and Leonard could hear Biff resume masturbating as they left, moaning and belching as he did. “What the fuck is my son doing here, you fucker?” Leonard said in a hushed voice, “If that pervert laid a hand on Nathan, I’ll make sure you never see daylight again.”

Greg didn’t reply, he just got to the end of the hall, where the door was shut, turned and looked at Leonard. “Alright, your son is through this door. But, before you meet him, I think it’s time we introduce you two.”

“I think I know my own son.”

Greg laughed, “Oh no, you’ll get introduced to him in a moment–no, Leonard, I think it’s time you officially met Leo.”

It was like a curtain had been lifted, one he hadn’t even known was there all this time. The lost memories came back to him, and Leonard realized why he hadn’t had them–it was because they weren’t his at all. They were Leo’s. Leo, the man this fucking boy had been…building in his mind, all this time, and he hadn’t noticed any of it for a second. “Fuck son, ‘bout Gawd damn time ya let me out fer some damn air!”

It was his voice, but it wasn’t. He didn’t have that drawl, he didn’t…want to say that. He’d felt his lips move, and his lungs push air out, but those were Leo’s words, not his. “What…what the fuck did you do to me?”

Greg just smiled at him, “I made myself a new daddy, Leonard–a much better daddy that you could be. Still, there wasn’t enough room for both of you in that head there, so I’m afraid I had to move you, Leonard. You know where you are, right Leo?”

“Sure do, Master!” Leo said in his thick drawl, one hand pointing to his head, “I’m up here, in the brains!”

Greg nodded, “And you know where I had to put you, don’t you Leonard?”

Leonard knew it wasn’t true. It didn’t make sense, it had to be a delusion…but he nodded, gulped, and said, “In…in my balls.”

“And you know why you’ve been having a hard time remembering things, Leonard?”

“B-Because every time we shoot…some of me gets…lost…”

Leo groped himself through his crusty jeans, “Hell yeah, been gettin’ rid a ya seven ’r eight times a day! Master says yer about all dried up now–gonna get a brand new cock ‘n balls once we’re all through wit’ ya.”

Greg nodded. “But I wanted your last to be special, Leonard–some father and son bonding. Here, let’s get that second introduction underway.”

Winter Vacation [Interactive] (Part 11)

The sun rose, but neither Nate nor Brett stirred until it was quite high in the sky, shortly before noon. Still, that wasn’t uncommon–Brett had been up late in his room, watching reruns of Dukes of Hazard, dipping the whole while, and Brett–well, it Brett was a awake, he was usually watching porn and jacking off. Brett didn’t do much else, anymore. With a grunt, he rolled over in his bed, feeling the soggy mattress squish beneath him, reeking of piss and cum. Brett just took a long snort of the fumes, shoved his hand into his underwear and started milking his cock, already excited for the first cum of the day. It was always the best, somehow–he liked to let this one last a bit longer than the rest.

Brett hadn’t weighed himself once since arriving at the house, but if he did, he would have been amazed to discover that he was now cresting 500 pounds. Reaching his cock, however, was getting difficult–but the sensation of his fat shaking, slapping and sloshing around him was heavenly. However, the larger he got, the more he seemed to sweat. Some days, he actually dribbled a trail behind him as he walked, like he’d just emerged from the shower. Still, he never felt dehydrated–if anything, all of the liquid seemed to be coming from inside him, replenishing itself no matter how hot he got–and the same went for his bladder. He seemed to piss every hour, and no matter how large of a piss he let go, he could let off another one, just as large, within an hour. His mattress, which had already been wet when he’d arrived, was now sodden. Whenever he laid down on it, he could hear piss, cum and sweat dribble from it and onto the floor, where it soaked into the clothes piled around him. Still, as large as he was…he wasn’t big enough.

All week, it seemed, Nate had been just ahead of him, always the bigger brother. He hated it–mostly because that meant Nate could order him around, and make him do whatever he wanted. Nate would holler for him across the house, and Brett–so comfortable in his soggy bed, would have to get up, head downstairs into the garage, where Brett would bend him over a bike and fuck him, or dress him up in leather and make him be his slave pig for an hour, or two, or five. Once, however, he’d won. He’d been the big brother, and he dragged Nate upstairs, made him drink his piss and suck his cock all night long, dressing him up in filthy clothes, feed him his dip spit–fuck, that had been amazing. Just thinking about it–he was so close. He came, filling the front of his underwear with a massive load, and sighed. His gut rumbled–and he smelled breakfast on the air. He heaved himself up, shook off his night sweat, and headed downstairs, leaving a trail of wet footprints in his wake.

On the other side of the house, Nate was awake too. He was nearly 550 at this point, a massive, hairy apron sagging down to his thighs. He stepped into his grungy, greasy overalls and pulled them up, feeling his gut grumble. Still–first things first, he packed his bottom lip with chaw, the drool starting to flow into what had become a massive, black beard growing high up his cheeks. The rest of his body was caked with filth–grease, dip spit, cum, and who knew what else, not that he minded at all. A redneck like him ought to be good and filthy, after all. He stepped into some boots, put a stained hat on his head, and headed through the garage to the main house, just as Brett was coming down the stairs. “Mornin’ little bro,” Nate said with a grin.

Brett scowled at him, “Mornin’ big bro.”

“What’s say you ‘n I have some fun in the garage after breakfast? I’m feelin’…might filthy, ‘n I could use a nice tongue bath.”

“What…whatever you say, big bro.” In his head, however, Brett had other ideas. Other, much filthier ideas, if he could just be big enough.

They went into the kitchen together, and found themselves staring at the most massive spread either of them had seen–and a stranger waiting for them as well. Or was he a stranger? It was…their daddy, wasn’t it? But it wasn’t the same daddy they’d had–that daddy had been fat…and kind of stupid. More like a vegetable, really. This daddy had a sharp gleam in his eye, and he was…muscular. “There’s my boys–you two ready for breakfast?”

Brett and Nate nodded, still not quite sure what to make of this change of events.

“Now, I’ve been watching the two of you, you know,” Daddy continued, “your little competition to see who’s the big brother around here, but today–well, let’s just say that whoever the winner is after this meal, isn’t going to be losing the title from now on. If you want to be the big brother, well, you’re going to have to eat like you’ve never eaten before.”

Brett and Nate looked at each other, and then they rushed the table, grabbing for anything they could reach, and shoving it in their face. Occasionally, they would glare at each other, try to shove each other out of the way–and the demon just stood back and watched his boy’s grow. But they weren’t just growing fatter–no. Brett and Nate were both now several inches taller at this point, looming a bit over the table, oblivious to what Daddy’s special meal was doing to them.

Still–there could only be one winner. Who is it going to be? Brett or Nate?

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Muse of Fantasy II – Reconciliation (Part 7)

Oliver could see his eyes softening slightly, and with a gentle touch, he opened up Ed’s mind once again, but this time the image was…fuzzy, and indistinct. They were outside, and standing in something soft, but beyond that, Ed didn’t know quite where he was…but he also know that he was where he belonged.

“Yeah, you’re not a faggot, Ed. But you’re much too horny to not fuck anything, but women make your stomach turn. You don’t want to be anywhere near them, do you?”

Ed shook his head.

“Well, that doesn’t give you many options, does it? Still, you can think of something to fuck, can’t you? Out on the farm?”

Ed just blinked at him–it was clear that the rubber had…destroyed some of his more creative thought, which was fine, he supposed. He didn’t need to be a smart roughneck, after all. Still, why not just give him an illustration? The fantasy around them expanded, and brought in both Will, still on all fours on the bround–as well as the puddle of black cum still dribbling from his hole–but now, the puddle slowly began to squirm to life, and began coating the drone’s body. His legs were shortening, the foot melting and becoming stocky trotters, thighs thickening into a proper rump, and a curly rubber tail popped out above his ass.

“A…A fuckin’ pig?” Ed said.

“A fuckin’ pig exactly,” Oliver said. You’ve always liked animals, haven’t you? Not quite as much as you fantasize about faggots, but you loved fucking pigs, donkeys, dogs, bulls–anything you could get your hands on. It only made sense, right? You can’t fuck a faggot–but they’re basically animals anyway, and that marvelous cum of yours can make them into whatever beast you want them to be.”

The rubber was spreading up Will’s body now, and he was thickening and growing, his torso and chest rounding out into a proper pot belly. He felt…hollow, but the thing enjoyed the feeling–it meant Master would be able to fill it up with whatever he wanted to put inside of him. Swirls of color were forming on him now as well, the black now interspersed with tan spots, becoming a piebald pattern, though the skin was still perfectly shiny and smooth. The one thing that did not change, was his face–which, even though it was covered in rubber, it still seemed…human, to Ed. He couldn’t fuck the face, not if it looked like that, but that piggy hole–yeah, he was excited to fuck that some more. He lumbered over and slid his cock back into the pig’s hole, feeling the rubber beast shove back onto him, eager to please its master, eager to be filled with his rubber cum, storing it for later when the Master might need it.

Oliver admired the scene, and then felt another presence beside him, and he gasped when the slender hand grazed his chin. “Well done, my muse,” Amoredie said, “I like them very much–they will bring much pleasure to the world, I think.”

The blurry fantasy around them slowly began to solidify. The mud surrounding them became a pig pen, and beyond that, a rundown barn, stable, and farm house where Ed lived alone in the country–far enough from civilization to not draw too much attention, but close enough that whenever the need rose, it was just a couple miles to the highway rest areas, where Ed could fuck some pretty little faggot, pump them full of his rubber cum, and drag them back to the farm, to become the beast they deserved to be–just another member of his livestock harem that he cared for and fucked from dawn until dusk.

Ed looked back over his shoulder, pleading one last time for the life he and his husband had lost, but he found himself looking at the most glorious being he’d ever witnessed. He had no idea how to describe them, beyond every fantasy he’d ever had, brought to life, and before he even realized it, his old memories had vanished, leaving him just a simple brutish roughneck, and he turned back to his prize hog and kept on fucking it, rutting with it roughly until he unloaded another huge load of his special cum deep into it’s hollow guts, and then pulled free.

The sun was setting–and he was still plenty horny. Maybe it was time to go find a new faggot–he’d been itching for a big chubby cowboy to go with his bull back in the barn. Invisible to him, both Amoredie and Oliver watched him hop the fence surrounding the pig pen, and the pig settled down into the muck, satisfied for the moment. He got in the truck and headed off down the road towards the highway.

“Yes–this will be a bustling farm, in a few months,” Amoredie said with a giggle, “We’ll have to come back and visit then, I think.”

“A-Anything you want, of course,” Oliver muttered, “I’ll do anything for you–anything to just feel your touch, please, it’s been so long! Show me…let me please you, let me know I’m still worthy of you.”

“Hush now, my muse–you’ve earned my love,” they said, and pulled him to their breast, and he melted into the infinite possibility of existence, and knew nothing but pleasure, once more.