Horny Hugh – Part 2

When Hugh had finished with Evan–now only known as the bar’s regular urinal–he had gone back out into the bar, his cock aching for someone to fuck. This was a rather new sensation for Hugh, whose attitude towards sex was generally ambivalent at best. It wasn’t that it wasn’t enjoyable–it was just…difficult. When you watch porn, you always saw guys behaving so naturally, without inhibition, and Hugh found himself so inhibited, all the time. He overthought everything, caught up trying to understand pleasure rather than experience it. There was…something inside him that wanted it, because he kept trying despite his general failures, but it was like he kept getting in his own way.

It just so happened that there, at the bar, was someone that Hugh wanted to fuck desperately. The man’s name was Josh, and he was just…so strikingly handsome, that the first time Hugh had seen him, he’d wanted him more than any man he’d ever met. Of course, Hugh knew he had no chance–not with a perfect man like that, and so he’d kept his distance, and his desire, in his heart. That hadn’t stopped him from fantasizing about Josh on a regular basis, his fantasies often taking turns that he would have never considered for someone else. It was like…Josh was a key to something. Or, not Josh himself (after all, Hugh had never even spoken to him before tonight, only given him the occasional unreciprocated cruise across the bar on nights they were both there) but the idea of Josh, some perfect…human object to fulfill his desires on. Perhaps that was why he had stayed away so far. The idea and the fantasy could have never matched reality, and the overthinking, inhibited Hugh knew that. Tonight, however, that inhibition was gone–and so he walked right on up to where Josh was standing at the bar, and hit on him–hard.

“Hey sexy, wanna touch my horns?” Hugh said, leaning in. 

Josh looked at him, confused, and then at the horns pushing their way out of Hugh’s head, and the look turned to disgust. “What the fuck man, it’s not Halloween for another six months.”

“Come on, I wanna fuck you.”

Josh backed up, but Hugh came around and cornered him at the bar, leering at him–until someone grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away.

“Is this guy bothering you, baby?”

Hugh spun around, and found himself looking up at a massive figure–easily six foot four, close to two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. This guy was a beast–it looked like he lived at the gym. 

“He’s just drunk, Kyle, let him go.”

Kyle stared at Hugh, and then leaned in slightly, “Leave my boyfriend alone man, he’s not interested,” Kyle said, and shoved Hugh back into the crowd, before moving in and putting one meaty arm around Josh’s waist. Hugh stumbled back and kept himself upright, but the sight of Josh with someone else gave him another feeling he wasn’t quite expecting–jealousy. Violent, vicious jealousy. Not only was the fantasy not the reality, it was so far from what Hugh had wanted that he could barely square it with the lust guiding him. The disconnect and the anger was so strong, that it broke some of whatever mental fever had come over him since his interactions with Evan over the last few days, and he pulled himself back. It wasn’t worth it, he told himself. Josh couldn’t be worth it. Some of him even believed him. But he cast one last look at Josh as he turned away, and that burning, aching lust wasn’t going anywhere, even if his mind was telling him to look elsewhere, anywhere else, for some release.

He didn’t end up having to look far.

“I’ll touch your horns, man,” someone said behind him. Hugh turned around, and saw a twinkish looking fellow grinning up at him. “What are they? Glued on? Pretty sure there’s another horn I’d like to touch too.”

Hugh leered, and leaned down a bit, letting the young guy touch his horns. He expected the same sort of rush he’d gotten from Evan when he’d touched them, but this was different. There was the same sort of sensation of Hugh diving down into the man’s head, looking around for his desires, but where Evan’s had been obvious and immediate, with this guy, there just…weren’t any. Well, there were some–a general desire to be fucked, an attraction to guys–but there wasn’t anything strong enough to hold Hugh’s interest. As he pulled away from the guy, he mostly felt a bit…disappointed. He was still horny though–almost more so, now that someone was actually interested in him. “What do you think? Like those horns? I do have another one for you, if you wanna come back to my place,” Hugh said.

The guy nodded, and they left the bar immediately. Josh and Kyle had watched the whole thing with a bit of disgust, and then went back to their drinks. That was probably the last they’d see of that weirdo, they assumed. But Hugh wouldn’t be letting Josh go that easily–and this distraction wouldn’t keep him busy for long. For Sam, however, the young man heading hope with Hugh–he was about to get filled up in ways he’d never imagined possible.


Sam got to the door of his apartment and shuddered a bit, trying to shake off that strange hookup. Hugh, that had been his name. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, as these things often did. Then he’d gotten his first good look at Hugh’s “third horn” at Hugh’s place–the cock was as heavily modded as the horns on his head must have been, in ways that Sam had never seen before. It looked like someone had implanted barbs underneath the skin, along the entire shaft. It looked…gnarly. As much as Sam enjoyed getting fucked, this wasn’t quite what he had in mind–but it became clear quickly that Hugh wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

He’d dragged Sam into the bedroom, and Sam couldn’t resist him, somehow. There was…a yearning inside Sam that Hugh brought out in him, something he’d never felt before, like a desire to be filled up by something, but when Hugh had started fucking him with that strange cock, the desire hadn’t gone away. Instead, it had gotten stronger. It was like Hugh’s strange cock was making room, hollowing a space out inside Sam’s soul that he hadn’t even realized was there–and the hollower it became, the hornier Sam got, the more Sam wanted to get fucked–even as Hugh was fucking him. Hugh quit at some point without finishing, though he was still rock hard. He had just yawned, and sent Sam on his way–he was done with him. So Sam had left a few hours after midnight, that massive chasm inside him aching still, and he knew full well he wouldn’t get any relief here at home.

Sam lived with his boyfriend, Max. They had a great relationship with one sizable problem–they were both bottoms. Sam could top on occasion, but Max had a rather small cock, and zero interest in anything other than getting plowed. Sam also wasn’t really big enough for Max anyway–his boyfriend mostly got off by being fisted or using one of the massive dildos in his collection of toys. It wasn’t really Sam’s thing–so if he needed to fuck, he’d usually hookup on the weekend and Max would play with his toys alone. It usually worked out fine–but Sam needed something tonight, badly. He went inside, Max was asleep, but as soon as Sam got into the bedroom and got into bed with him, something happened. 

Max woke up, his small cock erect. Sam showed him his ass, and Max happily shoved his cock inside him and fucked him. It wasn’t large, but that didn’t matter. The hole inside his guts that Hugh had created was getting filled by something at last. He didn’t quite know what was filling it exactly, but it was so satisfying that all he could do was collapse onto the mattress and ride the wave of satisfaction until Max finished inside him, collapsed on top of him–both of them not quite sure what had come over them in the moment.

“Thanks, I needed that,” Sam said, and crawled under the covers.

“No luck tonight?” Max asked.

“No, I…it was weird. I’ll tell you in the morning,” Sam said, and it wasn’t too much longer before they were both asleep–though Sam slept fitfully all night long. The dream came on quickly, less a narrative with setting and characters than an onslaught of sensations and needs and drives that manifested inside and outside of him. Always, there was a sensation of something growing inside him, something planted in him by Max, inside the hole Hugh had dug, which was now spreading through him in ways he could barely understand. At times in the night, he would wake in something like a fever dream, humping the bed under him, desperate for release. Other times he would sleep deep, and all he would see was Hugh in the darkness around him, those horns and that cock looming in the unknown distance. Then, he was close, so close he could smell him, the scent of the bar still on him, along with something else, something primal. Then, Hugh was inside him somehow, penetrating him, but not with his cock or his horns, digging around, looking at the thing growing inside him and making little approving noises. “Good, glad someone found a use for you–I’ll check in later, see what else I can do to help…”

And then Sam was surfacing again from the depths of his dream. Blinking, he assumed that this had to be the dream still. The sun was streaming into the apartment bedroom, Max was awake and riding Sam’s cock on the bed, moaning and shuddering and groaning while he did, and Sam joined in. It felt…good. So good for someone to be using him, using his cock, yeah, oh god, he was so horny, he could feel himself on the edge, right on the verge of release, but no matter what Max did, no matter how slow or how fast he fucked up and down on Sam’s cock, release refused to come to him. Max, however, was brought to a series of shuddering orgasms as he hammered his prostate on Sam’s cock, and when he finally pulled himself free, both of them soaked with sweat, there was a puddle of precum all over the bed from Max’s cock.

“Fuck, don’t…don’t stop, I haven’t cum yet, please…” Sam moaned.

Max just smiled at him, “Why would you cum, Sam? You know that big rubber cock of yours can’t cum. That’s just how I like you–always hard, and always eager to fuck,” Max stood up and stretched, “I need something to eat though–then we can keep going.”

Sam just looked at Max, confused, as his boyfriend went into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast, and then down at his cock, still slick with lube. Was this really his cock? Was it…supposed to be his cock? It had been smaller before, hadn’t it? And…and flesh? He reached down, cautiously, and touched the black rubber skin of the shaft, trying to remember what his cock had felt like before, what it had looked like before…but now, all he could think about was this…monstrosity attached to his crotch. It was thicker than a beer can, and had to be at least fourteen inches long. The shaft itself wasn’t smooth, but covered in all sorts of different textures, nubs and waves and veiny sections. It felt…good, stroking it, but not as good as it had felt inside Max’s ass. The sensation was there, but dull, but he was still achingly horny. He reached down and felt his balls, but they were as rubber as the rest of his cock, and didn’t…feel like much of anything. They weren’t important, after all. His cock was important. Fucking was important. He needed to keep fucking–if he wasn’t fucking, then….then what was he even supposed to be doing?

He got up from the bed, his massive cock tugging down on his skin, and he looked down, where the rubber met his skin–his human skin, and he could see lines of black pushing their way up into his crotch, like the roots of an infection, almost. He recognized it then–the thing that his cock was now. It was a toy that he and Max had played with on occasion, a rubber strapon, basically, that slid on over his cock and balls. Max loved it, but Sam had never gotten much out of it, really. All…all he had to do was pull it off, right? And his…his real cock would be under it?

He gripped it, but with all the lube he couldn’t pull it free. He wiped it off, pulled again, and it was like he was trying to actually pull off his cock. The distress was hitting him now, but it was still losing out against the aching need to fuck that had been clinging to him since he woke up. Max…would know what to do, right? He followed his boyfriend out into the kitchen, where he had just dropped a slice of bread into the toaster, and stood in the doorway. “Did…did you put the…cock sleeve on me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I…I can’t get it off.”

“Of course you can’t get it off–it’s your cock silly.”

“No…I mean…I…” Sam stumbled over his words, and couldn’t quite figure out how to deal with Max’s response. “Can…we fuck some more? I can’t think good, I’m too horny.”

“Of course we can fuck some more hon, go wait in the bedroom.”

“Can I…just a little? Now? While you wait for your toast?”

Max sighed at him, and pulled him back into the bedroom. Sam was hopeful, but Max just sat him down on the bed, pulled something out of a drawer, and walked back to where Sam was. “Here, this ought to keep that mouth of yours occupied better. Good toys like you don’t really need mouths anyway, right?”

Sam tried to resist a bit, but Max seemed so much more domineering all of a sudden, and he forced the gag into Sam’s mouth. He saw a cock on one end of it, and expected it to go in his mouth, but instead, Max flipped it around and pushed the other side into his mouth, so that the cock was sticking out–and as soon as it settled in Sam’s mouth…something happened. He could feel the rubber expand in his mouth, almost like it was inflating–forcing his jaw wide. Then, it was more than that–he felt something…sucking on his tongue, like it was pulling it into the cock now sticking out of his mouth. He felt his teeth going numb. Then, he couldn’t feel his mouth anymore, like everything had been filled in with rubber. Max grinned at his confused boyfriend, flicked the cock sticking out of his face, and went back to the kitchen. “Now, be good and wait for me–we’ll try that out in a little bit.”

Sam felt incredibly patronized by everything Max was doing to him today, and so as soon as he left, he reached up and tried to yank the rubber cock gag from his mouth–but it refused to come free. In fact, it hurt when he tugged on it, like he was trying to yank his tongue out of his mouth. Concerned, he stood up and went to the mirror in the bedroom, and there, he saw that the rubber had…fused with his mouth, just like how the rubber cock had fused with his crotch. There were lines of black rubber reaching into his cheeks and around his nose in a rather worrying way. He gave another tug on it, but it was no use. He felt…lost. He was so horny, but he didn’t know what to do with any of this, so he just sat down on the bed and waited for Max to return. Maybe…after Sam fucked him and came, everything would go back to normal. He did want to cum so bad, and he’d been so close before. Everything…everything would be alright if he could just finish, right?

It was twenty minutes before Max came back, and Sam could barely contain himself. His boyfriend climbed up on the bed, ass towards him, and told him to use that new mouth of his–Sam pushed the cock into Max’s hole, and discovered he could…taste still. The rubber cock was almost like a tongue, and the deeper he probed, the hornier he became. He could feel his cock-tongue throbbing, aching for release, but it never came–instead, over the next hour as he fucked Max’s ass, it just seemed to swell, growing longer and thicker, sliding further and further into Max’s ass, bringing him to orgasm after orgasm, while Sam was left aching for release–any release at all, but his groin-cock was dull in his hands, no matter how he stroked it. Max finally had had enough, and pulled himself free–and Sam was left with his new cock-tongue–all two feet of it, hanging down to his chest.

“Fuck, that’s a hot fucking tongue of yours,” Max said, as he laid back on the bed, coated in a sheen of sweat, still shudderning a bit from his deep fuck. “You’re the hottest fucktoy in the world, you know that?”

Sam tried to make a sound, but nothing came out–it was like his throat had started sealing itself up–he could still breathe…but it was a struggle. Even then, he didn’t feel weak, if anything, the ache only made him more desperate. He couldn’t even beg, couldn’t do anything but watch as Max proceeded to ignore him, pick up his phone, and start texting a few of his friends. After a few minutes, with Sam still kneeling at the side of the bed, Max stood up and got dressed in some clothes for clubbing. Sam looked out the window, and realized it was already getting dark–how long had he had his massive tongue buried up Max’s ass today?

“I’m gonna grab some dinner with a couple of friends, then hit the club. I’ll see you tonight, fucktoy, if I don’t get lucky otherwise.”

That was all Max said to him, and then he left, leaving Sam kneeling in the dark bedroom, trying to will himself to stand up…but what did it matter? It wouldn’t make the ache go away. There was nothing to fuck anywhere here. Still, he did it, floundered in the dark, and finally found his way to the bathroom, where he looked at himself in the mirror.

The infection was worse now. The rubber was spreading over most of his hips, and even around to his ass. A good chunk of his face was webbed with black veins as well, even down onto his neck. It was changing things–his nose was…sealing up. No wonder he was struggling to breathe. What little hair he had on his face had fallen off, and when he touched it with his hands, it was…cold. Not exactly cold, but it was…rubbery cold, like there was still flesh below it, but too deep to feel easily. 

He needed to get help. Look at him! He had a massive rubber cock, and a proboscis like cock hanging from where his mouth was supposed to be. But where could he go? The hospital? What would they even make of something like this? A friend’s place? No–no one could see him looking like this, it was too humiliating, knowing that Max was slowly turning him into a rubber fucktoy, and there was nothing he could do about it at all. God, if he was here right now, he…he’d fuck him real good, maybe fist him, even. He was still so horny, but touching his cock only made it worse, because it felt like nothing. His hands were worthless–the only thing that could make him feel good, the only thing that gave him any purpose at all, was a hole. He went back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed again, resigned to the fact he would simply have to cope with being horny until Max returned to use him, and zoned out a while–until he heard a knock on the door.

He paused–should he answer that? No–of course he shouldn’t answer that. Not…not looking like he was. 

The knock came again, and after a moment, Sam…felt something, or heard something, in his head. Words, or feelings, or something between the two. He might have translated it as, “I know you’re in there, Sam. I just want to see if I can help you more. You don’t have to be afraid of me, let me in.”

The knock returned, a bit more firm, and still a bit unsure of himself, Sam got up, went to the door, and opened it up–and Hugh stepped inside from the hallway outside his apartment. “Oh my, look at you! Looks like someone definitely found something to fill you up with. I wasn’t quite sure that would work last night.”

Sam stared at him, realizing that this strange, horned man was to blame for this. That he had…done something when he’d fucked him, and then…and then Max had done something else. He tried to speak, but not a sound came out–Sam realized he wasn’t even breathing. That he didn’t even miss breathing. Hugh reached out and grabbed Sam’s cock-tongue, giving it a tug like he was testing it, and then wrapped it around his hand. “Yes, this is much better now, I think. Come on, let’s go play a bit–I hoped I might get to meet the guy who filled you up, but this is good too.”

He gave a tug on Sam’s proboscis, like a leash, and led him back into the bedroom, all the while Sam trying to figure out some way to ask him all of the crazy questions going through his head–mostly wanting to know how he could get fixed, how he could change him back. He…was here to change him back, wasn’t he? He had to be, of course. In the bedroom, Hugh pushed Sam onto the bed so he was lying on his back, and climbed on top of him, rubbing his horns against Sam’s torso, and he…felt it. That same eerie sensation he’d felt back at the bar, of Hugh rummaging around inside of him, looking for something. Before, it had felt like Hugh was wandering around an empty room inside of Sam–but now, even Sam could tell the room was no longer empty. All of Max’s desires had been pumped into him–and taken root inside of him. He was relieved, for a moment, when he felt Hugh pulling on them, tugging them…forward. Forward, and hopefully out of him, but Hugh wasn’t removing them, he was making them bigger, and finding some intriguing things that Sam had developed on the way.

“Oh, what a mean man,” Hugh said, still rubbing his horns on Sam’s body, “He made you so horny all the time, but no way of releasing any of it. I know how that goes–I get so horny, if I couldn’t cum…I don’t know what I would do, really. So selfish. We can fix that, we can fix so many things, don’t you worry…”

Hugh pulled away at last, and Sam was left gasping–or trying to gasp, before he recalled he couldn’t breath anyway. But something was happening in his chest, like he had to cough, force something out, or vomit, and with something like a gag, he felt a…fluid slide out of his chest and down the long shaft of his tongue-cock, until a black, rubbery ooze seeped out of the end. Hugh leered at him, gave his massive groin-cock a stroke, and he felt the same thing, coming from the same…place, even, and his cock leaked the same goopy stuff. It felt…it felt amazing, like every expulsion was a mini orgasm, and while Hugh jacked his cocks, Sam found himself spreading the goop all over himself, coating his body with it, feeling it spread out in an even film and permeate his skin.

 “That’s it, we need to cover all of that skin up, don’t we? You don’t need it anymore–better to just be rubber, inside and out. Let me see what I can find to help…”

Hugh got up, twisting and contorting his head a bit as he looked around the bedroom, almost like he was honing in on something, using his horns to guide him. They led him right to Max’s drawer full of rubber and toys, and Hugh dug around, fishing out a few things. First, an industrial rubber glove he put on Hugh’s right left hand, and then coated with the gunk, trapping it as a fist. Sam added more and more coats of his rubbery cum to it, watching it get…bigger, and thicker, his entire arm picking up more and more muscle as he covered it with rubber–until Hugh pulled his other hand away and put a different glove on it.

This one Hugh had seen before, and played with a bit. Each finger and thumb of the glove was textured differently–one a corkscrew, one covered in nubs, another shaped like a normal cock, and so on–to give the bottom a variety of sensations. As soon as the glove was on, Sam felt it fuse with his skin, and the five fingers came alive, the bones in them melting away, scooping up more and more rubber, growing larger, and longer, and thicker. He could feel some sort of vein or network sliding down his arm and into his chest, hooking up with whatever reservoir was pumping out this rubber, and soon even more was flowing from his five prehensile fingers. Lastly, a pair of rubber waders on his feet, securing around his knees, fusing, more and more rubber flowing around them, all over his entire body now, Sam growing larger and larger, more and more muscled while Hugh admired his handiwork. His face was last, rubber flowing over his eyes, blinding him, but Sam didn’t need eyes anymore–he could…sense what really mattered now, he could feel the holes around him, Hugh’s two holes, in fact…but those weren’t his. No, he…there was one last thing that Hugh needed to do for him, and Sam turned around, bent over the bed, and presented his ass to him.

“That’s a good fuckdrone,” Hugh said, and lined his cock up with Sam’s rubbery asshole. “It’ll be an honor to be the last man to ever fuck you.”

Sam would have said groaned when Hugh thrust into him, but he couldn’t make a sound. All he could do was keep spewing his rubbery cum all over the bed, feel it slick up underneath him, turning the sheets themselves rubber, while Hugh fucked him with his barbed cock. It didn’t…hurt his body, exactly, but Hugh was tearing through…something. His identity, or what remained of it. His humanity. His self-conception, his awareness. Each thrust was like a dagger in his mind, cutting out a bit more of him, until there just wasn’t anything left. Just…urges and needs. A need to fuck, but also, a growing need to…to feed. It was hungry, wasn’t it? But what was it going to eat? Hugh came, and like Evan before him, Sam felt everything inside him suddenly lock into place. It knew, without a doubt, that it wouldn’t change again. That it was itself now–it was exactly what it was supposed to be–a solid rubber fuckdrone. A…a hungry, solid rubber fuckdrone.

Hugh pulled his cock free of the drone’s ass, and the hole sealed up behind him, disappearing entirely–the drone knew it would never be fucked again. It no longer had any holes to fuck. That wasn’t its purpose, or its design. Hugh felt better now, his own horniness sated somewhat. He had been aching since fucking Sam the night before, when he hadn’t been able to cum. He could only…make space. Then, that odd dream, where he’d seen Sam, and then this morning, he’d…known he had to find him, and somehow, he’d followed his horns, and his cock, and found him easily enough. Now though, he was finished. The drone stood up, its featureless face turning towards Hugh, all of his cocks leaking everywhere, rubber spreading all over the floor and bed, and Hugh found himself bored. He could wait, he suppose, until the man who had filled Sam up returned to find his new, finished, fuckdrone…but Hugh was pining for something else. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Josh. This had been a good distraction, and Hugh had learned a lot, but he didn’t feel satisfied by it. It was not what he needed. He was angry at Josh’s boyfriend, over how rude he’d been to him, as well. He’d never have Josh to himself, not until Kyle was dealt with–and after this, Hugh had a few ideas for how that might happen. So Hugh left, and the drone took note of him leaving, but it couldn’t leave. It had to wait. Wait for…for Max. To come home.

It didn’t really know time. It only knew hunger, and as it waited, that hunger grew. It was not a hunger of survival, exactly. The drone knew it would not die, no matter how hungry it became. But it needed to consume something, all the same. It was a hunger of purpose…but it also knew, somehow, that it’s reservoir of rubber, which it had been excreting almost constantly, was not…unending. Hunger would fulfill a purpose, but it would also refill its supply. 

Max didn’t return that night. He had gotten lucky and gone home with someone. He didn’t come home until the morning, and he could…smell something, a rubbery smell all through the apartment, and there, in the living room, was the drone, waiting for him, eager for him, hungry for him, and before Max could do anything, the drone was on him, doing everything it was designed to do. Everything Max had desired, and even more than that. The drone pushed it’s fat fist up Max’s ass, driving it in, giving no heed to Max’s pleading, begging for the drone to stop, to now fist it, that it was going too fast. It lifted him up, the rubber drone impossibly strong, so Max was hanging on the air, sitting on the drone’s arm, squirming and trying to get off, but unable to get any leverage. The drone was hungry, so hungry, and now it knew what it would feed on. This man, Max, had something it could use. It would help him. Soon, Max would never have to do anything other than get fucked ever again.

The drone’s long proboscis slid down to Max’s small cock, opened up its mouth, and slid over it, clamping down. Max felt it both sucking at it forcefully, and also pushing deeper, driving into his groin. It was painful, he screamed, but the drone could not hear the screams, nor would it have cared if it could. It was feeding. It was sucking, drawing everything out of Max’s groin that it could, sucking it down, converting it into its own rubbery muck. After a few minutes, when Max had screamed himself hoarse, the drone withdrew its proboscis–though it didn’t let the man down, not yet–and with a shaking hand, Max felt his crotch. His cock, his balls–it was all gone. In its place, a rubbery pucker, a…another hole. The drone relaxed it’s arm and dropped Max onto the couch, then replaced it with his massive cock, now pumping out rubbery gunk that coated Max’s hole, letting the massive member slide right inside. Max felt the hole stretch–but then…he felt almost a numbness as the rubber goo slicked the inside of his hole–and then, pleasure. Different pleasure. Orgasmic pleasure. Max moaned in delight, while Max’s five dicked hand slid up to his face, two forcing their way down his mouth, pumping more rubber into his throat, down into his stomach, into his lungs, and the thumb and pinky cocks wrapped around his head, drilling into his ears, middle finger into his nose, all of them pumping rubber into his head, coating his brain, making it smooth. Making it rubber, making it perfectly obedient.

Soon, Max didn’t worry about any of this. Max was barely thinking at all, in fact. It spent the next long hours in service of the fuckdrone, coating himself in it’s rubber, forming his skin into a black rubber catsuit, perfectly shiny, though his face remained human–mostly. A human face could be useful, for now. Once the fuckdrone had enough to eat, then Max’s face could go away too. The drone was hungry again, its rubber running thin now, dribbling from its cocks instead of gushing forth. That was no problem though. Max had lots of friends who liked to get fucked, after all. He called them, invited them over for an orgy, telling them he had a great new toy for all of them to play with. The drone was pleased–it wouldn’t be hungry for a long time, now. Max was happy now too. Now, all he needed was to get fucked–it was the only thing he was good for, anymore, the only thing that made him happy. He liked being happy. He would make all his friends happy. He would make any man he found happy too, happy to be fucked by his drone.

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 9)

“God damn it, get the fuck back here, you little fuck, I’m gonna fuck your hole and then tear new ones in you and fuck those too!” Ken roared as he chased the imp through the halls, his rock hard, rubberized cock swinging painfully as he ran through the halls, shoving his way through all of the other freaks and men fucking in the dark as the night came to a climax. He saw a clock as he ran, giving him about an hour and a half before the window of escape closed off forever, and he was stuck here. While this wasn’t exactly…bad, he still had no intention of letting that imp get away with his tag–and with his life.

But as he ran, it was getting harder and harder to ignore all of the men–and especially all of the holes–he was passing by. His cock was aching for a fuck, and he…well, he was built to fuck, wasn’t he? He was a hot fucking top, and every hole needed him inside of it, pumping his cum deep into their guts, showing them who was really in charge in these halls, warping and changing them into freaks just like him, and–

He had to stop for a moment, and try and get his head back under control. That wasn’t him, that was this fucking gear trying to think for him. He wasn’t going to be whatever freak this place wanted him to be–he wasn’t! He saw the imp round a corner up ahead in the halls, and took off after him, growling. There was only one hole that he really wanted in this whole fucking place after all, and he wasn’t going to give up until he got it.

He rounded the same corner at top speed, and ran right into another person, sending them both tumbling to the floor of the hallway in a tangle, that Ken struggled to extract himself from. By the time he got himself out, he looked down the hallway, and realized he’d lost the imp in the mess. “Fuck! God fucking damn it!” he shouted, and whirled on the man he’d crashed into, “You fucking piece of shit, he got away! I…why I oughta…F-Fuck! Fuck you!”

The man on the ground looked up at him in a bit of terror. He was a bit older, and a little chubby. He must have entered the area later than Ken had–he still had on his black shorts, and even had his clothes tag around his arm. “Please…please don’t, I just want to get out of here! Don’t hurt me, please…”

Ken growled at him, and kicked him in the gut, sending him to the ground, gagging…and seeing that, Ken smiled cruelly. Fuck…it felt real fucking good, hurting him, and he gave him another kick in the balls, just to make sure he stayed down. “Fucking faggot–fucking pig, I’ll fucking do whatever I fucking want to you–you’re fucking mine, understand?”

The man tried to crawl away from him, but Ken grabbed him by the hips and dragged him back, tearing open the back of his shorts like they were paper, and shoved his rubber cock between the man’s fat ass cheeks. He could feel him…shudder, the fucking bitch wanted it, didn’t he?

“You fucking want this, don’t you? This big fucking cock in your sloppy pig hole,” he growled at him, as he kept fucking the man’s cheeks, his cock starting to leak a thick, black, rubbery cum.

“I…fuck, please Sir, please…fuck this slutty faggot’s hole Sir…”

He couldn’t afford to get distracted. He couldn’t do this–right now, that fucking imp was probably heading for the exit, Ken’s tag in hand, and if he didn’t get there first to intercept him…there was no way he was going to get out of here in his own body. But this…this fucking hole, he needed it. He needed it in a way he could barely articulate, like it was his purpose. He was a fucking top–and when a hole like this presented itself, begging to be used like this, how could he possibly say no? He pushed the head in, and shuddered, the strange cum working as lube, the man moaning in pain, trying to pull away, but that only made Ken grab him by the hips and drag him back, inch by inch, his massive cock slipping inside him.

“That’s it faggot, just fucking take it like a good bitch,” he said.

“Oh…oh fuck Sir, it’s so big!”

“Trust me, you aren’t going to want any other dick other than mine one I’m through with you,” he added…but Ken also knew that if he didn’t stop now, he wouldn’t want anything else too. Looking up, he saw…the teeth in the darkness. The Master of the Halls was there, observing, wanting to see his new top’s first performance for himself, and…part of him was excited. Excited that Master wanted to see him, excited that Master…no–no, this isn’t right, it isn’t what he should be, is it?

He looked down, and saw the tag around the man’s arm. He looked back at the Master’s teeth. He thought about the imp, scurrying through the halls. He had to make a decision, but what?


This next one is the last entry! Here’s the bonus patron poll as well. I’ll start something new next week, that may or may not be holiday related–haven’t decided yet.

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 8)

“Please, no more, don’t…I don’t, get off me!” Ken shouted, trying to force the men swarming him away, but there were too many.

“Can we make him a top sir? Can we?”

“We need more tops, so many holes, not enough tops!”

Some of them were holding him down at this point, looking up at the Master of the Halls, and his shadowed face, and those leering teeth. “Sure, why don’t you all make him a top, since it sounds like you need one so badly.”

The freaks all laughed and tittered, and one of them brought over a strange sheath. It looked a bit like a dildo at first, but Ken saw that it was in fact hollow inside, and the freaks started working his cock until he was hard, and then they forced the sheath over his entire cock. It was a tight fit, and once they had that on, they took a similar sheath, pulled it open, forced his balls inside, and let that snap around them as well. Only then, did they release his arms, and Ken immediately tried to pull the rubber things off of him–only to discover that they wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t that the rubber pieces had stuck together–though they had–it was that they had stuck to him as well. He couldn’t find the seam where the rubber started and his flesh began, and as he tugged on the sheath, he realized…he could feel his hand against it, growing more and more sensitive, until he was moaning in pleasure, unable to stop, he was so turned on by the sensations coming from his new rubber cock, now permanently hard, eleven inches and thick as a beer can. His balls were churning as well, and he could feel them pumping something not out of his cock, but into him instead, and he began to feel some of the other changes start in his body.

He was growing taller, and thicker. Not fat–almost all of it was muscle. In a matter of moments, he went from a fairly average height and build to being six foot seven, and nearly 300 pounds, all of it thick, corded, powerful bulk, ready to force anyone he found into submission. He was growing hairier as well, especially across his chest, arms and back. Once he was finished expanding, the freaks went back to work, and started forcing more gear on his body–a thick cut leather harness, a pair of leather chaps, some biker boots, and lastly a hood that went over his face. He tried to pull it away, but it too had adhered to his skin somehow, and when he looked at himself in the mirror across the room, he no longer even recognized himself. 

He was massive, his head and cock both sealed away in rubber, conforming to his every feature and vein, but somehow making them look even more masucline, and tough, and rugged, and violent, and…and fuck, he was hot, wasn’t he? He kept stroking his cock, and from the tip, some sort of strange, black, viscous material began to leak out and cover his hands–it quickly spread over his fingers and became a pair of black rubber gloves, just as impossible to remove as the mask or the sheath itself.

Horrified, he pulled his hand away, but his cock was aching for attention. No, not just attention, it was aching to fuck, to force its way inside some tight hole and ruin it–that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? He looked at himself, and tried to remember who he’d been, but the hood…was sucking it away from him, as hard as he was trying to keep it. He might have been lost to it, had the imp not appeared in the doorway, eyes wide at him, and then taken off down the hallway. With a growl, Ken pushed past the freaks and took off after him, thankful for his new size now. The imp was quick, but he was bigger now–if he stayed focused, he’d be able to catch him, and maybe even get his tag back.


So, what happens next? The public poll is below, and the patron only poll is over here!

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 5)

“I know you probably won’t appreciate this, pig, but let me tell you–from my own experience, it will be better this way,” the imp said, and jumped back up to the ceiling, pulled a lever, and a few moments later, the taste and consistency of the mash flowing into his mouth…changed. The taste was vile–musky and rank and dirty and…and delicious. He panicked, trying to keep from swallowing the filth, but the tube forced itself deeper into him, and he had to choice as it was pumped directly into his guts. 

“See, that first Halloween, no one…destroyed me. I had to survive here, my mind witnessing everything in this darkness, all year long. It was horrifying. No one should have to go through what I did. This is better. Better to just be what you’re going to be, don’t you think? Give in, never have to worry about that old life of yours? Just let yourself be the dirty, shameful, disgusting pig you were meant to be, from the moment you stepped in here.”

Ken was still struggling, but he could feel it. The filth was…warping him. He could distingish some of the flavors now–piss from the urinals, cum from the dumps, mud and muck from the floors washed down the drains, the tang of shit even, at the back of his throat. He wasn’t getting fatter, but something else was happening, he could…smell himself, and it was the same heady musky of the filth being pumped into him. He stank of a toilet, and a filthy sock, and a cumsoaked armpit, all at the same time, and…and he loved it. His mind was fading, shifting. He was oinking and squealing, his cock leaking all over the floor beneath him. The surface of his latex clad body was changing as well, the rubber growing…moist. Not with sweat, but with some vile, slick scum–a goo seeping ring out from his rubber pores and sliding down his skin and onto the floor under him.

“Don’t worry piggy–all you have to do is cum, and the hose will release you. The sooner you embrace it, the more of a mind you’ll have left–so I suggest you start working that piggy cock into that fat of yours quickly. I, however, have a party to leave–and a new lease on life. Enjoy it–maybe I’ll pay you a visit next year.”

The imp was gone, leaving the pig all alone in the cage, swallowing down the muck, grinding his cock mindlessly between his gut and the floor for a few minutes until he came, squealing in delight at the mess he was making, at the filthy mess he was. He wasn’t…the same, as he squeezed out of the cage. The muck he’d been dropping wasn’t just…coming from him, it was him, he was made of that same filth, his pig face slumping and drooling off him as he walked, reforming again as he lost bits of himself to the floor, in a trail of black slime as he crawled into the room, sniffing and snorting for filth he could devour, hungrier than he could have ever imagined being in his life.

“Hello? Hello!”

He looked up at the sound of a voice, as a young man, somehow still in his black attire from the party, stumbled around the corner. He was missing his clothes tag, took one look at the nightmarish rubber pig in front of him, and froze. Before he could do anything, however, Ken was on him, his gooey body sticking to the man’s flesh as he screamed, dragging him down, eating away at his clothes, while Ken’s cock, the last firm thing left on his body, starting probing for the man’s hole. He was screaming, so Ken covered his mouth in goo, the substance hardening quickly, the man’s mouth now covered by a patch of black rubber that melded seamlessly with his skin, only able to breathe through his nose.

“So…hungry…” Ken grunted in the man’s ear, as he fucked him, and as he did, his body began to lose…shape, flowing down around the man, engulfing him slowly into Ken’s own form. The man’s body, warped by the filth, was beginning to lose firmness as he was sucked into the pig, Ken’s cock drilling deeper and deeper until it forced it’s way out the other side of the man’s body, through his own cock, the man shuddering in something like an orgasm as he felt the monster’s filth begin to dissolve and eat away at his body, absorbing him into the pig as a new part of him, his mind locked away with Ken’s, forever trapped inside this monstrous, rubber beast eager to devour anything in sight.

Then, it was four o’clock, and the lights shut off. Trapped in the dark, with only the other monsters for company. Until next year at least–and by this, this pig would be starving.

–An Ending–

Alright, let’s go back and pick up the story somewhere else! Here’s some options. A few are new, and one is a popular path that didn’t get picked from this last little chunk. The bonus poll for Patrons is over here as well!

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 3)

Ken struggled as the men surrounded him, held him down, and began forcing him into a latex suit–first his legs, and then they pulled it up over his shoulders and his arms, zipping him up in the back. It was then that Ken had the first sign of what was in store for him–the front of the suit, in big white letters, read “PIG”. 

“No! No you fucking, I am not going to be your fucking pig!” he screamed, and the Master of the Halls just laughed–and all of his minions laughed with him. 

“Not my pig, no, not unless you remain in the halls here tonight. Then you will be. For now though, by law, your fate is still yours for the moment.”

He screamed some more, and the men forced a mask over his head, and then pulled on some gloves and two rubber boots, before stepping away and allowing Ken to get up. He immediately tried to haul the mask off of him, but while he could feel it was rubber, it refused to budge–and his hands couldn’t quite seem to get enough purchase on the mask to even tug at it. The men were all laughing around him, and he stumbled over to a mirror on the wall, feeling like he was walking on his toes–and everything became more clear, and more horrifying.

His mask was a pig mask–but it wasn’t just a mask anymore. When he looked at himself in shock, he saw every bit of his new face move–from his eyes to his snout to his cheekbones. He could see a hint or two of flesh underneath, around his eyes especially, so his real face was still there, somewhere, but…he went to tug on the floppy ears again, but frozen when he saw his hands. The two gloves weren’t normal–they were designed like trotters, with two thick fingers and his thumb in a third that let him grip things, though poorly. The same with the boots on his feet–they were trotters as well, which explained why walking had felt so strange a moment before. He started tugging on those as well, but the rubber refused to come away from his flesh–the closer he looked, the harder it was to tell where the rubber ended and his flesh began–like everything had merged with his body instantly. The singlet, too, had merged with him, the zipper teeth knitting together, and the zipper itself had become a little rubber pigtail wiggling above his ass. The back was open, allowing access to his hole, but the front was all rubber…though something was happening to it, and to his cock underneath. It heated up, and he got…horny all of a sudden, and a new cock pushed its way out, jutting in front of him. It wasn’t human, and it wasn’t even flesh, really. It was rigid, but a bit supple like a dildo, and shaped like a pig’s cock. He touched it, and snorted–it was more sensitive than his last cock too.

He turned around to where the men were still laughing, tried to yell at them, but all that came out of his mouth was a series of oinks, grunts and squeals that sent this all into hysterics all over again, while Ken just got angrier and angrier, stalking towards the Master of the Halls, who was just grinning his same, sharp, smile. But as he got close, the lights cut out, and when they came back a moment later, they were all gone–and Ken was alone.

Well, almost alone.

The imp was in the doorway, watching again, and when Ken saw him, and the tag around the imp’s arm, he squealed and gave chase, the imp laughing back down the halls. Ken quickly lost track of where he was in the maze–it was clear the imp was on home turf, and also toying with him–but he had to get that tag back. If he didn’t, and the party ended before he could…well, it wouldn’t be good, that much was sure, especially in his new costume. He might even be trapped like this forever. He started to have the feeling that the imp was leading him somewhere, and he entered a large stone room. The imp was there, waiting, and then, before Ken could react, a cage dropped down from the ceiling and enclosed him. 

In a panic, he started shaking the bars and pacing the cell, but it started to shrink–forcing him down onto his hands and knees, the cell soon not even wide enough for him to turn around in. He was trapped, and the imp was rubbing his hands together with excitement. Obviously the imp had something up his sleeve, now that he’d lured the piggish Ken right into his trap, but what does he have in mind?


What sort of fate would you like to see for Ken the pig? Some of these options will end the story, and we can go back and select from some of the earlier options instead. The bonus patreon poll is over here as well!

Caption: Growing Rubber

Patreon supporters can find the second half of this caption story over on discord!


Just a jockstrap, at first. You’d always been interested in rubber, but the gear was expensive…and it was also a bit daunting, trying to know where to start. So you found a retailer online, and ordered one on a whim. It arrived a week later, and you tried it on–and immediately jacked off. It was the most sensual thing you have ever worn, and even after you came…you didn’t really want to take it off…so you didn’t.

You wore it all weekend, jacking off more than you could even remember, and come Monday, when it was time for work, you still couldn’t bring yourself to take it off–so you didn’t. Besides, who would even know? You put on your usual office attire and went to work like normal. You jacked off in the bathroom a few times, but beyond that, it was like everything was exactly the same. It never even occurred to you to try taking the rubber jock off again, because why would you want to?

You woke up that Saturday, however, and something was different. Now…it wasn’t just the jock you had on that was rubber. You usually slept naked–and this week, with just the jock, but when you woke up this time, you also had on a black rubber tank. You had no idea where it had come from, and you were so unnerved, you almost too it off…but you didn’t.

It felt so good, after all, as you rubbed your rubber stomach. You came, knew you should take everything off…but you didn’t, did you? You kept it on all weekend, and come Monday, again, you wore your rubber under your regular shirt and slacks to the office. Again, no one could notice, and you…liked it. More than you ever thought you would, and you start thinking about more, and when Friday night rolled around…you were wondering.

Sure enough, you woke up on Saturday, and there was more. The tank was now a full rubber shirt. The jock had become shorts, with an open ass–and something else. A plug. Small, easy to remove when you needed to, but having something in your ass felt so damn good…why would you stop? So…you didn’t.

But now…this was too much, right? Surely you needed to take it off now?

Interactive: Porno Virus (Part 12)

This is going to be the last entry in this series for the moment. I might revisit it at some point, but I have some other ideas I’d like to try for the moment. I’ll be starting a new interactive story of some sort next week!


As Tobias walked through the suburban streets, looking for someone to introduce to his new desires, to his new God, he saw, ahead of him, an older fellow walking a dog in the evening. He was most likely in his late thirties, wearing a shirt and slacks, looking tired from work and his home–and Tobias saw someone who could use a new…outlook on life. He followed along behind him for a few minutes, until they reached a dark stretch of the street, and Tobias pounced on him. The dog took off running, terrified at the strange smelling figure that had leapt out and tackled his master–and Eric, the man Tobias tackled, struggled with Tobias in the dim light, unable to understand what this man was–the clinking of metal, the rub of rope and leather against his skin, the sickening bulge of Tobias’ monstrous cock grinding against him. As he fought, however, he could feel…something happening to him, a strange sensation on his skin, like something was crawling on him, underneath his shirt, making him squirm and shudder in disgust. He managed, at last, to fight the man off and he ran down the street, but the sensation of…something on his skin didn’t go away. Wondering what the crazed freak might have had on him, he took off his shirt (which was feeling increasingly tight), and then pulled off his undershirt as well, and looking down, he gasped.

There were…tattoos crawling across his body. He scratched at them, trying to get them off, but they were already under his skin–the virus seeping into his body, infecting him and his desires with the images that Tobias had implanted in him. Across his chest he saw the words “Daddy Hog”, and he could…remember when he got it, at that seedy tattoo shop outside of Denver on one of his rides, the same time as that trucker had asked Eric to help him break in a new college boy he’d picked up hitchhiking…

Eric clutched his head, trying to resist the new memories, giving Tobias the opportunity he needed to grab Eric and drag him back into the darkness, groping him, covering him with still more tattoos, all over his arms and legs and belly–images of pigs, images of bikes and bikers, images of cigars and smoke. Eric tried to fight, but eventually, he forgot he was even trying to fight any of this, he forgot he’d ever been Eric at all–that Eric, from before.

They ended up fucking between two houses, Eric plowing the rubber and leather freak in the ass, at least until the side door of one of the houses opened, and a younger man emerged holding a bag of garbage, looking at the two freaks fucking by his fence, and gaped at them. Gaped long enough that Tobias could leap on him and together, they started tearing the young fellow’s clothes away, and Tobias’ cock started leaking–but it wasn’t cum that came out, but dark silicone.

It dribbled, and then poured all over the young man’s body, coating him in it, sliding into every crevice and orifice, the silicone beefing up his ass, filling his lips, covering his teeth and dissolving them, covering his hands and turning them into mitts, and then Tobias forced his freakish cock into the man’s ass–while Eric fucked the new gimp’s rubberized mouth. The silicone flooded his system, and the man could feel his cock and balls inflating into some bulbous mass, a freakish accessory, also coated in rubber–and that was the last think he felt, really. The last thing he thought, as the rubber invaded and choked out his mind, leaving him as nothing more than a freakish rubber gimp for the new biker to use as he desired. Tobias felt himself ready to cum, so he hauled his cock free, and blasted Eric with his silicone cum, watched it coalesce into rubber gear to replace his ripped in torn clothes, and admired his fat, thick bearded, heavily tattooed biker freak, and then sent them off–Eric once again walking something on a leash, but no longer a dog, looking for a bike to steal so he and his slave could get back on the road, spreading the infection everywhere they went.

Ethan’s Birthday (Part 5)

The rest of the men all gave off a series of grunts, lows and barks in agreement, and Wes stepped away from Ethan, letting him get a better look at himself in the mirrored wall on one side of his bedroom. The horse behind him was still fucked him rough, but the cock was no longer struggling to fit inside him. Ethan could…feel it. Hell, he could see it, when the horse drove in deep, the tip pushing against the inside of his belly. He couldn’t see any flesh remaining on him anywhere–his entire body, inside and out, was coated in the same orange rubber as the mask itself. Wes came closer to add one final touch–he squeezed a big handful of rubber into his hands and slopped it over Ethan’s lower back, pulling and shaping it into a thick fox tail. He gave it a tug, and Ethan let out a surprised mew–he could feel it, suddenly, swish it back and forth, and it felt…right. He felt right.

“Yes, looking good, though you’re still a little…big, I think,” Wes said, laid his hands on Ethan, and he felt the rubber contract, pulling tighter and shrinking, his frame shrinking until he was nearly a foot shorter, just barely cresting five feet tall, and the massive horse leaned over him, grabbed him, and picked him up in his hooved hands, fucking him roughly on his massive cock in the air, Ethan feeling it sliding the entire length of his body to the middle of his chest, his own puny fox cock dribbling its own rubber cum onto the floor. “Better–much better…but you know? I just don’t buy it, you know? Such a slutty fox, and only two holes to use. We can do better than that, can’t we?”

Wes stepped up and started rubbing Ethan’s tight rubber ballsack in his hand, and then started pushing it up against his body. He could feel them shrinking and collapsing in on themselves–it was painful, but also so…delightful, feeling his body manipulated while this horse impaled him. Wes pushed two fingers in, carving out a little indentation below the fox’s puny cock, and then widened it, his balls now gone entirely, a narrow slit replacing them, and Wes pushed in deeper still.

“Yeah, how about that? Now you have a little slutty pussy to go with that tiny little cock of yours. Hey Rover–get over here–let’s put that big red bone of yours to work on this slut’s newest hole.”

The bright red pup bounded over, eager at last for some attention. The horse sat on the side of the bed, and Rover rammed his knot into Ethan’s new pussy, the two cocks meeting in the middle, inside of him, and wave after wave of pleasure washed over Ethan, his body and his mind, pummeling him and his will into submission until at last, he felt a final orgasm over take him, his puny cock spraying a load of bright orange cum in a fountain between him and the dog, still fucking him quickly, and close to orgasm himself.

“Yes, I think you’ll do very nicely,” Wes said, pulling something out from his coat, something of black rubber, and sliding it over his head. It was a mask of his own, solid black with a white stripe running from the top of the forehead down the back. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and revealed a thick black member underneath, stroking it, watching the thick black ooze begin to slide over his body, the musk of him growing even more powerful as he changed, growing even larger than the horse, body thick with muscle and fat. He climbed up and forced the massive cock down the fox’s throat, and the three of them fucked his small frame, stretching and abusing him, and the rougher they were, the more pleasure he got from it. The heady musk in the room was working on all of them, reminding them that they were owned by their master, by this rubber skunk, that even when their bodies had returned to flesh, and even when the masks came off, none of them would be free souls ever again–none of them wanted to be free ever again.

For the next several hours, Ethan was pummelled from all sides, fucked by every animal multiple times, rainbows of rubber cum spewing from every hole he now had, until at last, exhausted, Wes allowed them all to begin to change back. All of them except for Ethan, at least. He remained in his fox form, mewing and growling softly, one hand toying with his tiny cock, while the other sliding into his new pussy, amazed by how sensitive it is. Wes allowed his other animals, now back in their masks, to return to the party, leaving him and Ethan alone. “Now, as for your birthday present, I happen to have a friend with a kennel full of dogs–all of them studs. How would my little fox like to spend the night with them, getting his little pussy filled with the real doggy cum?”

Ethan tried to say something, tried to do anything at all, but at a touch, the rubber coating him had solidified, and was shrinking further, until he was small enough to slip into a pocket–which Wes did, taking his leave. He’d return Ethan home in the morning–probably–if the little fox hadn’t been so mindfucked by the end of his very special birthday to remember he’d ever even been human at all.

Ethan’s Birthday (Part 4)

“Now, how about something a bit more challenging for you?” Wes asked, and beckoned the man wearing the yellow horse mask, with the massive equine cock hanging between his thighs, over to him, and Wes started stroking it, the man giving a whiney of excitement as the rubber began to extend and grow over the rest of his body–though something else was happening too. The rubber wasn’t just covering him, the man was growing taller, and wider. The rubber seemed to be going on thick, adding to the man’s already muscular frame, until he was standing in beside him, over seven feet tall, built like a hard working draft horse, thighs almost as thick as Ethan’s waist…and the cock. It was no horse cock, not anymore. No, it was the horse cock of horse cocks. Two feet long, thicker than most men’s thighs. Ethan stared at it in some confused daze of lust and horror, not quite sure what to make of the thing at all.

“You want it in you, don’t you, you little, slutty fox,” Wes whispered into his ear.

“I…I can’t take that. No one can take that.”

“No one?” Wes said with a laugh. “Show ‘em piggy.”

With an excited grunt, the pig bent over, ass towards the horse, and he clomped over on his now hooved feet. He had to squat slightly to get is cock lined up with the shorter pig’s hole, but he pressed the head to the pink opening, and it simply slid into the pig’s hole without a single moment of resistance. It didn’t look like he was fucking an ass at all–just a toy like a fleshlight, though from the look on his face, the pig was enjoying the fuck greatly. The horse slid all the way in, up to the hilt, and them slipped back out, the cock coming free with a pop, the pig’s ass closing up perfectly like nothing had been inside it a moment before.

“He didn’t seem to have any problem with it, did he?”

Ethan started clawing at the rubber again. It was impossible. All of this was impossible, but Wes shoved him against the wall, leaning in close, and Ethan was suddenly aware of how…small he seemed, compared to the big bellied bear leaning into him. “Please…I don’t…”

“No, you do,” Wes said, leaning in and kissing him on the lips of the mask, and Ethan felt it, smelled his breath, smelled the cigar and the whiskey he must have had earlier. His cock was aching now, not inside the rubber, but as the rubber. It was hard, and horny, and he could feel it warping his mind, and his perspective, especially once Wes started rubbing it while he kept kissing him. He did want it. He wanted to know…what that felt like, but the only way that could be possible was if…if that pig was more rubber than he was human. But if that was true…then how could he possibly change back? Did…did he want to change back, really? Had he ever felt this much pleasure in his life, even at the greatest highs he’d experienced? No, this was new. This was something better, and as strange and terrifying as it was, he knew that if he backed out now, he would spend the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if he’d just said–

“Yes…Yes, I want it in me, all the fucking way.”

“Well, we’d better make sure you have protection. I wouldn’t want my cute little slutty fox getting hurt, now, would I?” Wes asked with a grin, his hand shoving some of the rubber coating Ethan around to his ass, his thick fingers shoving it between his cheeks, where he could feel it sticking to them. “Such a nice hole you have–still, there’s room for improvement everywhere, don’t you think?”

One finger slipped into his hole, and then another. Wes pulled his hand out, spun Ethan around so he was facing the wall, and pushed him up against it, telling his ox to come over. He milked more of that strange, clear goo into the palm of his hand, coating it, and then went back to fingering Ethan’s hole, working the substance into him, watching it change to a bright orange and slip inside of him until he could slide his entire fist in without any resistance at all. Ethan just kept rubbing his tiny cock, but now, it was no longer the most sensitive thing about him–no, his ass was nearly bringing him to his knees. Everytime it stretched to let Wes’s fist inside, there was no trace of pain, just the most delightful stretching sensation he’d ever known, something he didn’t even have words to describe.

“Alright, I think he’s good and ready. Have your way with him–and make sure it’s a good rough fuck, just the way he likes it.”

The horse came behind him, pushed the head against the entrance to Ethan’s now rubberized hole, and forced it inside of him with a thrust, the cock sliding almost a foot into him before it hit a moment of resistance, making Ethan moan in pain. The horse didn’t stop though–it just kept fucking into him, driving in a bit deeper each time, panting and huffing, gripping Ethan’s hips hard enough that he was certain he would bruise. All the while, Wes just kept milking his ox, smearing more and more rubber onto Ethan’s frame, feeding it to him off his hands, shoving it down his throat, Ethan feeling it stretch with the same delightful pleasure as his new ass–and he imagined that after everything he’d swallowed from the pig earlier, the horse would have no problem fucking his throat either. Wes didn’t wait for the horse though–he simply slid his entire hand into Ethan’s snout, and he felt his jaw stretch around the entire fist as it wormed down into his throat, the only thing he could see was Wes’ thick, hairy forearm pushing deeper and deeper into him, before sliding back out again. “F-Fuck, never…had my throat fisted before,” Ethan said, or tried to say, but all that came out of his mouth was a high pitched mewing, almost like something between a moan and a sigh.

“Yeah, don’t worry about talking little fox–none of my toys need to talk while they’re playing, right toys?”

Ethan’s Birthday (Part 3)

“Trade secret, I’m afraid,” Wes said, “Proprietary. Still, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it, right?” He walked over to the blue headed ox, and gave his huge bull cock a little stroke, the man giving a long low of pleasure as he did, the blue mask sliding down his body, slowly, and the pig took Ethan’s hand in his own rubber mitt, and moved it lower, to his slick rubber pig cock. Then wrapped an arm around Ethan’s back and pulled him into the suit, and he sank into it, the pig hugging him tighter to the rubber, their cocks pressing against each other. “Seems like Piggy has taken a liking to you.”

Ethan moaned, unable to believe how…sensual the suit felt from the outside. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like on the inside. He…wanted to know. He looked over at Wes and the Ox, whose mask was now covering most of his upper body, and saw that suit was taking on a different form–a muscular chest with a hefty barrel gut beneath. He even seemed taller, somehow, which made his massive cock and balls seem a bit more proportional. Wes, however, was gripping the Ox’s cock with both hands, tugging and shaping it, the Ox moaning loudly as he did, the rubber covering the rest of his body now, and Ethan watched his cock and balls merge and inflate, becoming a massive udder with a single, cock sized teat. Wes gave it a jerk, and something spurted from it onto the carpet–it was clear, almost like wet silicone or lube.

“It…it can just change like that?” Ethan asked, “and what is that stuff?”

“Raw material,” Wes said, “Ox here likes being milked, don’t you Ox? Almost as much as you like fucking.”

Ox nodded and gave another long low, grinning wide.

“The masks are great on their own, but if you want their full…functionality, then they need to bond with you, Ethan. This is going to be more than just a mask–it’s going to be you. In fact, by the time we’re finished, you might find it more comfortable than your own skin.”

Ethan was getting that creepy feeling again, but the pig’s body was so comfortable, he didn’t want to go anywhere. He felt himself slipping down, however, sliding against the pig until he collapsed to his knees in front of that bright pink cock, and without even needing to be told, he started sucking on it, the pig playing with it’s huge gut while he did, and the muscular Ox walked over with Wes, who began milking the teat in earnest, pumping the clear rubber ooze all over the mask on Ethan’s masked head.

He couldn’t see it happening, but as soon as the clear liquid came into contact with his mask, it turned a bright orange, matching the color exactly, and began to run down off the top of his head and down his naked body. It was…warm, but not unpleasantly so. It clung to him, but not tightly exactly–some of it ran down the side of his face and down his chest where he could reach it. He found he could mold it and shape it–but when he tried to pull it away from his body, it just stretched, and wouldn’t come away from his skin. Unnerved, he tried to pull away, but  the pig gripped him tighter, and Wes crouched down beside him, his pit close to Ethan’s nose, making him sigh in pleasure at the scent. “Now Now, there’s no backing out now–just a little more, and we’ll have some real fun with you.”

He kept sucking, and felt something start flowing from the pig’s cock and into his mouth. It tasted vaguely like cum, but with a lube-like texture that made his stomach turn. After a few minutes, the pig released his head, and Ethan managed to pull his mouth free of the pig’s cock. For a moment, and saw thick strands of the same rubbery substance connecting his mouth to the cock, also turning a bright orange. Had he been swallowing it this whole time, without even noticing? They snapped away, and stuck to the mask and his lips, while Wes pulled him up to standing, and pushed him towards the mirror.

He was covered with it–or at least, there was a lot of the strange rubber substance on his body, running down from his head to his knees. “There, that’s a good amount to get started with, I think,” Wes said. “Now, you said we should do something about that cock of yours, right?”

With a hand, Wes pushed some of the orange glop from the top of the mask, down Ethan’s chest to his cock, and he covered his cock and balls in the entire glob. “Now, what do you think we should give you? I think you’re a slutty fox, don’t you? And from what I hear, you’re not much of a top, so I don’t think you need a lot.” Ethan moaned through the mouth of the mask as Wes pulled his cock from the glob of rubber and started squeezing it. It felt almost like he was being put into a chastity cage, his moderately sized cock getting squashed down into a small cage of some sort–his balls as well were being pulled up tight against the bottom of his cock. Wes pulled the extra rubber away from it, and there Ethan saw a two inch, bright orange, rubber cock cage the shape of a fox’s cock–similar to the red dog’s, but with a much smaller knot around the base, and a less flared head. He reached down to touch it, and to his surprise, it was…incredibly sensitive. He mewled slightly as he rubbed himself, feeling how the gooey rubber had hardened into a sleeve, trying to tug it away, but it wouldn’t come free from his cock, just like how the goo had stuck to his chest and refused to pull away before. Unlike the others, whose cocks maintained some flexibility, his felt rigid and stiff–only his tighter ball sack had the slightest give, like a thick stress ball. Wes gripped them in his fist and gave them a squeeze, delighting in the mewling pleasure coming from Ethan’s mouth as he collapsed against him again, rubbing his nub sized cock against his belly, amazed at just how much he could feel through the rubber–more than he could through his own skin, it seemed.