Donkey Dick (Part 1)

“Jude, I told you before, I just don’t want to, alright?”

“Come on, it felt amazing last time!”

“Maybe for you–I couldn’t feel anything in there,” Derek said, looking at the strap-on cock Jude had in his hand. He had no idea where his friend had even found it–it was massive, and shaped like (he assumed) a donkey’s cock. As far as dildos went, it was amazingly lifelike–the latex even felt like flesh, or what he assumed the flesh of a donkey dick might feel like. He had never seen one, but Jude–one of his friends-with-benefits, had confessed to a fantasy of being fucked by a donkey. Derek had been game once, but it had simply been boring for him–the strap-on might be life-like, but it was so thick that he got no pleasure out of it. Besides–it made him feel a bit…insignificant. However, now that he looked at it, this one seemed different from the last one he’d worn at Jude’s request.

Jude got excited, “No look–I did some investigating, and I found some more stuff. Look, there’s this specialty lube for strap-ons that can make it feel amazing for you and this dildo is made of a really special rubber that’s just as sensitive for you as it is for me, and I thought…well, I did some reading on hypnosis….”

“Hypnosis?”

“Well, nothing big–but I found some files that might help. You’ll think that the strap-on is your own cock–and your mind will make you feel things even though your body isn’t really. Between that and this cock, I promise you’ll have a good time.”

Derek was suspicious, but Jude was nothing if not persistent. He did eventually give in and let Jude use the strange, sticky lube on his cock and help him into the strap on–the plastic donkey cock hard and dangling between his legs–but he wasn’t interested in the hypnosis. Jude, however, seemed insistent. Derek said it would never work on him, but when Jude asked him to keep an open mind and parked him in front of his computer screen–the swirling patterns were…oddly captivating. He didn’t even notice Jude put the noise cancelling headphones on over his ears, words barely discernable through a subtle static that made him focus harder on them. A couple of minutes later, Jude wiped some spit from his slack lip, and smiled, stashing the specialty glue he’d used back in his drawer. The program would take a few hours–but he could wait.

***

“Hey, Derek…you waking up?”

He was, but slowly. What had just happened to him? He was sitting in front of Jude’s computer, and he could…kind of remember something about hypnosis, but everything was a bit fuzzy.

The chair was on wheels, and his friend pulled him back a bit, and came around in front of him. “How about we see how well that worked for you, eh?” Jude reached down, gripped the donkey cock between his friend’s legs, and Derek groaned. “How does it feel?”

“Fuck…it feels good…” Derek said, looked down, and for a second just stared at the strap-on…except he wasn’t seeing a strap-on. He was just seeing his cock. His long, thick, donkey dick. In his mind, he knew that it couldn’t be real, but with a tentative hand, he reached down to feel it, and to him, it looked and felt, like flesh. And it felt…amazing. He looked down, and he couldn’t see the straps running around his waist, but they had to be there, right? “How…how did you do that?”

“Hypnosis can be a powerful thing. Now come on–how about we give this big cock of yours a test drive?”

Jude had already lubed himself up and got on the bed, Derek lining his hard cock up and pushing it inside. Before, he hadn’t felt a thing, but this lube and hypnosis was amazing. It was like it was his real cock. He’d gotten the shaft halfway inside Jude’s ass, when the first bray popped from his mouth unbidden, and he stopped.

“What’s wrong? Keep going!” Jude said.

“But I just…did I just ‘hee haw’ like a fucking donkey?” Derek asked, but he did as Jude said, and kept pushing himself inside, another bray slipping out as he did, but rather than ask about it, he just went with it. It felt so damn good to fuck–every inch of his cock was so sensitive suddenly, and he didn’t last very long, before a massive spasm ripped through him, accompanied by a series of very loud brays that he was certain must have woken the neighbors in the next apartment over. Still, Jude wouldn’t let him stop–and it wasn’t like his cock would go soft anytime soon. He kept fucking until Jude shot a huge load onto the bedspread, and then they finally separated, and Derek started looking for the seam to the strap-on, so he could take it off. Jude saw what he was doing, and pushed his hands away.

“Don’t be so hasty…wouldn’t you like to keep it on?”

Derek started to say no, but as he thought about it, he realized…that he did want to keep it on.

“After all, it’s always been a fantasy of yours, hasn’t it? To have a big old donkey cock, instead of some small three inch thing like before? Doesn’t this just make you feel like such a sexy beast?”

“Fuck, it….kind of does,” Derek managed to say, a bray escaping from his lips as he spoke, “But what’s with the donkey noises? I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Don’t worry about those–you like making them.”

Yeah, actually, he kind of did.

No…wait.

“You…you fucking hypnotized me, and now, you’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Jude did that thing where he looks innocent, but he was guilty as fuck, and Derek went back to trying to find the seam…but it wasn’t there. Or rather, he couldn’t see it. “Help me get this off, I have to piss.”

“You can piss through it by now, don’t worry about it.”

“What?”

Jude pursed his lips, “I…might have lied a bit when I said that was lube earlier.”

Derek just stared at him. “What the fuck have you done to me, you fucking asshole?”

(I felt like doing some short captions today. There will be two of them. Hope you enjoy them!)

Caption Day (1 of 2)

The note on the unlocked front door said he was waiting for you in the basement. You’d never been to his house before, but he’d left a trail of discarded clothes down the hall leading to a door down the hall, but when you opened it, you couldn’t see anything. Not because it was dark—but because the entire room had been filled with fog…no, now that you could smell it, it was smoke. Sweet smoke, like a pipe, but how in the world had he made so much of it?

Now you were at your most terrified. Who knew what this guy had planned? But you had to go down there…right? You took the first step.

It actually smells…pretty good. In fact, it’s making your cock hard in your pants. You can smell, something else, too. Like…musk. Find the next step.

Fuck, it’s hot in here too, it’s making you sweat, and itch. You run one hand through your hair, not noticing it come away in clumps, leaving behind a perfectly smooth scalp. Find the next step.

Sweating like a pig. One hand runs over your hairy gut. Is it swelling? It…it is swelling. But when did it get so…small? Shouldn’t you be even fatter? And when did you take off your clothes anyway? It felt good to be naked though, it was cooler. You find the next step with your bare foot.

Panting now. Taking a moment to feel yourself. Soft, flabby gut. Hair everywhere. That feels more right. You look back over your shoulder, one hand pulling at your beard. You can’t even see the door up there anymore. You consider going back, but take another step down.

Why would you want to go back up, anyway? He—He’s down here. Somewhere. Waiting for you in all this sexy smoke. Waiting for…for his pig. Yeah, pig fucker, fuck. Such a fucking pig. You pause, reach around behind and finger your hole while you grope your short, pig cock, snorting and grunting. But you can cum later, you need to get down to him now. Take another step.

You can’t feel the wood on your feet anymore…but of course you can’t, you’re in your gear. Rubber stretched tight across your body, making you sweat even more, making you pant, making you stroke your piggy cock faster, hurry down another step.

Can’t wait to see him, can’t wait to see your master, can’t wait to taste his cock, feel his piss in your beard, can’t wait to serve him, the last step, now, feel the concrete, but fall to your knees because there he is, waiting with his pipe for his pig to arrive, but you’re here now, you’re here and you’ll never leave. He comes closer to you, and some small part of you is scared. Something just happened to you, something wrong, but what? You’re mind is too slow, too focused on the collar glinting in the smoke. He puts the leather around your neck, and you can feel the terror in you reaching a fever pitch. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t you doing anything, why—

The collar cinches tight. Your mind is empty. Master’s cock is there, and you salivate, drool running down into your beard.

“May I sir?”

“Of course, slave.”

Our Demons (Part 3)

“Swallow it,” the voice said, the first he’d heard in hours, and without questioning it, he started chewing the butt into a paste and swallowed it down. “This one too,” the voice said, and a second hot butt dropped into his mouth. A bit bigger, and he had a harder time choking it down. There was a pressure on his chest, his master straddling him again, and a hot, bitter liquid started flowing into his mouth. “Drink it all.” He did, and it helped wash down the butt as well. A few gulps in, he realized it must be master’s piss, but he couldn’t stop now, he couldn’t stop ever. As soon as he’d swallowed it all, another cigar was shoved into the mouth ring, but Rich didn’t need orders this time–he craved it already. Needed it. It was wrong, and yet already he knew he’d lost. What was he becoming? He realized he couldn’t quite bring himself to care–and when master went back to stretching his pig hole, all the concerns melted away all over again.

“Don’t resist. Move only how I direct you to move.”

He felt the restraints on his arms and legs being removed, and then two hands helped him roll over onto his back. Every order gave him another surge of pleasure–it was hard to keep himself focused on the fact that he shouldn’t be obeying, that he should try to get away. But get away how? He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. He didn’t know where to go. It was easier to just obey. So much easier to obey everything Master said.

His arms were again pulled up and secured to the top of the bed, but his legs were stretched up to the ceiling in wide split, his ass exposed and hanging slightly off the edge of the bed. He could feel that the rubber had covered his entire ass, however–did that mean he was going to be spared his fisting? Then he realized that the fist shaped dildo was still lodged in his ass, sealed in by the rubber, and he started to squirm.

“Calm down.”

He did. Nothing happened for a few moments, or rather, he wasn’t aware of anything happening. He still couldn’t see or hear, all he could do was breathe through his mouth, and lie there on the bed, legs thrown up in the air. Then, he felt something shove it’s way into the hole. It wasn’t a gag–if anything, the end felt dry and tasted somewhat bitter on his tongue. Breathing was suddenly like trying to get all of his air through a straw–possible, but it took much more effort than he would have liked.

He felt something by the side of his head, and he could hear again, but only on one side. It spoke to him again, “There, isn’t that better for all of us? I’m sure you’ll be much more agreeable from now on, in that nice suit of yours. And I haven’t forgotten my promise earlier, but before I start fisting your ass into a crater, how about we light you up, piggy?” Rich heard a lighter flick to life, and suddenly he was inhaling smoke. He tried to cough, but with no where for the air to go, he found himself choking in the rubber. “Calm down,” it said, “Inhale. Breathe in deep, and it’ll be just like breathing air for you soon enough.”

Rich didn’t exactly have much of a choice, but he did as the voice said, and did his best to breathe normally. After a minute, he was feeling a bit lightheaded, but otherwise it seemed normal–and that worried him more than anything else.

“Good job little pig. We’re gonna fill you up with so much smoke that you won’t even recognize yourself pretty soon. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna fuck around with that little head of yours just yet. Derrick’s already dying off you know. Pretty soon it’ll just be the two of us. Think of all the fucking fun we’re gonna have, pig! Now I’m gonna close your ear back up–all I want you to focus on is smoking that fat cigar, and how good it’s gonna feel having my forearm buried in that fat ass of yours.”

He felt the rubber seal itself up again, and once more, there was silence. He tried to force the cigar out of his mouth, but it had been lodged in so tight he couldn’t budge it. Besides, that would be bad. Master had wanted him to smoke it. Focus on smoking and how good it’s gonna feel to be fisted. The rubber parted down his ass crack–he could feel the air on his sweaty crack–and the dildo slid out of his hole easily, and almost immediately, he felt three or four fingers worm his way into his ass. He was feeling so hot, all of a sudden, and he could feel himself sweating inside the suit. Hot and…and horny. The smoke was getting to his head, he couldn’t quite get enough air. In the darkness, he felt his head spinning from the lack of oxygen, but Derrick’s fist breaking past his sphincter refocused him and…and it felt good. It felt so fucking good. He moaned around the cigar in his mouth, and Master must have heard him, because he shoved his hand in deeper.

Rich tried to tell himself that this was all wrong, tried to fight past the sensation and the orders and the sheer pleasure he was feeling, but after a few minutes he relaxed back, and just let Master pummel his hole. The first orgasm came over him like a soft wave, the rubber sucking the cum from him, and minutes later, there was another one just as intense. Master had grown bored, or simply satisfied with how loose the pig’s hole had become, and started punch fucking him, and then worked both fists in. Rich suddenly felt the cigar butt give way into cinders–he had smoked it to the root. It was hot and burned his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out–he doused it with saliva, cooling it as quickly as he could.

Our Demons (Part 2)

“Look, I’ll just be gone for a few hours, nothing to worry about, really.”

“Please, just untie me, just let me go.”

Derrick looked at Rich with a bit of pity, but also fear, “I would, but it wouldn’t want me to. Besides, you’re helping me out so much! Really, you are.”

“Derrick, this isn’t you, you have to stop smoking those things. Can’t you see what they’re doing to you? You’re becoming a freak, man? A fucking faggot.”

“I’m not a fucking faggot!” Derrick yelled, “You’re the fucking faggot here, you fucking bitch, just for that, when I get back, I’m gonna shove my whole fucking fist in that hole of yours, got it? I’m gonna make you scream like a fucking whore.”

Rich just shook his head, but Derrick grabbed the cock shaped gag on the bed pillow, shoved it back in his mouth, and strapped it around the back of his head. After fucking his face for what felt like hours on the couch, Derrick had dragged Rich into the bedroom, and bound him belly down and spread eagled on the bed. He went over, grabbed the biggest dildo from the collection that had appeared on the dresser. It was shaped like a fist, not a cock, and Rich pleaded with him through the gag.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, but it’ll help. I’m gonna fist you when I get back, and this will get you a bit looser,” Derrick said, and then his voice hardened, “No lube though–I’m gonna shove it in raw, so you can get used to the pain, piggy.” Derrick had already spent most of the afternoon fucking him repeatedly, but the fist was something else. He screamed into the gag, but as soon as he did, he felt a searing pain in the small of his back, as Derrick smashed the butt of his burning cigar into his flesh, “You know how I feel about screaming, fucker! Shut your fucking trap.” Rich bit down and sucked on the gag in his mouth, anything to distract from the pain of his stretched hole, and then Derrick stood back up. “You should make sure that stays in there. I don’t know what it might do to you if it falls out by the time I get back. I’ll try to hurry, I promise. I just gotta get some more cigars, and maybe…maybe some other stuff, is all. I’ll be back soon.”

Soon ended up being four hours later. Thankfully, Rich got used to the pain rather quickly, but the sheer boredom of his position wore on him more than anything. He tried calling for help, he tried wrenching at the handcuffs holding him to the bed, but nothing budged. Instead, all he could do was think about what in the world was happening to Derrick. He’d already been trapped here for over a day–no one had heard them, no one had come to check on them. Rich lived alone and worked from home–it would be days before anyone realized he was missing, and who knew what might happen before then? At first, he just thought Derrick was going crazy–he kept referring to an “it,” like there was something else inside of him–but as the day had worn on, he was growing more and more sure it was those new cigars of his. Rich thought it was that other voice, the cruel voice, the abuser. Whatever it was, it scared Rich to death–and Derrick was scared of it too. He tried to sleep for a bit, but whenever he did, he could feel his body start pushing the dildo out, so he stayed awake, forcing himself to clench his ass down on the dildo–or clench it as best he could. As terrified as he was of whatever might come next, he was still happy to hear the door open, and the heavy trod of Derrick’s boots.

“Hey, piggy,” he said when he came into the bedroom–but this was a new voice. It was closer to Derrick’s, but tough, raspier, “Fuck, I needed that. I feel so much fucking better, you know? Turns out, those first cigars were just meant to get me started. The guy gave me these new ones, and fuck! They pack such a kick. I can’t wait to get my fist in that hole of yours, it’s gonna be fucking amazing. You’re such a good piggy friend, you know that? What the fuck would I do without you?” Derrick sat down on the bed looking down at Rich’s spread eagle body. “I told him about you, you know? He thinks you’re such a good friend, helping me out like this, that he had a present for you. You see, I told him that you’re still fighting a bit, and he suggested that what I really needed was a better way to keep you under control, and I fucking agreed, you know? If you just did what I fucking told you, then all this would go so much smoother. Thankfully, he had just the fucking thing for you. But here’s the thing. I have to take out your gag, so remember,” and here his voice shifted, and it came back, that deep snarl, “If you scream or shout, I will choke the fucking life from your lungs.”

Derrick pulled something black from the bag–Rich had no idea what it was. He unlatched the gag from his head and pulled it out. To scream or not to scream? He was caught in a moment of indecision, while Derrick fiddled with the black object. A mask? A hood? Before he could get anything out, his friend pulled the hood over his head. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe. The rubber pressed against his nose and mouth, tight, as he sucked against it, trying to get air, and just when he thought he might faint, the rubber opened up, pushed into his mouth, and hardened, forcing him to keep his jaw wide spread. He felt it with his tongue–a hard, inch wide, rubber ring had appeared out of nowhere, then he noticed something else–he could feel something running down his neck and onto his chest. He wanted to see what was happening, but he couldn’t see anything. He realized he couldn’t hear anything either, until Derrick spoke. The voice was almost too loud–like it was coming from inside his own head.

“Just relax. Let the rubber cover you.”

He felt his body slump down into the bed. It was rubber then. He could feel it running up his arms now, reaching his hands, but instead of forming gloves, the rubber massed around his hands, forcing them to form fists that he couldn’t open no matter how hard he tried. The rubber kept going down his body, covered his cock and balls in a mass of rubber so thick he didn’t think he’d be able to feel anything, and then down his legs to his feet, which formed into thick, rubber soled boots. He felt two fingers shove their way into his mouth, followed by a single word in his mind, “Lick.” He did, unable to stop himself, and felt the area around his cock start pulsing and sucking on his cock and balls, sending bolts of pleasure through him. Then a cock, another brutal face fuck, and now there was nothing Rich could do. He’d been turned into a hole. He hadn’t imagined that this could get any worse–but now he realized that this might just be only the beginning.

Garrison’s Physical

by Wesley Bracken

What kind of doctor’s office even was this?

Garrison sat in the stiff, leather upholstered chair in the waiting room. The slender, heavily pierced receptionist had taken his name with a flourish; he was ninety percent sure he was a faggot. In fact, looking around, he was ninety percent sure that he was surrounded by faggots. They sat around the room, all in these strange leather chairs–two big hefty men in biker gear chuckling along the wall, a grimy, fat skinhead in coveralls fidgeting by the door, and him, in his suit, here for a company physical because he hadn’t been to the doctor in years, but he hated going to the doctor. He hated having some guy put his hands on him, all doctors were probably faggots anyway, and he was perfectly healthy regardless. But he’d needed to, they said, and so he’d picked a random doctor from the book and here he was. He would have gotten up and left in disgust already, if that strange smell in the air wasn’t so…

He’d kind of blanked out again there, that was the second time. Looking at the clock, only a couple of minutes had gone past–the skinhead had gone in, the bikers were staring at him, or more precisely, his crotch. Garrison grabbed a magazine and covered himself, staring them down, and they just stared back. A young man in black, shiny scrubs opened the door and called his name.

Height and weight. Blood pressure and body temperature. Any medications? Any reason you came to see us in particular? Did you fill out our new patient survey? No, we don’t send it to the government, it remains in our office, we merely like to–. Well that’s alright, the doctor will be in to see you shortly.

The smell was stronger here, and the black blinds and black paint and the lack of windows made him feel like hours had passed already. He pulled out his phone and tried to get some emails written, but he just couldn’t focus for some reason. He blanked out for a bit, breathing deep, staring at the wall and counting odd shapes in the spackle, when a loud groan of pleasure from somewhere close by startled him. This was definitely strange, he thought to himself, but still couldn’t quite manage to stand up and leave, and so he sat, and he sat, and he sat. He checked his phone, but it had to be wrong–he couldn’t have been in here for three hours already. It felt like thirty minutes at most, and didn’t most doctor’s offices close around six anyway? Why would he still be here at eight at night?

Finally there was a knock at the door, and the doctor entered the room. He wasn’t dressed like any doctor Garrison had ever seen, he could see the older man’s hairy ass through those rubber chaps he had on, and was he smoking a cigar? And wearing waders? This, he told himself, was wrong, and yet his body couldn’t seem to do anything about it. Somewhere along the line, he had relaxed so much that he simply seemed to be moving in slow motion, as he tried to protest and push past the doctor, who just shoved him back into his seat, talking to him like he hadn’t just tried to get away at all, and just kept talking for a while, his voice distant and muddled, until he told Garrison to go ahead and strip. He tried to leave his underwear on, but the doctor made him take those off too, gathered everything up, and handed it to a nurse out in the hall, before starting the physical.

It proceeded normally enough at first, the doctor working with his stethoscope, inspecting his body, asking him normal enough questions. The man’s smoking bothered him not because of the smoke–Garrison smoked cigars himself–but because the smoke was the same smell he’d been surrounded with all day in the office, but far stronger. He realized that the doctor had been talking this whole time, and he’d also been talking back to him–answering questions, agreeing with statements–but couldn’t remember anything either of them had said the entire time, until the question came, “When did you have your last prostate exam?”

Never. He’d never let some faggot touch his ass like that. That was what faggots did, that was ‘an exit, not an entrance,’ and yet he was lying on his back on a table, legs in the air, while the doctor slipped his rubber gloved fingers in one by one, and it felt good. It felt so good. It felt like those few times, drunk, that he’d taken the dildo one of his ex-girlfriends had left in his apartment and he’d…so fucking good, fuck. Too good. He couldn’t be feeling this, he shouldn’t be feeling this, but the words no couldn’t quite get out of his mouth, and then all of the fingers were in his hole, pushing in, making him cry out, and then the whole fist inside him, so fucking full.

“Good, it look’s great. You have a great hole.”

His cock was hard now, like it’d been those few times. He tried to not think about it, but then the doctor’s other hand wrapped around it and started massaging it, testing his reflexes, the doctor was making curious noises…or were they his noises? He was shooting suddenly, spraying cum up onto his chest.

“Perfectly natural, you’re doing just fine.”

Fine, he felt humiliated, and yet the fist drove in deeper still, and he wanted it in there, he was telling the doctor he wanted his fist inside him.

“Really? My, that seems serious. I’m afraid that you might be a fist pig, did you know that?”

He hadn’t known that.

“Yes, you see, fist pigs need constant anal stimulation, or they tend to develop depression, anxiety, and other problems. I think that we’re going to have to do something about that, don’t you? I’m sure that if you come in twice a week, we can have your ass properly stimulated in no time. A lot of the symptoms you’re seeing will clear up in a few weeks.”

Garrison thanked him. The doctor asked if he’d like to stop, and Garrison said he’d like to cum again, he’d feel a lot better if he shot, yeah, he begged the doctor for more, until he came screaming a second time, and the doctor allowed him to sit up, warned him that he’d have some residual pain and looseness, and that he should come by on Tuesdays and Fridays for his appointments. The doctor also wrote him a prescription–for a haircut, and for twenty sessions at a local tattoo parlour. To help boost his confidence.

Six months later, Garrison had never been happier. Sure, he’d had to quit his office job when he’d gotten his head and hands tattooed, but Grant–the filthy skin in coveralls he’d seen in the waiting room that first day–had gotten him a job at the garbage dump working in the office, so it was all ok. And Grant’s hands were fucking huge, he fucking loved taking that trashman’s arm up to the elbows. e had no idea why he’d waited so long to get a physical, he’d never been in better health in his whole life. Well, the doctor had started to worry about his gastro intestinal urinary imbalance, but that didn’t sound too serious, right?

***

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Commission: Portrait of a Happy Family

Commissioned by Scot158

Harvey gave a grumble, rolled over, and checked the clock. Ten in the morning–at least it was Saturday and he could sleep in. His friend Jack was going to come over around noon–apparently he had something he was desperate to show him on his computer or something, but fuck, why did he have such a headache this morning?

A cigar, he needed a cigar, of course. But he didn’t smoke cigars, what in the world was he thinking of that for? He sat up on the edge of the bed, pawed open the humidor on his bedside table with a hand that seemed far too large, fished out a cigar, fumbled with his zippo and got it lit, taking his first deep lungful of smoke for the weekend ahead. His head cleared quickly, and his earlier confusion about the cigar seemed misplaced. Hell, his dad had given him his first cigar when he’d grown his first pubic hair at the age of seven–he’d been an avid smoker for a decade now. He got up, wedged himself through the doorway of his room that seemed much too narrow (or was he too wide?) and headed for the bathroom for his morning piss. He couldn’t see his soft cock past his big, extremely hairy gut, but that changed when he got hard–all ten inches, fuck.

He started stroking himself over the toilet, reached up and started tugging on the thick ring piercing one of his nipples. His dad had given him a new ring each birthday, and last year had even let him get his first tattoo along with a heavy gauge PA. Oh man, his dad was so proud of him as he’d stroked his son’s pierced cock for the first time in the shop, leaned in and kissed him, their beards tangling, his dad feeding him his tobacco black spit as the artist watched them, stroking his own cock that Harvey would suck later on…

Harvey grunted and shot his load across the entire toilet. wondering what in the hell he’d just remembered. That hadn’t happened, had it? And yet, everything told him it was real, and why…why shouldn’t it be? He was probably just hungry. He flushed the toilet and headed downstairs, naked, to go eat some cereal. He poured himself one heaping bowl, devoured it, and with milk still in his beard, got up and made himself a second, and then a third, finishing off an entire box. Still hungry, he pawed through the kitchen, cracked half a dozen eggs in a bowl and started whipping them together for an omelette, when he heard the first thump on the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” was his first thought, but by the time the second thump hit, he remembered it was just his dad tromping down the stairs. But that couldn’t be his dad, could it? Those footsteps sounded like they belonged to a monster. He turned to the doorway by the stairs, waiting to see if his memories could be lying, but they weren’t. His father hit the first floor, ducked his way under the seven foot doorway, naked, but so covered with hair Harvey could only see the skin of his thirteen inch cock swinging between his legs. “Mornin’ son,” he said, scratching his balls.

“M–Mornin’ Pa…” Harvey said. Why was he breathing so shallow? His dad dribbled some black tobacco spit from his mouth, and he watched it run down into his black beard. Had he just licked his lips? Why had he done that?

“Saw what you did over the toilet, boy.”

Oh shit, had he forgotten to clean that up?

“I had to lick it up for you, not that I mind…” He tromped closer. Harvey could feel the floor shake with each step of his dad’s huge, wide feet. “Tasted good, but it got me all horny for my boy this morning…”

His dad came close, and suddenly Harvey could smell him. He was rank, as rank as he was. They smelled the same, fuck, they smelled so hot together. His dad leaned in, taking the cigar from his son’s mouth and kissed him, pushing tobacco spit into his son’s thirsty mouth, twisting each other’s nipples, their cocks growing stiff, jutting up between their bellies. With a growl, his dad spun Harvey around, bent him over the counter, lubed his cock up with some spit, and drove it into his son’s ass.

“Oh fuck, Pa…”

“Yeah, that’s my boy’s hot asshole, fuck…”

His dad’s huge hands wrapped around his hips, gripping him tightly, and he started driving all thirteen inches deep inside him. Harvey reached out and retrieved his cigar and kept smoking, reaching under, his cock hard again already, and started stroking. The doorbell rang.

“Oh fuck, that’s Jack…I gotta get that,” Harvey said, but his dad held him in place.

“I’m almost fuckin’ finished boy, hold on, and tighten down on your Pa’s fuckstick, aww fuck yeah, here it fuckin’ comes…”

His dad drove his cock in as deep as he could. Harvey could feel his dad pumping cum deep into his hole. The doorbell rang again, but his dad held him in place until the last few spasms finished, and then pulled out. “Alright, go get the door, son.”

Slightly embarrassed, but without really knowing why he felt that way (after all, his dad fucked him all the time–why would he be embarrassed about that?) he went to the front door, only realizing when it was open and he was staring at Jack in the doorway that he was still completely naked, his cock still hard and jutting out across the empty space between them. Jack’s jaw dropped when he saw it…but he’d seen it before, hadn’t he? Harvey and his dad were always naked in the house–Jack knew that. “Hey man, sorry it took me a sec to get the door, I was, uh…busy.”

“It actually worked, I can’t believe it!” Jack said, and pushed his way past Harvey, grabbed his hand, and dragged him to the stairs, and up to Harvey’s room, he pulled out his laptop and opened it up, revealing a strange screen which looked like some cross between a character generator and a 3D modelling program, and started explaining what it was. Harvey listened, but couldn’t believe it. A computer program that could alter reality? That wasn’t possible…was it? He had felt kind of strange all morning, but now that he thought about it, he was feeling less strange now than before. When he mentioned this to Jack, his friend showed him a timer counting down in the bottom corner, which had about half an hour left.

“It’s still processing the reality change. Hell, I can’t even remember what you looked like before anymore. When the timer finishes, this reality will be completely real to everyone, even you and me.”

“What?” Harvey said, “Well change me back!”

Jack furrowed his brow, “but this is what you wanted–you told me you’d had this fantasy forever.”

Harvey stared at him. Would Jack be lying to him? Hell, Jack could have just made all of that up. For all he knew, Jack might not have even been his friend before this morning, but that was paranoid, right? “Still…still, you should have asked me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise, is all.”

Harvey looked at himself in the mirror on the wall. How could he have looked entirely different just the day before? It couldn’t be possible. Still…Jack seemed convinced. He was a bit angry though. It felt like he’d been a bit violated. He looked over at Jack, and wondered how he’d like it, to suddenly end up in some big bear body, smoking cigars all day long, covered…covered with fur…Harvey realized his cock was getting hard, and that gave him an idea…

“Give me the computer,” Harvey said.

“What?”

“You changed me. It’s only fair that I get to change you back.”

“Hey, come on, that’s not–”

Harvey stepped up, and blew a thick cloud of smoke in Jack’s face, the head of his cock drooling precum on Jack’s pant leg. “I could always just take it from you, you know. I’m much, much bigger than you.”

“Look man, I’m sorry I didn’t ask–”

Harvey could sense Jack’s nervousness, and he could also see the tent growing in his friend’s pants. He liked how Harvey looked now, but Jack could still use some improvement. He eventually relented to the pressure, and let his friend look over the program, Harvey sat at the desk, the screen away from Jack so he couldn’t see what he was doing, and worked quickly. When he was satisfied, he gave everything a second look, and then hit submit. The change was instantaneous. One moment, Jack was on sitting on the edge of the bed, twiddling his thumbs, the next, Harvey’s obese big brother Jack was sitting there naked, body covered with fur, an unruly beard reaching down to his deep belly button, a cheek suddenly bulging out with a huge wad of chewing tobacco. Jack let out a belch as he sat there, and gave his huge gut a scratch. “You done yet, bro?”

He didn’t even realize anything had changed! Harvey looked down at the timer, and saw it had two hours to count down. Apparently, the program found this change a bit easier to process than changing him and his father had been. Well, their father now. He grinned. “Almost done…I gotta piss though.”

“Aww, I can take care of that bro,” Jack said, rubbing his gut, “Fuckin’ thirsty myself.”

Harvey got up from the chair, and realized he could smell the stench wafting off his slovenly brother. He never showered, and he stank of piss and sweat. He smelled…he smelled damn sexy actually. Harvey shook his head–he wasn’t supposed to think that, was he? He walked over, pointed his cock up at his big brother’s bearded mouth, and started pissing, arcing the piss up, soaking Jack’s face before pointing the stream into his mouth and watching him swallow it down. Fuck, he was so fucking sexy, he hoped he could be as nasty as his big brother some day.

Harvey shook his head again. He didn’t want to be like Jack! Jack was a slob–he was supposed to be…to be…He couldn’t remember. He finished pissing, and Jack licked his lips. “Thanks bro, your piss is fantastic.”

Harvey grinned, happy that his big brother was happy, stepped closer and gave Jack a hug, and started sucking the piss from his brother’s beard, and unable to stop himself, he started licking his big brother’s body clean. That was one of his favorite jobs, actually, keeping his brother and father clean. Who needs to shower when Harvey is so horny for their sweat and stink that he’ll lick them both clean every day?

Something was wrong with this. The program was changing him too, not just Jack, but it was happening too fast for him to do anything about it, and…and he didn’t really want to do anything about it. He kept licking, and when he finished Jack’s chest and gut, his brother laid down on the bed belly down, and let Harvey spread his fat ass and start licking out his nasty crack, drilling his tongue into his brother’s hole. Fuck, the taste of Jack’s ass got him so horny–he had to stop mid-cleaning to crawl forward, line his cock up with Jack’s hole and work it in for a fuck.

Jack gave a loud groan of pleasure as Harvey fucked him on their bed. Jack raised up, in the middle of the fuck, and looked at Harvey over his shoulder. “W–wait a minute…you already changed me, you fucker!”

“Oh shut up, and enjoy it,” Harvey said, and drove his dick as deep as it could go, “You love being a slob, just go with it.”

“Fuck, I fuckin’ reek.”

“You reek so fuckin’ good bro, don’t even worry about it–I’ll keep you clean.”

“You’re fuckin’ nasty.”

“Heh, not as nasty as you are.”

Jack let off another belch and a groan, pushing back to meet his little brother’s thrusts. Harvey finally shot his load, and then got down and started sucking the cum from his brother’s ass, before he licked the rest of it clean. When he finished, Jack rolled back over, and his own twelve inch cock was thrusting up against his belly. “Well, start sucking bro, don’t just stare at it.”

Harvey had long since lost his gag reflex, and he could take both his brother’s and his father’s cocks to the hilt. Jack didn’t last long, and he came a with a series of shudders that made his flabby body shake wildly. He laid there, enjoying the afterglow, while his little brother got down and started licking his feet clean. They were so big! Definitely as big as their dad’s. Harvey got another cigar lit and toyed with the heat on Jack’s feet–the two hour timer passed, and neither of them noticed a thing, until Jack’s stomach gave a growl. “Fuck, I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Harvey said, and dodged his brother’s kick, laughing.

“Fuck you, I’m gonna go eat something. You coming?”

“I’ll come downstairs–I need to see if dad needs anything cleaned.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ slut, Harvey.”

Harvey stuck his tongue out at his big brother, “I learned from the best.”

Jack went down and assembled a platter of food for himself, while Harvey went to where his father was sitting on the couch, and started licking him clean too. Jack thought about watching his father and brother fuck, but then he remembered the computer upstairs, and with a grin, he crept upstairs, snacking all the way.

He came back downstairs an hour later, no longer naked. Instead, he had on a wide strap leather harness and some heavy biker boots, and a collar with a tag that read “Alpha” on it. Curious to see what his dad and brother might be up to, he found the living room empty. That made sense though–dad preferred to work in the dungeon, the sprawling basement beneath the house where the family spent most of their quality time.

Downstairs, his father–and his master–was standing behind Harvey, who was tied down on a wooden horse. His little brother was now quite a bit more muscled–his dad kept him on a strict diet and exercise regimen, to keep his slave son in peak physical shape for constant abuse. He was also covered head to toe in tattoos, his face and body riddled with piercings. Master was decked out in rubber today, and he had one gloved fist buried elbow deep in his youngest son’s ass. There was a puddle of cum underneath the horse–obviously the pressure on Harvey’ prostate had made him cum at least twice already.

“Do you need any help, sir?” Jack asked, and his dad looked over at him and smiled.

“Sure Jack–put a glove on. Daddy’s horny for this slave’s mouth, but I want to keep stretching his hole. Take over for me, would you?”

Jack was only too happy to pull on a rubber glove, lube it up, and slide it into his little brother’s wide open asshole. His dad stripped off his own gloves, and went around, pulling the gag from Harvey’s mouth and replacing it with his own huge cock. Harvey realized something else had changed, but he couldn’t quite pin down what it was, and by the time the family was through with their afternoon play session, the timer had expired, and none of them could remember anything ever being different at all. Of course, those were far from the last changes for the happy family of bears, but those will have to wait for another time.

Finally gonna get some motherfuckin’ answers from this motherfucker. What the fuck is going on with my son? First those fucking cigars, and now tattoos? And he’s dropping out of college? Apartment 305…305, here it is, bang on the door, let him know I mean business.

Naturally, the fucker doesn’t have the balls to answer. I’ll just fucking wait for him. Wait–the door’s unlocked? Good enough for me, let’s find this fucker. Living room’s empty, not in the kitchen, try the bedroom…what the hell? He’s just laying there, groping himself…staring at me. I yell, he doesn’t do anything, just keeps staring at me, stroking himself, so fucking rhythmic…

Fuck…how long…how long have I been watching him? He hasn’t stopped once. I just…I just got here right? I can’t take my eyes away, what the hell is he doing to me? What the fuck is wrong with…with…

When did it get so hot in here, better…better take my shirt off…pants…pants too. Don’t look away though…keep watching him, keep staring, gotta keep staring at him…

Yeah, groping my cock now, like him. So fuckin’ horny. Can’t…didn’t I…come here to ask about…about something? My head feels so fuckin’ empty all of a sudden. Damn, his bulge is big, bigger than mine. He must have a huge cock, I wonder how big it is?

What…how did…I’m closer now, on my knees in front of him, just staring, his groin right there, fuckin’…a foot away, and he’s just rubbing himself. He…he should let me do that for him. He should let me please him…let me…serve him, yeah, serve him. He should let me serve him like…like a slave…

Why won’t he let me help him! He just keeps teasing me. Doesn’t he know how much this hurts? How much it hurts that he won’t let me please him? I’m just a fuckin’ slave, I don’t have any other purpose, I’m just a worthless old faggot, but he just keeps staring at me, gloating, he’s not going to let me have it, is he? I have…I have to…to earn it…Show him…show him how much of a faggot I am. There’s…there’s something in the other room, something I should put on…I don’t want to stop watching, but…

Not enough, I’m all dressed, but he still won’t let me please him…I’ll…I need his body. Wait, something, he’s moving his foot, yes, please let me serve you sir, let me…oh fuck, his socks reek, so fucking disgusting, gotta suck the sweat out of them, fuck! Gotta be a good slave, gotta show him what a good slave I am, what a worthless faggot I am, if I want to serve him properly. Take the sock off with my teeth, yeah, pull it off, tongue between his nasty toes, lick him clean, lick his feet clean, fuck…

Finally! Finally his cock, finally what I came for, finally I can serve him. Oh fuck, it tastes so good, just how I always imagined. I’m such a good slave, just a worthless slave for cock, for my master, I promise I’ll serve you forever, I’ll do anything you say, anything you want for the rest of my life.

*****

Hank, Tim’s father, had left to confront Julian the afternoon on the eighth, and his car didn’t pull back into the driveway until over twenty-four hours later, with the sun starting to set. He parked his car and swung both his feet out–it had been hard to work the pedals with his feet chained together, but he had to be a good slave, had to be a proper slave for master. His body was sweating in the rubber suit, especially under the summer sun, but he stood up, hair drenched with sweat, as Julian got out of the passenger seat and stretched.

Across the street, Mr. Clark was washing his truck, and his jaw dropped when he saw Hank in the driveway. Hank gave a wave and a big smile, his eyes oddly empty, and then he shuffled his way up the walk to the front door, opened the door, but waited for Julian to enter before following in after him.

Tim was sitting in a chair, smoking a cigar, and he looked up and saw Julian enter the front door. “Fuck, what the hell took you so long?”

Julian laughed, stepped to the side and let Tim get a look at his rubber clad father, grinning stupidly at them both, waiting for orders.

Tim broke out in laughter, “Holy shit! What the fuck did you do to him?”

“He’s our new rubber slave–it just took some work breaking his mind to bits is all. Slave, get down there and suck your son’s cock.”

“Yes sir,” Hank said, shuffled over with his chains scraping across the floor, got down on his knees and started sucking Tim’s cock.

“Fuck man, he’s better at it than I would have thought.”

“He had some practice already. So what do you say? Do you like your gift?”

“Fuck man,” Tim said, “I fuckin’ love it. He’s been driving me crazy lately.”

“Heh, I bet. Still, I have a few more ideas on how I could improve your relationship together, eh?” Julian said, and started massaging his crotch. While Hank kept sucking, Tim found his mind go deliciously blank, staring at Julian’s crotch, feeling all sorts of new, perverse thoughts flow into him, humiliating ideas, cruel ideas, things he would have never imagined.

“Yeah, you’re going to be one cruel master for this rubber pig, eh man?” Julian said, and stopped groping himself.

Tim sneered down at his slave, pulled his cock out and said, “Open wide, bitch,” and when his father’s mouth was open, he tapped the hot ashes from his cigar into his mouth, “Swallow.” Hank did as he was told, choking down the hot, dry dust. “Good pig,” Tim added, and grabbed the back of his father’s head, skull fucking him like a proper thug.

“Fuckin’ hot,” Julian said, came up to him, opened the fly of his jeans and let Tim suck his cock while his father blew him.

When their new neighbors invited Leif and his son, Mac over for dinner, they didn’t realize that the two older men’s cum would be on the menu. However, it didn’t take long for the spell the two older bears cast on them to deprive them both of their free will, and as they sucked their new master’s off in the kitchen, the two bears congratulated each other.

“See, I fuckin’ told you it would work! Damn, this boy’s mouth is fuckin’ hot as fuck–gonna love havin’ you as my new boy.”

“Fuck yeah–this old fuck though, what are we gonna do with him?”

“I already got a buyer–and he wants him untrained, which makes it even better. Said he would be coming by tonight.”

Sure enough, a couple of hours later there was a knock on the door, and the older, leather clad master came in, took a look at Leif, and dragged him out the door by the metal collar he shackled around his neck, before he could even say goodbye to his son–not that Mac was paying attention. He was too focused on pleasing his new dads–in fact, he already forgotten about his old one entirely by the time the night was through. From that moment on, he was his dad’s sexy rubbercub, ready for a load of cum or piss at any moment, but there was nothing he loved more than getting plowed by his dads from both ends.

Lief on the other hand, didn’t have as nice of a training session. He still remembered everything, and his master–an older man whose real name he never had the chance to learn, beat him mercilessly, training him into a sniveling old boot licker who he’d drag to the clubs, where Lief would be fisted for hours on end, and he would, on occasion, see his son there too, watching him from a far, growing up with his two dads into a chubby bear slut, and the desire for vengeance burned it’s way through him. Still, he would never be able to get to him, would he? Unless he managed to get his hands on some magic of his own, of course…

The Sixth Day of Christmas

Wade’s heart was beating fast in his chest, and he gripped the bat tighter in his hands and peered around the corner. There really was someone in his house! Probably someone trying to rob him–well, he’d show them that they’d picked the wrong place to invade. He snuck around the corner, hefting the bat up, ran at the stranger, and swung the bat at the back of his head, connecting with a solid sound, and sending the man to his knees.

“You think you can just come in my fucking house and steal my fucking shit?” Wade said, “You picked the wrong fucking house, you fucking…” He stopped talking and looked down at the person he’d just hit with his bat, the white beard, the big hairy belly, the leather harness? “S–Santa Claus?” he said, stepping back and dropping the bat to the ground.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people!” Santa said, rubbing the back of his head, “Good thing I’m fucking immortal, but that still fucking hurts. Every fucking year, someone hits fucking Santa with a bat, or tries to shoot him, or whatever. Well you know what? I’m fucking sick of it. I was going to leave you something nice, but I think you might make a nice present instead!”

Before Wade could even react, Santa had hurled something at him, what looked like a solid black ball, but when it hit his chest it splattered and stuck to him, and when he felt it, he realized it was some kind of liquid latex–and that it was really, really sticky. In fact, he couldn’t pull his hand away, and the rubber was starting to spread across his chest and up his hand onto his arm. He tried to shout for help, but it was moments before both of his arms were pinned to his chest, and he watched as they actually merged with his body, disappearing entirely. The rubber spread down his legs, and suddenly he couldn’t stand up, and he fell forward onto his knees, the rubber sealing his legs together with his ass. The only place the rubber hadn’t spread was onto his face, and by now he was screaming in terror, trying to move his arms, but his body was now just a hunk of solid rubber. “What is this shit! What the fuck did you do to me!”

“Heh, I’m just making sure that you aren’t going to a danger to anyone else ever again is all. After all, what could a cumdump urinal like you ever do to hurt someone?”

“Wh–What?”

Santa pulled out his cock, and waved it in Wade’s face, “Come on little urinal, open up for Santa–I’ve had to piss for fucking hours now.”

Wade shut his mouth tight–for a moment–but then the rubber crawled up past his jaw and forced his mouth open, freezing it wide open, and Santa slid in his cock, and Wade shivered with pleasure. He could hear…something. No, it was more like a feeling, coming from the rubber. This sensation of…service? What he was…made for?

Santa started pissing, and he could feel the piss flowing down into him, could taste it inside of him, and it gave him such pleasure he would have orgasmed if he’d still had a cock, and when Santa finished with his load of piss he started fucking Wade’s hole roughly, but that felt good too. It felt good to be used–to be abused–it’s what he was made for. The rubber rose higher, absorbing his ears and eyes, but he didn’t need to hear or see–only taste, and feel the pat on his head from Santa after he’d shot his load, telling him he’d done a good job, and then Santa picked him up and shoved the new Wade into his bag. Now he just had to decide where to put him. He could always give him to a private owner, but it would be a shame to see him used rarely. In the end, Santa left him in the seediest bathhouse he could find, where he was fed many times a day, the happiest rubber cumdump urinal in the whole wide world.

Warning: This one’s…strange.

“Now, why don’t we see just how close you two partners can get,” the artist said.

Officers Frosen and Garnet started to struggle against the bonds and rubber suits they were encased in, as they felt the pump connecting their cocks come to life, both of them slightly dizzy from the tube connecting their mouths, restricting them both to the same air supply–or rather, their smoke supply, since the only thing they could seem to breathe in was cigar smoke. The last thing they remembered really was gassing up their squad car and taking a smoke break out back, and then nothing, and now…this. Whatever this was.

They each felt the electricity start to run through the wires running underneath the rubber suits they wore, their cocks pumped larger and larger in the shared tube, until the heads met in the middle, and then began to press together. Before too long, it was nearly impossible to tell where one man’s cock ended and the other’s began, like they had been pressed together into one single shaft. The smoke which had choked them out before now felt as sweet as fresh air, and they inhaled it greedily, desperate for more from the source…and from each other. They could taste each other’s breath as well, through the tube, and…and they wanted to be closer…so much closer.

The process could have lasted minutes–it could have lasted days or weeks–they couldn’t tell. Finally, however, the suits were removed, and the two officers say that they had been rendered identical, their genetic code mashed together until they had found equilibrium. Even stranger, when the vaccuum tube was cut away, their cocks refused to separate–they had, in fact, fused together. Still, they both enjoyed that, stroking their cock together, hastily lighting their first cigars, taking deep inhales before locking lips and sharing the smoke for ages.

“Ah, perfect!” the artist cried when he saw them, “I will call it, Smoke! It’s perfect for the twin series–I’ve been needing another siamese. I must get this into the new exhibition next week, New York will simply fall head over heels in love with it!”

The two officers weren’t listening though, they were lost in each other’s eyes, cum dripping from the shaft to the floor, the two twins locked in the embrace they would now share for the rest of their lives, in the artist’s gallery.