Dirty Daddies (2 of 2)

WARNING – SCAT

Here’s to my five years with the dirtiest daddies in the whole world. You know, I never thought I might be this lucky, to find two daddies like this–of course, it’s taken a lot of work to get them here, but I’m so much more powerful now than when I was a kid. Sure, that first year was rough. They both fought, hard, trying to get control of their relationship back, trying to get control over me, but I’m the one who does the controlling–I’m always in control. They realized that, eventually. Marty first, but he was always easier–weaker, easier to bend. Fuck, I had him begging for my cock the first day we were alone together, and Bill never had a clue–not until I wanted him to know.

But it took a lot of work, getting them here–helping them both become the perfect dirty daddies for their perfect dirty boy. Neither of them liked the facial hair at first, or the cigars, or the booze I made them drink all the time, but I want daddies who are fuzzy, who reek like an ashtray. I want daddies who are so stupid they piss themselves half the time, and laugh their asses off when they realize what they just did. I want daddies fighting for the privilege to eat out their boy’s nasty hole–fuck, can you imagine any expression of love deeper than that? Than begging to be your son’s toilet paper? I let them take turns, usually, but Bill’s the real toilet around the house.

See, Marty was easy enough, but Bill was a fighter. I had to break him pretty badly in the end, to keep him from hurting someone, but he learned his place eventually, right there at the moment, slurping at Marty’s greasy hole, begging for a load of shit while I piss all over them both. This anniversary party’s just getting started, of course–I have some pretty amazing gifts planned for my daddies.

See, Bill can’t work anymore–not after he shit himself in the office a few months back, and started eating it in front of his boss at an important meeting. Martin’s not too smart either, anymore–I tend to have that effect on daddies when they’re under my control for too long. They just can’t quite remember how to think for themselves anymore. So my daddies are getting two new lives this weekend. Bill’s gonna be a brand new trash collector on Monday morning, and Martin’s gonna be a delivery driver. Sure, we’ll have to sell the house and move into a double wide outside of town, but who needs money when you have the perfect family?

Stinkers – Eric’s Story (Part 7)

***WARNING*** SCAT

It took them both a while to get up to the dorm room itself, because Eric had to keep stopping, pushing Tom into alcoves so he could lick him and sniff him, delighting in his refreshing boyscent, already thinking about all the ways he was going to defile it once they got back to his room. If he had been clearer headed, he would have smelled what had happened in his room before opening the door, but the appearance of Tom had wiped every memory of Paul from his mind–so he opened the door and found his roommate rolling around in the middle of the room with the clothes he’d thrown out before, and the stench was horrific.

“Oh fuck–Paul?”

He didn’t respond to his name–but he did respond to the appearance of Eric’s musk, and Paul rolled over onto all fours and started crawling towards him, eyes void of all thought.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a pig!” Tom exclaimed, and got down to greet Paul, stroking and petting his back, “Who’s a good piggy?”

“No–No, this…I threw that shit out!”

“You’re pretty thin for a pig–hasn’t he been feeding you? Well don’t worry, I have something you can eat, piggy.”

Eric was frozen as he watched Tom stand up and drop his pants to his ankles before squatting down, Paul smelling what was coming and getting his face right into the boy’s crack as he bore down and shit, Paul devouring as much as he could right from the hole–and Eric watched as his scrawny roommate’s body started to throb, and then expand with fat, gaining about fifty pounds by the time Tom stood back up, letting Paul lick the floor clean of what he’d missed. Eric was horrified. He wanted to run screaming from the room, but the fucking smell of that boy’s shit was turning him on like nothing else. Before he could think about it, before he could stop himself, he grabbed the boy and shoved him to the bed, bent him over, got down and started eating out his hole, licking it clean.

“Don’t worry daddy, I saved you some too.”

Eric lapped the filth straight from the hole, thinking about all the times he’d fantasized about this in his life, all those drunk nights he shoved a finger in his hole, sniffing it, too terrified to taste it, but it was better than he could have ever imagined. When the boy was empty, he stood up again, licking his lips, hauled out his cock and shoved it into the boy’s hole, cumming almost immediately, but Eric could sense that was just the prelude to what would be a long rest of the night with this sweet boy.

A nose and mouth pushed it’s way between his ass as he fucked, licking at his own ring–the pig was obviously still hungry, so Eric let his own shit loose, the pig squealing with delight and devouring everything as Eric fucked, some small part of him horrified at his own behavior, at his own actions, trying to reel the last shreds of decency back in, but he could tell, now, that there was no going back from this, and so he plunged in deeper, listening to the boy cry out in pain and excitement at being abused by his daddy, and decided that, tonight, he was just going to enjoy himself first, and worry about what it all meant later.

“Daddy? Daddy! I’m home, and I brought some friends over!” Tom said, the glee in his voice apparent as he charged into his filthy house. Greg was in the living room watching TV, another young man who’d been living with Tom when Greg arrived between his legs, worshipping his cock mindlessly, like a good cumdump should. He pushed the thing’s head away and heaved himself up from the couch as Tom bounded over to him and gave him an eager kiss–the boy was sweet again, his mouth like honey.

Tromping into the room after him came Eric, though he barely even recognized himself, after the night before. He was close to six and a half feet tall, but had packed on a massive amount of weight–Greg had to guess he weighed close to 600 pounds. He squeezed into the largest clothes he’d been able to find, but the rolls of hairy, stinking fat cascaded out around them. He had a wild beard which had grown down to his chest with a streak of white down the center, his face looking quite a bit older than his prior age of twenty-three.

“I see you found him–did you apologize, boy?” Greg asked.

“Yes daddy–I apologized to him all night long.”

“Good boy–now go play in your room for a bit.”

Tom nodded, and scampered up the stairs, as Eric gave a tug and the pig came in behind him, a knotted rope leashed around his neck. Paul had gained a massive amount of weight as well, hulking up, teeth growing out into small tusks, his face and body caked brown. “I…uh…I wasn’t, tryin’ to, but it got a liking a my scent, ‘n…” Eric tried to say, but the words weren’t coming out very well. He’d woken up this morning, surrounded by the filthy scene he’d created with Tom and the pig (he couldn’t quite remember it’s name for some reason) and knew, he had to find Greg. “Can ya…fix ‘em? Can ya fix me? I ain’t…know what’s happenin’ tah me no more. Fuck, why’d I sound so fuckin’ stupid all a sudden?”

“Because you’re becoming the man you’ve always meant to be,” Greg said, “Ya should embrace it! Enjoy it!”

Eric didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know how to stop this anymore. His gut grumbled instead, twisting into hungry knots.

“Look, why don’t I stuff that fat face of yours–you’ll feel better after a good meal. Then, we’ll get back to getting you feeling like your real self. You’re almost there–just a few more days, and you’ll be a true stinker, just like me.”

Perfect Girlfriend (Part 2)

WARNING: IMPLICIT SCAT, BABY PLAY

“Come on pig, if you get started with that, we’re never going to get you dinner,” Ken said, pushing Andy’s empty-eyed face away, and got up from his recliner, walking to his kitchen with Andy crawling behind him. From the fridge, he hauled several huge tupperware containers of slop from the fridge–the pig was eating so much these days, it helped to prepare it’s feed ahead of time– and poured it into the pig’s huge bowl on the floor, and it dug in with a squeal, shoving it’s face into the fattening muck without a moment’s reservation. Ken watched for a couple of minutes, smoking his cigar, occasionally digging his bare foot into the slop and making his pig lick it out from between his toes, when the knock on the door he’d been expecting came, and he went to get it.

“You’re late,” Ken said, letting the man into the apartment.

“Sorry, got a bit lost–these damn complexes, you know? Can never find the damn letter, not with my eyesight. So…is he ready?”

“Yeah, I’ve been laying the groundwork. I’m sure there will be a few kinks tonight, but we can adjust things a bit later. Biggest hangup is the shitting. Getting him to piss is easy enough, but fucker’s still knotted up tight in the back end.”

“Oh…because…I mean, that’s…”

“Don’t worry, I’m loading him up with laxatives as we speak. Tonight will be fine, trust me. Need a viagra?”

“Hell yeah. Old lizard doesn’t work too well anymore.”

“Here. We can hang out a bit, wait for everyone’s meds to kick in, and then give the two of you some alone time.”

Andy finished it’s bowl of slop after a while, and feeling the edge taken off it’s hunger, crawled back out to find master sitting with some stranger he didn’t recognize. If he’d been Ken’s son at the moment, he likely would have assumed it was another one of his uncles–Andy had lots and lots of uncles who visited his daddy, and all of them liked to play with Andy too. But he was a pig right now, so he focused on his master’s cock, and the stranger’s as well. It wasn’t very hard at first, but it perked up eventually–and as he was sucking, he felt his guts gurgle oddly, and let loose a blast of wind which the pig realized was…a bit more than just wind. Pigs weren’t supposed to feel shame, but Andy felt it’s cheeks redden a bit anyway.

“Guess that means he’s ready!” Master said with a chuckle. “Hey pig, go into neutral.”

Andy was never sure what happened in neutral, but it was always a bit of a relief to just zone out for a bit, listening to his master, simply focused on doing what he was told to do. It was a relief, not having to care. Master spoke for a while, and Andy absorbed. They went into his room and…things were happening to him, but he wasn’t sure what. Andy wasn’t sure of anything, really, other than of how important it was to listen to his master and obey. At last, Ken said, “Alright…ready? Time to wake up, baby.”

Baby. Baby hadn’t been out much, Baby was relatively new. Andy was on his bed in his room, but it was covered with…rubber? Something. The stranger was there with his daddy, Ken, and Andy sucked a bit on his pacifier, running his hands over his body, feeling his diaper around his crotch, and giggled. “Daddy…I feel funny,” he said around the rubber in his mouth

“Fuck, he’s beautiful,” the stranger said, walked over and started groping Andy’s diaper, the baby arching his back a bit, groaning and muttering softly.

“Baby, this here is your Uncle Jack. Think you two can play nice together? I’ve been telling Jack what a nasty, naughty baby you are, and he’s very excited, as you can see.”

“Oh yeah baby–you wanna play with your dirty Uncle?” Jack said, “Go on, show me how nasty you are?”

Andy felt his bladder release into his diaper, soaking himself with piss. He should…shit himself too, but the thought of doing that still made him feel so bad, but he also discovered, a moment later, he couldn’t stop himself, the shit flooding out of his ass, packing it’s way into his diaper, the stink of it filling the room. “Oh fuck…dirty baby…” he groaned, Jack feeling the full diaper and licking his lips at the stink.

“Jack’s just as dirty as you are baby, just you fucking wait.”

Standing by the door, dressed for another day at work, Andy could still taste Uncle Jack’s shit in his mouth. Even after brushing his teeth twice, and after another huge breakfast of slop from Ken, he could still taste it. He worried he might taste it forever. He was waiting for Ken to open the door, so he could leave, but the old man was making him wait. A minute later, he came, holding something in his hand.

“Alright Andy, you know what? I think it’s time for those two friends of yours to finally meet that perfect girlfriend of yours, what do you think?”

“Oh fuck, no–you can’t make me.”

“You won’t have a choice. Jack loved you so much, he wants a baby all to himself, but I’ve put too much work into you to give you up. I’m sure I can find someone else who wants that other one too. So, you’re going to go out today for beers, buy a pitcher, and put this in it,” he handed Andy a pouch of some white powder, “Get them to drinking, and then bring them home to meet Kendra for dinner. They should be…more than willing, got it?”

“No…no, fuck you, fuck this.”

Ken laughed. “Like I said, I know you’ll perform perfectly. But if you don’t? Let’s just say you’re going to be baby for the rest of your life, Andy.”

He nearly shit himself at the word baby, it took all his will to hold it in. Last night with Uncle Jack had removed that last bit of shame from him, and terrified, he grabbed the bag and gripped it tight.

“Have a good day, sweetie,” Ken said, and opened the door, and Andy left, that last kiss from Kendra still tingling on his cheek. He was so happy his friends could finally meet her! They were going to have such a good time tonight, once they got to know her, he couldn’t wait.

Apartment Hunting (Sketch)

A tribute to AgainstMyWill for what is still one of my favorite stories ever. WARNING: FILTH/SCAT

There really wasn’t anything worse than looking for apartments. If it wasn’t the crazy fucking people who lived in this city, or the strange apartments where some contractor must have finished, looked around, and said “someone could live in this,” it was the astronomical rent required for a fucking room. Rent too fucking high indeed, it was horrific. But if you wanted to be somebody, this is where you had to live, and so here Parker was, fresh out of college, looking for a room to rent.

He knocked on the next door, and waited for a few minutes. He could hear someone on the other side, but it took a few seconds for him to get there–the guy opened the door, which was stopped by the chain, and it was exactly the kind of person Parker loathed more than anything else. Lean and fit, though that natural kind of body, the kind of young guy who couldn’t keep an ounce of fat on him if he tried. Scruffy face, unshaven, and from the musk rolling off him, obviously unwashed. Not the sort of guy he wanted for a roommate. “Yeah, what do ya want?” The guy asked.

Parker could have just said he had the wrong apartment…but he was getting to the point where he was about ready to settle for anything. “Oh, hey…uh, I saw an ad on Craigslist about a room for rent?”

“Oh…us…” The guy said through the crack in the door, and then he obviously gave Parker a glance from head to toe. “Yeah, actually…you wouldn’t be half bad.”

The door shut, and then opened wide, giving Parker a better look at the apartment–and the place was a fucking sty. The floor was littered with trash, aside from small walkways through the muck, mostly leading to a grungy, well stained couch in front of a TV on the wall, which had some stupid reality show on. “Come on in man, let me show ya around.”

Parker really, really didn’t want to step in there, but his standards were…low at this point. It wasn’t, in fact, the worst place he’d seen that day–though it was the filthiest. He stepped inside, carefully staying on the trail between the trash, and let the guy close the door behind him. “I’m Aaron” he said, “Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

Parker let the guy lead him, winding through the filth to a hallway, passing the kitchen as they went. He heard something in there, and he took a peek around the corner–there, in the middle of the floor was some, disgusting fat man on his hands and knees, wearing only a pair of well soiled briefs, his face shoved in a pizza box, eating some who knew how old pie in there, and he nearly vomited. “What…who the fuck is that?” He said, unable to look away.

“Aw hell, that’s just my pig,” Aaron said.

“He…he lives here?”

“Well yeah, he’s my pig. Where else would he live? Not with me?”

“That, I…No, fuck this, I’m leaving, this is disgusting,” Parker said, turned around and started back towards the front door.

“Stop right there, Mister,” Aaron said, and without even really understanding why, Parker froze in place. “Turn around–I haven’t even had a chance to show you your room yet. You do want to see your room, right?”

“What…why can’t I…” Parker said, but his feet, helpless, turned him around and he kept following Aaron deeper into the apartment, “How are you doing this?”

“You came into my apartment Parker!” Aaron said, “Or our apartment, really. You came in, and I get to play in your head. Getting all my fun strings in there, don’t worry about it–it feels good, actually, doing what I say. You like it. You like obeying me.”

They kept going, except now, every step brought him a strange tingle of pleasure, all of it going right to his cock. Halfway down the hallway, Aaron stopped in front of a door, and said, “Here we are Parker, you’re new room!” He opened the door and turned on the light, revealing inside a filthy bathroom, the floors stained with who knew what, and…and there was no toilet. It was obvious where the toilet was supposed to be, from the empty space, but it just wasn’t there. “What…what the fuck? I can’t live in a bathroom!”

“Well toilets don’t live anywhere else. And that’s what I placed the ad for–for a new toilet. The last one managed to run away, but we’re going to be extra careful with you, Parker–you won’t be going anywhere.”

“No–No, I’m not, this is fucking disgusting!” Parker said, and managed to push back against whatever control Aaron had over him, stepping back bit by bit.

“Yeah, see? That’s the problem I had before. That’s why I specified in the ad that I was looking for a toilet. And you came! That must mean you want to be a toilet, right Parker?”

“N-No!” But his memory said otherwise. The ad…how had he missed it? It had said toilet, why had he thought it was about a room? He…hadn’t thought it was for a room though, he’d specifically come because…because he wanted…wanted to be– “No!” He screamed, and pried himself backwards again, but not as far as he should have been able to go.

“I mean, I have high standards for toilets too, you know,” Aaron said, “I asked for references even, and your references…man, they’re something else? Serving as the football and rugby team’s personal toilet all through college? Those are some references, I gotta say. I know, serving as the toilet for just me and my pig won’t be as strenuous, so you’re welcome to work elsewhere–I know some clubs nearby who contract for toilets on the weekends. And I certainly don’t expect you to take the position without a sample. Wouldn’t want to spend your time eating shit you hate, right! Go on in, get on your knees, and you can taste all you want, Parker.”

Parker his eyes glazed over now, let loose a grunt, his nose flaring, lips curled in a sneer, hurried into the bathroom and got down, panting at the thought of a fresh load of shit. Hell, even if it was terrible, he’d probably take it–after all, finding a room is easy, but finding a place to live out your destiny has a toilet for filthy men? That was an opportunity he couldn’t bear the thought of passing up.

***WARNING: SCAT***

Marco hadn’t had a bender like this in a long time, not since college. He surged awake, his head pounding, mouth dry, gut twisting into knots. Throw up–he was going to throw up. His vision was blurry, but he’d fallen asleep in his bathroom at least. He crawled over to the toilet, grunting, gut growling, unable to believe how terrible he felt, but when he got there, he discovered that whoever had used the toilet last hadn’t bothered flushing it–and he also realized that this wasn’t his bathroom.

He looked around, the room spinning a bit slower now, and found he was in a tiled restroom somewhere, but his gut pulled his face back around–he thought he was going to finally hurl, but instead he shoved his face down into the toilet’s filth and started chomping and slurping away at it, terrified at what he was doing, but unable to find a way to make himself stop.

His mind was coming a bit clearer. His balls ached, and with one hand he explored back, discovering his balls were a good six inches lower than they had been, kept there by two thick, steel stretchers. His cock was studded with metal, and he found himself stroking it, running his hand over the jacob’s ladder, toying with his PA, his mouth still hopelessly chomping up the slurry of piss and shit from the toilet. It wasn’t until he heard the door to the bathroom swing open behind him that he scrounged up the willpower to haul his head up, splattering shit around him as he spun, eyes wide with terror, face coated in brown, and found himself looking at a huge man, clad all in leather, smoking a cigar and groping his own cock.

“Looks like a pig didn’t make it out last night,” the man said, with a laugh, “Stuck here for now. Don’t worry though–old Rod here knows how to take care of pigs like you. By the time we open, you’re gonna be the freakiest pig around, and you’re never gonna want to leave.”

Marco tried to object, but all his words fell out as grunts and moans, his head pulled back around, lulled back to the filth, and he was stuffing himself again by the time Rod lined his own, ten inch cock with Marco’s already well bred hole, and gave his newest Pigtown hog a good, long, filthy fuck.

Source: hairypisser

Family Portrait (Part 4)

WARNING: INCONTINENCE PLAY

In the end, the game was on, but none of the three of them were paying much attention to it. Marty was too busy making sure his new big brother Bob was well under the portrait’s influence—and making sure his brothers started getting along. Much of the first quarter was spent in what Marty thought of as the “kiss and make up” stage–he parked Keith and Bob on the couch next together, and pretty soon Bob’s tongue was happily buried down his little brother’s throat, and then, by the second quarter, he had his cock buried down it too, Keith happily sucking his big brother off like he’d been doing it his whole life, and it a way, he had. Marty had been working on him too, little by little, getting him adjusted to his new, adult, needs. Smoking cigars, guzzling beer, growing out his hair and beard good and long and filthy. By halftime, his brother Bob was looking like a fine new addition to the family–a big, bulging beer gut, beard down to his belly button, hair down to the middle of his back, stringy and unwashed, his whole body coated with hair. But this wasn’t enough for Marty–hell now, Bobby had given him too much of a hassle for this to be all he got, no, he deserved so much more. Now that Bob was well on his way to becoming a proper member of the family, it was time to push him fully into his new role.

“He’s a good boy, isn’t he, Bob?” Marty asked. He was behind the couch, looking over them both, Keith still eagerly sucking on Bob’s cock, “Makes you proud, doesn’t it?”

“Best…fucking cocksucker I know,” Bob said, taking a deep drag off his cigar.

“Well of course he is, you taught him everything you know, didn’t you?”

“I…I did?”

“Of course–you taught both your boys so well. Best fucking teacher we could’ve had,” Marty said, and then leaned in close, focusing hard, watching the portrait hanging over them all, “We couldn’t have asked for a better dad than you, you know.”

“But I’m not–”

“And you couldn’t have asked for better, sexier boys. You did everything you could to make sure we grew up just like you. Fat, stinking slobs. Cocksucking, buttfucking faggots. Lazy good-for-nothing, trailer trash. Yeah, you couldn’t be more proud of your family.”

Bob was still trying to fight it, but Marty could see him losing. His long hair receding slowly, exposing the crown of his head and then shifting back even farther, until all that remained as a horseshoe of thin, ragged grey hair, his beard making a similar color shift, followed by the rest of his hair all over his body. His face grew lined with wrinkles, his fat gut no longer firm but sagging down. He heaved a smoky sigh and settled in, the portrait coming into better focus, his blurry form now centered, standing behind his two sons in the middle.

“It was a hard life, I know, working in the factory, but now you’ve hit seventy, and you’ve retired, got that hefty pension and social security, so you can just relax all day long, living with your boys, keeping us happy. You do like seeing your boys happy, right? It’s what you’ve always lived for.”

“Y-Yeah, I got the best fuckin’ boys in the world.”

“You sure do, you love us more than anything–you live for your family.”

“Sure do, son.”

“Why don’t you show Keith how much you love him? How happy you want him to be? You live to make your boys happy, to serve them.”

Keith stood up, and his dad licked his lips before leaning forward, hefting up his low hanging apron and digging through his stinking gunt for his puny cock to suck.

“Too bad you’re past your prime at this point, body breaking down, aches and pains. Had to pull out all those teeth of yours last year, get you a set of dentures. Can’t get hard anymore, but you leak cum like a faucet. Can’t hold your piss in anymore either, haven’t been able to for a while. Your hole’s been fucked so loose you shit yourself too, so you gotta wear those diapers from now on. Still, it turns you on, doesn’t it? Lounging around the house in your own, stinking filth? It just makes you leak even more, and you wear the same diaper for days at a time, until it sags off your body, and you have to wear another one.”

Was it too much? Bob was fighting it, hard, but the portraits hold on him was too great now, Marty could sense it. He’d do anything he wanted. A set of dentures appeared on the coffee table–he knew his boys preferred his gummy mouth more anyway. A thick diaper appeared around Bob’s waist, and immediately the room was filled with the stench of piss and shit from it, but neither Marty nor Keith cared–they’d lived with their father’s filth long enough to barely even notice it anymore. Marty came around the couch, slipped a hand between his younger brother’s ass cheeks and started probing his hole, making him groan and finally orgasm down his father’s throat–Bob drank all of his son’s spunk down, licked his lips, and started on his older boy, Marty. He didn’t last long, and he felt the magic seal itself as he came, his new father’s image cemented in the portrait with their own, and his brand new, filthy father sat back on the couch, his own filth squelching around him in his diaper, and grinned toothlessly at his boys, the best boys in the world, and he couldn’t have been more happy.

TO BE CONTINUED?

brackenousjunk:

Requested by @andyreworld.

WARNING: SCAT AHEAD

Kyle liked going to the gym in the mid-morning–everyone who got a workout in before work had left, and everyone who came around lunchtime wasn’t there yet–it gave him a good hour and half with most of the weights to himself, to focus on lifting. He’d sure been working out long enough to learn patterns like this, he’d been a gym rat for years, and maintained a near flawless physique–low body fat and ripped with muscle. Still, he wasn’t a far of people–especially fags–staring at his body, unless he wanted them staring, so he preferred off-hours. Usually he had peace, but, today, some fat fuck was crowding his space.

He’d seen him around the gym before, but Kyle didn’t usually care about what other people were doing, and if he wanted to work out, good for him. But it seemed like every time he turned around, the guy was within five feet of him, lifting something, or on the next machine over–and then the first one came, loud enough that Kyle could hear it over his music, a massive, horrific fart that lasted at least five seconds.

He looked over at the pig, disgusted, but the guy just leered back at him–and then Kyle smelt it–it was horrific, one of the worst things he’d ever smelt in his life. It was so strong that it was almost like his mind and body blew a fuse–he couldn’t move, he couldn’t think–his eyes went glassy, his jaw gaping as the pig got up, pulled the headphones from his head, leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Finally got you. Come on, you’re gonna spot me today.”

Kyle did as he was told, even though he fought the compulsion as best he could, but his body wasn’t his anymore. The smell lingered in his nose, and just as he’d start shaking the pig’s control off, the fat fuck would nearly shit his pants again, and he’d…lose it all over again. The pig kept talking to him while he lifted, telling Kyle how much he loved the smell of him, how much he loved his farts, how much he loved submitting. Soon, as much as he hated himself for it, he started craving it, the smell, the filthy thoughts his master whispered in his ear. Finally, he couldn’t resist it anymore–his master was doing squats, and let a huge fart loose, and something in Kyle broke. Snorting and grunting, he got down behind him, shoved his head to the man’s ass and started crewing at his shorts, cum spewing in his jockstrap.

“That’s a good pig–I think you’re ready for your post-workout meal, don’t you?”

Kyle didn’t know what he meant, but he crawled after his master, who went into the locker room, commandeered the large stall, and sat backwards, his hole right in Kyle’s face. He fought as hard as he could, hesitating, but a wet fart pulled him in, lips locked to his master’s hole, tongue burrowing in, ready and eager for his first feeding.

Here’s an expansion requested a few times, and also incorporating this request.

Also, still really messy!

This close to the source, Kyle felt like his brain was literally melting away inside his skull, the wretched stench of his master’s farts stripping the paint from his soul. He sucked down as much of the filth as he could, and didn’t even realize when the shit started pouring out with the gas, his mouth devouring it, grunting and moaning, his master laughing and berating him as he fed him. It never seemed to end, his gut felt full and distended, his mouth coated in filth, but at last his master did finish, ordered Kyle to lick his crack clean, and then got up and left without another word, just the sound of laughter.

Kyle just rolled over and slumped next to the toilet, trying to get his bearings on what had just happened to him, trying to grapple with what he’d just done. He looked down at himself, at his shit stained shirt bulging with a sudden gut full of shit–he belched, and the taste of it was disgusting, but also made his cock even harder. He couldn’t just stay here, though–but he also couldn’t leave. If people saw him like this, what would they even think of him? He had fresh street clothes in his locker though, maybe he could get out of this, somehow. He wiped his face and neck clean with water from the toilet bowl and toilet paper, took off his shirt, threw it in the trash, and then went to his locker–only to discover someone else had gotten there first. His normal clothes were gone, and in their place were the filthiest, most disgusting garments he’d ever seen. A white shirt crusted with stains he didn’t want think about, some briefs equally disgusting–crusty and crispy. Some jean shorts that felt so…disgusting in his hands, and the stench of his master on them, his master! He buried his face in the filthy fabric, snorting and grunting in front of everyone around him–he stripped off the rest of his gym clothes, pulled on the briefs, and immediately exploded–all the cum he’d build up in the last few hours pouring out of him in a sopping deluge. Then the shirt, then the cutoffs. A couple of tennis shoes without socks. He didn’t even notice the clothes should have been too big for his old, muscular body, but now they barely fit him, a sliver of hairy gut poking out under the shirt, cutoffs bursting around his thighs.

He came back to his mind a bit, enough to know he needed to get out of there. However, he didn’t notice that he left a trail of piss as he left, oblivious to the stream running down his leg and into his shoe, leaking out onto the floor. He had to get home, he had to get away from here. He fled, got in his car and drove home as quickly as he could, belching up the stench of his master’s shit, gut bulging larger, and he kept ripping off the most horrid farts–in the enclosed car, the stench only made him horny, and by the time he got home he was pushing out longer and louder. In his parking spot, huffing and panting with need, he bore down, filling the back of his underwear and cutoffs with a huge load of shit, feeling it squelch out the legs and coat the car seat under him, while he rubbed his sopping wet crotch until he came with a squeal.

He recovered slowly, his mind exhausted–and looked around. This wasn’t his house–it wasn’t even close to where he lived. But he needed to be here, he knew that–this is where his master was. This is where he belonged.

Learning to Like Ass (Part 4)

WARNING: ***SCAT***

From that day on, things seemed even stranger to Rudy. For one thing, his body–he knew it was wrong, he knew that he shouldn’t be this fat, that…his fucking face was all wrong. He’d been handsome, but now, with the shaggy, unkempt beard; the under bite with the crooked, missing teeth; the bulbous and crooked nose; unibrow and severe balding…well, he wasn’t much to look at at all. His body wasn’t right either, not this fat fucking tub of lard he’d woken up with. He could…almost remember it, how muscular he’d been, how much effort he’d put into his body, and all of it had disappeared over night, leaving him an almost 400 pound lard ass–with an emphasis on ass. His gut was huge, sure, but it was his hips that were so insanely wide, his ass jiggling with every step he took, gently vibrating the dildo or plug he wore…all the time now, whenever he wasn’t getting properly fucked, of course. He did his best to carry on, but the hunger was constant–he had to feed his mouth nearly as often as he had to feed his other hole.

It would have been easier if other people had noticed the changes as well, but everyone just acted like this was normal, like he’d always been like this. And in some ways, he had–guy’s recognized him in the woods now, not as a top, but as a ugly pig bottom, willing to take a load from anyone, no matter who they were. Work was…hard. Not because of his size, but because something had happened to his head. Sure, construction wasn’t exactly something that needed brains, and Rudy had never been smart, but fuck, he just didn’t…get numbers anymore. They like, counted things, sure, but he didn’t even know how much anything was, it was nuts. He started carrying around hundred dollar bills, just so he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself when he handed over not enough cash for food on booze at the gas station on the way to the rest area after work. It was like he was trapped in some fucked up dream–the only time he felt awake–really awake–was when he was in the woods, or in a bathroom stall with some big cock in his hole, snorting and grunting, begging whoever it might be for a hot load in his ass so his cock could shoot again.

It wasn’t really surprising when he got fired. He couldn’t do the work anymore, and his brain was shot. If anything, it was a relief. He’d hated working–all he wanted to do anymore, the only thing he could focus on, was eating and filling his ass with as much cock as he could find. He spend his whole day cruising rest areas and truck stops now, well aware that his meager savings was going to run out sooner or later, but this new him–he just didn’t care about any of that. His ass would just keep tingling, his cock would get hard, and the only thing that would matter was finding some cock so he could cum. He never wanted to go through that again, the aching balls, the sleepless nights. He also…kept hoping he’d see that biker again. He didn’t know what he’d do if he really did see him. Ask him what he’d done to him. Ask him to change him back. Ask him if he’d just gone insane.

When it did happen, finally, Rudy was nearly out of money. It was dark, but he was still in the woods, sitting down against the truck of a tree, feeling some stranger’s cum leak out of his ass into his underwear. He’d gotten fucked a few times, he felt good, but…but he didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to stay here either, of course, but he didn’t want to go back there either, back to that stinking wreck of a sty. He’d given up on keeping anything clean, along with the rest of his life, and he just couldn’t face it anymore. It was twilight, but he didn’t know when exactly it was–it felt like he’d been there for ages when he smelled the cigar smoke, and his heart leapt up.

“Hey Rudy, long time no see.”

He looked around and saw him a few paces away, the butt of his cigar the brightest thing in his world, and he started crawling away, utterly terrified. “Please, please just leave me alone, please…” He said.

“I’m just trying to educate you, Rudy. I just wanted you to understand why I love asses so much, and I wanted you to love them too. Don’t you want to love them Rudy?” The biker stepped out in front of him, even though he should have been behind him. “Don’t try and run Rudy, there’s nowhere for you to go. When’s the last time you ate, Rudy? You hungry?”

“Oh god, please no, not that,” he tried to turn around, but the roots of the trees were holding him in place, and all he could do was stare at the biker undoing his pants and chaps, and dropping them to the forest floor.

“I do love a fuck, of course, but nothing gets me off better than a fat, filthy pig like you eating the shit from my ass. I haven’t had a pig riding with me in awhile, you know Rudy, and you don’t have a lot of options. Better to spend your life doing something you love, right? And you are hungry, right? So fucking hungry for some fuckin’ shit, right Rudy?”

His gut was growling, he was shaking with hunger, with need. He felt his clothes shifting, his shirt splitting apart into a leather vest, tattoos swirling over his fat body, greasy jeans and chaps covering his wide ass. He snuffled forward and licked at his biker master’s hole, loosening him up, waiting for him to bore down and feed his pig his first proper meal.

Requested by @andyreworld.

WARNING: SCAT AHEAD

Kyle liked going to the gym in the mid-morning–everyone who got a workout in before work had left, and everyone who came around lunchtime wasn’t there yet–it gave him a good hour and half with most of the weights to himself, to focus on lifting. He’d sure been working out long enough to learn patterns like this, he’d been a gym rat for years, and maintained a near flawless physique–low body fat and ripped with muscle. Still, he wasn’t a far of people–especially fags–staring at his body, unless he wanted them staring, so he preferred off-hours. Usually he had peace, but, today, some fat fuck was crowding his space.

He’d seen him around the gym before, but Kyle didn’t usually care about what other people were doing, and if he wanted to work out, good for him. But it seemed like every time he turned around, the guy was within five feet of him, lifting something, or on the next machine over–and then the first one came, loud enough that Kyle could hear it over his music, a massive, horrific fart that lasted at least five seconds.

He looked over at the pig, disgusted, but the guy just leered back at him–and then Kyle smelt it–it was horrific, one of the worst things he’d ever smelt in his life. It was so strong that it was almost like his mind and body blew a fuse–he couldn’t move, he couldn’t think–his eyes went glassy, his jaw gaping as the pig got up, pulled the headphones from his head, leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Finally got you. Come on, you’re gonna spot me today.”

Kyle did as he was told, even though he fought the compulsion as best he could, but his body wasn’t his anymore. The smell lingered in his nose, and just as he’d start shaking the pig’s control off, the fat fuck would nearly shit his pants again, and he’d…lose it all over again. The pig kept talking to him while he lifted, telling Kyle how much he loved the smell of him, how much he loved his farts, how much he loved submitting. Soon, as much as he hated himself for it, he started craving it, the smell, the filthy thoughts his master whispered in his ear. Finally, he couldn’t resist it anymore–his master was doing squats, and let a huge fart loose, and something in Kyle broke. Snorting and grunting, he got down behind him, shoved his head to the man’s ass and started crewing at his shorts, cum spewing in his jockstrap.

“That’s a good pig–I think you’re ready for your post-workout meal, don’t you?”

Kyle didn’t know what he meant, but he crawled after his master, who went into the locker room, commandeered the large stall, and sat backwards, his hole right in Kyle’s face. He fought as hard as he could, hesitating, but a wet fart pulled him in, lips locked to his master’s hole, tongue burrowing in, ready and eager for his first feeding.

Paid Vacation (Part 4)

***WARNING: Still very filthy. ***

In his mind, Ian–or what few scraps of his old mind remained, knew they had lost. This new self–it knew what it was doing, and that was perhaps the worst part. It wasn’t that he had to behave like a child–it was that he wanted to. He wanted to shit and piss himself. He wanted to be fucked by his brother. He wanted to play with his shit, when it gushed out the sides of his diaper, smearing it all over his body, for Rick to lick clean later. He…wanted it, all of it. That made it so much worse, and so much more difficult to fight. It was no longer a compulsion, it was a desire, and it was a desire which was pushing out everything else that had been in his mind. He could barely remember anything about himself, his old self, anymore–and he didn’t really want to. That old him–he’d been a bad boy. But Ian wanted to be a good, disgusting baby boy more than anything, and so he fought that old him, beat it back into a tiny corner of his mind, until in the middle of the last week in daddy’s mansion, he…discovered it was gone. He’d won, finally–he was going to be a good boy for the rest of his life, and there was nothing that old him could do to stop it.

That final week, Rick was no longer taking care of him, but it was his own daddy–finally! The first time he came through the door, Ian was so excited, he fell off the bed and landed right on his diapered ass, shit spraying every direction. Still, since his brother wasn’t there to clean it up, Daddy said, that meant baby would have to take care of his own messes. That made sense to Ian, and so he licked the tile floor clean of his own shit–no longer disgusted by the taste, and a part of him had even begun craving it. His final programming sessions were much shorter these days, merely making sure it had fully eradicated every last bit of Ian’s old self, and his days were instead full of playing with his Daddy. He preferred having his baby play undiapered, and Ian was surprised at how fun it was, crawling around naked, feeling his massive belly drag across the tile, shit and piss suddenly spurting out of him, which he always cleaned up promptly, unless he risk upsetting his Daddy.

Not that his daddy didn’t enjoy getting messy–one afternoon, he hooked Ian up to his feeding machine with Ian on his hands and knees, and his Daddy fucked him for hours, until shit started falling from the baby’s ass. “Look at you, you fucking piece of shit–I looked in your file, you know. Ivy league college, top of your class, and now fucking look at you! Just a stupid, disgusting baby, can’t even keep your shit in! Well don’t fucking worry–you’re not going to have a smart thought in your head ever again, fuck no–the rest of your life, is gonna be spent in a fucking diaper, giggling and cumming as you shit and piss yourself!” he slammed his ten inch cock deep and came, stayed in and unloaded a bladder full of piss, muck spewing out after he removed himself, and rubbed Ian’s face in it, telling him eat it all up, like a good piglet, and Ian had never been happier in his life.

After three rough days with his Daddy, Rick finally came back in–his own gut taut after spending several days hooked up to the toilet pipes, and the two of them spent the next several days cleaning up the nursery and each other with their tongues. Still, the vacation was finally over, and it was time to get back to the office. In his state, Ian couldn’t drive of course–so Rick took them both back, and Ian discovered his office decor had been traded out, carpet for tile, an oversized crib, a big TV for his baby shows, and plenty of space for him to play. It turned out, he also had a lot of playmates.

Rick visited him daily of course, keeping his little brother cleaned up, but it turned out Daddy had lots of friends who liked playing around with dirty babies. Some of them wanted to hear him talk like a baby, begging them to let their little boy suck their cock–others wanted a chance to eat his shit out of his diaper, and still others were diaper daddies themselves. Ian liked those ones the best, both of them filling their diapers before playing in each other’s filth–the mess usually took all day to clean up, and Ian would let his big brother help–sometimes. It was a perfect life, and one Ian wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. Daddy would even visit sometimes, to play with him, though he didn’t see him as often as he’d like. But when Daddy told him it was time for another vacation, that he had some great ideas for his little boy, Ian was thrilled. Another whole month for his daddy to fuck with his mind? He could barely contain his enthusiasm, and shit his diaper in excitement.