Satyr Hills (Flash Commission)

Commissioned by @musclelover4826

Dan leaned lightly against a tree, his ears straining for the song. The wind had picked up as he’d climbed higher through the hills where he’d been walking, making it harder to hear, but there! Yes, that was it, a light trill, but enough. He had only been planning a short walk through the lands surrounding the greek villa he was staying in for his week of vacation, but he’d heard someone playing some strange, lilting tune, distantly on the wind. It had glued itself in his mind immediately, and he found himself desperate to find the person playing it. He trudged away from the path, and was now miles from where he’d began.

He knew he should be worried, but every time the song caught him he was again drawn to it. He also hadn’t been prepared for this long of a walk–while by no means out of shape, he was not much of an athlete–skinny, more accustomed to days in studying at the library than fields and pitches–or even long hikes like this had become. He took his glasses off to wipe sweat from his brow, thankful for the breeze to cool him down somewhat, and kept going. Half an hour later, the woods thinned slightly–he came around a trunk, and there, sitting on a wide stump was a satyr, panpipes at his lips, playing his song, Dan’s song. His jaw dropped, and he tried to stop and stare, but whatever tune the strange beast was playing pulled him closer still, the breeze now even colder against his bare skin.

Bare skin? He looked down, and then around behind him. He’d…lost all of his clothes, and they were nowhere to be seen! He’d been so hot, walking, had he taken them off to cool down? It had seemed so reasonable in the moment, but…but the song pressed against his mind, and drove out his worries again, bringing him to the satyr’s side. He looked a bit older than Dan, in his mid thirties, with a shaggy brown made of hair coating his head, and also his legs–but two huge ram horns sprouting from his temples implied that the beast was likely much older than Dan could guess.

At last, he set down the pipes, but the tune was still caught in his mind, playing over and over again, a seamless loop binding him to the satyr’s side, no matter how hard he struggled against the compulsion. “Good to know, after such a long sleep, the world still has beauties such as you,” he said to Dan, as one sharp nail ran it’s way down Dan’s front to his cock, the satyr licking his bearded lips before leaning over and running his tongue along Dan’s cock from root to head. His cock began to tingle, a new sensation filling his mind–lust, pure and simple. He’d never had much desire for sex, but soon, he was heaving for breath, eyes rolled back, no thought of resisting as the satyr stood, bent Dan over the side of the stump, and turned his attentions to the young man’s hole, licking and probing with his tongue, feeling the tight cherry begin to unknot and loosen.

Dan kept trying to fight back, but now the lust was overwhelming even the song still running through his mind. He reached down with one hand, and helplessly stroked his cock. It was still slick with the satyr’s saliva, but it felt…different. Thicker and longer than it had, and so much more sensitive than before. It began to leak, precum dribbling onto the surface of the stump, the scent of fresh cum driving him even more wild, the satyr pulling his mouth from his now very loose hole, lining up it’s own cock, and slipping it in deep with a long, loud moaning bleet of pleasure. Dan felt himself explode, a massive torrent of cum pouring forth from his cock, and yet, he could sense, somehow, that it was more than just cum leaving him, but also…himself. His memories, his elevated desires, his sense of self, his sense of humanity. He felt crippled by the overwhelming joy, and had no time to recover before a second, equally massive orgasm ripped through him, shimmering cum spraying across the surface of the stump where it was absorbed by the wood, with no trace remaining. This continued for what felt like hours, but could have been minutes, the Satyr’s hands exploring his body, until, at long last, the beast’s pace quickened, and with a cry that echoed through the hills, he came deep in Dan’s hole as well.

It was like a fire burning inside him. The Satyr pulled out and stepped back, and Dan rolled over onto his back on the stump, his insides aching, but his hands couldn’t leave his cock. The shaft grew longer, but his balls, which had shriveled slightly in the wake of his orgams, swelled again, fuller and thicker than before. The skin thickened into a hide, and a dusting of deep blonde hair grew in, coating the sack before spreading it’s way down his thighs, muscles thickening even as his legs shortened, ankles and feet contorting until he no longer had feet, but cloven hooves at the base of his new legs. The rest of him was changing as well–his lithe body bulging with newfound muscle, a ridged six pack, hard pectorals, strong arms stroking his thick cock, feeling the heat begin to claw through his mind, emptying it out of everything beyond the most basic of desires. Food. Wine. Pleasure. Sex. Service. He could see so clearly–not only without glasses, which had long since been smashed under the satyr’s hoof–but the path forward as well. There was only pleasure, in the end; why had he ever let things become so complicated? As Dan came one last time, two small horns pushed their way out from the side of his head, each an inch long–nothing like the ones adorning his new master, but perhaps in time…

The satyr took his new thrall again, both of them enjoying Dan’s new body through the evening and deep into the night, and then resting together, the old satyr playing one of his favorite lullabies to lull them both to sleep–though not as deep as the one he had just woken from. No, he had seen a glimpse of this modern world’s men–he thirsted for more, and this one would help him. Together, they would make many more brothers for themselves, living happily in the hills and forests, just as they had in centuries past.

Life Coach (Part 5)

The neighbors were out in their backyard again, fucking. Shane only knew a little bit about them, but they seemed nice enough. The wife was beautiful (not that Shane had any interest in women, of course, but he could still appreciate the form, he supposed) but it was the husband who attracted his focus, with his hot dad bod and nine inch cock. They fucked like rabbits, and all summer long they were out fucking by the pool, giving Shane a chance to peep between the fence boards a few minutes at the time, when he was working on master’s garden. Of course he’d never do anything–they were so happy together, and good people. Not like Shane. Stupid, worthless Shane, he couldn’t even be a good slave half the time. He had no idea why his master even kept him around half the time. Still, watching that huge cock, his own puny member was trying as hard as it could to expand in the tight cage master kept him in. He hadn’t had an orgasm in years at this point, and expected that he’d never have one ever again.

“Hey! Dumb cunt! Where the fuck are you?”

Master was calling. He went the long way out of the bushes, making sure his naked body was covered in enough dirt and dust to look like he’d been working. When he worked on the neighbor’s yards, Master allowed him to wear a ragged pair of cutoffs, but in his own yard and house Shane was always naked aside from his cage and collar. “Yes sir, sorry sir. Was weeding by the fence,” Shane muttered, sweat running down his bald head and into his mutton chops, smoking one of the cheap cigars Master allowed him. Even standing, he had to crane his neck to look at his master, who towered over him by nearly two feet. “How can I serve you sir?”

“Barry just finished his session, but he needs some practice. Meet him in the dungeon, would you?”

Barry was one of several clients who were seeing his master to help with anger issues, usually men going through divorces or who had been arrested for assault. Somehow, they always became extreme sadists–taking their rage out on consenting slaves–helping them be much nicer to real people. Shane wasn’t worthy of being a person, however. He hurried down the steps into the basement, and found that this had been a breakthrough session for Barry. He’d been a larger man in his late forties when he’d first started seeing Master Evan, but now he was huge, a full bent pipe clutched in his bearded jaw, wearing a pristine leather uniform. The excitement of his brutal punishment had Shane’s cock leaking through his cage even more than seeing his neighbor’s cock, and he threw himself at Barry’s feet, begging to be punished.

It began with kicking and stomping, and then Barry hauled Shane up from the floor, suspended him in the air, and began whipping him, making sure to add his own welts to Shane’s back on top of his master’s other anger management clients. He couldn’t remember the last time his back had been without at least one wound, and he was secretly thankful his master never allowed him to wear a shirt. He…secretly liked the fact that everyone in the neighborhood could see what kind of treatment he deserved, and he also thought that wearing anything against these welts would be horrifically painful. After he had been whipped to Barry’s satisfaction, he gave Shane a deep fisting before finally slamming his own cock in deep, exploding only a few seconds after his entrance. After all, for Barry, it was the pain that got him off more than anything else. After he came, a look of bliss came over his face–he undressed and hung up the uniform, and left, happy to no longer the angry man he had been anywhere outside this dungeon, where Shane was more than happy to take anything Barry–or anyone else–thought he deserved.

Master came down after Barry left, and spent a few minutes tending to Shane’s wounds, making sure his back, in particular, didn’t get infected. There was little love in these moments, however–it was clear that his master wasn’t tending to him out of any sort of love or care, but merely as one would maintain a tool, to ensure it had a long life of usage. Shane had lost his cigar at some point in the session–he found the half-smoked end and relit it–Master would only provide him a new cigar after he ate the last butt in front of him.

Shane cooked dinner for his master, and then had his own small portion. After that, it was time for his evening rounds through the neighborhood. His master had been busy over the last few months, ever since the two of them had moved in here. So many good people around them had been living boring, tedious lives–and there were quite a few terrible people who hadn’t deserved the lives they had. That thought…tugged at something in Shane, and he felt even worse than he usually did, but pushed the concern away–he had work to do and men to serve. Phillip needed to be fed–he’d recently become too large to get out of bed, so master had been kind enough to provide him with an automated feeding system. Still, it had to be filled twice a day, but the mush fed continuously to him ensured the fat ass would keep growing until Master Evan decided he could stop. After that, it would be time for a session with Nick and Roy–they had been a nice gay couple a block over, but Master had found them to be far too boring. Now, the two of them were a pair of muscle bound, smoked out daddy bears, and Master was enjoying seeing how freakish the two of them could become. Still, since they were both tops, they needed a bottom regularly to keep them happy, and Shane was usually the one who had to take care of them both. Recently, however, they’d both developed a rather disgusting fondness for piss, and the last few times, Shane had to waddle back home, his already rotund gut distended with several loads of piss and cum. Still, a slave’s work was never done, right? He pulled on his cutoffs, said goodbye to his master, and set off for the evening, glad that even if he was a fucking loser, he could serve his master, and the neighborhood, to the best of his abilities. That was something, at least.

Male Bonding (Part 5)

Life was never quite the same for any of those men. Jared and Trevor continued to bond over his father’s vacation time, and by the end of it, his father had completely accepted his proper position in life as his son’s whore. He spent his days at work, trying his best to pretend to be a version of himself which never existed any longer, but only felt fulfilled when he was at home, being plowed by the various men Trevor would bring over to abuse him. Trevor seemed like an expert at finding men to have sex with his father, actually–to be honest, Jared wondered if he simply walked out on the street, and picked randomly from the men passing by. After all, it wasn’t like anyone was going to say no, with his son’s ring glinting in their eyes.

A few months later, Maurice and Laura had a falling out, after she caught her husband once again drinking his own piss in the bathroom, and she kicked him out of the house. With nowhere to go, Maurice came over to Jared’s house, and begged Trevor for a place to stay while he sorted himself out. Trevor was more than happy to let him stay, on the condition that he become the house’s permanent urinal, though Trevor would occasionally rent him out to various clubs, so the pig could help make a bit of extra income for the house. Kirk, too, had a falling out with his wife, and ended up moving in with Trevor and Jared as well. Forbidden to shower now, he was a rank mess, begging men to let him suck on their feet or clean out their holes for them, after they got done abusing Maurice or Jared. His special treat, when he was especially well behaved, was that he got to eat all of the cum men had shot up Jared’s ass that day, and he live for it, gobbling all of it fresh from his hole. He also was often rented out alongside Maurice–thought Kirk got the job of being the club’s reusable toilet paper for the evening, while his old co-worker had a gut sloshing with piss.

Carter, Ryan, and Dustin managed to keep their lives together–somewhat. Carter had to get a divorce–he no longer had any interested in his wife, now that he understood how…intensely pleasurable it was him to have an arm shoved deep in his hole. He had to keep at least a six inch dildo in all day long, just to keep that damn itch at bay–thankfully he had Ryan in the office to help him out on a regular basis. In fact, Ryan was the boss of the entire department now–after Carter’s performance had slipped, he got transferred laterally, and the new and improved Ryan had been a perfect fit for the position. Dustin’s attitude was much improved as well, and he had proven to be an excellent assistant to Ryan now that he understood his proper position in the company, and in bed. It was Dustin who had perhaps taken his changes most to heart. he’d packed on close to fifty pounds in under six months, and Ryan was happy to make him eat all of the words he’d used to insult his new master in the past. He wasn’t going to let Ryan stop until he was over 400 pounds, and his slave wouldn’t get his cock free again until he hit 300. If he wanted the cage off his cock, then he was going to have to grow and grow and grow.

Ryan and Trevor became fast friends–at least, that’s how it seemed to Trevor. He liked Ryan, and he liked Ryan’s new attitude even more. How abusive he’d become, how he treated his inferiors. It made Trevor…proud to have made him. What he hadn’t realized, was that Ryan was playing him too–Ryan no longer kept his eye on Trevor’s ring out of bedazzlement, but out of envy. He waited patiently, until one night Trevor slipped up–drank too much, and blacked out, giving Ryan the perfect chance to pry the ring off his finger, slip in onto his own, and when Trevor woke up a few hours later, he and his new master had a little…chat, and Trevor realized just how much sense it made to let Ryan be in charge after all, and Ryan made his own rules–in particular, that no man inferior to him could weigh less than him, and so they all began gaining.

A year later, not one of them was less than 500 hundred pounds, because Ryan himself had ballooned up to 515. Still, his team of men (including Trevor, who had finally managed to find himself a good job working with his father, as well as Carter, who Ryan had transferred back under his proper sway) they were recognized as one of the most effective teams in the company, When asked what their secret was, all Ryan would say was that they had managed to bond not only as a team, but as men, in a way he could have hardly thought possible, and he smirked, shone his ring in the CEO’s face, and had one of his little chats.

Hopeless (Part 3)

You stumble into the parking lot, still pumping cum out the bottom of your shorts, where it’s running down your thick, hairy legs. There’s something wrong with you. Well, of course there is something wrong with you, you’re worthless, but this is different. You’d gone so long without cumming, for weeks–or maybe even months, you couldn’t quite remember, and now that the dam had been broken, your gut was churning, your balls are aching, you’re sweating from head to toe. People stare, no–gape at you plodding to your car, mouth open, snorting, eyes wild. You throw open the door and go to climb in, but hit your head on the frame, your knees scrunched under the wheel. It isn’t until you process the fact that the space is smaller than usual that you manage to reach under your seat, past your massive cock, and shove the seat as far back as it will go. Is this even your car? Your key worked, it…smells like you, but it doesn’t feel right. You shut the door and immediately feel claustrophobic, panting and panic rising in your chest, but you have to get home, you’ll be safe at home, you aren’t safe here.

It’s a fifteen minute drive to your home from the gym, and it’s harrowing. Your bones ache, muscles pulse. More than once, a sudden, full body spasm of growth sends you speeding forward or swerving into other lanes–the fact that you don’t end up in an accident or arrested is a minor miracle. You park, throw open the car door, and manage to squeeze yourself free of the confines of the car, whimpering and moaning. The exit is anything but graceful, and you end up toppling out face first onto the pavement, but you’re free, at least. you grab the car door to help yourself up, but when you pull on it, rather than gaining any leverage, you feel the car door bend down in the frame towards you instead, the car tipping slightly to the side as you drag yourself up. It’s so…small, like one of those clown cars at the circus. You abandon it, running for your apartment, and your shorts finally can’t bear the pressure of your package and thighs, bursting at the seams, your foot and a half long cock and massive balls flopping out into the open, your shirt following soon after–you tear away the tattered remains once you reach your door, crouching in the hallway, fumbling with the keys you’d kept in your hand, but they’re so small and you’ve grown so clumsy that you can’t fit the key in the lock–in frustration you simply start pounding on the door–and it opens.

Without worrying how, you start the next task of finding some way of squeezing through the doorway, the only thought you have is making it inside. You end up pushing yourself in sideways–you’ve grown much too tall to walk in, and your shoulders are too broad. It’s close, but you squeeze inside, heaving for breath, feeling your body continue growing as you do…and you realize you’ve trapped yourself. There’s simply no way you’ll be able to fit yourself back out–but why would you want to leave? Out there, all there are are people who will stare at you, look at you like you’re a freak–because you are a freak. You don’t want to go out there, you don’t want to leave. Your trainer, who’d opened the door for you, closes it behind you but doesn’t lock it–you don’t even notice that he’s there until he standing beside you, stoking one massive, hairy arm, talking to you, calming you down bit by bit, that buzzing sound returning, and soon you’re shivering at his touch, at his words–and you realize that you are sitting down on the ground–and he’s standing next to you–but he barely comes to your shoulder. How…how big are you, really? How big is your cock? It doesn’t seem real, hanging there between your legs. You must be at least ten feet tall–far too tall for your ceilings. The only way you’ll be able to move from room to room is by crawling…but is this even your apartment? Now that you’re more calm, this doesn’t…seem familiar. The floorplan is too open, there’s almost no furniture…where did you drive yourself, anyway? Where did you just trap yourself?

“Look at you, you’re a beast–a gigantic, disgusting beast,” he says, walking around you in a wide circle, taking all of you in–the hairy body, the long beard, the massive cock and balls, “You’re going to be so popular, so many people have been waiting for you to finally blow.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, and he doesn’t elaborate. You try to talk, but words…don’t come easily to you anymore, and he has no interest in anything you might ask or want to know. He leaves you alone–but you don’t feel abandoned. For the first time in a long time, you feel safe. The the men begin arriving. You have several visitors each day, and all of them come for one reason–to abuse your massive cock. The ride it, they worship it, the suck it, they drink your cum by the gallon. None of them care about you, about the body attached to this marvelous beast of a cock–but then, why should they? You know you’re worthless, unworthy of anyone’s attention. You’re simply happy to know that there’s one part of you which is worthy of desire and that’s enough for your simple mind. The only person who sees you is your trainer–no, your owner now–when he visits. He comes every few weeks–you look forward to those visits more than any other, because finally, he has allowed you to serve him. You pull him close, gently, lick him clean from head to toe, worship his cock and balls with your mouth, letting him know how thankful you are. How thankful you are that he has given you purpose. How thankful you are that a hopeless, giant-cocked beast like you, could ever hope to be owned by a man like him.

I’ll Make You Feel Small (Part 2)

It felt, to Trey, like an enormous shaft of pain. He’d never, ever, allowed any man to fuck him before, and he screamed, trying to claw himself away, but somehow, this fat man continued to overpower him, grabbing his arms and pinning them to his sides, weighing him down with his gut, breath hot against his neck. “How does it feel? Being helpless? Do you feel small? Well you are small. A small man–no, not even a man now. Not a man at all, you’re just a bitch, a slave. My slave–how does that sound? You don’t get to be a man anymore, no, all you are is two loose, hungry holes, ready to please your betters–but that means you’re ready to please absolutely anyone, right? Because you’re the worst, the smallest, the most pathetic thing I’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. Now quit your crying and take it–it’s the only pleasure you’re going to get from now on.”

Trey remained quiet, listening, trying to understand how this could have happened, George focusing on inflicting as much pain as he could, but Trey’s gasps were already turning to groans, as he adjusted to the size of his cock, and he began to realize how good it felt, to take a real man’s cock in his hole.

“Listen to yourself,” George said, “Listen to you moan. Does it feel good? Being used like this? It’s disgusting, how much you enjoy it. Aren’t you disgusting? Say it. Say ‘I’m a disgusting little bitch slave.’ I want to hear you tell me what you are.”

“N-No…” Trey said, but even he knew there was no force behind it.

“Fucking say it!” George screamed at him, “Say you worthless sack of shit!”

“I’m…I’m a bitch…” Trey sobbed, “I’m…I’m a disgusting little…little bitch slave.”

“Again. Say it again.”

“I’m a little, disgusting bitch slave…”

George gave a growl, and flooded Trey’s ass with cum, gripping the bitch’s wrists hard enough to bruise as he filled him up, and then he slid himself free and stepped back, heaving for breath, looking down at Trey, at what he was now. He walked over, grabbed Trey by the hair, and dragged him over in front of a wide mirror against the wall, and in the dim light, Trey could make out his body, his…his small, worthless body–what had happened to him?

He was…short. He’d started out taller than this hulking daddy bear by at least two or three inches, but now he barely reached the top of his chest. He’d shrunk close to a foot and a half…and all of his muscles had disappeared along with it, like he’d simply deflated. No wonder he hadn’t been able to fight him off–why had he even tried? He…he knew better, a weakling like him. Men…men like this man, like his…Master. He couldn’t fight them, there was no way he could possibly win, not against a man like that. Not against any man…because…because he wasn’t a man, not…not anymore.

He could see his crotch, and it was…it was bare. He’d always had a small cock, but now he had literally nothing. Not even a nub, and his balls, too, had shrunken away and disappeared entirely. Seeing where the bitch was looking, George crouched down, and with one hand rubbed the smooth patch of skin. “Tell me bitch. What do you feel? Feel anything down there anymore?”

“N-No…No, what…what did you do to me? Where’s my cock?”

“You don’t deserve a cock, bitch. What would a pathetic piece of trash like you even use a cock for anyway? Or balls? No…no, you know what you’re good for–the only thing you’re good for, slave. Tell me…tell me what a worthless bitch like you might be good for.”

He didn’t…want to say it. He couldn’t say it, but his lips were moving, words were slipping out against him, “Serving…sir. Serving men. Men like you.”

George turned him towards him and slapped him across the face, “No, fucker–you don’t serve men like me. You serve any man–all men are better than you and deserve your service, right bitch?”

“Right…sir.”

“Good,” George said, and pulled out a collar attached to a leash he’d kept attached to his belt. Trey meekly allowed him to place it around his neck, and then George tugged him out of the room, naked, “Let’s see if we can help you learn that lesson, bitch. Come on.”

They stayed at the bath house until the early morning, George leading Trey around by the leash, forcing him to serve every single man they came across, no matter how old and fat, or young and thin. The whole time, he forced Trey to show off his empty crotch, forced him to tell men what he was, and what he was good for. He even gave him a new name, since he didn’t deserve a man’s name. His name was Trash now–and by the time George led him stumbling out into the cold dark outside, still naked, it was the only name he could remember having.

Down the street, still parked, was a motorcycle. Some…dim memory tried to tell him that it was his, but what could a little bitch like him ever do with a motorcycle? Hell, he wouldn’t even be able to drive it…at his new height. He’d continued shrinking, all night long, the more George had abused and humiliated him. Now, he was even weaker, and only about four feet tall. George stopped outside, and looked down at him, wondering what to do next. He wouldn’t be hurting anyone now, not anymore–but was that enough? Did such a cruel thing deserve even this much of a life, as a worthless, tiny bitch? He didn’t. Not in George’s opinion. “Come on slave, you’re coming home with me. I’ll deal with the rest of you then.”

Breaking Point (Part 4)

I told Leon that if he could prove to me that he deserved to have his life back, then he’d get it back at the end of the August and go off to college, just like he’d imagined. I don’t think he quite realized the power I had over him at that point, not right away. Up to that point, other people had always felt incidental to him–just figments of agents that he could ignore at will, who had no real impact on his desired course through the world. He’d always simply expected other people to move from his past. The collision with someone like me–who had not only the desire, but also the ability to oppose him, was incomprehensible in the immediate aftermath of this new body. Still, he began to understand I putt him through a few paces in the trailer, while the rest of the crew carried on working outside, finishing shortly before quitting time. That was when he realized he wouldn’t be going home to his parents–to his room, to his friends. Instead, I informed him he’d be staying with me for the time being–and that he’d best behave himself, or he could kiss that future of his goodbye.

I live in a small house a good ways out of town on a couple acres of property–enough to assure myself a good measure of privacy. I had several guest rooms (and a rather cozy dungeon in the cellar) but Leon wasn’t a guest, he was a pig–meaning he got to sleep on a dog bed out in the garage. Meaning he had to be naked in the house at all times. Meaning he had to be ready for me whenever I desired him, and willing to perform whatever sick tasks I might have in mind. I gave him a week to get adjusted to his living arrangements and new body, before I ramped up his training.

I taught him to take pain and enjoy it. I forced him into bondage for hours on end. I taught him to drink piss and eat out my nasty crack after a good, long shit. He obeyed me both because he had to, and because he was becoming increasingly desperate to have his old life back. Finally, that cold demeanor was beginning to crack, the reality of the fact that he could do nothing other than submit wearing him down slowly but surely. I hurried him along a bit, by forcing him to serve his co-workers as well, quickly graduating him to our communal urinal, toilet paper and cumdump at the worksite. He was forbidden to shower, wear anything other than my dirtiest laundry (which fit his obese frame rather poorly) or shave, and soon stank to high heaven of piss, sweat and cum. The loss of testosterone from his now puny balls gave him a thin, patchy beard that only made him look older and more grungy as it became crusted with filth.

Finally–finally! He broke.

It was the middle of August, on the weekend. The weekends were particularly grueling for him–on purpose of course. I generally kept him in bondage for long periods of time, and at this point I had also fit him into chastity–although finding a cage small enough for his now puny cock was a challenge in itself. It was time for dinner, and I released him from the cage I’d decided he’d spend the day caged in, and he seemed…more reserved, somehow. I made him crawl behind me into the kitchen, where he found I had brought in a trough–and I dumped a pot of cold slop into it, telling him to eat up.

He broke out in sobs. Massive, heaving sobs. It wasn’t the greatest humiliation he’d suffered by far, but it was somehow a sign of how far he’d fallen. He started pleading and begging with me, telling me he was sorry, that he didn’t know how he could make it up to me, that he just wanted it to stop, that he couldn’t take another day of this. I listened. I let him poor his heart out, but soon all I could feel was my rock hard cock. When he’d run out of words, I ordered him to eat–watching his eyes go wide in terror–but he couldn’t resist. I got down behind him and started fucking his loose hole, letting the rough fuck tell him what I had no interest in saying, no interest in his revelations. That I was as unfeeling towards his exhaustion and terror as he’d been towards everyone for his entire life. That tears wouldn’t move me. That his understanding of needing to be punished wouldn’t absolve him from his due punishment.

If he’d just suffered, I probably would have let him go, but later that night, he asked me about the end of August, when he might get his life back. His…arrogance, to even ask…I told him to wait a couple of weeks, but I was…so furious, at him even daring to ask, at his…perhaps that was the ultimate cruelty, letting him keep believing, but I couldn’t let that stand. Seeing him break, it only partially, only made me want to drive him even deeper. I wanted to see him suffer more than anything now, and I couldn’t…stop fantasizing, about this idea I’d had. I’d planned it, in case he didn’t give in…but I’d never done something like this, Then again, I’d never dealt with someone like Leon. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dealt with horrible young men as cruel as he is–a good number of them were still employed with me, to this day. But I’d never…something in him, in his cocky resistance, in his confidence that even now he’d eventually be free of me, of all of this, even though there was nothing–nothing–he could feasibly do…it was a high I couldn’t deny myself, and I wanted to see that little meek castle crumble to dust. Did he deserve it, really? Probably no one did–but Leon needed it. I needed it, and it would be…perfect.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 9)

“Let’s get you in the sling,” Ralph said, but that was easier said than done, however, since Doug had started growing fatter and shorter throughout all of this. Now, he was just barely five foot two, and it took both of them to get him up into the leather seat, Ralph securing his boy’s ankles to the industrial chains, giving him easy access to his loose hole, and then chained Doug’s wrists as well, giving him complete control over his body.

He teased him for a few minutes, admiring the changes that had spread across him like wildfire, changes he was having a hard time even recalling. Everything about him just seemed so…normal. He sucked and chewed on one of his boy’s thick nipples before digging through one of his drawers, pulling out two snake bite suckers and attaching them, and then he tugged on his boy’s balls, feeling them swell and drop in his hand, Doug unable to suppress in groans, nor the precum which had begun flowing from the head of his huge cock. He was…beautiful, looking at him like this. Fat, filthy, nasty, covered with tattoos, everything he fucking wanted in a man, but…but that was because Ralph had made him this way…right?

He could remember now, dimly, how he’d taken the boy under his wing, fed him fatter, taught him the ways of filth and sex, covered him with the tattoos of his choosing, forced him to smoke constantly until he needed smoke and ash all day long, forbid him from cutting his hair of shaving any part of his body. As these memories flooded him, he felt like his own past was fading away. College–who the fuck was he kidding? He’d never gone to college, hell, he’d never wanted to go to college, he’d dropped out a high school years ago. Yeah…years…ago. His beard was beginning to grey, long streaks mixing with the brown–the same with his hair. Face growing cragged and wrinkled, scars to match his oft broken nose from fights and rough fucks, and this sweet young boy, fuck. His boy. He’d always wanted one, and now he had one.

He stepped away from the sling and pulled on a thick, industrial rubber glove, coating it with a thick layer of crisco from a half used tub on the dresser, and then walked back, pushing two fingers into Doug’s ass, his weak hole accepting them willingly, listening to the boy moan, swinging his body onto the intruding hand. Three fingers, four, and then his fist popped inside him, Doug letting off something between a sigh and moan as his daddy’s fist invaded his ass. It was…so familiar to him. Ralph twisted his wrist, applied a bit of pressure, and his boy’s dick started spraying piss all over the both of them, Ralph licking it from his beard and mustache as he grinned, watching his boy loose complete control, pressing harder until it was completely empty, and then he switched again, and started prodding his prostate.

He never touched his boy’s cock–he didn’t need to. Doug’s groans and moans only grew louder from the stimulation, his cock flooding precum from his massive balls, until his daddy finally milked a massive orgasm from him, making him shout and groan and cry, sucking down smoke from the cigar still in his mouth, and Ralph yanked out his hand and replaced it with his cock, fucking the loose hole raw until he too was cumming, feeling a bit…light headed. His boy’s collar…it was glinting, shimmering. It seemed so bright, all of a sudden, and everything else was so dark. Doug seemed to have passed out in the sling, and Ralph struggled against the darkness. He didn’t want to go under again, he didn’t want to loose himself again, no more, no…more…

“Daddy? Daddy!”

Ralph gave a snort on the filthy, piss soaked floor where he’d collapsed, rolled up onto his ass, rubbing the side of his head. Fuck..what the hell was that?

“You ok?”

“Fine…I think…” Ralph said, grabbed onto the chains of the sling and hauled himself back up, Doug swinging to and fro from his weight, the ceiling groaning where the chains were anchored.

“Thought I might be stuck,” Doug said.

“Heh, ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that,” Ralph said, leaned over his boy and gave him a deep, smoky kiss, “Just got…too excited, is all. Still, how ‘bout we get ya down?”

He undid the shackles holding Doug’s arms and legs, and helped his short boy down from the sling, holding his filthy body tight to him. He was still horny, and before Doug could get dressed, he bent his boy over and ate out his nasty loose hole, tasting the grease and his own cum from earlier all over his boy’s crack, sucking down his farts in between drags off his cigar, and Doug looked around the room.

It wasn’t much, their little studio, but neither of them made much money. Well, he was the one who worked to support them, really, with construction work during the day and offering up his ass all night. Daddy worked…sometimes. He had a hard time getting hired, and he usually lost his temper whenever anyone tried to tell him what to do. Still, it worked out, and he did what he could. He had his daddy to think of, after all. Some little voice in his head was screaming though, that this was wrong, but it was getting quieter. He gripped his chain collar and felt it diminish more, until he couldn’t hear the words, just feel an odd unease.

Ralph finally came up for air, licking his lips, “Let’s go for a ride, boy. A long one, a few weeks–nah, fuck that. Even longer I gotta feel the wind for a while, too fuckin’ cooped up here.”

“I gotta work in the morning, daddy. We ain’t got nothin’ for rent.”

“Fuck that,” Ralph said, grabbing hold of his chain, “We’ve lived on the road before. Only thing you gotta do is keep daddy happy, and daddy ain’t happy here. Now come on, let’s pack our shit, just what we need. We can meet up with some old buddies a mine; they got a nice clubhouse where we can stay as long as we want. Don’t need rent–they’ll just want our holes. They’re sick fucks, but nothin’ we don’t love anyway.”

Doug couldn’t say no, and so they suited up in their filthy leathers, hoped on their bikes, and rode off into the night, their old lives just glimmers in the back of their minds. Eddie, however, had been keeping an eye on them. Another great buy–he looked at the two collections of preppy clothes and college supplies he’d recently acquired–and knew he’d be making someone happy next weekend at his next special sale.

The End

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 8)

Thankfully he didn’t pass anyone on the way to the dorm, though it was difficult getting out his key so he could swipe it at the entrance to the building. Their room was on the second floor, and he must be getting tired faster than usual, because it seemed like with each step up Doug grew heavier, dragging him down a bit more. He stumbled to their door, fiddled with his keys, pushed his way in and unslung his roommate off his shoulder and onto his bed. He was still out–is this how long he’d been out, when it had happened to him before? It hadn’t felt like it had taken this long, but he wasn’t sure. One thing he did know, was that something strange was happening to Doug.

The sensation of him growing heavier hadn’t been an illusion. He’d started off as very lithe, probably one hundred forty pounds on a six foot two frame, but here in the room, he seemed to have lost a bit of height…and he was packing on weight. He already had sprouted a gut, and as Ralph watched, it was only getting bigger…in fact, he couldn’t…look away. Fuck, just seeing his boy like that, he was getting horny. The small clothes were starting to cut into him; Ralph grabbed hold and ripped them off, licking his bearded lips as he did, and fuck, he pushed up one of Doug’s arms, got down on his knees and shoved his nose and mouth in the pit, snorting and licking, feeling a bush of hair sprouting as he did–nearly as thick as his own…and the more he licked, the thicker–and ranker, the armpit became.

No, no! He yanked himself back, unable to understand the feelings washing over him. He couldn’t do this, the guy wasn’t…wasn’t even awake…but the need, the desire was overwhelming him. He passed over the stinking pit and started sucking his nipples, biting and pulling on them until they were thick, inch masses, studded with piercings, and then worked lower to his cock. It was hardening from the attention, and he swallowed it down, sucking it, feeling it grow and expand as he did until it started pushing its way down his throat and was so thick his jaw ached. Then he rolled his boy over, kneading his ass with both hands, feeling it inflate as he did, before spreading them apart and diving in, licking the crack with broad sweeps of his tongue, his spit sprouting thick ass hair as he did, and then started tunnelling into his hole, feeling it loosen at his will. He took deep inhales of smoke and blew it into his ass, and it was blown back into his face as ripe, pungent farts–but Doug didn’t wake up until Ralph shoved his cock inside him. He screamed, and tried to claw away his way off Ralph’s cock, but he grabbed a handful of Doug’s hair, feeling it lengthen so he could get a better grip, yanking back, bucking deep, sinking his teeth and sucking at his boy’s neck, feeling his terror ease into pleasure, until he was pushing back, eager to feel his daddy’s dick inside him. Ralph’s teeth left a strange mark on his skin, it began to discolor in odd shades, and then began to spread out as wild, whirling tattoos around his neck, down his entire back, around onto his chest, and down his arms past his wrists. Ralph’s breathing was turning ragged and quick; he was close. With a low growl he came deep inside Doug’s loose ass, but this was wrong, fuck, what the fuck had he just done? He pulled out early, spurting cum all over Doug’s filthy crack and stumbled back and away towards his side of the room, staring at his roommate, his…boy.

Doug was still moaning and groaning on the bed, but it wasn’t clear whether it was from pleasure or pain, or some strange combination. Now that he no longer had Ralph’s heavy body keeping him down, he could roll over and sit up, cum leaking from his hole onto his sheets, and he looked down at himself, at his fat body still growing fatter, the tattoos coating him, and he looked up at Ralph across the room. He wanted to be angry–he knew he should be angry, but all he felt was hunger, and this strange desire to…to serve. It was overwhelming, his daddy…he had to serve his daddy, and he got off the bed, falling to his hands and knees and crawled towards him.

“Don’t…don’t come over here, I don’t know what’ll happen if you do,” Ralph said, “I can’t stop this, I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

“F-Fuck you…” was all Doug could manage in reply, before pressing his face to Ralph’s filthy boots running his tongue over them, coating it in the filth there, eating it down. He kept…trying to grab his cock, but for some reason it was hard for him to grasp. It certainly wasn’t an issue with it being small–rather it was this…strange idea in his head that he shouldn’t touch it. That he wasn’t allowed to touch it.

Ralph was quivering, looking down at Doug licking his boots clean, feeling these desires rising in him, strange, perverse fantasies. He sucked a deep draw off his cigar, a large cinder falling from the end and hitting the floor–without even needing to be told, Doug scooped it up in his mouth and chewed it down, before returning to his daddy’s boots. He couldn’t stop himself. He aimed his cock and started pissing all over him, watching the stinking yellow run over his head, soaking his long hair and coating his body in filth, Doug shuddering beneath him and licking up as much as he could from the floor, but Ralph reached down after he finished, grabbed his boy by the chain collar, feeling that same odd heat pulse through him, and hauled him to his feet, shoving his tongue in his mouth. After eating his boots, ash and piss it was none too clean, teeth chipped and rotting, yellow with smoke, black with ash, but it tasted…it tasted wonderful. They pulled apart and took a hit off their cigars–though Doug couldn’t remember when he’d actually lit one, and then shared another smoky kiss, grinding their filthy bellies together, Ralph’s hands twisting and yanking on his boy’s nipples, and then one dropped down and started stroking his cock, feeling him spasm and groan.

“How long has it been, boy, since I gave you a good milking?”

“Too…too long daddy,” Doug sighed.

“Well how about we do somethin’ about that, eh?”

The Power of Reality – Preview (Part 3)

“It’s just like, doesn’t he understand? I’m a young buck, you know? I’m horny all the time. I guess that makes me needy, but what the hell should I do, Professor?”

“I don’t think you’re being unreasonable.”

“You don’t?”

“No! Certainly not. After all, it isn’t like it takes much effort for him to bend over and let his boyfriend pump a quick load in his hole.”

“That’s what I was thinking! I’m glad I’m not crazy.”

“If anything, it’s rude of him to refuse.”

“But what can I do? It’s not like I can just…force him.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean why not?”

“Aaron, you may be big and strong, but you aren’t very smart, are you?”

“I ain’t too smart, you know that.”

“Look, you like being in control, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you should be in charge, right? You like feeling in charge? Certainly if anyone should be holding the reins in this relationship its you. You’re the one wearing the pants, certainly.”

“I don’t know, he is a professor.”

“Outside the bedroom. But inside he’s your bitch. Your hole. You made him that–and it’s your job to put him in his place.”

“I mean–”

“I can see you, strutting in there, your massive cock hanging out of those jeans of yours. What’s he going to say to that? Even if he says no, you know he’s really thinking yes. So make him say it. Rip down those trousers of his and make him scream. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Fuck, you got me hard just saying it.”

“Then do it–you’re a man of action, not a thinker, so go fucking take his hole. Claim, and make him regret telling you no at all.”

***

“It’s over.”

“Now Eddie, be serious–”

“I am being serious! It’s over.”

“You’re just letting your emotions get a hold of you. I could hear you in here, and you were obviously enjoying yourself immensely.”

“You could…you heard us?”

“Oh now calm down, no one else is here this late.”

“But what if someone had been here! I can’t do this, I can’t keep doing this.”

“Look, all subs get cold feet on occasion, and maybe he just pushed you a bit too far. That’s not a reason to throw him away! That’s a reason to give in.”

“I mean…wait, what?”

“Look, Eddie, Aaron is good for you! I haven’t seen you looking this satisfied in ages.”

“That’s not really the point, I don’t think–”

“But of course it is! You need this, Eddie. I mean, look at you. A fat, old, size queen like you, I mean, how often is this going to walk into your life? Just give him what he wants, and you’ll get what you want to.”

“I don’t think you really understand–”

“I understand better than you think. You’re scared, right?”

“Of course I’m scared!”

“You’re scared of giving up control.”

“That’s, no!”

“Please, Eddie. I can tell.”

“I mean, that’s not…all of it.”

“You’re scared of giving up control, but you want to. You like it when he dominates you, when he forces you, when he gets rough with you and rams that huge cock in your hole. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“…”

“And you even like how dirty it makes you feel. How humiliated you feel, knowing someone so much younger, someone as stupid as Aaron, owns your hole.”

“…”

You got very quiet.”

“Shut–shut up.”

“You know I’m right.”

“…Fine…Fine, you’re right, and I–maybe I fucked everything up.”

“Look, you have to stop fighting him, Eddie. Here’s what you need to do. Go to him, find him, and get on your knees, and give yourself to him. You need to stop trying to be his boyfriend, and you need to let yourself become his slave. That’s what you both want.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I know you can. Now go on, before you let your master get away, go find him and tell him what you really want from him.”

“…Alright. Alright, you’re right, I have to…I have to find him, thank you Harold, thank you for everything.”

“No trouble at all, Eddie, no trouble at all.”

***

“All I’m saying Aaron, is that I just don’t think college is the best option for you.”

“Fuck Professor, ya really think so?”

“I do. I mean, to be honest, I’m not quite sure how you got in to begin with.”

“Yeah, I guess I ain’t too good with my head, am I?”

“That’s not to say you don’t have plenty of other redeeming qualities, of course. I mean, that cock of yours, for one thing.”

“Fuck yeah man, fuck yeah, right? This things a fuckin’ beast! Keep suckin’ bitch, I wanna see that jaw stretch!”

“Your slave sure looks happy.”

“Yeah, he gets ideas sometimes. Ideas that ‘cause he’s a professor he should be the one in charge, but I set ‘em straight right quick.”

“Oh…he hasn’t given you much trouble lately, has he?”

“Nah, he’s been real good, right bitch?”

*Mmmph*

“He said yes.”

“Look, as I was saying, I just don’t think college is the best step for you–oh goodness, I forgot to offer you something to smoke! Would you like a cigar?”

“Hell yeah, you know I’m always up for a stogie.”

Here…let me get you lit up…Like I was saying, I think you’re much too free a spirit to be tied down to a school. I think a man like you, big, burly, hairy bear like you, you need to be on the road! Go buy yourself a bike, and take off! Go explore. I think you’ll be happier.”

“Fuck, that does sound nice…but…”

“But what?”

“But what about my slave? I can’t just leave him here.”

“Well, take him with you. He can learn how to ride, I’m sure.”

*Mmmph!* Wait, but I can’t just leave in the middle of a semester, I–”

*Slap*

“Did I say you could stop sucking, bitch?”

“No sir, sorry sir.”

“Eddie, I know what you’re trying to say, but you have to face reality sometime–I just don’t think you’re fit to work here anymore.”

“What…what do you mean?”

“I mean look at you. You’ve been skipping classes. You have reams of papers from all of your classes you haven’t graded. Your head just isn’t in it–your head is focused on your master, where it belongs.”

“But–”

“You have to let it go, Eddie. You have to let this go, so you can be the best slave you can be. Besides, you’re getting on in age now–you’re over seventy, you just aren’t as sharp as you were before.”

“But what about the department?”

“I’ll be happy to take over as chair–on a temporary basis of course. Me and a few others can cover your classes for you. I promise, after a few days on the road, you won’t even remember that you were a teacher, will you?”

“N-No..?”

“Nope. You’ll be so caught up in being a slave that all your memories of teaching will just float away. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Won’t that be freeing?”

“I…I guess so.”

“So it’s decided then. Finish sucking your master’s cock, and then send your letter of resignation to the faculty. Everything will run much smoother when you’re gone, and you’ll both be so much happier, I think–no, I know you will, and you both believe me, don’t you? Have I led you astray before?”

“Nope.”

“I guess not…”

“Good. I think this all worked out for the best, don’t you?”

If you want to read the rest, you’ll have to support me on Patreon! For five dollars a month you’ll also get access to a massive archive of unpublished work, access to patron-only stories (including this one), and plenty more to come. Plus you get to help make sure I can provide more stories and collections in the future. Thanks again to everyone contributing already!

Jockstrap Curse (Sketch)

No one’s first spell is the greatest. A first spell is usually like first sex–awkward, not at all what you were expecting, and something you can’t take back. I was a wizard sure–but before I knew that I was a nerd, and gay, and the target of every bully in my high school. Tim was a linebacker on the varsity team, and he was as cruel as he was stupid. He cornered me after school one fateful day, dragged me into the locker room, and tried to force one of his unwashed jockstraps into my mouth–without knowing what I was doing, the world shifted between us, and suddenly it was him shoving the jockstrap into his mouth…and sucking on it…and…moaning, as he groped his cock. Needless to say, I didn’t want to be anywhere near this scene, and so I beat it as fast as my short legs could carry me.

I avoided him for days, as best I could, but he caught up to me eventually. But while I expected him to bash my head in, instead he was begging me to fix it, whatever I had done to him. I tried to tell him that I had no clue what he was talking about, but he refused to say anything. Just when I thought he might open up, Zane–another linebacker, and well regarded as one of the dirtier guys at school, found us–but instead of them both teaming up to bully me–he ordered Tim to come with him–and sure enough, Tim followed, though from his face he was none to happy about it, and more curious than anything else, I followed after them both. They went into the bathroom and took the handicap stall together–I peeped through the crack, and found myself watching Tim sucking and licking at Zane’s filthy jockstrap–crusted with piss and cum, Zane humiliating him the entire time, before fucking his throat. Zane left, leaving Tim in the stall, face coated with cum and tears in his eyes.

He told me, that at first, it had just been his jockstraps that he was obsessed with, but then, one practice, he’d caught a whiff of Jack’s–the quarterback–and immediately he’d been unable to resist him, begging his team captain to fuck his ass after practice–after worshiping his jockstrap of course. Jack had essentially owned him for a day–until he’d smelled Zane’s even filthier jock, and he’d started worshiping and serving him instead. He’d tried smelling Jack’s again, but suddenly it did nothing for him–he needed the filthiest jock he could find, and he didn’t know what to do. I, of course, didn’t know what to do either. I had no idea I was even a wizard at that point, but I promised him I’d try to do something. That was Friday–but come Monday, Tim had disappeared–he never returned to school again.

The whole town was worried–but clues were scarce. That said, I had more information than anyone else. I found out that Tim held down a part time job working at a gas station frequented by truckers–and I had a sneaking suspicion as to what might have happened to him, but who would believe me? Even if they believed me, what good could they do? I thought about telling the police, but before I could, the guild intervened and took me in for proper training–still, I always wondered what had happened to him. So when I graduated, I tracked him down with the intention of freeing him from the curse I had never meant to cast in the first place.

Now, keep in mind that I might look thirty, but I was training for close to twenty years. Finding Tim was still easier than I had expected–first spells always left a rather strong trail through the world, if you knew what to look for, and so I traced his path. I found the trucker–now in his sixties–he had rode off with that weekend, unable to help himself. After that, he ended up living at a small truck stop diner a few states over for a while, enslaved to the previous owner and chef, before someone even filthier picked him up–another trucker, who he remained with for a quite a few years, before a chance run in at a biker bar brought me to his current home.

A single wide trailer which looked like it had never been cleaned. The man who owned him was unemployed, but made a small living off running drugs with a local motorcycle gang. Tim hadn’t left the trailer in years, by that point. Even if there was someone filthier than the biker, it was doubtful he would ever have a chance to find them and escape. But I also discovered that with each subsequent owner, the spell had grown stronger–eroding more and more of Tim’s mind away until serving jockstraps–and his owner’s cock, was all he could think about. He was chained in the small bathroom beside the toilet, surrounded by a pile of filthy laundry, soaked in piss, that served as his bed. He seemed to be well fed, at least, judging by how large he was–if I had to guess, around three hundred and fifty pounds–his hair and beard long and unwashed. Still, a promise was a promise–I tried to free him, only to discover that this new mind had no interest in being free. I was at least five years too late. I can’t say he didn’t deserve some of what happened to him–but…well, that’s the way curses work, I suppose. Now, are you going to cooperate, or would you like to see what I can do to you now that I know what I’m doing?