Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 5)

This is the finale of the story! If I have time over the next couple weeks, I might write an alternate ending for one of the other two options I offered in the survey for Patrons, but we’ll see. Enjoy!


For the next couple of weeks, Ken has a blast with the app, now that he’s the one in control. He still enjoys taking guys home with him from the shop to beat and fuck in the dungeon, but he is always prowling on the app, looking for more boys to turn into his little redneck pig sons, addicted to his cock, his floggers, and his stink. His form and identity seemed to be settling down and solidifying–he wouldn’t change as much when he hooked up with someone on the app, and he was becoming more and more adept at bending them to his own desires, without letting their own affect him nearly as much. Then, he got a new notification from the app one evening, telling him that he and another member on the app had been successfully matched for a gold tier date. 

Ken clicked on the link, looking for more details, but he was disheartened to see that the information he’d become accustomed to having at his fingertips since becoming a silver tier member was gone. He had no idea who this stranger was, though the one bit of info he could see was that he, too, was silver. He hadn’t dated another silver member before, and he wasn’t quite sure how it would even work. There was a date and a time attached to the date, and while Ken considered not showing up, he knew better than to try and outsmart the app like that. It would make them connect one way or another, and he had a feeling that if he skipped out on it, he would be the one who wound up at a disadvantage. So he got on his favorite biker leathers, climbed on his hog, and drove to the meeting address, only to find himself in a familiar location–it was the same bear bar where he had had his first date with Jack, of all places.

He stepped inside, right on time, and looked around. There, by the bar, was a fellow that seemed to stick out in a rather Arctos fashion–massive, very hairy, smoking a cigar that most guys would struggle to even hold in their mouths like it was nothing. His eyes sparkled when he saw Ken, came over and gave him a hug. “Well damn, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t you! Last time I saw you, you were just barely on your way.”

Ken knew that voice! It was Jack, of all people. The big bear pulled away, beaming around his massive cigar. He had changed quite a bit since Ken had seen him last, but then, he’d changed quite a bit himself in the last month or so. Jack had been large before, but he was now even larger, maybe even an inch or so taller than Ken at this point, and Ken hadn’t met someone larger than him in a very long while. He was still muscular, but had filled out a sizable gut as well, though it was the pelt that was most impressive. The hair on his body was so thick you couldn’t see the skin beneath it very easily, and it ran all the way up onto his neck, joining with both his beard and the back of his short cropped hair–though his beard was now a fiery red, even as the rest of his his hair was a light brown. “I’m kind of happy its you, actually,” Ken admitted, “I haven’t been on a gold date before, I don’t know what to expect. Seems fitting you would be the one to show me the ropes.”

“Actually,” Jack said, “I haven’t been on one either. I’ve heard of them, a bit, but only from some guys who are coupled. They wouldn’t give me details though, or maybe they couldn’t–I don’t really know how any of this works.”

“Oh…well, do you want to grab a drink or something?”

“Really? Like we don’t know each other at all?” Jack said, and groped the front of Ken’s pants, his eyes going a bit wide. “Fuck, how big is that thing now?”

“I’d be more than happy to show you, big boy,” Ken said, “My place isn’t far, if you really want to skip the getting drunk portion of the date, and go right to the fun part.”

“Only if you smoke a big fucking cigar while we get down to business,” Jack said, and Ken felt an odd little tingle run down his body. He’d felt that sort of sensation before, but not quite so apparently. It usually signaled a change of some sort. He hadn’t been smoking before, but the craving for a cigar was growing overwhelming. He pulled a stick from his vest pocket where he usually kept them, only to pull out a cigar even larger than the one Jack had in his mouth, easily a 90 ring cigar, and close to a foot long. “Fucking hell, didn’t think you’d come packing two massive sticks.”

“I didn’t bring this thing, you said it, and it happened,” Ken said, lighting the massive cigar up.

“So, if I said I want you to grow a pelt as thick as mine….what would happen?” Jack said.

No tingle this time. Ken shrugged. “Well, I wonder what would happen if I told you that you’re a small dicked loose holed bottom bear, and from the second you groped my massive cock, you wanted to feel it inside you, rearranging those guts of yours until I blow a huge load all over your insides,” he said with a growl.

He saw Jack shudder, and with a grin around his massive cigar, he knew it had worked. “Guess that means we get to take turns,” he said.

“Shut the fuck up and take me home, I need that cock in me so fucking bad…” Jack said, grabbed hold of Ken’s hand and dragged him out of the bar, “My little dicklet is leaking all over my fucking underwear.”

“I’d fucking love to,” Ken said, giving Jack’s ass a swat as they left, feeling like he had the upper hand–for the moment at least. The hog was too small for both of them to ride, and Ken didn’t feel like getting into Jack’s truck, so they swapped a smoky kiss for a moment, and he said, “What was it you said earlier? About a thick pelt?”

“Fuck you, you’re not getting off that easy,” Jack said, “I know how much you love how I smell, you dirty fucker, getting off on my musk all the time, makes that huge cock of yours so fucking hard, especially my rank crack–ain’t that right fucker?” Ken said, and threw his arms up above his head.

Ken shoved his face into his pits, snorting up Jack’s scent, licking and sucking the sweat off the thick hair, grinding his rock hard cock up against Jack’s muscular thigh. “Fuck, you fuckin’… Git on that bike of yours, so I can get you out of that grungy leather and denim at home. I’m gonna plow you into next week for that.”

“You fuckin’ promise?”

“You fuckin’ know it.”

Jack’s truck was gone, replaced by a bike as large as Ken’s and the two of them rode back to Ken’s home, and as soon as they were down in the basement, they started peeling off each other’s clothes. Ken threw Jack onto the king size bed, hearing the springs creak under his massive size, climbed up, spread the cheeks apart and ate out his hole for a few minutes while Jack smoked, reveling in the smell of the hairy bears hole, his cock harder than he could even recall it being. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he climbed up and pushed the head of his cock against his hole, feeling the hairy bear’s ass open up and almost start nursing at the head. “Quit fuckin’ teasing it,” Jack said, setting his cigar off to the side on the nightstand, “Get in there–I’m gonna milk at least five huge loads out of those massive nuts of yours, I want this fucking bed soaked in your cum and sweat before you stop. You wanna fuck me so bad, then you’re gonna be fuckin’ me all night long.”

“Oh fuck!” Ken said, feeling his nuts start to swell even larger as he drove the head and the first few inches of his cock into Jack’s hole, gouting enough precum to help lubricate the rest as he started fucking, a little deeper with each thrust, grunting and snorting with need, his balls literally pulshing and churning with cum, smacking against Jack’s hairy thighs. “You’re fuckin’ askin’ fer it now,” Jack said, his drawl coming on full strength, hornier than he could even recall being in his life. “Ya always were the stupid one, bro, ya know, always thinkin’ with yer hole, never with that head a yers, just my dirty, stinkin’ redneck pig of a little brother, been huntin’ fer cock all day long since he was eighteen, but ya always come back tah mine, don’t ya. No one else can fill ya up like I can, no one can really give this loose, empty hole ya call an ass a proper fuck. No fist is big enough, even, only yer big brother knows how tah treat this hole right, can treat ya as rough as ya really want,” he slammed his whole length into Jack’s ass, pinning him to the mattress, one arm wrapping around Jack’s neck and pulling tight enough to make him gasp, “Ain’t that right, ya stupid pig, yer just mah little fuckhole, ain’t ya, and ya fuckin’ love it.”

He watched as some of the light dimmed out of Jack’s eyes, his beard warping into a set of muttonchops, leaving his chin one of the few places on his body without hair, and the hair on the back of his head grew out into a mullet. It was the smell of him, though, that entranced him. He smelled…like him. They smelled like each other. They smelled like their dad–it was the first time he’d really known he was related to someone he was fucking, not just playing around, and he was so turned on, he pushed off, and started jackhammering into his brother’s hole, listening to the horny pig grunt and snort below him, mind addled, both of their heads filling up with new memories of their lives together. 

They had the same father, but different mothers–they’d met after Jack had turned eighteen, and from the moment they laid eyes on each other, they’d been in a sick, twisted, hungry love with one another. They’d moved in, and while Ken found plenty of other holes to fuck around with, and Jack certainly found other cock, the two of them were truly a perfect match. No one else could take Ken’s rough marathon fucking, and no one else could fill Jack’s aching needy hole just right. Jack gave a holler and Ken felt the hole contract around his cock, Jack’s little three inch cock spurting out a load of cum all over the sheet below him, the first of many anal orgasms he’d enjoy for the rest of the night. Ken thought about taking his time, but he was too horny–he drove in, harder and harder until he exploded, pumping shot after shot of cum into Jack’s ass until it was flowing out each time he pulled out a little, but his cock didn’t go the least bit soft.

“Round two, bro?”

“Fuck bro, don’t you dare fuckin’ stop.”

Ken leaned in, took a hit off Jack’s rank, unwashed pits, and gave a body wide shake of delight, cock back to full stiffness, and he drove back in, easier this time, making sure he hit all the right spots in his brother’s hole, giving him orgasm after orgasm, milking his prostate dry, cumming himself the promised four more times that night before he finally collapsed, too exhausted to continue, and the two of them shared one of their trademark massive cigars in bed, Ken taking regular breaks to enjoy his brother’s pits in the process. 

They got the notification at the same time, alerting them that they had both been promoted to the gold tier of the Arctos Dating app–as a gold level couple, they would be able to go on occasional double dates, though generally, couples wouldn’t inflict further changes on each other. They were also allowed to peruse the silver profiles, and if there was sufficient compatibility, add additional members to their gold unit.

Ken liked the sound of that, and he scrolled through until he found Ryan’s profile, and invited him on a date with them both the next evening.

“Who’s that?” Jack asked.

“I love havin’ a brother, don’t get me wrong, but what I always wanted was a son, ya know that,” Ken said.

“Aww fuck, that mean I get tah be a Daddy too?”

“No, yer gonna be a uncle, dumbass.”

“Oh, right–can he call be Daddy anyway?”

“I’m gonna be Daddy. He’ll call ya Unc.”

Jack pouted a bit. “Will he have a big cock, at least?”

“Would that make ya feel better, ya horny fuck?” Ken said, grinning at his brother. “Fine, he can have a big cock, but it ain’t gonna be as big as mine.”

With that, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, snoring loudly, already dreaming of the pervy family they would be making soon enough, happy as could be.

Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 4)

Ken remained at the sex shop into the early hours of the morning, until he’d essentially run out of dick to suck. Mostly satisfied, he let off a little belch and left out the back door–though it took him a second to realize why. He no longer lived at the apartment he could vaguely recall living at, but instead rented out the basement in a rundown house back behind the sex shop, where the owner of the shop also lived. It was convenient to say the least, and given how popular Ken’s mouth and cock were, the owner gave him a steep discount on the rent provided he put in at least a few hours in the hall every night. He was a bit worried about having to show his face at the office the next day, but that, he realized, was fading quickly as well. Phil, after all, thought a filthy daddy like him ought to be working in a dirty job himself, so he’d never gone to college. He worked menial construction jobs, the dirtier the better, and then after gorging himself on fast food, would spend his free time at the shop, or at home, if he decided to get to know someone better.

He descended the stairs and unlocked the door to his new place, and was momentarily disgusted by the state of things, before the acceptance settled in over it. He went in and remembered that he had finally managed to level up on the arctos dating app. He pulled it up, expecting to be as disappointed as he had been when he’d gotten the bronze designation–but found that, at last, the app had given him a much larger range of permissions than before. For one thing, he could see some profiles, finally. Scrolling through a few of them, he realized that they all seemed to be bronze or trial members. He still didn’t have access to everyone on the app, then, including the guys he’d already dated before this. It was better than nothing, though, and when he clicked into a profile or two, he saw that he could request a date with them, if he so desired.

He explored a bit more of the app though, and saw something else–a tab that said, “Edit Profile”. He hadn’t even seen his own profile at all, so he clicked it, and sure enough, there it was–everything about him. His cigar smoking, his porn addiction, his gaining and incest fetishes, his craving for humiliation, his gloryhole hobby. It was…kind of hot, reading all of it, but he didn’t really want everyone to know that, did he? He clicked something to edit, but instead of opening up a text box, he got a little pop-up. Apparently, he could modify some of the changes that had been inflicted upon him, but for each one he reduced–another one would have to increase. As a silver member, he could modify his profile three times before it would lockdown again.

He knew what he’d change first, for sure. He opted to minimize the ugliness that Phil had given him, along with the humiliation fetish, and opted instead for some additional body growth, bulk, and body hair that had been gifted to him by Jack. He accepted the change, and watched in the mirror as his ugly face straightened out into a more rugged look, and his body grew even larger–with his sizable build, he eventually hit six feet eight inches tall, and weighed in at 450 pounds, a good amount of that packed onto his massive gut hanging off him.

Satisfied with that, he looked through the rest of his options. He decided that, as much as he enjoyed sucking cock, he didn’t really want to be known all over town as a gloryhole pig. He reduced that option, and decided that he could afford to lean into the redneck, blue collar persona that Phil had given him a bit more. It didn’t seem that bad, after all. His reality shifted around, and while he still was a regular at the sex shop, usually it was to get his massive, ten inch, uncut cock serviced by a couple of cockwhores in the hall while he watched some porn in a booth. Then, he smelled it–apparently, when he’d opted for increasing his redneck persona a bit, he hadn’t accounted for the loss in hygiene that came with it. He showered–on occasion. Maybe once a week, sometimes with soap even! He had a constant farmer’s tan from years working outside in just a tanktop, and his hair grew out into a ponytail down his back, even as his beard grew thicker and longer.

He had one final change to use, and decided he might as well address the masturbation and porn addictions as well. Looking over the remaining options, he decided he could stand being a bit older–he found that he actually didn’t miss his younger looks from before, and had quite enjoyed the thought of being the “daddy” to another cub or two…or more. His history shifted again, no longer spending much time at all in the shop at all, other than to go down the hall and get himself serviced, if there was a cute young fellow who liked being called “son”. Hell, he didn’t even mind playing with a guy closer to his own age, so long as they played along as his younger brother. Too late, he realized he had also intensified his incest fetish, so that it was one of the only ways to get him hard–and he could remember fondly how, in his youth, he’d played around with his own redneck brothers, uncles, and even his father and grandfather on one occasion. He wished he could have had a boy of his own…though he supposed, with this little app, maybe he could, one day.

He stroked a load out, thinking about setting up a date with an unsuspecting cub, and then warping them into a total pig for daddies, longing for a proper father to set them right, dominate them, train them, abuse them–anything for family really. After he came, he was surprised by how domineering he’d become after those three revisions, but again, it wasn’t unwelcome. He looked around at the cameras in the corner of the room–since the owner of the shop wasn’t making money off his mouth anymore, instead he had rights to the videos he recorded down in the basement, when Ken brought home his young boys to play with. He was quite popular on the internet, and anything he brought in over rent went right into Ken’s pocket. It was late though, and he had work on the construction site in the morning. He collapsed onto his bed for a few hours of rest, got up with his alarm, rolled through the fast food joint for a few bags of breakfast to feed his gut, and got to the site mostly on time. All day long, he kept checking the app, browsing the various bronze and trial members, narrowing down his selection until he decided on one young man in particular that he quite liked the looks of.

He was twenty three, looked like a bit of a hipster with a nice beard for just a young guy, and quite a few tattoos and piercings. He was wearing a nice shirt and khakis in his profile picture, and it looked like he had a job at some tech startup in the city as a programmer. He’d been on one date already, with a rather grungy leather daddy, who had given him a bit of a stink fetish and a definite kink for leather and BDSM. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to try out some of Ken’s now more domineering nature. He sent the dating request, and told the boy that he wanted to meet him for a drink a rather run down pub near the worksite–some place that would make him feel plenty out of place. Before it sent the request, however, he got a pop up from the app, alerting him that placing a date with this profile would also result in some changes to his own profile, in order to enhance compatibility. He hesitated for a moment, but then figured, why not? It’s not like he hadn’t changed plenty already. He accepted the note, sent the request, and then headed for his truck–except he didn’t own a truck. There, instead, was his motorcycle–an absolutely massive hog custom built for his massive frame. It had cost a pretty penny, but he fucking loved riding it. Looking down, he saw that his clothes had changed as well–adding a pair of leather chaps, motorcycle boots, and a heavy leather jacket. Nothing to object to so far. He climbed on, and rode off to the bar, and parked out front a few minutes early.

He got a beer, and a table where he could see the entrance, and sure enough, there the young man was–named Ryan. Ken gave a wave, and he could see Ryan’s face turn into one of trepidation. The app wouldn’t let him walk away though, and so Ken threw his arms behind his head, leaned back in the chair as Ryan came over and sat down beside him. “Evening boy, how ya doin’ this evenin’?” Ken said in his now heavily accented voice.

“Oh, uh…I think…there’s been a mistake. I tried to delete the app off my phone, and then I still got this notification, but I…I think I should go.”

“But if you go, ya ain’t gonna be able tah git a whiff a these, boy,” Ken said, wrapped one arm around Ryan’s neck, and pulled him into his chest and pit. Ryan moaned in surprise and pleasure, Ken reaching down to grope the boy’s now rock hard cock, and knew that he had him right where he wanted him. He played with him while he finished his beer, softening him up a bit, making sure Ryan knew to call him Daddy, and that every time Ken called him boy, or better, son, he would get more and more turned on each time. When Ken was finished, he suggested they head back to his place. He threw Ryan in front of him on his motorcycle, pulling him close into his sweaty chest, Ken’s massive cock pressed against the small of Ryan’s back, and they drove off to his house, and Ken led his new son down into the basement.

His apartment down there had changed a bit. Half was still a bedroom and kitchenette, but most of the living area was now a well equipped dungeon, with quite a few cameras all around to record the action. Ken undressed Ryan, and while the boy worshipped his grungy body and dirty leathers, he started warping him, twisting him–and especially his hipster tattoos until he was covered with redneck sayings and references–especially trucks, musk and bikers. Then, he got him bent over the fuck bench, and after warming up his son’s ass with a couple of paddles, he hauled out his massive, stinking cock and worked it into his son’s hole, giving him a good rough fuck until they were both sweaty and smelly. Ryan’s own scent was intoxicating, and only served to make Ken even harder and hornier. He came once, unloading a massive wad of cum into his ass, but his cock didn’t soften–he just kept fucking his hole until it was gaping, and dumped in a second load. Ryan could barely stand afterwards, but Ken just led his boy over to the bed, telling him how proud he was of him, that Daddy loved him so much, laid him down and licked his boy clean for aftercare, sucking a huge load from his own uncut cock at the end of it.

Ryan took his leave after that, no longer a programmer, but now a truck driver with a fetish for big dicked bikers–though none of them could compete with Ken. In the basement, Ken felt incredibly satisfied and more than a little drunk with power. He pulled up the app and began poking around in the other profiles, wondering who his next target would be. What Ken didn’t know though, was that there were levels to the app above silver–and someone else had already set their eye on him.


All patrons supporting me receive access to the surveys that help me determine what happens next in the story! If you’d like to help out, you can find out more at my patreon profile here.

Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 3)

As with the prior chapters, folks who subscribe to my Patreon get access to the surveys that I use to plan out subsequent chapters. If you want to know more, you can check it out here!


Ken woke up the next morning and surveyed the destruction of his long night out with Eddie. His gut had diminished as he’d slept, but not my that much. He dug out an old scale he hadn’t used in a while from under the bathroom sink, weighed himself, and was shocked to see that he was 280 pounds–and from the looks of it, he had gained another inch or two, putting him at nearly six feet four inches tall. His beard was caked with cum, he stank of musk and cigar smoke, and as much as he wanted to be disgusted by himself, he was just horny–he hauled out his big cock from the stained briefs he’d crawled into bed, sat down in front of the computer, pulled up some porn and got to work on his first load of the morning.

His usual stash of porn wasn’t quite doing it for him, so he poked around for something new, and thought back to what Eddie had put on in the booth the night before–a whole lot of dad/son incest porn. While Ken had always liked the look of older guys, the thought of calling someone else Daddy had always made him a little queasy, but he pulled up some videos, started watching, and his reaction now was completely different. He found himself drawn especially to those videos which were a little heavier on the humiliation–whether it was the son manipulating the horny dad into sex, or whether it was the father catching his son in the act of sniffing his underwear, and humiliating him with the fact his own dad turned him on. One load became two and then three, with Ken licking up whatever didn’t soak into his briefs off his hand, feeling himself getting hungrier and hungrier–not only for food, but also for cum. Finally, he took a break, lit up a cigar and made himself some breakfast–but with those two cravings taken care of, the need to suck some cock was only getting stronger.

He’d woken up pretty late in the day, and thankfully he didn’t need to go to work for another few days, but he made his way back to the sex shop, the guy behind the counter giving him a nod and a welcome by name, like he was a regular. A shameless regular, no less. Ken went around behind the booths, half expecting Eddie to be there waiting for him, but there was just a couple of other pigs waiting for cocks to pop through the gloryholes in need of service. It was slow for a while, and Ken was getting anxious. So much so, that he went out and gave the guy behind the counter a blowjob as well, just to keep his hunger sated. There was a fast food joint down the street, and he went down there and stuffed himself for an hour or so, and when he got back to the shop, business had picked up. He sucked a good number of cocks, and when he was feeling mostly satisfied, he packed up what little dignity he still had and went home, where he stayed up for a few more hours, smoking cigars, watching porn, and jacking off, eventually collapsing into bed, considering a shower, but no longer sure why he would even bother.

The rest of his weekend proceeded the same. He’d hoped that some of the desires would wane slightly, but he found himself only growing fatter, even as his height stopped creeping up. By Monday morning, he was six foot four and 325 pounds, and thankfully, his work clothes had adjusted themselves to his new reality, like much of the rest of it had, and grown along with him, though finding the tent like shirts a bit snug on his massive, hairy frame only made him more self-conscious. Work, at least, would be more normal, he told himself–but when he arrived, and tried to focus on the tasks at hand, it was nearly impossible. He pulled up porn on his work computer, and right there in his cubicle, he rubbed out load after load right into the crotch of his suit pants, even as he found himself wondering what each of his male coworker’s cum would taste like.

He took a long lunch break to stuff his gut with fast food, and took several bags back with him to his cubicle, only to be greeted by his boss waiting for him. He was an older fellow, and gave Ken a bit of a flurry in his gut–though any guy could get that reaction out of him at this point. He berated him in his office about his performance and missed work days, only for things to take a rather…unsettling turn, and the humiliation turned rather sexual. Ken found himself bent over his boss’s desk and getting fucked by his sizable cock, and then fed his big load, before being sent back to his cubicle for the rest of the day, where he ate, and jacked off–and then saw the notification on his phone. Someone else wanted to go on a date with him, from the Arctos app.

It didn’t seem like that big of a deal though–the guy just wanted to grab a beer with him after work. If nothing else, it would be another load of cum, right? Ken was a bit disgusted that he was using his cravings as justification for behavior at this point, but if he’d learned anything about dates on the Arctos app, it was that he couldn’t seem to say no to them. So he agreed, the guy sent him the name of the bar, and Ken left work, wondering what sort of hot bear he’d be meeting.

He got to the bar, which was more working class than the sort of place he usually frequented, and scanned around for who he was meeting. The crowd was all guys, but clearly more straight than gay. He looked around at the various grizzled fellows, all done with work at the docks, or factories, or construction yards, but the one who waved him down was none of those–but a burly young fellow sitting in a booth in a corner, who was probably Ken’s age, or a bit younger even. He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, as he went over and slid in across from him, the young man waving down a waitress and getting him a beer.

“Ken, right? Howdy! I’m Phil. Glad you could make it.”

“Sure thing, I was just getting done with work myself,” Ken said, loosening his tie, feeling a bit out of place in this more rundown place, noticing how many guys were slipping them glances, or him, more specifically.”

“Yeah, I just got finished with work myself, I work in construction,” he said. “You look like you’ve been stuck in an office all day.”

Ken nodded, and shuffled in his seat a bit. Phil was congenial, looked a bit grimy and dusty in his hi vis gear, but just wasn’t quite his type–or at least, not the type he’d found himself developing over the last few dates. Ken wasn’t going to turn down a load of cum, of course, but he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. 

“You alright? You seem a little distracted. Long day?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ken said, “I…you just aren’t quite what I was expecting, is all.”

“I get it,” Phil said, “You like your guys a little older. I do too.”

Ken looked at him a little confused. “They why ask for a date with me, if I’m not your type?”

Phil threw him a mischievous little grin, “You’re not my type yet, daddy.”

The word sent a shiver down Ken’s spine. “I, uh, gotta go, I just realized I forgot something at the office–”

“Daddy, sit down. See, you’re a great package already. Big, chubby, hairy, big beard, and a total pig for cock. We just need to adjust your…outlook, is all. Come on, sit down, have another beer with your boy for the afternoon, and let’s chat.”

Ken sat back down, and when the waitress came back by, she dropped off a whole bottle of cheap whiskey, which Phil insisted Ken swig from while he told him what he was going to expect from his latest daddy. For one thing, he wasn’t going to be working in an office–or if he did work in an office, he wouldn’t be wearing a suit, or anything like that. No, he liked his daddies with a bit more country in them. Ken listened, his tie disappearing, his button down swapping out for a grungy undershirt, khakis becoming grubby looking jeans. His daddies weren’t very smart either–no college education, for sure, and preferably a high school dropout. After all, Ken didn’t have much of a brain for smart stuff like that–for all of his life, he mostly just let his big cock do the thinking for him.

Ken was now quite drunk, and couldn’t seem to keep his hands away from his cock, which was not only hard, but quite a bit larger than it had been before. “Yeah, that’s right, just a big fuckin’ donkey cock shoved in those pants of yours, isn’t it? Just a stupid, sex obsessed daddy, can’t keep your hands off yourself, even when your out in public. You like it though, don’t you? Showing off that big fucking bulge of yours to anyone around? The humiliation just makes your hornier–and I think a lot of guys get one look at it, and probably want you inside them. You can’t turn anyone down though. You might be a top, but you’re too stupid to be much of a dom. You like other guys telling you what to do, who to fuck, how long, how hard, how many times. You’re just a stupid, dirty, ugly stud daddy. An ugly fuckin’ pig. No one would even look twice at you, if it wasn’t for that monstrous cock of yours, those huge balls, constantly leaking into your grungy underwear–”

“Fuck boy, ya can keep talkin’ if ya want, but if ya do, this load isn’t goin’ in yer hole, I can tell ya that.”

“What, you wanna fuck my hole daddy? I thought you liked older guys? I guess you don’t. I guess you like young cubs, don’t you? I mean, you’ll fuck anyone of course, if they ask for it, but that’s who you like best, muscular, handsome boys like me. You’ll do anything for someone like me, won’t you?”

Ken nodded, drooling a bit from two ends, and finally, Phil stood up, and led the way into the bathroom, where he bent over the toilet in the larger stall, and pushed his butt out in Ken’s direction. He didn’t need another invitation–he dropped his grubby pants, ran his precum-slicked head up and down Phil’s crack, and then pushed his massive head into his hole. 

“Oh fuck Daddy, you’re so fuckin’ big!”

“Eleven fuckin’ inches boy, and you’ll get all of it if ya want it.”

“Of course I fuckin’ want it, you stupid fuck! Get it in me!”

Phil was tight, but then, Ken hadn’t met much in the way of holes that were loose when it came to his cock. He drove it in, focusing on what Phil told him to do, and it wasn’t long before both of them were sweaty, and Ken was getting real close to cumming. He drove his massive cock in up to the root, and filled his boy up real good with a massive load, holding it in there as long as he could until Phil told him to pull out, and then the young man turned around and sat down on the toilet, his own cock rock hard. “Fuck daddy, that was a good one–now come get your reward. You love boycum, don’t you daddy?”

“Fuck boy, I love any cum, but boys like you always taste the fuckin’ best,” Ken said, got down on his knees, and started sucking. Phil didn’t last long, fed Ken his load, and then he was standing up, and out of the stall faster than Ken could do much. It wasn’t surprising–not many guys wanted to be seen with him, after all. He got himself put back together, stepped out of the stall, and got a good look at his new face for the first time, and was a bit shocked. His big ears and nose, heavy brow with sunken eyes, beard climbing up onto his cheeks paired with substantial balding, most of his beard greying now and colored a bit yellow from all of his cigar smoking over the years. He was an ugly fucker–but what a fucker he was, he supposed. He left the bathroom, paid for his drinks, and left–climbing into an beat up old pickup he couldn’t recall owning, and headed for the sex shop. One load couldn’t satisfy him after all, and at least through a hole, no one cared what he looked like. Guys loved his massive cock, and he could usually get two guys to service him at the same time–provided they didn’t have to look up at his ugly mug while they were doing it. On the other side, he could get as much cum as he wanted, and no one needed to know what he looked like either. 

He took a little break to check his phone that night, while grabbing dinner at the fast food joint nearby, and saw a notification from the arctos app–he’d received another upgrade! He was now, officially a silver tier member, with new benefits. Most importantly, he discovered that for the first time, he could see other profiles on men on the site–those who were bronze or trial members–and request to go on dates with them. And he assumed, that also meant he’d be able to warp them in the same way he had been warped before this. His mind was rather excited by this–but it would have to wait. He finished his meal and went back to the shop. There were still more cocks to suck after all. In a day or two, he’d find someone for a date, and take the app’s new privileges for a test drive.

Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 2)

As with the previous entry, folks who support me over on Patreon get access to the surveys that let them choose the next direction of the story. Everyone who supports me gets access, even if it’s just a dollar. You can find out more information here!


Ken did his best to pretend that the night with Jack had been more or less normal. Sure, there might have been a few…oddities, but he had probably just been drunk and imagined things that weren’t really there. He kept hoping, for some reason, that Jack would reach out to him again, since he still had no way of contacting him from his end of the app. However, the more he tried to focus on getting back to normal, the more he noticed that things seemed to be different.

For one thing, he was just so damn horny now, all the time. Horny, and hungry. The day after he met Jack, and he felt like he was hungover as hell, the one thing that still seemed to be working was his cock, and so he milked out three loads before falling asleep that night at last, wishing he had another day to recover before going back to work on Monday. 

That morning, he woke up, needed to jack off again, ate a much larger breakfast than he usually did, and when he tried to get into his usual business casual, he was frustrated to discover that everything was just a bit too small for him. It wasn’t a matter that he’d gotten chubbier or anything, though he had perhaps gained a little chub–everything was off, from the length of his sleeves, to the legs of his pants, to even his shoes feeling a bit too cramped for his feet. He passed it off as nothing, maybe just a strange little bloat, and did his best to get through the workday, but the sensation of being hungover refused to pass. It wasn’t until he passed by some coworkers who had just come in from a smoke break outside that he realized he wasn’t hungover from the drinking, but from the cigar he’d had with Jack.

He’d quit that though. He wasn’t going back to being a smoker if he could help it. It wasn’t even that he found himself craving cigarettes again–he wanted the feel of a cigar in his hand, that more complex flavor, and deeper nicotine buzz. That evening, he held off pretty well, but soon found his porn interest sliding into cigar smoking videos, and as horny as he was without a chance to jack off at work, he found that he couldn’t cum–and the hangover sensation was only intensifying. He tried to go to bed, but just tossed and turned for a couple of hours before he finally gave in, found a smoke shop that was still open, bought some cheap cigars, went home, smoked one, and the relief! It opened the floodgates in other ways as well, and he came twice as he smoked it, and feeling better than he had in days now, he managed to sleep.

The next few days though, everything just got worse. He was definitely outgrowing his clothes. He measured himself, and was surprised to discover he was gaining almost an inch a day–and was now 6’1”–no wonder his pants were too short! He did have a definite belly coming in, but his chest seemed to be growing not only fat, but some muscle as well–that, and there was the body hair. He’d never been that hairy before, but the day after, he’d started feeling rather itchy, and now three days past the date with Jack, he had a full blown forest of fur coming in all over his chest. It was embarrassing, and coupled with the shrinking clothes, he faked an illness on Wednesday and planned on calling out for the rest of the week, until whatever this strange shit was subsided. Only it didn’t subside at all, and the time off from work only gave him more time for his worst impulses. He spent Wednesday and Thursday bingeing food, cigars and masturbation, until Friday afternoon, when he got a notification from the Arctos dating app–someone else wanted to take him on a date!

He opened it up, but again, he couldn’t see the fellow’s profile or picture or anything–but this time, there was a messaging function open that wasn’t there before, along with a message from the stranger.

“Hey man! You’re looking hot–wanna grab dinner and take a trip to the movies tonight?”

Ken hadn’t gone to see a movie in over a year, since the pandemic had struck. Maybe it would provide him a little bit of relief from his recent impulses as well. He was a bit worried that meeting up with another guy might change him more, but it’s not like that was really possible. He was just having a rough week is all, getting back into the dating scene after a year without. He was just pent up, and a little bloated, and a few days away from work was all he needed. He took the fellow up on his offer, and the fellow offered to pick him up. It wasn’t exactly the safest thing, he knew, but it was probably fine. Ken told him to pick him up at a park near his apartment, so he wouldn’t have to give him his address, and at six, he was out waiting, wondering who this next blind date was going to be.

It wasn’t long before an old beater truck pulled into the parking lot. Ken didn’t think much of it, until the driver climbed down out of the seat, turned around, and beamed at him. “You must be Ken!” he said, “The name’s Eddie, nice to meet you.”

Ken was a bit confused at first. He’d been expecting someone of at least Jack’s caliber, but this guy was decidedly not in stud territory. He was quite a bit shorter than Ken, especially at his new, inexplicable height, with a massive ball gut that Eddie had to tilt back to support. He was wearing some old, grungy looking jeans, suspenders, and just an undershirt with a number of unidentifiable stains on it, and when he came in for a hug, he definitely didn’t smell like he’d taken a shower that day. “Uh…yeah, nice to, uh, meet you.”

“Well come on then, get in the truck! I’m starving.”

“Oh shit, you know, I just realized I forget my wallet at home,” Ken said, “Let me, uh, go grab it.” It was a bad excuse, but it was something at least. There was no way he was going to go on a date with this fellow, if he could help it. However, he found himself walking after Eddie to his truck,, and climbing in with him, feeling a bit sheepish, and wondering why he was doing this. He’d felt the same way with Jack, actually–every suggestion had just somehow necessary. Eddie just chuckled, “Don’t worry pal, I can spot you.”

They drove off, Eddie’s right hand leaving the steering wheel and making its way over to Ken’s thigh, across the bench seat. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” Ken said, hoping that a cigar might dissuade him.

“Hell no, light it up! Cigars are fucking sexy as hell. Loved seeing that in your pics.”

His pics? He hadn’t taken any pictures of himself smoking, that he could recall, and he certainly hadn’t put any up on the dating app. As far as he knew, the only photo up there was his face pic that he’d used as his profile picture. “My pics?” Ken asked, as he lit up his cigar.

“Yeah, you got a good little collection going already on there. Love a big, furry fella like you, couldn’t resist adding my own special twist, if you know what I mean,” Eddie said, and gave him a wink. He turned into a strip mall parking lot, and then into a fast food drive through. This, apparently, was dinner. Eddie pulled up to the speaker and rattled off way more food than two people ought to order. Ken tried to tell him he didn’t want to eat that much, but Ken didn’t pay attention. At the window, five bags of food came at them, along with two big drinks each. Eddie pulled into a parking spot, tossed Ken a bag, and told him to eat up.

“I, uh, don’t usually eat fast food, honestly.”

Eddie just leered at him, “Well you do now, pig. Come on, I know how fucking hungry you are,” he unwrapped a burger and pushed it to Ken’s lips, who found himself helplessly opening his mouth and taking a bite, his gut giving a little gurgle, his hunger rising. “Come on, you don’t have to hide that gluttonous side from me, I know exactly how good it feels to just let go and enjoy yourself.”

Ken ate the first hamburger is about six bites, picked up another one and tore a big chunk out of it with a moan, while Eddie slid closer, eating his own sandwich with one hand while he pushed up Ken’s tight shirt and rubbed his belly. “Oh fuck, it tastes so fucking good,” Ken said through a mouthful.

“Sure does piggy, come on, let’s see how big we can get this gut tonight.”

Ken demolished bag after bag of food, Eddie eating his own smaller share, but spending most of the time rubbing and massaging Ken’s belly and chest, rubbing the grease into his skin as he did, telling him that it was good for making his hair grow. His sweat pants were a bit tight now, and Eddie hauled down the front of them, fished out his cock and rubbed it as well, telling Ken that he loved being a glutton, loved seeing how big he could get, loved eating in front of people like a shameless pig, making as much of a mess as he wanted to. Eventually, all the food was gone, and Ken was left groaning while Eddie massaged his much larger belly and chest, his shirt now impossible to pull down over it at all, and sure enough, even more hair had sprouted across it and down into a thick pubic bush as well. Eddie took a photo of Ken’s face and showed it to him, and sure enough, his beard was longer too–just barely long enough to brush across his chubby chest, full of grease and bits of food.

“Alright, let’s go see what’s playing, pig,” Eddie said, and drove off again. Ken just nursed his very full gut, groaning a bit, but still so hard and horny. He reached down to play with himself, only for Eddie to knock his hand away, telling him to wait. He pulled into another parking lot, and Ken was confused for a moment–there was no movie theater here, just a run down looking sex shop. “Come on, let’s get inside,” Eddie said, and Ken hauled his fat ass out, trying to get his shirt down and failing, waddling after Eddie, horrified at what this nightmare date was becoming.

Eddie knew the old man behind the counter by his first name, pulled Ken to the back of the shop where there was a row of private booths. “I like this place cause most of these are big enough for big guys like us,” he said, “Go on, get in and sit down.”

Ken went in and sat on the sticky bench, and Eddie followed, squeezing down between Ken’s thighs, his face in Ken’s crotch. He pulled the door shut, put on some gay porn, and got to work milking Ken’s cock. It wasn’t Ken’s usual porno selection, but he found himself enraptured by it anyway–and feeling Ken sucking on his cock the whole time left his own hands free to explore his new, even larger body. As disgusted as he was by the massive gut, the skin was incredibly sensitive, and the increased layer of hair made him shudder–especially when Eddie’s hands joined in. Even his longer beard was a new sensation, and not an unwelcome one. In about fifteen minutes, Eddie milked one load out of him, and when Ken went to open the door, he stopped him. 

“Now now, I know these fat fucking pig balls of yours can pump out more than one load–I’m not done with you yet, piggy.”

Eddie kept sucking, and sure enough, Ken was still hard as a rock. He made his way through three full videos, an hour and a half, with Eddie milking load after load out of his cock, leaving Ken panting and heaving, both of them sweating up a storm in the tight quarters, before Eddie finally stood up, and fed Ken the last load of cum he’d shot into his mouth.

“Fuck, that’s not…the date I was expecting, you’re a damn fine cocksucker.”

“Heh, I’ve had lots of practice,” Eddie said, “But I think it’s time you got dessert, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck, I can’t eat more man, come on.”

“Trust me, you’ll like this. It’s your favorite fucking meal. Come on.”

They left the booth, squeezing their way out, but instead of leaving the shop, they went down to the end of the booths, around behind them, and found themselves in a narrow hall behind the booths. Ken had noticed the glory hole in the booth, but hadn’t thought much of it–there was one in every booth, all the way down. A cock popped through, and Eddie shoved Ken forward. “Go on pig, get your dessert.”

Ken got down and started sucking, while Eddie encouraged him, groped him, gave him tips and pointers, and in a few minutes, he got his first load of cum–and just like Eddie said, it tasted fucking delicious. He crawled down a couple of booths to where another cock had just pushed through, and sucked that one as well, no longer needing much in the way of encouragement, letting Eddie pull down the back of his sweatpants, and slide his own cock into Ken’s hole while he sucked the stranger off. Ken lost track of how many loads he ate as he crawled from glory hole to glory hole. Eddie would occasionally take a break to suck a cock himself, and more than a few guys came around to use Ken’s hole while he was sucking, but he didn’t mind. He loved cum after all, just like Eddie said, and it didn’t matter which end it went into.

It was nearly three in the morning when the two of them finally stumbled out, Ken’s belly now even larger than it had been when he’d entered. He hauled his shirt off and let it all hang out, as he dug the half smoked cigar out of the truck, relit it, and sucked it down as well, while Eddie gave his full, massive gut a rub down. Eddie took him home not long after that, and Ken collapsed into bed, exhausted, knowing that come morning he would be horrified by how he’d spent the evening, but he couldn’t help but admit that part of him was thoroughly satisfied as well. He’d just have to deal with the consequences in the morning, wouldn’t he?


Don’t forget, if you want to help pick what happens in the following chapters, check out my patreon!

(Flash Commission) Monster Cock

Jeff saw the package sitting on the porch when he got home, got out of his car, hurried up, got it, and took it inside. He’d been waiting weeks for it to arrive, and finally, it was here. He put it on his table, opened it up, and hauled it out, turning it over in his hands, already wondering if his eyes had been bigger than his stomach, or his ass, rather. It was a custom dildo from a fellow who called his creations “monster cocks”–each one was one of a kind, and while he didn’t charge for them, getting your hands on one of them was hard as hell. The creator took applications for his work, but who received them always seemed a bit random. He said that his toys chose who they wanted to own them, but after trying for most of a year, Jeff had finally been chosen, and now, it was in his hands.

It was in his hands, and the thing was massive. Far larger than anything he’d ever taken before in his life. He had a modest collection of dildos for when he didn’t have anyone around to fuck him, and he’d always enjoyed it. Some guys he knew had suggested he start training to take a fist, and he was close to that at this point. This dildo though was thicker than most guys fists, and easily a foot long. The dildo’s skin was a dark brown mottled with tan up the shaft to the head, which had a sheath, or a foreskin, bunched up around the glans of the cock. He toyed with it, and saw that it was actually rather elastic, and could stretch over the head, even, giving it more of a sheathed look. The base of the dildo included a set of substantial balls, the sack the size of a small melon. The sack and the bottom third of the cock was actually covered with hair–running his hand over it, he couldn’t quite tell if it was real or not. It had to be synthetic, but it felt a bit like soft boar bristle–he wondered what it would feel like on the inside of his hole–if he could get it that far in, even.

Jeff tried at least. Got himself cleaned out and lubed up, warmed up with the largest dildo he had, and then gave it a go. He was just too tight–he couldn’t even get the thing in past the head. He felt demoralized, got cleaned up and onto his computer, where he saw a chat message from the dildo maker.

“I saw that the package got delivered, just wanted to make sure everything got there alright.”

“It did,” Jeff replied, “It’s bigger than I thought it would be. Don’t know when I’ll be able to take it.”

“Don’t worry too much about that. It’ll get in you faster than you think, just keep trying. I know this is the right one for you, it won’t be too long at all.”

Jeff wasn’t sure of what to make of that, but he poked around online, looking for a dildo to train with larger than the ones he had, but smaller than the monster cock, but all he could think about was the beast waiting for him upstairs, and how much he wanted it inside him. It was getting late, and he had work in the morning, so he went to bed. His dreams that night were intense, and when he woke up he couldn’t recall much of them at all, aside from a strange sensation of being stalked. That, and he woke up with the monstrous dildo in his arms, when he was certain he’d left it in the drawer with the rest of them before bed. Confused and a bit bewildered, he went to work, but found it more and more difficult to focus. At first, it was just because he was tired after his restless night, but as the day progressed, he found himself thinking more and more about the dildo waiting for him at home, and he rushed home so he could be near it again, feel it again, lube it up, and once again try and fit it inside him.

That day, after an hour, he finally managed to get the head inside his hole, and that alone was a revelation. It was a sign of progress, and Jeff kept working at it, sweating and grunting, until he was too starving and shaking to continue. He went downstairs, found a couple of steaks he’d been saving in the freezer, and cooked them both, not caring they were rarer than usual, he was just starved. He considered a shower, but felt too tired to bother, and simply went upstairs to bed, curling up around the dildo without even thinking about it. The dreams that night were no clearer, but he woke with a groan, rutting his own cock against the dildo, the sheets under him soaked with sweat and cum from what must have been a very active night. He pulled himself together as quickly as he could, not even bothering to shower, but when he headed for the door, he struggled. He couldn’t…leave it here. He bundled the dildo up and took it with him not quite sure what he was doing, but it felt instinctual. He managed to leave it in the car for most of the day, but found himself terrified someone might see it, or worse, steal it. On his lunch break, he went down, retrieved it, and struggled to resist the urge to take it out and start riding it right there in the office. He settled for taking it into the bathroom with him, licking and sucking on the head while he jacked off, horrified by his loss of control, but still unable to stop.

It was when he got home, that he noticed something was off. He hadn’t really bothered looking at himself in the mirror that morning, but in the bathroom, ready to clean himself out and try again, he saw his reflection, and just stared. He hadn’t been that hairy before, or that muscular. It wasn’t…much, really, but it was there. His clothes didn’t quite fit right, which explained some of his discomfort the day before. His beard was thicker, and when he lifted an arm up in the shower, he caught a whiff of his musk, and that was more pungent too. He didn’t have time to shower though–he hosed out his hole, skipped the soap, and was back in his bedroom, riding the dildo again, working it deeper, inch by inch, now sliding halfway down the shelf. 

He could almost feel it…throbbing inside him, trying to wriggle deeper. He couldn’t tell if it was real, or if he was just imagining it. The idea of it was so hot, though, that he kept shooting load after load of cum all over his bed and his sheets until he collapsed again, too exhausted to move. It was nearly midnight, he’d been at it for hours. He had to piss, but was too weak to get up from the bed. He released it onto the bed under him, horrified at first, but the scent of it satisfied some deep, primal need inside him, and sleep took him soon after.

The next day, he got up from the bed, sniffed his hairy pit, and before he even really realized it, he was pissing all over the carpet and the wall next to the bed. Part of him was concerned, but it was much quieter than it might have been usually. Instead, he hauled out his cock and jacked off as well–it was the only thing on his body that wasn’t larger, all of a sudden. He squeezed his way into some office attire as best he could, no longer certain why he was wearing this, why he was bothering with it. He had more important things to concern himself with, after all, but some part of him clung to that normalcy, tried to deny the drives and desires that were well on their way to overwhelming him.

He didn’t last long at the office that day. He kept sneaking away to the bathroom to masturbate, to worship the dildo, his cock, his monster cock, as he kept thinking about it. Each load that he shot did nothing to calm him down, it only seemed to drive him to more intense heights of desire. When he stepped out of the stall shortly after lunch, and saw the one of his burlier coworkers at the urinal pissing, maybe it was the smell, maybe it was the sight of his ass filling out the back of his slacks, but he went over, shoved the man up against the urinal, and rutted against his ass, grunting and snorting like some animal. The man managed to get away, and before security could get a hold of him, Jeff fled the office with the dildo, abandoning everything else, and sped home.

He wouldn’t go back there. It wasn’t safe. He was safe in his home, in his den. He had to finish, he had to fuck himself with his cock, with his monster cock. He threw himself into the task, he was so close. The dildo was warm now, he could feel blood pulsing through it, the hair no longer synthetic, but so close to the hair that beginning to sprout all up and down his own body. He only had a couple more inches to go, and He worked at it, pushing everything else out. Every time he shot a load of cum, he realized, the dildo would slide in a little deeper. His body was getting larger, yes, but he noticed at last that his balls were shrivelling, his cock dwindling. At long last he took the dildo to the hilt with a roar, and felt the monstrosity come alive, the entire thing digging deeper, screwing into his guts, his wrecked hole closing up behind him.

He felt it push out, forcing its way from his body, his human cock stretching and ripping apart as his new, monstrous cock erupted from his crotch, his massive balls coming through last and dropping, slapping against his hairy thighs. He could feel it, his new cock pumping…something through him, changing him. His teeth, already sharper than they had been, grew longer, into proper fangs, is mouth and nose distending into a furry muzzle. The hair that had been growing thicker on his body became a thick pelt of black fur, hands becoming paws with thick claws on the end, his whole body filling out with layers of muscle and fat, until he was nearly eight feet tall and close to seven hundred pounds of pure mass. He looked at his monstrous bear body in the mirror, cock throbbing and leaking, and that was the last thing he recalled clearly, as he wrapped his paws around his cock and kept stroking, kept pleasing his cock, a slave to his new sexual desires, no longer interested in anything else.

When he awoke, his body had reverted–somewhat. His room was wrecked, as were several of his doorways, but he hadn’t managed to make it outside at least. That didn’t matter now. All that mattered was what his new cock desired–and it wanted a hole to fuck. There was a knock on his front door, and much to his surprise, there on the doorstep was his old coworker from the bathroom, the one he’d rutted up against. He was shaking and sweating, muttered some excuse about needing to see him again, but Jeff knew what the man needed. He grabbed him by the collar with his clawed hand and dragged him inside, shoved him down to his knees, and pissed all over him, marking the man as his new property, or rather, the property of his cock. It would take a while to open this one up and fuck him properly, but he had no doubt that in time, he would be a perfect slave–and when he took him to the hilt, and filled him with a load of his corruptive cum, he too, would turn. He shook off the last bit of piss from his cock, and dragged the addled and horny man into the bedroom now reeking of his scent, threw him on the bed, and went to work.

Commission: Arctos – Air Freshener

“We here at Arctos Outfitters are dedicated to ensuring that every one of your senses is delighted in your home! That’s why, Brendon, we’ve decided to send you a sample from our new line of plug in air fresheners. Each comes with three unique scents that, once you get a whiff of them, you won’t be able to get enough! Enjoy!”

Brendon put the note down and picked up the little plug-in air freshener that had been in the small box as well. He didn’t know how the company had gotten his address, but they weren’t necessarily wrong about his interests. Brendon did like having his apartment smelling nice, and kept a regular supply of candles and air fresheners around to keep it that way. It was a bit odd that the company hadn’t bothered to tell him what the scents were, and when he sniffed at the plug in, he didn’t smell anything at all, really, which was odd. You could usually get a good idea of what it was going to smell like beforehand, which meant this was either going to be some weak scent, or they had just sealed it in really well. He figured he’d try plugging it in overnight in his bedroom, let it do its thing, and see what he thought of the result in the morning. That evening, he popped it into the outlet by his bed, and while he heard it whirr to life, he still couldn’t smell anything. With a shrug, he laid down, and it wasn’t long before he was fast asleep, and with a little click, the plug in started to release a smoky haze into the room around him. Brendon tossed and turned for a moment in his bed, and began to dream…

Brendon wasn’t sure where he was at first. It was a narrow room with a number of booths running down either side, and the air was full of smoke. Men were crowded into the booths, and all of them were smoking cigars of various sizes. Brendon wasn’t a smoker, and had always found cigars unappealing. He passed the booths, the men all staring at him as he passed them by, trying to find his way out, but when he reached the end of the smoky room, all he found was a waiter standing by a sizable humidor. He turned around to leave, only to find the way blocked by a thick wall of smoke coming closer and closer to him. Before he could react, it had swallowed him up.

The smoke was everywhere, all around him. He could smell it, the deep, pungent cigar smoke pushing at him, probing him, trying to get inside him. He held his breath as long as he could, but when he had to inhale, the smoke forced its way inside him, driving down into his lungs. He could feel it solidifying, and a massive 80 gauge cigar manifested from the smoke, crammed in his jaw, fully lit and spouting smoke. He couldn’t help but inhale now, sucking down more and more smoke, feeling it permeate his entire body, his cock rock hard and aching. He needed it now, the smoke. Men came out of the booths around him, now naked, still smoking, feeling him up, urging him on, stroking his cock, and–

Brendon woke as the orgasm hit him in his bed, surging through him, his cock erupting all over the sheets around him as he spasmed in his room. He sat up on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes. He’d never had a dream that intense before, and he hadn’t shot a load in his sleep since he was a teenager. He ran his tongue around his mouth, already missing the cigar he’d been smoking, but then, it was about time for his midnight smoke, after all. He opened up the humidor on his bedside table, took out one of his shorter sticks he preferred for his breaks in the night, and lit it up.

Fuck, he was so fucking addicted to these things. He smoked them almost constantly during the day, and had to wake up a couple times each night just to keep himself hopped up on the nicotine. The air was hazy with smoke, and he could smell it–stale and fresh mixing together, and heaved a contented sigh. He reeked of cigars too, of course, but he didn’t care. Why wouldn’t he want to smell like a cigar?

He finished the cigar in half an hour, snuffed it out, and climbed back into bed. He’d already forgotten about the plug in the wall, which had exhausted its first scent, and now was moving onto the second, as Brendon began to dream again…

This time, he found himself standing in a locker room, naked. From the sounds coming from nearby, it was connected to a gym. He looked around, smoking his dream cigar, a bit embarrassed–he needed to find some clothes before anyone saw him. He saw something lying on a bench near him, went over, and found a set of gym clothes scattered about on the floor, all of which looked to have been worn recently–but no one else was there. Without thinking too much about it, he pulled on the sweaty, musky shorts and tanktop, socks and shoes, and when they were all on, much like the last dream, be felt the scent begin to soak into his skin, making him feel a bit woozy.

He sat down on the bench for a moment, taking deep inhales of the musk rolling off the gym clothes, aware that…something seemed to be happening to him, but it was difficult to describe what. When he felt he could stand again, he did, turned, saw himself in the mirror, and gasped. He…he was massive. The clothes, which had been too large on him before, were now too small, the spandex stretched tight across his thick frame, hair popping out everywhere, each inch of his soaked in sweat. He flexed, watched the outline of his thick cock in the shorts throb in excitement, reached down to take care of that, and

He woke with his hand shoved into the filthy jock he’d worn to bed, one muscular arm thrown up over his head, nose shoved as close to his pit as he could, masturbating to his own stink, unable to control himself, not that he even really wanted to. He finished, shooting the second load of the night all over himself, rubbing the cum into his sweaty body, and sat up to have his second cigar of the night. He flipped on the light, and had a small moment of confusion when he looked around at the piles of dirty clothes scattered throughout his room, but…of course he didn’t want them. No, he loved how they all smelled, he loved making them all even muskier even, of course he did. He took a deep inhale of his cigar, laid back on his unwashed sheets, and sighed smoke, not really noticing that the ash was falling on the bed. He didn’t care–after all, he smelled like an ashtray most days, why would it matter? He finished his cigar and turned the light back off, rolling over as the third scent filled the room, and another dream began…

He was in the gym locker room, naked aside from a towel, going into the sauna. It was empty, for the moment, but as soon as he sat down, a series of muscular bears all filed in as well, taking up the various seats, crowding in around Brendon. They all started to sweat, but then the bear beside him lifted one leg in Brendon’s direction, and let loose a long, loud fart. The smell caught him a moment later, pungent and ripe, and he couldn’t seem to escape it, there was nowhere to go. He leaned away, only for the bear on the other side to lift his leg and let loose one of his own, and soon, every bear in the room was farting up a storm, the small sanua filled with the scent of gas, making Brendon gag. He got up, trying to get free, only for a leg to trip him. He ended up on the floor, on his back, and one of the bears got up and sat his naked ass right on Brendon’s face, letting loose a fart directly on him.

He tried to resist, tried to hold his breath, but like before, he could feel it probing down into him, sinking into his pores, multiplying there, and soon, it didn’t smell so bad at all. He started licking at the sweaty, hairy crack, and after a few moments, it was replaced by another, and then another, all of them farting, and Brendon could feel a pressure building in his guts. He let loose a massive fart that reverberated off the walls around him, and–

–and he woke up to the sound of his own fart in his room, just as loud, and just as noxious. So noxious in fact, that Brendon snorted up as much of the fumes as he could and jacked off again, wishing the hot asses from the dream were real, smothering him now, but he’d just have to make do with his own scent for now, he supposed. After he shot his third load of the night all over himself, he rolled off the bed, checked his phone, and saw it was just a few minutes before his alarm. He got up, gave a little flex, and started sniffing around for something that smelled good for the gym this morning. He ended up in a cum crusted tanktop, the jock he’d been wearing to bed, a set of gym shorts with a few burnt out holes from some cigars, and a couple of stinking socks and trainers. Feeling good, he went into the kitchen, got one of his protein shakes together–a blend that he’d found gave him the rankest farts possible–and guzzled that down. Feeling good, he stepped outside of his filthy apartment, and bumped into a young man in a suit coming down from an apartment upstairs. 

“Sorry bud,” Brendon said, “wasn’t lookin’.”

The man wrinkled his nose in disgust, and took in the sight of the massive, musky muscle bear who was his downstairs neighbor apparently–had the other guy moved out without him even noticing? “Whatever freak, take a fucking shower,” he said, and tried to push past him, only for Brendon to grab his wrist, pull him close, and shove his face right into his pit. He…didn’t know why he did that exactly, but it felt right. The man struggled for a few moments, and then relaxed a bit, and when Brendon pulled his face away, he could see it was a bit…different. A little more stubble on his cheeks, drooling a little. 

Maybe the gym could wait for a bit. He took a drag off his cigar, wrapped a big hand loosely around the man’s neck, and fed him the smoke, pleased with how receptive the man had become with just a little taste of his pitmusk. “Why don’t you come in for a bit, bud? Take a load off, have a cigar with me,” Brendon said, wrapping one muscular arm around his shoulders, and leading him in, “What’s your name, man?”

“Uh…Cliff,” he said, “But I…gotta get to work.”

“Come on man, just a little cigar, that’s all.”

Brenden sat the man down on the couch, stained with cum in several spots. Cliff looked around, visibly grossed out by the state of the apartment, but Brendon could tell from the erection in the front of his slacks he was already giving in. ‘Hey Cliff, can you smell something for me? I wanna see what you think of this.” He then dropped his shorts, turned around and ripped a long nasty fart right into his neighbor’s face.

His eyes glazed over, part of him still thinking that it was disgusting, but when his mind told him to get away, his body leaned in and started snorting up the fumes from Brendon’s ass, and he groaned out, “Oh fuck,” as his cock unloaded right into the front of his slacks. “Oh fuck, that’s fuckin’ rank, bro…” he said.

Brenden flashed a huge smile. “Glad you like it. Now, how about that cigar man? You can finish this one,” He placed his cigar in the man’s mouth, who started puffing contentedly. Cliff’s stubble had grown into a full beard now, his office attire stretched by his expanding body, packing on muscle. Brendon climbed into his lap and tore off his shirt, tossing the rags over the back of the couch, pushed Cliff’s arms into the air and ate out his pits, which were growing more and more intense by the moment, Cliff sucking down the cigar, feeling the smoke warping his mind, dumbing him down, making everything seem so simple. It wasn’t long before he was on his knees on the couch, bent over the back, Brendon’s bearded face shoved into his crack, tasting the first of Cliff’s own rank farts, his own cock hard as steel and ready to fuck after a few minutes of rimming his bro’s hole.

He pulled his face away, wiping the sweat and drool into his beard, and then pressed the head of his cock against Cliff’s hole. “Ready bro? Wanna feel my big, rank cock slam into that gassy ass of yours?”

“Fuck bro, what the fuck are ya waitin’ for!” Cliff said, looking over, just a butt of a cigar remaining. 

The fucked for half an hour, and by the time Brendon finished, Cliff had shot his own load all over the couch below him, adding his own cumstains to the fabric there. His mind had faded, his old life lost, and with his roommate, and boyfriend’s cum planted in his musky hole, he pulled on a pair of filthy gym shorts off the ground and a tank top, and the two of them left to get to the gym, a bit later than planned.

They went down the stairs, and as they did, Cliff let off a little fart of each step, filling the back of his shorts with Brendon’s load of cum, making them both giggle like idiots as they stood in the cloud of their own stink, getting hard again, but they resisted the urge. They could fuck later, after all. The gym was just a quick walk down the street, long enough to work up a sweat for sure. And when they got there, they were sure that once the local bodybuilders all got a whiff of them, they’d have them all following them back to their place after their workout. Their smell had a way with guys, after all–that was the Arctos promise.

Caption: Truer Words #1: Hick

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.


“Fuck, I hate it here, I don’t know why we always have to come visit my uncle’s stupid fucking farm. Whole towns just full of a fat, stupid hicks, probably a bunch of incestuous fuckers too, judging by how ugly they all are,” Nick muttered to himself in the guest room of his uncle’s house, just wanting to be back home with his friends.

“Truer words were never spoken…”

Wait, what was that?” Nick said, and felt an odd shiver run down his spine. He could have sworn that something had spoken, but he was alone, wasn’t he? Whatever, he might as well take a selfie and post it to Instagram, do something to show everyone how lame it was out here. He went into the bathroom and gave a bored pose in the mirror, and only when he looked at the pictures after, did he realize he wasn’t wearing his usual clothes. He was wearing a set of overalls!

“What the fuck? I didn’t put this shit on,” he said, trying to get the clasps to unhook, but they wouldn’t budge. He didn’t even notice that he was beginning to grow cubbier, a beard filling in across his face, hairline receding as it turned from brown to grey. The room started to spin around him. He dropped his phone and tried to steady himself, and when the room finally stopped spinning, he looked around and he…wasn’t in the same bathroom as before. 

This one was…grungier, and smaller. He hauled himself up with the lip of the counter, and found himself staring at a new face–a bulbous ugly nose, scrunched eyes, balding hair nearly white and pulled back into a ponytail. He got his feet underneath him and stood up, now six inches shorter than before.

“Where in fuckin’ hell, this ain’t Unc’s place!” he said, his voice deeper and raspier, with an obvious rural twang, “What the hell happened tah me? I ain’t…some old redneck fuck!”

“Nick, where the fuck are ya?” Came a voice from outside the room, one he didn’t recognize. A moment later, another chubby fellow poked his head into the bathroom, “Come on Nick, we’re gonna be late bro,” he said.

“Nick’s head started spinning again, but this time, it was also growing thicker, and slower. This…this was Billy, his little brother, right? He tried to tell himself that he didn’t have a little brother, but…but that wasn’t right, of course he did. “Sorry Billy, just got distracted I guess.”

“No worries bro, I know ya ain’t the smartest fucker, but yer one of the cutest pigs in town,” he said with a wink, and pulled Nick into a kiss–a full kiss, with tongue, that left him panting a bit, his stubby cock hard in the front of his overalls. Unable to stop himself, he dropped to his knees, hauled out Billy’s cock and blew him. It didn’t take long, Billy could cum ten times a day, but never lasted longer than a minute. Nick guzzled down his brother’s cum, licked his mustache clean, and got up.

By afternoon, all memories of his prior life were forgotten for good–aside from a little corner of his dim mind, where the old Nick was trapped, well aware that he was caught in his own worst nightmare, but no one would hear him ever again.

Commission – Piggy Pizza

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.


Part 1 – Staffing Solutions

It was the sudden rumble that woke Max up. It sounded like a stomach grumbling, but something about it was off. He realized that he hadn’t just heard the rumble, but he’d felt it through his hand, but his hand wasn’t…on his own stomach. He opened his eyes, and found himself looking at the back of someone’s neck, and not a womanly neck, either. He recoiled away, nearly fell off the bed in the process, and stood up, looking down at Jeremy, his roommate–or at least, someone who looked mostly like Jeremy, there on his bed, naked.

The main difference was that this Jeremy looked to be fifty pounds heavier than the Jeremy from the night before, not that he could really remember what had happened the night before. They’d gotten home from football practice, completely starving. Jeremy had seen a new pizza place had opened up near campus, and suggested it for dinner. They’d ordered delivery, the food had arrived, and after that…well, he couldn’t recall much of anything. It was then that Max realized he’d been staring right at Jeremy’s uncovered, fat ass, and his cock was…hard. Real hard. Hard enough to climb back into bed, slide his cock right in there and–

He retreated from his room and into the bathroom, turned on the light, and it was the scream that woke up Jeremy. He rolled up out of bed, waddled his way to the bathroom, where he found Max gripping his own larger, hairier gut, horrified. “What the fuck happened to us? What the fuck did we do last night?”

“Did…did you get fatter?” Jeremy asked, then looked down, “Fuck, we’re…both fatter?”

“Do you remember anything from last night that was strange?”

“Just…that pizza bro, it was fucking good, but…I felt real weird afterward, and you were acting strange too, I…I don’t remember anything, though…” Jeremy said, blushing a bit, “Do…do you?”

“No, nothing.”

“Oh, ok, good.”

“It had to be the pizza. What was the name of that place again?”

“Piggy Pizza, it’s just a few blocks away from campus.”

“Come on, we need to go there, and figure out what the fuck was in that stuff, so we can go the hospital and fix it.”

Jeremy’s gut grumbled again, and he grabbed it with both hands. “Can…we have breakfast first?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you fucking think of eating at a time like this?”

Jeremy shrugged, and followed Max’s lead as they got dressed in whatever clothes they could find that mostly fit their changed bodies, got into Max’s car with a bit of a struggle, and drove the few blocks over to Piggy Pizza. They got out, the door said the place didn’t open until eleven, but there was clearly someone inside working away. They pounded on the door until the fellow came out from behind the counter and opened the door for them both. He was an older fellow, wearing a flour and sauce stained apron, easily six and a half feet tall and close to 400 pounds of beef, with a thick beard braided and tied off against his chest.  “Can I help you boys? I don’t open for lunch for another twenty minutes or so.”

“Yeah you can fucking help us, you can tell us what the fuck your pizza did to us last night!” Max said to him.

“Oh fuck, what smells so fucking good?” Jeremy said, his gut growling again, and he pushed past both of them and into the restaurant. The place was sizable with plenty of seating, and a lunch buffet off to one side, where a couple of pies were already resting, ready to be eaten. Jeremy stumbled over there, drooling, grabbed a slice and shoved it in his mouth with a moan of delight, while Max just stared at him, horrified.

“What the fuck are you doing man, don’t eat that shit!” Max said.

“Oh fuck it’s so fucking good though…”

Max went over and tried to pull Jeremy away, who just slapped at him until he backed off. He turned around, only to find the owner of the shop had locked the door behind them, and was grinning wide. “When I delivered those two pies to you two last night, I had a feeling you were just the couple of pigs I was looking for to help out in the shop.”

“What are you talking about?” Max said.

“Go on, I know you must be hungry. Those pizzas last night would have only scratched that appetite of yours, pig,” the man said, walked over, reached past Jeremy, and picked up a slice of pizza. It was so fresh, Max could still see the grease pooling on the surface, and he realized he was drooling. “Come on pig, let Boss help you out,” he said, pushed the pizza to his lips, and Max opened up and took a bite, moaning as his cock leaked a bit of precum into the front of the sweats he had squeezed into.

He felt his gut growl, and it heaved out as he swallowed, adding a few more pounds. He tried to pull away when he realized it, but Boss just pushed the slice into his mouth, more forceful this time, and Max couldn’t stop himself from taking bite after bite, begging through a full mouth for him to stop.

“I’ll stop pig, but only if you stop. All you have to do is not take another bite. Maybe I’ll even give you that body of yours back, would you like that? Wanna be muscular again? Smooth? All you have to do is stop.” Max tried, turned his head to the side, but he could feel his jaw struggling against him, twisting back, opening up, taking another massive bite, and the owner just laughed at him. “Guess that means you’re mine, pig.”

Slice after slice disappeared down his throat, and with each one, he only got worse. Fatter at first, and then he started getting even hairier. Boss started telling him about his life now, about who he was. Sure, he’d started college on a football scholarship, but that was a few years ago now. He was too lazy to keep up, and after a year, he’d added fifty pounds. He lost his scholarship, had to get a job delivering pizza, and only grew bigger. Now here he was, his late twenties, balding already, too hairy to work the kitchen for sanitary reasons, delivering pizzas for his boss. For his owner. The man shoved Max down onto his knees, hauled out his cock, and fed it to him. He took one taste of his owner’s precum, and knew, somehow, this was what was in the pizza, this is what had been changing him. He tried to resist, but he sucked his new Boss dry, and when he came, and Max swallowed it all down, everything Boss had told him, that whole story, it became…real. He stumbled up, now close to 400 pounds himself, hair all over his body, head balding, beard down to his chest, sweaty and greasy and stinking. He knew he should hate it, but he didn’t–he groped his fat, reached under and found his cock and started milking it, grunting while he kissed his Boss, and they turned their attention to Jeremy, who was still stuffing himself silly at the buffet.

He was even fatter than Max now, close to 500 pounds. His eyes were terrified at what he was doing, but there was no stopping, not any more. “What do you think of your boyfriend, Jeremy?” Boss asked him, dragging his face around and showing him the hairy, sweaty pig that Max had become. “Wait…Max? What…what the fuck happened to you?”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Max said, groping his fat frame, running his hands through his greasy fur, “Fuck, I’m so fuckin’ horny…”

“I bet you are, watching this fat pig stuff himself always gets that cock of yours hard, but not as hard as this fat ass, right?” Boss said, gave Jeremy’s ass a slap, and they watched it inflate, growing wider than the rest of him, Max drooling again, but for a different reason. 

“Fuck, he’s got such a hot fuckin’ ass.”

“Come on pig, I know you’re still hungry for dessert,” Boss said, tore open the already weakened sweats on Jeremy’s body. With a grunt, Max got down on his knees, crawled forward and shoved his bearded face into Jeremy’s crack, eating at the sweaty, rank crack, Jeremy moaning in confusion, not understanding anything of what was happening to him. 

“I…what did you do to him?” Jeremy moaned, “What’s going on?”

“Don’t think too hard now, we all know you’re the dumbest fuck here, Jeremy. Too stupid to be a driver, and too fat at this point. Lucky for me you can operate an oven, with supervision. Still, you have a few good qualities, right? Well, a few things that disgust everyone else, but Max there sure loves them, like your fucking musk, and those rank ass farts of yours.” The mere suggestion was enough for Jeremy’s new ass to rip off a ripe one right into Max’s face, who moaned, his own cock drooling even more pre onto the floor below him.

“No, no that’s not, I was…big! I was a big, like, football guy…”

“No you weren’t, you stupid fuck. You dropped out of high school, and have been working here for years now. You met Max when he started working here, and you pigs moved in together, with my permission of course. I own your fat asses after all, neither of you thinks a fucking thing without my damn permission. But that asshole of yours is as hungry as dick as this mouth is for my pizza, and Max is a horny hairy freak, so it works out, doesn’t it?”

Jeremy tried to think, tried to remember, but all that came out was a loud fart from his hole, right into Max’s face, who just grunted in pleasure and dug in even deeper. Boss grabbed his head, shoved him down, and Jeremy sucked on his cock, already hard again after feeding a load to Max–but then, Boss could always produce a load for his dough, and his sauce, and his toppings. That was how he had the best pizza in town, after all, and when he saw someone he liked, well, he usually got them to work for him, one way or another. “Max, get up, I wanna see you fuck this fat pig while he swallows my load.”

“Yes Boss!” Max said, hefted himself up, dropped his gut on the small of Jeremy’s back, and worked his cock into Jeremy’s loosened hole. He drove in rough, panting and heaving, the air thick with the combined musk rolling off the three of them in the lobby of the restaurant, until Max came with a squeal, and Boss came too, Jeremy swallowing down a load and feeling everything solidify around him, just as it had around Max. 

The restaurant opened an hour late that day, since the two new employees had demolished the lunch buffet. Boss got them into their new uniforms–shorts that were a bit too tight on them both, a polo shirt with Piggy Pizza across the front, neither long enough to disguise their guts hanging out below, and a ball cap with a smiling pig on the front. Then, Boss secured a leather collar around both of his new pigs, reminding him that they were his personal property. Max also got a cage around his cock, and for Jeremy, a vibrating plug in his hole to keep him excited and motivated. If Max got good tips, Boss would unlock him and let him fuck his boyfriend at home that night, but if he didn’t, well, he’d just suffer, hard in his cage from Jeremy’s gas and unable to do anything about it. Neither of them complained, though. Why would they? They loved working at Piggy Pizza–it was the perfect place for a couple pigs like them, after all.


Part 2 – Franchise Opportunities

A year had flown by since Piggy Pizza had opened, and for Max, it had been a bit of a blur. Boss didn’t let his worker slaves have much in the way of time off, after all, and so he delivered pizzas from the time the shop opened for lunch until the evening, snacking on pizza along the way, of course, until they closed at one in the morning. Then, he would drive Jeremy home in his truck, they’d usually have a fuck session if he’d earned one and fall asleep, before getting up, throwing on their still dirty uniforms, and doing it all again. 

Boss took a particular interest in Jeremy over that year, feeding him almost constantly in the shop. Six months after they’d been conscripted, Jeremy had packed on another hundred pounds, and was pushing the scales at nearly 600. One evening, after a long stuffing, he couldn’t manage to get into the truck for the ride home–but Boss had a solution all ready for him. He’d made him a little sleeping area in the storeroom of the restaurant–Jeremy would be living there from now on. It would be more convenient. 

Of course, Max was still horny as hell, and so he’d rush over when he woke up, get his fuck in before his shift started, and Jeremy only grew larger and larger, and muskier and muskier, since he didn’t have a shower in the restaurant. Jeremy eventually couldn’t even keep up with the baking, but Boss had a new role for him already planned–he hooked Jeremy’s cock up to a milker, and started pumping cum out of him, a new blend that Boss had been encouraging inside him, one that he had a feeling would help them grow their customer base even more. It worked–Boss’s own cum was more potent, but Jeremy’s kept folks coming back for more, and more, and more pizza every day. Business was booming, and they had to pull in a few other guys from campus as delivery slaves for the business, with Max as their general supervisor. One night, while they were tag-teaming Jeremy, the rest of the staff home for the night, Boss told Max how proud of him he was. He was thinking about opening up another franchise soon, and he thought Max might be an idea manager for a new location–under Boss’s strict control of course.

Max was thrilled by the idea. He rode that high for the next few days, until it all came crashing down with a sudden drop, when he delivered a load of pizzas, laced with a bit of Jeremy’s special sauce, to a house he…almost recalled, but one he couldn’t place. He rang the doorbell, the door opened, and he quickly realized he was delivering pizzas to a frat house. A frat house he knew. It had been his frat, a lifetime ago now, before he’d met Boss and started working at PIggy Pizza. He prayed that no one would say anything, but after staring at him for a moment, the jock who had opened the door said, “Holy fuckin’ shit, you’re…Max Grainger! Oh my fucking god, what the fuck happened to you?”

Max’s face reddened. Boss’s magic sauce could twist reality, but there were always these little pockets left behind. “Look man, I don’t wanna talk about it. Have a good night.”

The jock called the rest of the guys to the door, and they laughed, watching the player who had been recruited as a possible star waddled back to his truck, ass crack exposed, now just a loser dropout pig. Max’s face was burning, and he grumbled all the way back to the shop, angry that he was even angry about it. He liked working for Boss! He was going to have his own franchise soon! And a new franchise, he supposed, would need some more labor, wouldn’t it? He grinned then, and when he went back into the shop, he told Boss what had happened, and his idea.

Boss was skeptical of Max’s plan, but decided to give him a chance. He fed Max a big load of his cum, and Max felt something happen to him, his balls swelling and tingling. Boss told him that he had the power to change men like he did now–not nearly as potent, but more than enough for what he had in mind, this evening. First though, he had a few more deliveries to make. It was mostly to regulars around town, those who had been especially susceptible to their special ingredients. As the men opened their doors and smelled Max, they all seemed especially interested in him somehow. Max had fucked around with most of them–after all, now that Jeremy was living at the shop, he had to get his fucks in somewhere, but tonight, he was saving his loads for something special. That didn’t make it any less difficult to turn down the men who would invite him in, try and sneak a sniff of his pits, tell him that he seemed real sexy tonight. In the end, they were all mostly satisfied to take their pizzas, leave him a substantial tip, and Max went on his way back to his truck, sniffing his own pits. Sure, they were rank, but no more than usual. Is this what it felt like being Boss all the time? If it was, he could get used to it.

It was close to one in the morning, the shop was closing up, and Max loaded up a hefty stack of eight pizzas Boss had waiting for him, for one final delivery. He pulled up back in front of the frat house, already leaking into his uniform shorts, and the more excited he got, the more musk he seemed to be putting out–and maybe it was a bit stronger than before. He hefted the stack of pizzas to the door, rang the doorbell, but no one answered. It took a few rings, and a hard pounding, before any of the frat boys inside actually took notice, and one of them came to answer the door. Max grinned. He was showing good progress, a solid gut, a good amount of hair on his chest, and he was half naked, with grease and cum smeared across his face. 

“Who the fuck are…oh fuck, you…smell real fucking good man,” the frat boy said, stumbled out onto the step, and shoved his face into Max’s pit, snorting in his stink.

“I got your second order of pizzas, why don’t you help me bring them inside, boy?” Max suggested.

He had to suggest it twice, and haul the young man’s chubby face out of his pit, but he finally got the hint, picked up half the boxes of pizza, and brought them inside, Max following him in and shutting the door behind him, looking at the party already in progress.

The pizzas were demolished, the room was demolished as well, and all of the frat brothers were scattered about the living room, on the furniture or the floor, in various states of fucking, sucking, licking and sniffing. None of them had gained less than thirty pounds, and some, like the one who’d opened the door, had gained more. But the one that Max was looking for wasn’t among them–the one who had laughed at him earlier, that was the one he had some special plans for. He took the pizzas one by one, opened up the boxes and laid them on the floor, calling for the little frat pigs. The smell of him, and the pizza, caught them and pulled them over, all of them grabbing for slices like greedy hogs and shoving them in their mouths, moaning and grunting in delight. That would keep them all busy, and growing, for a while longer. He saved one pie, and started looking through the house for the missing boy.

He found him after a few minutes, holed up in his room. Max could hear him on the phone with someone, trying to explain the situation–probably 911, but they kept dismissing it as a hoax. Why wouldn’t they, after all? He knocked on the door, the voice inside went quiet, and said, “Who’s there?”

“Oh, just me,” Max said, “Got your second delivery of pizzas here, but everyone downstairs was too busy to pay me. Why don’t you open up, boy, and we can settle your bill?”

“Fuck you! You fucking freak, what the fuck did you do to everyone?”

Max just chuckled, hauled off his shirt, took a piece of pizza out of the box, and rubbed it in his pits, soaking it in his stink. For good measure, he wiped some of his precum off on it too from the inside of his shorts, then shoved it under the door. 

“What the, fuck why the fuck does it fucking stink!” the voice said, “Oh fuck, it smells so fucking good, and I’m so fucking hungry…”

He didn’t say anything else for a minute, just the sound of someone scarfing on the other side, and then quiet, and a belch. “Now, why don’t you go ahead and open the door, boy?” Max said.

The lock clicked after a moment, and when it opened, he saw a rather zonked looking young man on the other side, grease smeared across his face, drooling slightly. Max pushed his way in, and fed him the rest of the pizza. His name, he found out, was Doug, but Max decided Dough would be a much better name for him. Dough pleaded with him through the first few slices, begged him to stop, but by the time half the extra large pie was gone, he was ravenous. It was only natural, then, for Max to haul out his cock, and give him something to wash all that pizza down with.

Max was so horny, that he came after just a few sucks, and the orgasm was long. He could feel it, all of the corruptive potential he was feeding down Dough’s throat, and when he’d finished, a very different sort of fellow was sitting on the floor. He hauled Dough up by the collar of the shirt that no longer fit on around his nearly 400 pound frame, shoved him in front of the mirror in the room, and he gaped at his new body.

Sure, the fat was a big change for him, but Max helped him notice everything else too. The male pattern baldness that had settled in when he was twenty-five, a few years after he’d dropped out of college, too fat and stupid to keep up. Of course, he was pushing forty now, and had lost most of the hair on his head, replaced by a thick, bushy beard starting to grey, and a forest of hair all over his body–not quite as much as Max, but still plenty.

“Fuck, look at you, you fucking loser,” Max whispered in his ear, “And you thought I was bad when I answered the door, now look at you, long past your prime, don’t even have a job, just spend your days and nights stuffing yourself silly with your friends downstairs, jacking off all the time, like a proper fucking pig.

Dough tried to deny it, but Max tore off his clothes and led him downstairs, where the rest of the boys of the house had finished the second round of pizzas, and were all in similar a similar shape–older, all of them out of college now, fatter, their lives as jocks quickly being forgotten in the haze of lust that followed. He shoved Dough into the middle of them, and they all fell on him, humiliating and insulting him, and Dough found himself more and more turned on by the humiliating, begging them for their loads. Max spent the rest of the night finding the ones with a bit more resistance, and feeding them from his tap, until they too were just happy pigs, eagerly settling into their new lives.

A couple months later, a new franchise of Piggy Pizza opened on the other side of town, with Max as the head manager. Dough took up residence in the back, this location’s sauce supply, just as Jeremy was at the home location. The rest of the boys in the house, after being interviewed by Boss, were all hired on as well–as drivers, and cooks, and cleaners, depending on their personal skill sets and kinks. Business was booming, and both Boss and Max couldn’t wait to see how big this town could get.

Caption: Rest Area Tales #2 – A Helping Hand

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.


CW: Raunch and scat, read at your own risk.

“Hey bud, think ya could help a fellow out?”

“The door? Who the hell knows, these rest areas are all beat to shit.”

“See, the problem is, I really gotta piss, real fuckin’ bad, but I’m also hard as a damn rock–so hard I can’t get this big fuckin’ cock in the bowl. Come here, think ya could help me out?”

“That’s it, just give it some good strokes, just like that–but I really gotta go quick, maybe ya could, ya know, suck on it?”

“Come on, it won’t make ya gay or nothin, yer just helpin’ a bud out! Real quick, ya don’t even gotta swallow.”

“Yeah, see? Fer a guy who says he doesn’t like it, ya sure can take this big dick of mine real easy down that throat of yours.”

“Sorry ‘bout the smell–already dropped a few logs. That’s what got me so damn hard tah begin with, somethin’ ‘bout the smell of mah shit always drives me a bit wild. Judgin’ from the bulge down in those jeans of yers, looks like I ain’t the only one. Go one, haul it out, jack it off–I won’t tell no one.”

“Yeah, fuck, gettin’ real close, here it fuckin’ comes!”

“Fuck!”

“Fuck, sorry bud, hosed you down with my piss too, didn’t mean to. But that’s what you get for pullin’ off. Don’t look like ya mind too much, look at how hard that cock a yers is. Anyway, thanks man, that’s real helpful, but maybe…ya could help me out with one more thing? Mind given my ass a wipe for me?”

“I know the toilet paper’s right there, but that single ply shit is so scratchy–I was thinkin’ somethin’ a little more wet, ‘n soft…”

“Yeah, that’s the ticket, really dig on up in there, ya fuckin’ pig. Fuck yeah, I can hear ya snortin’ back there, ya like my rank fuckin’ ass man? Sure sounds like it, bet yer gonna blow yer load all across the fuckin’ toilet, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck bud, my crack’s ain’t been that clean in months! Much appreciated–yer a real helper. Say, how about riding with me for a while? I could use a good toilet pig like you in my cab, wouldn’t have tah stop in run down places like this if I could just use that dirty mouth of yours.”

“On vacation? Family? Ya don’t look like the sort of fucker who’d deal with that shit–have a look in the mirror. Yeah–look at you, grungy, ugly, old pig like that, ya’d love tah help a guy like me out, now what do ya say?”

“I thought so–now come on, I got some cold bottles of piss for ya in the cab.” 

“Oh, I forgot to flush? Alright, but scarf that shit down quick, I don’t got all evenin’. We got a load tah deliver.”

Captions: Owned / Dirtier

Since I missed yesterday’s post, here’s a double feature!

Owned

“How long has it been since you were here, slave?”

“A…a month.”

“A month, Master,” he said, and gave the rubber clad man a smack on the ass, and left it there, running his fingers between his thighs, tracing the chastity cage locked on the outside of the rubber catsuit. “I will not have a slave disrespect me in public. We are lax at home on occasion, but I know you know your manners well.”

“Yes Master.”

“A month since you went home with me. Remember what a confident little shithead you were? Talking about how you were all top, never gonna bottom in your life? Now look at you. That big cock of yours locked away, hole loose and ready,” he said, and slid two of his fingers through the slit in the back of the rubber suit, pressing up against the slave’s hole, feeling him shudder at the touch. “You’re owned now, and once we go in there, everyone is going to know it. Everyone you’ve fucked. Everyone who wanted to fuck you. They’re gonna know that you’re my property. How does that make you feel?”

The slave didn’t respond right away, just let out a little moan.

“It makes you excited, doesn’t it?”

Another little moan, followed by, “Yes Master, it does.”

“How many men do you think I should let use your holes tonight?”

“As many as you want, Master.”

“Good, slave, you do learn quickly. The last slave I had, I couldn’t take him out in public for three months. I know you’re going to serve me well in there tonight, won’t you?”

“Yes Master.”

“And remember–always pride. Be proud that you realized who you are. Most of those men in there are too scared to accept it. But you are right where you want to be, isn’t that right?”

The slave nodded, and he followed his Master into the bar to begin his new life.


Dirtier

You hadn’t taken that old bitch seriously, of course. Who would have, really? Ranting and raving about some curse or something, while security was dragging her out of the bank where you worked, saying something about how if all you cared about was dirty money, then you might as well just keep getting dirtier.

But for the next week or so, you kept noticing things. Dirt kept appearing under your fingernails, no matter how well you cleaned them at night, and it wasn’t like you were doing anything to make them dirty in the first place. Then you noticed that, after you showered, you always still had a lingering musk around you. It wasn’t too bad at first, but by the next week, you got a couple of comments at work. You tried all of these different soaps and shampoos, but nothing helped, and by then, the dirt was starting to spread as well.

Then, it wasn’t just you, either. You went to bed in a set of clean sheets, and when you woke up the next morning, they were filthy. Stained, reeking of sweat and cum and piss, and worst of all, you didn’t mind it. It smelled good to you all of a sudden, and you couldn’t resist rolling over, grinding your cock into the sheets and adding another load to them. You showered after, of course, but it didn’t help. You could smell it lingering around you, that same grungy scent, and the more you noticed it, the hornier you were getting.

You tried to find that woman, but there was no sign of her anywhere, all of her bank records had just vanished. Your boss called you into his office, raked you over the coals for your slovenly appearance. You didn’t know where that beard had come from, or how your hair had gotten so long so quickly. You went home early, tried to shave it off and cut it away, but it would grow back faster than you could remove it, thicker and thicker each time. That day, you went to put on a suit, dreading going in to work again, but all of your suits had disappeared, replaced with grungy looking hi vis workwear and nothing else. 

But then, what else would you wear? In a stupor, you pulled on some of the filthy garments and went to work–but not at the bank. You were a construction worker, right? You spent the day trying to convince yourself otherwise, but couldn’t manage it. This just…felt right. You were scared, and too tired to fight it. Maybe if you just let it happen, it would stop. This wasn’t so bad, right? And for a while, your body didn’t get worse, at least, but your mind started growing filthier instead. Working around all of those other musky, masculine men, you found yourself caught in fantasy after fantasy, about how they would use your dirty body–and as you concocted each scenario, they came true. 

The foreman pissing on you in the portpotty. A father and son tag teaming your holes in the back of their pickup. Timmy, the fattest guy on the crew, sitting his grungy ass on your face while you jacked off your rank cock. You didn’t live in that nice house anymore. You lived in a studio apartment, never cleaned, never cared for. Sometimes, you would fight, try and remember who you’d been, but when you did, it would get worse somehow, always worse, but now, why can’t you find your way home?

You usually walked home, sometimes sucking cock in the alleys on your way to and from the construction site, but now, you just couldn’t find it. You ended up in an alley, and slept there, interrupted by a couple of cops walking their beat, who took a little break to fuck your nasty hole in the middle of the night. Come morning, you went back to the construction site, but you didn’t work there anymore. That didn’t stop all the men from using you of course, but you were too filthy even for that work now. You made your way back to your alley, still so damn horny, but things, at least, couldn’t get worse than this, right?