Interactive: Time Travel Takeover (Part 2)

After a few necessary precautions, Edwin fired up the machine again, and took control of Josh not too long after their first encounter on the day he moved in. He had one month, then, to set Josh on a more interesting, and in his mind, fulfilling path, than what Josh had in mind for himself.

He spent the first couple of days getting acclimated to his host. While his level of direct control was substantial, he noticed that Josh’s mind tended to push back on anything he did directly. It was more efficient, then, to work behind the scenes–send lots of little thoughts that would grow into big ones, until Josh made the desired decision all on his own–or at least, he thought he did. Edwin decided to start with a big one, just to measure the scope of his power–he was going to get Josh to drop out of school.

It ended up being easier than he’d expected. Josh wasn’t particularly good at school, and he didn’t exactly enjoy it. He mostly did it so he could play sports, so Edwin worked on that against him. It wasn’t easy. Josh had been playing baseball all of his life–it was about as close to a cornerstone of his identity as he could get. Of course, that meant that when it crumbled, every thing that came after would be much, much easier. It took a week. The greatest tool that Edwin had was doubt. He got Josh to start questioning his ability as a student easily, and after that, his skill as an athlete. With a solid dose of imposter syndrome brewing, all it took was a few hard pushes, and Josh went to the dean’s office and dropped out after one week of classes.

Of course, that wasn’t all Edwin had been up to in the course of the week. He’d already decided what sort of person he was going to turn Josh into, if he could. Josh liked his porn, mostly women, but with a few pushes, and some direct control, he had Edwin discovering an interest in a different kind of person entirely–fat men, the more obese the better. After a week, almost all of Edwin’s fantasies were about being an encourager. Feeding fat men, making them larger and larger, servicing them, worshiping them, every part of their bodies. It helped that Edwin himself wasn’t exactly small–he had Josh finding all sorts of excuses to get with Edwin–and during that first week, he discovered something groundbreaking–he could leap from person to person, in the past.

He could convince Edwin to start sucking his cock, and then leap to his own body, and make Josh worship his gut, cherish it, tell him that he loves fat old men like him, that they know how to make him happy. Then, he’d jump back to Josh when they were finished, and cement all of that praise in his ego. It was amazing, knowing that he’d mindfucked his hot, muscular tenant so easily–but they had another task before them, and now that he knew he could hop between people easily enough, that made the next task rather easy. See, Josh needed to find a new job, and it just so happened that not too far from the house was a fast food joint. Josh took an application in, and with a little hop over to the manager’s mind, he was hired on the spot.

Josh loved his new job much more than he’d expected to–mostly, he loved waiting on all of the obese men who came through. He got hard every time he got to upgrade their meals, thinking about how much fatter they were going to get with him feeding them here. He would take regular breaks to the bathroom at work to jack off, fantasizing about his favorite customers, wondering how many of them wouldn’t mind a personal feeding sometime. Edwin took the opportunity to plant the suggestion in quite a few of them, and it wasn’t long before Josh would take the leftover goods at the end of the night on a round of deliveries, stopping by at all of his regulars houses, stuffing them full all over again, and sucking down their cum as a reward.

Of course, Josh didn’t quite look the part of greasy fry cook yet, so Edwin made thoughts of hygiene start slipping from his mind. He had to keep his face shaved, but he would let the stubble grow in over the weekend. His hair grew out, sticky with grease from the grill and deep fryers. His skin started breaking out, and towards the end of the month, his manager actually had to pull him aside to talk about his BO–but Edwin made a little round of his coworker’s minds, and made sure that concern wouldn’t be an issue anymore for them. Towards the end of the month, Edwin’s work was done–where there had been a hotshot jock, there was now a greasy, hairy fry cook, obsessed with feeding fat men, spending all of his free time either delivering meals to his favorite customers, or sitting in his room at his computer, jacking off, and thinking about how much larger he was going to make them all. It was enough to make a pervert proud. With that, Edwin killed the stream and returned to the present, eager to see how the rest of the year had treated his tenant.

The headache was much more severe this time, and Edwin actually had to make his way to the bathroom to vomit. He’d spent all night in the basement and it was now mid-morning. Once he was sure his head wasn’t going to explode from the sudden onslaught, he got up, saw himself in the mirror, and grinned a bit. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he supposed, but Edwin had apparently become one of Josh’s favorite customers himself. He didn’t have a scale to weigh himself, but he had to be at least fifty pounds heavier than he remembered. He didn’t mind it, in all honesty–after all, it meant that everything had worked exactly as he’d hoped. He went upstairs and peeked into Josh’s room, where his tenant was sitting in front of his computer, masturbating as usual–and fuck, all of the fast food and feeding had rubbed off on him as well. He wasn’t the lean muscled man Edwin could half recall–he was easily 250 pounds, sitting in a pair of grungy, cumsoaked briefs, panting and grunting at a massive pig on the screen, totally absorbed in his fetish.

“If you want a real pig to worship, why not me,” Edwin said, and Josh spun around in his chair, leered at his landlord, and dragged him onto his bed, where Josh happily licked every inch of Edwin’s larger body clean, snorting and grunting the whole time like a pig himself. He drank down Edwin’s load at the end of it, and then had to throw on his unwashed uniform and get to work, leaving Edwin alone in the house, amazed at what he’d managed to accomplish with a month of control. Now that he’d gotten a taste of it, all Edwin wanted now, was more.

But who next? Edwin wasn’t close to many people, so he wasn’t quite sure. One option stood out to him though–his neighbor Jerry. A nice enough fellow, forty years old, married, no kids. Boring as dirt though. He and his wife were both teachers at the local high school, but didn’t do much beyond that. They had been married for twenty years though–Edwin recalled Jerry telling him they’d gotten married when they were twenty. He knew, now, what a year could do–but twenty years? Why not go back to the day before their wedding, break it off, and send Jerry on a life changing bender that would warp him for the rest of his days? Fuck, just thinking about it had Edwin hard as a rock…but he needed a rest. He’d take a few days to come up with a plan, and maybe get spy on Jerry’s life a bit–then he’d take a ride through Jerry’s past and wreak havoc.


Here’s the next poll! Same deal as before. Everyone can pick two options in the public poll below. Patrons have their bonus poll as well, and they get to choose four of the options. The bonus poll can be found over here.

Patreon Exclusives: “Stud Service” & “Arctos: Scents #1 and #2”

Got a couple new stories up for Patrons this week! The first one is currently in early access, which means that it’ll get posted publicly in a week or so. I’ve had it sitting around for a while and never got around to posting it. It’s got some good old fashioned weird shit–anthro, furry, feral, cock swapping, fairy tale oddities etc. You can find it here, or you can hang on for a while and catch it here in a bit.

The others are a pair of suggested stories based off ideas from Patrons. Folks liked the first one I did last week, and so I did a follow up with a different scent I’d mentioned. I’ll go ahead and post the first one in full–if you enjoy it, you can find the second one here.

As always, if you haven’t signed up for my Patreon, I’d recommend it! You get early access to full stories, as well as access to the suggestion box, all of the stories I write based on those suggestions, and the occasional freebie too. You can find more details here!


Blake didn’t know what the package was when it showed up in his mailbox, nor did he recognize the company on the label–some place called Arctos Industries. He took it inside with the rest of his mail, opened it up, and three little canisters fell out, along with a note:

“Blake,

You’re a man of discerning scent. We here at Arctos are offering you a sample pack of our new personal scents–Mechanic, Dungeoneer, and Truckstop. Now you too can smell like an Arctos man. The full strength formulas can be found at our website, once you’ve settled on your favorite. Happy scenting.”

“Fucking weird ass marketing campaigns these days,” Blake said, and looked at the three aerosol cans. They must be some kind of deodorant or body spray. Out of curiosity, he popped the top off one, labeled Mechanic, and gave it a little spray in the air.

Grease. Motor oil. Sweat. New car smell. Metal shavings. Battery acid. 

It was…strong. If this wasn’t full strength, he didn’t want to know what the real thing smelled like. But the smell was lingering in his nose, he couldn’t quite seem to shake it, somehow. Something…something was off. He realized then that he’d taken his shirt off at some point, but when? He tried to move away from where he’d sprayed it, but it followed him–he lifted an arm up, gave a sniff, and realized it was on him–he’d sprayed himself with it, but when? Looking at the clock, he’d lost…fifteen minutes? He was feeling woozy again, woozy, and…horny. That was the last thing he remembered clearly, until he found himself lying in his bed.

With a moan, he stood up, and looked around. What time was it? He looked for his phone, but it was nowhere to be seen. He got up and went into the kitchen, and discovered it was…morning. He turned on his computer, and found out it was morning…two days later. He’d just lost around 36 hours of time, and he had no way of accounting for it at all. He heard the buzz of his phone, back in his bedroom, and he found it in the pocket of some filthy coveralls he had never seen before in his life, coated with grease and motor oil. He couldn’t imagine wearing something like that ever–but then why were they here, with his phone in the pocket? The buzz had been a message from some stranger he didn’t even know, asking why he wasn’t at the shop–probably a wrong number.

Other stuff was off though. He went to make himself some breakfast, and found leftover take out from some fast food place in the fridge–shit he would have never ordered in his life. He threw it out. His hands were filthy, with grease under the nails from who knew what. He drank his coffee, and noticed the canister of deodorant was still on the counter. Mechanic–that was the last thing he’d done before blacking out. Did that have something to do with all of this? He didn’t want to test the theory–he just chucked it in the trash with the fast food, and wondered if he should call the doctor. 

In the end, he felt fine though–he watched TV for the rest of the morning and early afternoon, only for his show to be interrupted by someone knocking on the door. Wondering who it could be, he opened it, and found himself looking at a stocky guy wearing some grungy looking coveralls. He looked surprised, and then confused. “Oh, hey. Is Blake here?”

“Uh…yeah, I’m Blake.”

“No, I mean…big guy, roommate?”

“I live here alone, no other Blake as far as I…what are you doing?” Blake asked, as the shorter guy started sniffing the air. 

“I…I smell him, he’s here somewhere,” he said, and pushed past Blake into the apartment.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” The guy made a beeline for the trash can, and pulled out the canister, then came back and sniffed Blake. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Get out of my apartment.”

Blake tried to shove him back out into the hallway, but before he could, the guy pulled off the top of the canister and sprayed Blake with the Mechanic scent again. As soon as he smelled it, he blanked out again for a second, and when he came to…he was…different. 

“Fuck, I knew you had to be here, I had to smell you again,” the guy said, his face shoved into Blake’s armpit. He…He was naked, mostly naked. But something was off. He was bigger, hairier. He tried to push the stranger away, but ended up using his hand to shove him harder into his armpit. Things began to swim, losing more clarity, and then, he wasn’t in his apartment.

He was in a bathroom. Not the cleanest bathroom he’d ever seen. It was obviously a business bathroom, single occupancy, lock on the door. Blake looked around him, totally disoriented, and saw himself in the mirror, face coated in grime, wearing the coveralls he’d found in the apartment, the nametag patch on them said Blake. They fit…poorly. They pooled around the work boots he had on, which were also too small, and hung off him, like they were made for a guy at least a hundred pounds heavier. What in the world was happening to him? He found his phone in his pocket, but couldn’t unlock it–someone had changed the pin on him to something he didn’t know. He could see the date though–he’d lost…five days this time! How was that even possible?

He left the bathroom, and found himself in the lobby of a mechanic’s garage. One of the customer’s waiting did a double take when he came out, then buried his face back in the magazine he was reading. Blake, red in the face, left the lobby and looked for his car, but it wasn’t anywhere that he could see. He was still wandering about when the guy who had shown up at his apartment before came jogging over to him.

“You! Where…where the hell am I? What did you do to me?”

“Hey, easy now, calm down, I can explain,” he said, but he just pulled the canister from his pocket and shot it all over Blake’s body, “I was hoping a smaller dose would be ok, since we’re running low, but the full strength spray should arrive today–it’s all going to be fine.”

Blake choked and gasped, and he…he could feel it. Feel his body growing larger, his gut filling out the front of his coveralls, hair receding and filling in with grey, a bushy beard across his face, and the stench! Fuck, he smelled fucking good, made his fat cock get hard and start leaking in the front of his favorite coveralls…but what was he doing out here in the parking lot? Last thing he remembered, he’d needed to take a piss, and his boy wasn’t around to drink it for him. “What the hell, I fergot some shit again…” he muttered, embarrassed. That had been happening lately, just…losing time without any explanation. 

“Don’t worry Daddy, your medication will get here today–you’ll be feeling better soon enough,” Sam said, and gave the massive, smelly mechanic a hug, taking a deep inhale of his scent, his own cock going crazy. “It’s lunch time Daddy, why don’t we hit the drive through, and we can both get fed,” he said, and groped Blake’s crotch.

“Fuck boy, sounds like a plan tah me,” Blake growled to him. They hopped in the used truck they’d bought a few days before–he didn’t know what he’d been thinking, buying a little car he could barely fit into, but this was so much more comfy. They headed for the drive through–Blake would get his usual massive meal, and while he ate, his boy would get a load of mechanic cum for his troubles.

Horny Hugh (Part 3)

WARNING: This chapter includes some abuse, pain play, and snuff elements. If that’s not your thing, I’d suggest moving on to something else.

“Goodnight, babe, I’ll see you in a few days,” Josh said to Kyle outside his apartment. The two of them had just shared a fun night out at the bars, followed by a nightcap and sex at Kyle’s apartment. Now, Josh was heading home–he was leaving on a business trip for a few days, and Kyle was already missing him, throwing him a pouting lip which looked a bit ridiculous on the buff fellow he was.

“Yeah, alright–but give it some thought, eh? What I asked about?” Kyle asked, trying not to sound too pleading.

“I will, I promise,” Josh said, leaned in and gave Kyle a kiss goodnight, before heading off down the hallway.

Kyle stepped back into his apartment and shut the door, heaving a sigh. He’d been anxious to even ask the question, but Josh had taken it well. It was a big step, sure, but Kyle had never felt this way about someone before, and he just hoped Josh felt the same way. It wasn’t a marriage proposal, but asking him to move in felt like the next logical step in their relationship–not to mention it would help them both out with the finances. But now it was late, and Kyle was ready for bed. He took a quick shower, climbed in, and it wasn’t long before he had fallen asleep.

Now, since his encounter with Hugh a week before, Kyle hadn’t thought once of that strange fellow who had hit on his boyfriend. The same could not be said of Hugh, who, after his fling with Sam, had found himself obsessing more and more over Josh–and in turn, Kyle. Hugh knew, of course, that if he wanted Josh bad enough–and he did want him very bad–that he would be his, no matter what, especially with the new powers that had been revealing themselves to him over the last week. But the more he thought about Josh, the more he found himself stewing about Kyle, about the disrespect he had shown him in the bar, about how he didn’t deserve a beautiful, handsome man like Josh. That he needed to be punished first, and then, Hugh would sweep in and show Josh what a true lover was like. 

But Hugh had wanted something special for Kyle. He’d been taking little peeks into Kyle’s dreams, and into his mind, for the last week or so, getting to know him better–what he hated especially. The things that turned him off more than anything else in the world. See, Hugh had made a discovery over the course of the week as he’d been playing with guys at the bars and bathhouses around town–Hugh had discovered that he could draw out someone’s fetish entirely and store it inside him, and then, when someone else blew him, he could feed that fetish to the new person–though it was usually quite a bit stronger after Hugh had held onto it for a while, toying with it, improving it. So for the last few days, Hugh had gone hunting, and he’d found three men with fetishes and lives that were the perfect torments for Kyle. He was going to hate what he loved now, though by the end of it, Kyle wouldn’t want to be anyone different.

And so, Hugh slipped his way into Kyle’s dream…though he was looking quite a bit different from how he had looked back in the bar, when Kyle had confronted him the first time. He was still human, mostly, though the more Kyle looked at him, the more he noticed that certain things about him seemed off. The horns, of course. They were longer though, and their color was darkening from something between ivory and grey, to more of a charcoal. The skin around them on the temples didn’t look great either–there was clearly an infection of some sort spreading across the skin, veins of blue and black spreading out from the roots of the horns across Hugh’s scalp and face. Hugh smiled when he saw Kyle in the dream, and the same was happening to his teeth–they were darker, and also much more pointed than they should be. 

He was naked in the dream, and the proportion of his limbs was a bit off as well–legs too short, arms a bit longer than they should be. Hugh was hunched over slightly, legs wide, fingers longer and the nails were almost…claws. “Found you…” Hugh said, though it wasn’t so much that he was speaking in the dream, so much as the words appearing in Kyle’s mind. In any case, this dream was way too fucked–he tried to wake up, pinch himself, slap himself, but nothing would work. “Oh, don’t think you can get away from me so easily,” Hugh said, “Not until you’ve had your treat.”

Hugh was clearly referring to his cock–and that was something Kyle had no interest in getting anywhere near. It was big, for one thing–eight inches? Nine? It was the barbs that were confusing, and the fact that the head was…it was too bulbous, almost like it was storing something in there. It was a dark purple, and almost pulsating. “Come on now, I’ve found such good treats for you. Get over here, maggot, and drink up.”

Kyle turned to run, but the void around them offered no traction. As fast as he ran, Hugh crossed the space between them in a couple of strides, shoved Kyle to the ground, and flipped him over onto his back. Hugh straddled his shoulders, and gripped Kyle’s face with his clawed hands hard enough to draw blood. He screamed, and Hugh took the opportunity to thrust his vicious cock into his mouth. Kyle struggled, but every time he tried to pull his face free of the cock, the barbs would catch in his mouth and throat, threatening to rip him apart if he resisted. Eventually, he relented, and allowed Hugh to rape his throat for what felt like hours, choking and gasping for breath the entire time, tasting his own blood in his mouth until Hugh finally came–and when he did, it was unlike any load Kyle had ever tasted before. 

It tasted like ash. Like old cigarettes. As Hugh pumped the filth into him, he stared down at him, eyes yellow, wide and manic, while he licked his lips with a tounge a bit too long to be normal. “Oh yes, oh drink the fuck up, you fucking pig. I’m going to enjoy this, and when I’m done with you, he’ll be mine, he’s going to be all mine…”

Kyle was choking now, for real. He kept trying to draw breath, but there was nothing to do other than swallow more and more of the vile cum into his guts–if it was even cum at all. Eventually, he passed out, darkness overwhelming him–and then, when he was certain he was dead, he awoke in his bed, thrashing and gasping for air, but he was alone.

He was alone, it was morning, and there was absolutely no way he would be getting back to sleep before his normal morning alarm went off for work. He laid in his bed for a few minutes, trying to calm down, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. He’d never had a dream as vivid as that had been, and as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was somehow certain that it had been…real. But that wasn’t possible. Of course it wasn’t possible.

At least if he got up early, he’d have time to get to the gym before work. He hauled himself up, and after taking a shower, getting his breakfast ready, and dressing for the gym, he felt normal, mostly. With his bag over his shoulder, he took a sip of his usual morning shake, and he grimaced. It didn’t…taste right. He took another few sips on the way to the gym, and less than a third of the way through, he felt certain he was going to vomit–he had to pull into a parking lot so he could throw open the door and hurl onto the pavement. He stared at the shake on the ground, wondering if he should call out…no, just get the gym, and workout. Now that he’d thrown up, he felt fine other than the fact he was still hungry.

But at the gym, all he could think about was that hunger, but at the same time, just thinking about food made him want to hurl. He’d never experienced anything like it in his life, and he was so out of it, he couldn’t even really make it through his workout. He was craving something, something he couldn’t quite pin down–and it wasn’t until he left the gym and saw a couple of guys smoking cigarettes on the sidewalk outside that he realized what he was craving. He wanted to smoke.

He shook his head–no, he was past this! He’d been a smoker for years, since he was a teenager, and quitting had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He hadn’t had a craving in ages, and now, all of a sudden, he’d woken up aching for one? It…made a little bit of sense, he supposed, but he’d fought through all kinds of craving before. He’d just have to fight through this one too. It was easier, really, knowing what it was at least. It didn’t quite tell him why he was so hungry though. In any case, he had to get to work. He arrived, got through the morning well enough, but by lunch, he was nearly doubled over from cramps in his guts. It had never been this bad–if smoking a cigarette would make him feel better…maybe he should at least try it.

He used his lunch to go to the convenience store, bought a pack of cigarettes, smoked one–and it did help, much to his disgust. It took the edge off his hunger, but it didn’t stop it. He needed to eat something, but when he walked to a restaurant, just the smell of the food made him nauseous. Instead, he smoked the cigarette down to the butt. Then, when he should have just dropped it and snuffed it out on the sidewalk, he popped the still burning butt into his mouth, gave it a chew, and swallowed it down.

He realized what he’d done a second too late, feeling it slide down his throat, and he was horrified. Had anyone seen him do that? Looking around, he was relieved that no one had seemed to, but he did feel a bit better, in all honesty. Putting the strange incident behind him, he returned to work, but the gut cramps got so bad he had to relent and leave work early. The hunger was worse, and he could still…taste that cigarette butt, and he wanted more, but this time, smoking it wasn’t enough. He had to force himself to not eat it when he was done with it, but stamping it out on the sidewalk seemed like such a fucking waste. He’d go to the doctor tomorrow, though none of this made any sense to him at all. He got home, and found a sizable package waiting for him, though he hadn’t been expecting anything. He took it inside with him, put it on the table, opened it up–and the contents only confused him more.

Inside, it was like someone had taken the contents of a bunch of ashtrays, dumped them into ziploc bags, and mailed them all to him. There were a few coke bottles too, filled to the brim with a dark, syrupy liquid he couldn’t quite place. There was a letter too–he opened it up and read it:

“Here’s your latest supply–hope you fucking enjoy it you nasty fuck. Been collecting everything from the bar ashtrays as usual, and everything from home. As a little plus, a guy at work on the crew keeps all of his spit in coke bottles. You told me once how much you like the shit, and when I told him your deal, he was more than happy to fork over a few full ones. Looking forward to your next vids, ashtray.”

Who the hell would send him something like this? It didn’t make any fucking sense. He went to throw the whole box in the trash, but before he could even pick it up, the cramps returned, stronger than ever, and he was doubled over on the kitchen floor, panting for breath. He was so fucking hungry, and just…just thinking about all of that fucking ash in those bags, maybe…maybe just a little. Just to take the edge off. 

No! What the hell was he thinking? He didn’t want to eat that shit, that was fucking vile. But it wasn’t that he wanted to eat it, exactly–it was that, somehow, Kyle knew that he had to eat it. If he didn’t, the cramps would get worse, and…and he could somehow tell that the cramps were only the first stage of worse withdrawals to come, if he didn’t give in and…and eat. He told himself he’d just have a little. Just get rid of the worst of it, and then he would call the doctor and figure out what in the hell was wrong with him. But as soon as one of the bags was open, he couldn’t contain himself–he dumped all of the ash, the cigar and cigarette butts, the match ends on the table, and he started licking it up, chewing it all down. It was disgusting–he was disgusting, fuck, he was a disgusting ashtray of a human, fucking hell…

He looked up at himself, and his face was coated in soot. Why was his cock so fucking hard through all of this? Was this turning him on? It was turning him on, knowing that he was nothing more than a receptacle for men’s cast offs, not good enough to smoke the shit himself, only subsisting on the remnants. He wanted to throw up, but instead he took a fresh bag, a bottle of tobacco spit, and sat down in front of the computer, where he filmed himself eating and drinking and masturbating for the next hour, adding it to the collection of other videos he had of himself doing the same filthy shit. Videos he could not recall making, but there he was, devouring all manner of filth. He sent the new video to his benefactor first, and then uploaded a couple more–trying to stop himself, but…but he had to. He had to show everyone what he was, didn’t he?

He let off a belch, and a little cloud of soot erupted from his mouth. He knew he should feel sick. He had to eat something–real food, but he was stuffed. It felt like he’d just had the most satisfying meal of his life, and there was still so much in the box to enjoy later. It was too late to call anyone for help–and he didn’t think he’d be able to admit what he’d just done to anyone either. Exhausted, he crawled into bed, still covered in ash and tobacco spit, and fell asleep almost immediately.

But then, he was back in the void, and Hugh was waiting for him. “Looks like someone had a nice meal today,” Hugh said to him, and laughed, a tail swishing behind him that he hadn’t had the night before.

“You…you did this to me, what the fuck did you do to me?” Kyle demanded.

“I’m just giving you a few new things to focus on, since you won’t have your relationship with Josh for much longer, not when I’m through with you both. I just want to make sure you’re happy, and out of the way for good. Don’t you like being an ashtray? I found that especially for you–the man I took that from didn’t really want to give that up, you know. I had to give him something better, just to calm him down.”

“You’re fucking sick! Just…just make me normal again. You can’t fucking do this to people, how the fuck are you doing this?”

“Let’s not waste time with silly questions. After all, I still have more for you to drink up, Kyle…” Hugh said, and stepped forward. The head of his cock was still swollen large–though the swelling had gone down some. “Get over here and suck it.”

“No–no, I’m fucking waking up! I’m not doing this again, I’m not, I’m n–”

That was all Kyle got out, before Hugh’s tail wrapped around his throat, and squeezed enough to leave him lightheaded and gasping for air. “Less talking now, I’m done talking.”

The prehensile tail dragged Kyle down to his knees in front of Hugh’s cock, and started fucking his face on the barbed member, slamming Kyle’s face into Hugh’s crotch over and over, the massive cock drilling deeper and deeper into his throat with every pound. He clawed at the thing around his neck but it just constricted tighter, until he was seeing spots and certain he would pass out. Then, Hugh came, pumping another load deep into his guts, and when he was finished, the tail relaxed, and Kyle collapsed.

“See you tomorrow–just one more dose…” Hugh said with a chuckle, and then Kyle passed out, and woke up in his bed again, this time in the middle of the night. He sobbed in his bed, exhausted and terrified, wondering what in the world was going to happen to him this time. What in the world was Hugh? He’d been certain, in the bar, that those horns had been fake, but…but all of this was too real now. When the sobbing subsided, all that remained was hunger, but he didn’t dare indulge in his new found vice–he was too ashamed. Sleep eluded him however, until he got up and grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his nightstand. He chained smoked a couple on the balcony, eating the butts down when he finished them, and when he had calmed down at last, he went back to bed, and slept fitfully for the rest of the night.

He couldn’t possibly face work the next morning. He called his boss, letting him know that he wouldn’t be coming into the office, and was too sick to work from home too. He felt better now that he didn’t have to go out, but now he was stuck in his apartment, with that package, with nothing to distract him from the cravings gnawing away at him. They were stronger today, without a doubt. He needed to go see a doctor, but he couldn’t bear the thought of confessing any of this to someone. What could they even do? There wasn’t exactly a treatment out there for demon-men invading your dreams and making you crave filth like this. He passed the time smoking instead, which kept the hunger at bay, though it wasn’t nearly as satisfying. He finished the pack of cigarettes before noon, and was faced with a new dilemma–go get more, or…or eat. He was so fucking hungry now, and the hunger was beginning to win out over his shame. He relented and dug in, chewing down a few cigar butts, relishing them, washing them down with murky spit from the bottles, letting it run down his chin and onto his chest, rubbing it in there, using it to lube up his cock, licking his fingers, recording and jacking off for his patrons, showing them all how much he appreciated their gifts.

The horniness was more powerful today too–he stroked as hard as he could, trying to climax, but it was like the hunger was keeping him right at the edge. He ate more, stuffed himself, and when he was certain he couldn’t eat anymore, he finally came–but what came out of the head of his cock wasn’t cum–it…it was smoke.

Hanging there in the air, around his cock, forming a consistency somewhere between fog and some strange goo, he pushed his hand through it, and felt nothing as he passed right through it. This was it, he told himself. He eaten all of that shit, and how he was hallucinating, and now he was going to die from it, right? He could only stare as the smoke from his cock began to congeal, becoming a hand that wrapped around his cock–and then he could feel it, as it stroked him off, more and more cummy smoke coming out of his cock pooling in the air around the end of the hand until it was an arm, until the arm was connected to a body, until a face appeared at the top, and legs below, and Kyle was staring up at a massive muscle bear that had somehow been formed out of his own smoke-cum, right in front of his eyes.

He felt one last long pulse from his groin, and the man pulled a cigar out from Kyle’s urethra, stuck it in his mouth, where it flamed to life–along with the man’s eyes. “What…what the fuck are you?” Kyle said, standing up from his office chair and backing away from the smoky figure standing in the midst of his living room.

“Me?” the man said in a deep, raspy voice. “You made me, Ashtray–who the fuck do you think I am?”

Kyle didn’t know, but he did know one thing–despite his massive orgasm, his cock was still hard as a rock, and looking at this man, so different from any man he’d ever been attracted to in his life, he found himself…aching for him in ways he couldn’t really explain. He took a tentative step forward, reached out, and tried to grab the man’s thick cock, but his hand passed right through it, the thing becoming smoke as soon he would have touched it, and forming once his hand had passed back out. “How…how is any of this happening?”

“God, you’re fucking stupid,” the man said, “It’s a good think you’re just a fucking ashtray or I’d feel sorry for you.” He reached out, grabbed hold of Kyle’s nipple and gave it a rough twist, making him cry out and pull away from him. “You made me because you need someone to use you, Ashtray–it’s as simple as that. You can’t touch me, but I can touch you all I want–and I’m going to be touching you a whole fucking lot.”

He grabbed hold of Kyle and threw him onto the bed, and then climbed on top of him. Kyle tried to kick him off, but his feet went right through the man’s torso–he scowled at Kyle, took the cigar from his mouth, and slammed the lit end right into Kyle’s forehead, making him scream, the smell of seared flesh in his nose while the man ground it there. “Stop fucking fighting, Ashtray–you’re going to get used, and the sooner you just accept it, the sooner you can start enjoying it.”

He rolled Kyle over, climbed on him, and forced his cock into his hole dry, Kyle trying to crawl away, but the man’s hands were like a vice, cinders kept falling from the cigar over him and scalding his back, while the man laughed. “Look at you, you fucking loser. Can’t get a real man to fuck you rough like you want, so you make your own sadistic fucks instead. Filthy fucking thing, no good for anything other than taking the waste men leave around, their ash, their cum–you’re fucking worthless, and you fucking love it, don’t you?”

Kyle couldn’t reply, he was trying to leave, trying to not think about what was happening to him, trying not to accept the fact that part of him was enjoying this, it was craving it, it needed this just as much as it needed the ash, and the cigarette butts, and the spit. The smoke man came, and not too long after that, his cigar finished–he forced open Kyle’s mouth, made him eat the last bit of it, and then he dissipated around him, settling all over the apartment in a fine layer of soot. Kyle was left to nurse his wounds and his burns. The man had gripped him hard enough to bruise, and the burn on his forehead was…severe. He did what he could to bandage it, but the more he thought about it, the more he…he wanted more. His hole was raw, but his cock was still so fucking hard, harder than he could recall it being ever in his life. He’d…needed that. He’d deserved that. The smoke man was right, he’d never been able to find someone to treat him like that in real life, someone he couldn’t resist even if he wanted to, and now…now he could make someone like…like that whenever he wanted.

He knew this was Hugh’s doing, that he was in his mind, warping him, making him want things he should have never desired in his life. He hated being degraded. He was proud of his life, of his job, of his body, of how he was always in charge. But now, that life seemed so far away, so distant, like a haze of smoke had settled over it and rendered it impossible to distinguish. Now, he wanted to be used. So he jacked off again, but this time, he thought about it, about who he wanted to create. The same man as before, almost. But taller. Bigger cock. Clad head to toe in leather. Thick bushy beard. He had to eat more–he couldn’t cum if he wasn’t full, but after gorging himself, he stroked off, and he didn’t stop stroking when he started cumming, didn’t stop thinking about who he wanted to abuse him, and rape him, and humiliate him, and use him all evening long.

“Fuck Ashtray, now this is what I’m talking about,” the man said, looming over him, ripped right out of his imagination. The man put a boot on Hugh’s neck, and drooled dark spit onto his face while he gasped for breath. “We’re going to have some fun tonight I think–that’s what you want, isn’t it? Tell me what you want.”

“Use me, please Sir, use me…” Kyle said, garbled as his throat was crushed under the man’s boot. 

A few hours later, battered and bruised, coated in ash and soot and spit, Kyle was in his bed, exhausted. His smoky creation had lasted longer this time, a few hours, long enough to beat him into shape, long enough to fuck his mouth, his ass, and his mouth again. Long enough that Kyle’s doubts and anger had been overwhelmed by the sheer ecstasy of it, but now, in the aftermath, bed gritty with ash, he was horrified with what he was allowing to happen. He couldn’t keep doing this, could he? He realized, when he was done, that the camera on his computer had been filming the entire scene, the massive leather brute throwing him around like a rag doll and punching bag, broadcasting live to all of his fans, urging the beast on, wondering how a loser ashtray like him could find a perfect leather sadist like that to abuse and humiliate him. 

But he was exhausted. Exhausted, but he didn’t dare sleep. Hugh was waiting for him–he’d said there was one more thing he had to give him, and Kyle was terrified. This was already awful. He hated all of this, it was everything he’d always hated, and now he was living his worst nightmare. If he could just stay up all night, maybe he would be safe. He just had to not sleep. And not jack off. Not…make himself some new sexy beast of a man to abuse and humiliate him all night long. Then he wouldn’t sleep a wink, he was sure of that. Maybe a pipe smoker this time, older, fatter, dirtier, using him like a urinal…fuck…

He spent the next few hours caught between hunger, horniness, and exhaustion–but exhaustion did win, eventually. He could have sworn he only meant to blink, but then he couldn’t force his eyes open again. When he could finally see, he found himself not in his bedroom, but back in that inky void, Hugh waiting for him there, tail longer and thicker, his skin…flaking, or maybe peeling off, revealing something raw and angry underneath. Scales perhaps. Kyle didn’t want to look to close. He didn’t want to know anymore of this than he had to.

“You kept me waiting tonight,” Hugh said, “Were you enjoying your new skill? Looks like you made a daddy who treated you right,” the monstrous fellow of his dreams came close, brushing a clawed hand across Kyle’s bruised face. “Don’t worry–they won’t kill you. You’re rather…durable now. After a good night sleep, you’ll be good as new, no matter what kind of damage they inflict–though I do like that burn there…” he added, and pressed a claw against the raw wound on Kyle’s forehead, making him wince and flinch away.

“Please, make it stop. I don’t want any of this, I…I just want to be normal again!” Kyle begged him, dropping to his knees. “I’ll never see Josh again. I’ll forget all about him, all about you–please, don’t make me do this anymore.”

“I’m just trying to help you, Kyle,” Hugh said, close enough that he could smell his breath, feel the lash of his long, blackening tongue on his cheek, “I just want to help you be happy–don’t worry, you’ll be happy soon enough. Tonight is a bit of a trade. You give me something of yours, I give you one last gift–and we’ll be even. You’ll never see me again.”

He felt something tighten around his cock, looked down, and saw that the head of the demon’s cock had swallowed his own. He tried to pull away, but the head clamped down harder, making him feel like he was about to pull his own cock off. “What the hell are you doing? Let go of me.”

“Sorry Kyle, but first I need something from you–I need to make sure you stay out of my way, and the only way that’s going to happen, is if Kyle disappears. So you’re going to give me all of yourself.”

Kyle felt the head of Hugh’s cock throb, and it…sucked on his cock, and he moaned, trying to stay on his feet. It wasn’t pain that he felt–it wasn’t anything physical at least. It felt like…a strawberry milkshake, when you’re trying to suck a berry through the straw. Only he was the berry–his mind, his identity, his relationship to Josh–all of it. Hugh sucked again, and he felt some of it slip away from him, leaving just…a hole. He knew that something should fill it, but he didn’t know what–just the vague outline of…of something. Another pull, and more of him disappeared, Hugh pulling him close, holding him up while he watched the confusion on Kyle’s face grow as he sucked down more and more of him, storing him in his cockhead, just like he’d stored those other men, which he’d fed to Kyle. 

When he was satisfied that he’d pulled out enough, Hugh let the man fall, his cock slipping free of his own, and on his knees, the man looked around in horror. “I…Who…What just happened? Who are you?” He asked, looking up at Hugh in terror, “Why…why can’t I remember anything?”

“Don’t worry, I can help,” Hugh said, and pressed the head of his cock against the round burn on the man’s forehead. With a thrust, he shoved his cock into the man’s head, driving right into his skull, the man going limp while Hugh fucked his brains in his dream. Eventually cumming and emptying out the final gift he’d prepared for Kyle into his skull. He let him fall to the ground, a limp doll, and sneered at him before slipping back into the void. Hugh had what he needed now, and Kyle wouldn’t be an issue anymore–well, Kyle didn’t exist, not anymore. The man lying on the ground with a hole in his head, in his dreams–he didn’t have a name. He did have a purpose though, and that was good enough.

When he awoke, he couldn’t do much of anything for a moment, his head ached so badly. His body as well, like he’d come down with a cold overnight, his bones and joints aching. All he could do was moan and toss in the filthy, ash covered bed for most of an hour, until the pain in his skull settled down, his body eased up, and he could finally throw his legs over the side and stand up.

He…didn’t feel right, somehow. His head felt empty–emptier than it should be. He should have a name, right? He…he couldn’t remember one though, but he could remember a…a job. A thing, that he was. Ashtray. It wasn’t a name–it was a category, but did he really need something more than that?

Ashtray went into the bathroom and pissed, before looking at himself in the mirror. This seemed wrong as well–he could…almost remember another reflection. A younger one. A sexier one. But this…this face. He was old. Easily in his fifties, if not sixties, though he couldn’t remember how old he was. A thick beard across his face, stained yellow around the mouth from years of smoking, caked with ash. He was balding heavily, with just a fringe of too long hair around the temples and down the back. The face was lined with wrinkles, and when he opened his mouth, he grimaced–a good number of his teeth were gone, and the rest were…not in great shape at all. 

Ashtray knew that something was wrong. That something had changed, but he didn’t know what. The worry nagged at him, but not as much as the hunger and the horniness did. He…he had to talk to someone about it, maybe they would know. So he ate–he devoured a few bags of ash from the shipment a couple days before. It was…pleasurable, to some extent, but he ate it because it was his duty to eat it. He was an ashtray, after all. What other purpose could he serve? When he was full, he masturbated, thinking…thinking about someone. Someone who would…help him understand, and remember what he was sure he had forgotten. But all he could think about was that image in the mirror, his old, feeble body. The smoke poured from his cock, and formed an older man, quite fat, covered in hair, wearing some shabby clothes and smoking a massive pipe.

“I…Sir…I…I don’t…know what to ask, really, but I don’t know who I am? Do…do you know who I am?” he muttered, falling to his knees before the figure, who just scowled down at him.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are. I do know what you are though–you’re an Ashtray–is that not good enough for you?”

The figure shoved the hot bowl of his pipe against Ashtray’s nipple, holding it there until he cried out from the heat. He spit in his face and then dragged him into the bedroom, throwing the old, fat pig onto the bed, and forcing his fat cock into his ass.

Ashtray decided that it didn’t really need to know who it was. Or more likely, it would have to accept that there wasn’t going to be an answer. It was an object, at the end of the day. It served the filth that men sent it, chewed it down, and ejected it back out into their most violent, perverted fantasies for it to suffer under. It would always be a waste–there wasn’t anything more for it beyond that. There couldn’t be. And so, it accepted itself, as best it could, as the fat pipe bear finished inside it’s hole, hauled out, and started working his fist inside him next. It would be a good ashtray. 

Hugh smiled, watching in his own dreams, stroking the head of his cock, swollen now with the contents of Kyle that it had sucked out. Josh would be back in a day, and Kyle would be there to greet him–a Kyle, at least. But Josh would be Hugh’s before long. He would be his forever–after all, it was time that Hugh helped himself.

The Janitor’s Revenge

Gonna go ahead and skip the Patron only step of this, since it’s been a while since I posted something. Life is crazy! Work is especially crazy–it’s a good time to be in the grocery business, but I’m exhausted. I still have commissions that I’m working on, mostly because I need the extra money to make ends meet for a while. I don’t quite know when I’ll get back to “normal” content, or a more regular schedule, but I’m doing what I can. Special thanks to everyone supporting me on Patreon as well, as always. Stay healthy everyone!


It was strange being back after so long. Mark had thought it would be easier, but if anything, it had only revealed just how raw everything still was inside of him. He’d thought he’d moved on. The job paid well, it had good benefits. But right there, in that shower, he’d sucked Assistant Coach Anderson’s cock that first time after practice, that one act which had set everything else in motion–and now he was back here, twenty-five years later, mopping the same tile floor as the college’s newest member of the janitorial staff.

Twenty five years after he’d been pulled into a relationship with his coach, been outed by a professor on campus, and expelled by an assistant dean–after the coach had thrown him under the bus, told everyone that Mark had seduced him, which was a fucking lie, but it had saved his own reputation at the expense of Mark’s. He’d been a good player, but after that, he had nothing–bouncing between dead end jobs and dead end relationships. Now, in his forties with nothing to show for it aside from a bunch of hurt he’d never had the liberty to process, he was trying to keep himself from a panic attack in the middle of the locker room. It hadn’t been fair. It had been the 90’s though. AIDS was still all over the news. Every gay man was a predator. Now, all he wanted to do was survive.

“Why survive, when you could have revenge though?”

The voice caught Mark off guard, and he spun around in the shower, but no one was behind him.

“Up here man, hey!”

He looked up, and there, clinging to one of the shower heads was a small green creature. It was fat, it’s body covered in blisters and seeping who knew what onto the floor below him, eyes black with pinprick pupils of red. “What…what the fuck are you?”

The little creature laughed, and burst apart into a cloud of green gas. It flowed past Mark’s face, and he caught a whiff of one of the most horrendous scents he’d ever smelled in his life–something between a fart, the worst body odor he’d ever smelled, and the filthiest bathhouse he’d ever had to clean. The creature rematerialized on his shoulder, and the smell came with it, invading Mark’s nose, and he could feel it eroding his mind somehow, making him…sleepy? No, not sleepy exactly, but the more he smelled it, the more relaxed he became, and the less he minded the stench at all.

“You know man, I never thought I’d see you here again. What a reunion! I was just a little spec of filth when you were blowing that guy in here. Shame what happened to you, real fuckin’ shame. Those three guys, you know? They all still work here. I see ‘em on occasion, especially that coach of yours.”

It was true–Mark had learned that already. The assistant dean was now the dean of students. The professor was now the head of the business department. The assistant coach was now head coach of the football and wrestling teams. “Yeah…I know…” Mark managed to say, but the words felt sluggish and heavy in his mouth.

“You know, we could help each other out. I know what you really want man–you want revenge, don’t you? And me, well, I wanna get out of this place. It’s great, in some ways you know. Lot’s of filth to feed on, but I know I could do more–we could do more together, what do ya say?” The demon flicked it’s tail under Mark’s nose, then grabbed the zipper on his coveralls, and rode it down to Mark’s crotch, where it clung, groping his hardening cock. “Come on man, what have ya got to lose? Let me in–we’ll have so much fun. Those three fucks won’t know what hit them.”

Mark knew that something was wrong with this. The demon worked on him for a while longer, tempting him, bringing him to his knees on the floor of the shower, the demon’s stench working it’s way deeper and deeper into Mark’s brain, until all he could think about was how much he loved it–that, and how much he wanted to cum. The demon kept him on the edge for close to an hour, until Mark was begging him for release.

“Let me in Mark,” the demon said, “Let me in, and I’ll let you cum. It’ll be better than any orgasm you’ve ever had–trust me. Once I’m inside of you, you’ll feel like a brand new man. Then, we can show those fucks who wronged you what kind of men they really are. So say it. Say the words Mark, say the words…”

“Please…please get…get inside me, just let me cum, please…” Mark muttered, eyes distant and delirious.

The demon cackled, turned into gas, went around behind Mark, and he felt something forcing its way inside his ass. He fell forward onto his hands and knees with a groan, as the demon pushed inside, and while it hurt, it also felt so good–his cock exploded all over the tile floor without him even touching it. After a few minutes, it was over–Mark, lightheaded and confused, stumbled upright, and looked down at his bloated stomach, then stumbled over to the mirrors in the locker room. He looked…mostly right. Except his eyes. His eyes hadn’t been that…sickly shade of green before, had they?

Don’t worry about it, Mark. You feel good, don’t you? Strong? Powerful? Hungry?

It wasn’t his voice in his head–it was the demon, but he was right. He did feel…good, and also hungry. His gut rumbling, he went back to where he’d shot his cum on the floor, got down, and licked it all up, while the demon kept whispering to him, telling him his entire plan. It was a good plan. Mark knew it would work–all he’d have to do is trust his new friend and do everything he said–and everything would turn out just fine.


“Got something to show you in the showers, Coach.”

Ralph Anderson crumpled the note he’d found on the door to his office after practice, and frowned. He hadn’t planned anything with one of the guys on the team today, had he? Maybe one of them was feeling a bit frisky, and wanted to blow off some steam, or something else. In any case, Ralph never objected to getting his rocks off–so he headed for the locker room to see who was inviting him.

He wasn’t the young, muscular fellow he’d been twenty-five years ago, when he’d been hired as an assistant coach, but the years had been kind for the most part. He was still plenty muscular, but could finally sport the beard he’d always wanted when he was younger. The guys on the team certainly appreciated–or at least the ones who liked to call him daddy. It wasn’t good to be an out athlete still, not if you wanted to go pro, but Ralph had always been willing to help his boys find an outlet. He’d never tell, after all.

He stripped down when he got in the locker room, headed into the shower, and stopped right in his tracks. It wasn’t one of his boys waiting for him at all. In fact, the coach had no idea who this fellow was–obviously a janitor, given the boots and coveralls he was wearing, but…or wait, did he know that face?

“Hey Ralph, it’s been a while,” Mark said, and smirked at him, his bright green eyes shimmering in the half lit locker room. “Thought you might fancy a reunion with your first.”

“M-Mark? Is that really you?” Ralph said, and looked at him closer. The years hadn’t been kind to him. While he still had some of his muscle, Mark had put on a sizable beer gut in the last few years, but as he watched, the gut squirmed a bit, and seemed to…inflate slightly, while Mark let off a loud fart. Now that he knew who it was though, Ralph could recognize him, even through the beard, the grimy looking uniform…and his rather captivating green eyes that Ralph was having a hard time looking away from.

“Come on over here Coach, don’t you miss me?”

“Look, Mark…I…I’m sorry for what happened. I…I didn’t mean…” Ralph kept stumbling over his words, the scent of Mark’s fart drifting towards him, sliding up his nose and into his brain, his own eyes picking up a figment of the green shimmer in Mark’s own.

“It’s alright Ralph. Why don’t you come on over here, and you can say sorry properly.”

Ralph didn’t want to come any closer. Some part of him knew that there was something wrong with Mark, with this whole situation. But while he tried to keep his feet planted, instead, they started shuffling him forward, bit by bit, deeper into the shower, Mark beckoning him closer. The smell grew more and more intense, and Ralph found himself disgusted by it–but the more he smelled it, the harder it became to think about anything else, the harder it was becoming to think at all.

“That’s it, down on your knees, Coach,” Mark said, and pushed him down, while his other hand unzipped the front of his coveralls, pushed them off his shoulders, and then Mark turned around. “Go on Coach, give me a kiss. Show me how sorry you are.” He bent over, pushing his ass into Ralph’s face, and before he could work up the will to pull away, Mark unleashed another fart. Ralph didn’t have a chance–the stench was so direct and so powerful, that the rest of his mind shut down. When Mark stood up and turned around, the older coach was on his knees, listing a bit, drool running out of his mouth, his eyes shimmering green. “There we go, Coach, doesn’t that feel better now?”

The coach nodded slowly.

“You know Coach, you really did me wrong back then. You know that, don’t you? And now…now I know all about your other boys. You feel bad about what you did you me then, don’t you? You’ll do whatever you can to make it up.”

“Yes…Mark.”

“No, you don’t get to call me that anymore. From now on, you call me Master.”

“Yes, Master.”

“That’s much better. It feels good to submit to me. It feels good being my slave. The only way you can get my forgiveness, which you want so badly, is to submit yourself to me. To become my willing, eager slave. Do you understand, Coach?”

He nodded.

“What do you want to be, Coach?”

“Your…slave Sir. I want to make up for my mistakes Sir. I want to serve you…forever Sir…”

“Kiss your Master’s ass, slave.”

Ralph leaned in and planted a kiss right on Mark’s ass, the small part of him left inside screaming desperately, but it no longer had any power. Soon, it wouldn’t even exist.

“Good slave, now get down and kiss my dirty boots. Lick them clean.”

They spent the next few hours alone in the shower, Mark having his new coach slave worship his entire body lovingly, feeding him another blast of gas whenever his hold on him began to diminish. They ended up with the coach lying on the tile floor, Mark’s bare foot pressed against his mouth, while the coach jacked off, pledging his life and eternal obedience to his new Master while he serviced his feet, knowing that this was where he belonged, where he had always belonged. He’d been wandering, lost, these twenty-five years, looking for other young men to fill the hole that he’d always known could only be filled by one person. By his Master. Now, he had him again. He’d do everything he could to keep him happy, anything he could to service him. 

“Once you cum, Slave, you know what that means, right? It means you’ll be mine forever–mind, body, and soul. You’ll never be able to disobey an order from me. You will want to be with me, servicing my body all the time, because it is the only thing that will bring you the filthy pleasure you so desire from now on. Shoot slave–I want to see you cover yourself in your seed!”

With a groan that echoed in the entire locker room, Ralph’s cock exploded all over himself, and when it did, he felt the gas inside him–the presence that the gas was, perhaps–bind itself to his mind, and to his will. He could…feel it. He knew he should be horrified, but all he felt was a tremendous peace. That, and a raging lust he could barely describe for his Master standing over him. “Get dressed coach–let’s go home. We have plans to make.”

“Yes Master,” Ralph said, got up, put his clothes on, and followed Mark out into the night, ready and eager to serve.


Luke Marshall had been working late in his office like usual, and was now on the way out of the building where he worked as the head of the business department. It hadn’t been an easy road here for him, especially since when he’d been hired, back in the early 90’s, he’d been only one of two black professors on the entire campus. He was tall and thin, and known around campus for being an uncompromising fellow–rules were there for a reason, as were morals. Violating either category was a sure way to get on his bad side, and if you were there, well, it was best to just switch majors entirely, rather than try and sway him. It was that conservative streak that had buoyed him this high, however, through any number of trials. He did have his share of secrets, however–and a fair number of hypocrisies he kept locked away tight in his chest, but after so long, it felt entirely natural. He had no reason to expect, as he slipped out of the building and started towards the parking lot, that one of those old secrets, and hypocrisies, was waiting for him.

The quickest path to the lot included an alley between two dorms set rather close together. As he was about to exit the dimly lit corridor, someone stepped out in front of him–no one he could recognize immediately. With the light behind them, they just looked like a looming, broad shouldered shadow. He took a step back in fright, and after a moment, realized who it was–Ralph Anderson, one of the school’s coaches.

“Oh! Ralph…you surprised me…” he said, feeling his cheeks heat with a little blush. Thankfully, against his skin and in the night, the coach wouldn’t be able to see it. Ralph had always…inspired certain feelings in him that Luke had struggled to contain. It had led him, before, to rash decisions. “How…how are you doing? Heading home?”

Ralph stepped forward, more into the light, and Luke realized that something was off about him. The coach’s usually clean shaven face was sporting a thick layer of stubble. His clothes looked rather dirty as well, and when the breeze shifted, Luke caught a whiff of the powerful musk rolling off the coach’s body. Then, there were the eyes. Ralph’s blue eyes had always been a favorite feature of Luke’s–but tonight they were green, and in the dark, they seemed almost like they held a shifting light of their own. “Just out for a walk, is all,” Ralph said, “Fancy running into you though–you know, I have a friend who’s been wanting a word with you, Luke…”

Luke stepped back, and Ralph matched him, pace for pace, until he was backed against the wall. “Ralph, you’re scaring me…”

“Don’t be afraid. Master…he just wants an apology is all. You’ll understand, I promise, everything will be so much better soon…”

Ralph tried to grab him, but Luke had always been quick on his nimble feet, and his thin frame allowed him to slip away before the coach could grab him. Luke took off at a sprint, his long legs carrying him to the parking lot while the coach chased after him–he unlocked the door to his car, climbed in–but before he could even start it up, he heard someone shift in the back seat–and let loose a massive fart. In the rearview mirror, he saw someone sitting there, with the same glowing green eyes Ralph had–and then the stench hit him like a brick. Choking, he clawed at the door handle, but Ralph was there, holding the door shut, leering at him through the window, as the stink weakened his resistances.

“Fuck, that smells good,” Mark said, and let another fart rip, “Gonna get it nice and stinky in here–I think you’re gonna be a bit harder to break than Coach was out there. Just relax, take some deep breaths–you won’t mind it in a few minutes, trust me, Professor Marshall.”

That voice–he knew that voice! How could it be? In the mirror, the fat old stinking man in the backseat looked nothing like Mark–but it had to be, it made too much sense. Luke made a half hearted plea, but his mind was already beginning to go empty, his clawing only half-hearted, and then he was gone, Mark whispering in his ear as Ralph climbed in the passenger seat, and together they started working on their newest victim.

The demon knew the whole story, you see. That Luke had reported Mark and Ralph because he had been lusting after the coach himself. Well, now, he could have him. All he’d have to do is pledge his eternal loyalty to Mark, promise to become his utter slave, and he could have the man he’d always wanted in his heart. It took a while, breaking down all of those morals and rules that Luke had constructed to keep himself standing tall, but before long, he understood how good it could feel to give in. His face buried in Ralph’s musky pit, sucking on his big cock while Ralph urged him on, telling him how good it would be, both of them together, filthy, utterly devoted to their master. At last, Luke came, filling the front of his pants with a load while he worshiped Ralph’s muscular body, the coach urging him on, and in the backseat, Mark just laughed, and smiled–two down, and only one more to go. Then, his revenge would be complete.


Edward Willis didn’t know how this week could get any worse. First, Coach Anderson, after acting strangely for a day, had disappeared from campus. No one had seen him, and he hadn’t told anyone where he was going. Then, a couple days later, Professor Marshall, after working late one night, hadn’t returned to class the next day, and was just as missing as the coach. There had to be some sort of connection, didn’t there? The police were no help, and the press had caught wind of the story now too–this could be a scandal, and Edward had no patience for a scandal right now. What he wanted was answers.

Exhausted from fielding phone calls all morning, he hefted his substantial bulk up from the chair behind his desk, and headed for the bathroom to take a piss. The administrative wing bathroom was usually empty, but today there was a janitor mopping the floor–Edward didn’t take any notice of him, as he headed for the urinal–until the man let loose a massive fart right behind him. Edward was about to tear into him…but something else happened instead. It was hard to recall exactly, but the next thing he recalled clearly, he was alone in the bathroom, the scent of the man’s gas still lingering in the air…and when he looked down, he realized he’d pissed his slacks.

His face turned bright red with embarrassment. He couldn’t let anyone see this! He had to get home immediately and change. Without saying a word to anyone, he took the back stairs, got to his car in the lot, and drove off–but while he had every intention of driving home, he instead found himself driving somewhere else. He found himself growing more and more distressed, the further from his house he got, but he couldn’t figure out how to make himself turn around–there was somewhere he had to go, somewhere important. Somewhere…he could get answers.

He ended up parking back behind a rundown looking bar, a place he had never been to in his life. It was early in the afternoon, and doubtful the place would be open–but he went to the front, knocked, and after a couple of moments, it opened up–and the person who greeted him was none other than Coach Anderson, dressed up like a grungy looking bouncer. He stepped aside without a word, and Edward entered the rather cramped space–behind the bar, sure enough, there was Professor Marshall as well, wearing nothing more than a jockstrap and a leather harness strapped tightly around his lanky frame, getting the place cleaned up. 

“Master’s waiting for you in the bathroom–you’re already late,” Ralph said in a gruff voice, and shoved Edward towards the back of the bar, where there was a sign for a restroom, and inside, waiting for him, was the same janitor from the bathroom at school. 

“What…what is this? What am I doing here?” Edward demanded, and the janitor just smiled.

“You’re almost late for work, is what you are,” Mark said, leering at him. “You didn’t forget your new job already, did you?”

With those words, a crash of memories returned to Edward–how just that morning–after running into the janitor in the bathroom–he’d put his resignation in with the university, effective immediately. How he’d known that he had a new job starting here, this afternoon. How…how he was going to be working as a urinal, here in the bar from now on…wasn’t he? “M…Master, what’s going on? I don’t…I don’t understand what’s happening?” Edward muttered, as he stripped off his suit, still soaked with piss, and got on his knees next to the trough, while Mark handcuffed him to two rings screwed into the wall. 

“Here, I know what will help my little piss pig out,” Mark said, turned around, and let off a massive fart right in Edward’s face–and with his hands bound, there was nowhere he could run as the stench assaulted him, and he remembered more. How he…he loved piss more than anything. How he was nothing more than a fat, old piss pig, luck enough to have a job doing exactly what he loved, at the filthiest gay bar in town. 

Mark got down and started working Edward’s cock, helping him settle into his new role, and he called in his bouncer and bartender to give the new urinal his first loads of piss that evening–juts tasting the stuff sent Edward into a sexual frenzy, and without even touching his cock, he exploded, cum puddling below him as his eyes turned the same bright green as the other three, his mind rotting away inside his mind until all that remained of the dean was a snorting, grunting, piss-starved glutton, aching and begging for more from his Master–who gave him a load of his own.

Inside, the demon smiled–this is exactly what he’d needed, a new place to grow, and thrive. The locker room had been…a delight, but there would be so much more opportunity here, especially with four thralls at his disposal. He would spread his filth all across the city, into as many men as he could. Mark had had his revenge, at last, and the demon had what it longed for as well–power, and a kingdom of his own.

A New Teddy

Toby got his keys out of his pocket and hoped that his roommate, Kyle, wouldn’t be home tonight. It was a silly hope really, because Kyle almost never left their apartment if he could help it, but given the fact that Kyle had brought up rent again with him this morning, Toby was really hoping to avoid that conversation if he could help it.

Toby had been in a bit of a bind, earlier this year. Between going to school as a full time student and trying to juggle two jobs, he’d been struggling to find somewhere to live, hoping from roommate situation to roommate situation, all of them terrible for various reasons. In the midst of this, he had met Kyle one night, a friend of a friend, and Kyle had rather generously offered to let Toby live in his apartment with him rent free. 

When he’d met him, Toby had assumed that Kyle was maybe a few years older than him–all he’d known about him was that he’d graduated from his college a earlier than him. It wasn’t until he’d moved in that he’d learned Kyle was actually in his thirties, which made the fact that he still hung around college kids a little stranger, but he was in too deep to worry too much about it. Kyle worked from home as a tech consultant with several large firms and raked in a ton of money, but while he could have gotten a larger place, he didn’t. Just a modest two bedroom apartment. Instead he spent the rest of his money on three things–video games, porn, and weed. That, and friends when he was out. Going to the bar with him, it was easy to understand why Kyle was so popular with kids on campus, especially when he found out he also helped them score fake IDs on occasion.

Of course, Toby didn’t know any of this about him when Kyle had suggested this. At the time, it had seemed like an amazing opportunity, and in all honesty, it still was. Even though Kyle was a total slob, had no real sense of privacy, was about as inconsiderate of a roommate as you could find–at the end of the day the place was free! Free could grease a lot of wheels, and help you put up with a lot of bullshit. The problem now was that it wasn’t going to be free anymore.

Apparently, Kyle had been dropped by a client the month before, and while he had a few new ones lined up for the near future, his income had taken a bit of a hit. He’d asked Toby to start chipping in on rent this month–the only problem, was that it was also the start of the quarter. Toby had spent all of his money on books and supplies for his classes before Kyle had dropped this little nugget on him. He might have been able to swing it, but Toby had lost one of his jobs a few months before, and had almost no cash to spare. He’d tried to explain all of this to Kyle, of course, hoping he’d be understanding, but while he’d been nice enough, he had put his foot down. He wanted 500 dollars a month, no question about it. 

Now, Toby was officially past due, and Kyle, while still friendly, was being insistent. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, and found his roommate there on the couch, snacking and gaming away like he always was. Kyle was not a particularly handsome fellow. He weighed almost 400 pounds, was covered in hair, and wore almost nothing around the apartment. They were both gay, but Toby wasn’t interested in him, and Kyle had never suggested they have sex–though from the sounds of things in his room, Kyle got off several times a day by himself. He had a thick neckbeard, wore big chunky glasses, and always seemed to have an acne problem. He showered rarely, and so always had a cloud of musk following him, as well as the constant smell of weed. Not ideal–but it had been free, and desperation could convince you to tolerate a lot.

“Hey man, how was the day?” Kyle asked as he took his shoes off at the door.

“It was alright I guess, just long,” Toby said, “I’m gonna get to bed, I have an early class tomorrow.”

“Sure thing. Hey, you got that rent man? You’re a few days late, and you owe me.”

Toby gulped–no such luck. “Look, Kyle, any chance I could start paying you next month? The quarter just started, and I had to buy supplies already.”

Kyle paused the game, looked over his shoulder, and stared Toby down across the room. “Man, you owe me. If you can’t pay rent, then you’re going to have to pay me some other way.” The stare was…intense. Toby had never seen Kyle look like that, ever, and he was a bit creeped out by it. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Kyle turned around and returned to his game, and said nothing else. Toby took his bag to his room, set it down, and figured he’d have to come up with the money somehow–there just wasn’t much of a choice. Five hundred was still cheap–and when Kyle found a new client, maybe he’d let Kyle stay for free again. Hopefully. Or maybe he should find some other place. Kyle was generous, but living with him was a pain. If it wasn’t going to be free, he should just ditch him. 

Toby did some reading for his class in the morning, and then got ready for bed. Kyle didn’t say anything to him when he left his room to use the bathroom, and all he could think about was Kyle’s weird stare. Yeah–he was done here. Figure out a way to pay him, and then get the hell out of here as soon as he could. He’d obviously overstayed his welcome. He climbed into bed, and it wasn’t long before he was sound asleep.

But sometime in the middle of the night, he woke up. He wasn’t sure what had disturbed him–a sound, something touching him, or even just a bad feeling–but he opened his eyes, and found something looming over him in the dark. “Fuck Kyle, what the fuck are you doing in my room?” he asked, reached over and turned on the light he had on his nightstand, but it wasn’t Kyle standing there–it was a giant teddy bear.

It was easily seven feet tall, and larger than any man Toby had ever seen before. He had no idea what it was doing there, and it was just standing over his bed, looking down at him. The strangest part was that the bear’s front had a massive rip down the front, and the inside was…hollow. There was no stuffing inside of him, and yet somehow the bear was standing up perfectly fine. It had to be some kind of prank or something by Kyle, right? Was this because he wouldn’t pay him rent? What kind of weirdo did something like this anyway? The bear was standing between him and the door. He got up out of the bed, and the bear slowly moved with him, his beady eyes following him as he moved. Was Kyle controlling the thing? Was he inside it? He couldn’t be inside of it–the thing was empty! Toby didn’t want anything else to do with this place–he’d move out tomorrow, he didn’t care where he’d go, but before he could get out of his room, the bear grabbed him from behind in a hug, and started stuffing him into it’s hollow body, through the rip in it’s guts.

Toby screamed and tried to pull away, but thick threads from inside the bear’s body shot out, wrapped their way around his hands and arms, and tugged them backwards, drawing them up into the bear’s own arms. More threads wound their way around Toby’s neck, choking him, forcing his head up into the bear’s head, while the bear’s arms, with his own arms inside of them, hoisted up his legs and dropped them inside the bear’s cavity. Still screaming, he looked down and saw that the threads were zipping across the cavity, sewing him up inside the bear’s body while he struggled to get free. 

As soon as the cavity was stitched up, everything went dark–and then, the fluff that had been mysterious absent inside the bear’s body began to appear. It started at the feet, crowding in around Toby’s legs, and began to fill up in a matter of moments. At first he could still move around a bit, but the more fluff there was, the harder it was for him to move at all–and soon the pressure became crushing–more intense than should have been possible from light fluff like this. It was like the skin of the bear was starting to shrink, pressing in against him on all sides, the fluff pushing up to his neck, and then above his neck, and then surrounding his entire head, choking him. He held his breath for as long as he could, tried to struggle, but he couldn’t feel his arms or his legs anymore. There was just…fluff, as the bear shrunk down further and further, choking him out, making it impossible to breathe. His tongue was like cotton. Was it that he couldn’t see, or had his eyes dissolved into the same fluff as the rest of him? “This has to be a dream,” was the last thing he thought to himself, clinging to that hope as he passed out…and then he woke up.

There was a moment of relief. It had just been a fucked up nightmare summoned from some deep part of his subconscious, and now, he was going to be ok. He was lying facedown in bed, his blanket on top of him, feeling very warm. Too warm, really. And there was a smell. Something familiar, but not a smell that should be in his room. Heady and musky, with a strong undertone of weed. It smelled like Kyle, he realized after a moment. The blanket was also too heavy. So heavy, that when he tried to roll over, he couldn’t. It was heavy, and warm, and…and was it growling? There was a sound, wasn’t there? Like a growl. Or like a snore.

Whatever was lying on top of him, he quickly discovered it was too heavy for him to move, or to get out from under. He felt so weak somehow, and his arms and legs felt numb, probably from whatever was pressing down on him. It wasn’t long before he started to panic and squirmed harder, and he finally felt the bulk pressing down on him shift. It wasn’t a blanket–whatever it was, it was alive.

“Oh, looks like someone decided to wake up.” It was Kyle’s voice, groggy with sleep. Toby tried to get his arms and legs to work, to roll himself over, but all he could do was flail awkwardly–his limbs refused to work right, and he couldn’t seem to bend them in any sort of helpful direction. A massive hand gripped his arm and turned him over, and now that he was lying face up, he found himself staring up at a massive Kyle. How on earth did he get so damn big, and why couldn’t he move right? “You make a much cuter bear that a person,” Kyle said, “Here, let me show you. You’re probably a little confused.”

Kyle grabbed him by the arm again, and this time lifted Toby into the air like he weighed nothing to him. As he swung Toby around, all Toby felt was a tremendous sense of vertigo. He was in Kyle’s room, but the room was huge! It clicked then–it wasn’t that Kyle had grown, or that his room was big. It was that Toby was suddenly much, much smaller. Kyle’s hands gripped him around his belly, and he held Toby up in front of a mirror, and as hard as Toby tried to scream, no sound came out of his mouth. He was looking in the mirror at Kyle holding a stuffed teddy bear. He was probably about two and a half feet tall, with a big fuzzy gut, glass eyes, and a smile stitched across his face. He was the stuffed teddy bear! The dream–it had been real! He tried his hardest to squirm out of Kyle’s grip, but all he could do was flail awkwardly, stuffed arms swinging to and fro, legs pumping the air. The effect was rather cute–and hopeless.

“You know, it’s dangerous, owing a warlock something,” Kyle said. “The rules say I can’t do anything to cause harm to a person–unless they owe me a debt of some kind. And you, Toby, owed me for rent. In exchange, you get to be my new bear–I finally wore out my last one.”

Toby knew what Kyle was talking about–he’d seen the ragged old bear that Kyle slept with a few times, as well as the shelf of other old bears above his bed. 

“You though–I thought I’d try a few new things with you. You’re the best model yet, I think. Why don’t we take you for a spin?” 

Kyle set him down on the bed, sitting up, and before he could try and do anything, Kyle reached behind him, tugged on a cord hanging off his back, and pulled it away from him. It began to retract, and without knowing how it was happening, Toby heard himself start talking. “Kyle! Kyle, what the fuck did you do to me? Change me back, I’ll get you the money, I’ll figure…it…out…I…” The cord ran out, and Toby’s voice ran down. It hadn’t sounded like he was really speaking, more like some recording coming out of his chest. 

“Oh yeah, that’s hot…Gonna love hearing you moan, Teddy, while I’m on top of you, with my cock buried in your tight little ass…” 

Kyle came closer, reached down, and started rubbing a few fingers across Toby’s fuzzy crotch. Toby’s bear body didn’t have a cock or balls or anything, but as soon as Kyle touched him, his whole mind was suddenly awash with pleasure. Kyle kept rubbing, and with his other hand, pulled on Toby’s drawstring again. “Oh fuck, why the fuck does that feel so fucking good? It feels like I’m about to cum, fuck, it…almost…hurts…”

“Don’t worry Teddy, I don’t want you to suffer. You’re going to be making me so happy, you know? I’ve never really liked…people. They’re too complicated, and they never do what I want them to do, not really. But you’re not a person anymore–you’re just my special Teddy.”

Kyle flipped Toby over, and laid him on the edge of his bed so that his legs were hanging off, and his teddy bear ass was exposed. He felt something press against the fuzz, and then it pushed inside of him, and again, a burst of pleasure pushed everything else from Toby’s mind. “Oh fuck! I never made a teddy with an actual hole before–always just made a little rip, but fuck, this is fucking nice…” Kyle muttered, as he slid his cock in and out of the silicone sheath implanted in Toby’s stuffed ass. “How does it feel Teddy? You like having your master’s cock inside your furry bear hole? You want me to fill you up with a big load of cum, get that stuffing of yours all sticky with my load?”

Kyle pulled the drawstring, and again, Toby’s voice came out of the bear’s body, “Oh fuck! Of fuck, that feels so fucking good, oh god, oh fucking…god…”

“I’m your fucking god now, Teddy. I own your stuffed ass, and you’re going to be taking all of my fucking loads from now on.”

Toby felt betrayed by his own voice somehow. When Kyle pulled the string, it wasn’t what he wanted to say that came out, exactly. It was…it was more like something speaking through him, using his voice, mocking him. It did feel good, that was true. It felt almost too good. The more Kyle fucked him, in fact, that pleasure was building–but there was no outlet. It felt so good he ached. It felt so good that it felt like every other part of his mind was going to be crushed by it. He wanted to cum. That’s what it really felt like. Like he’d been edging himself for an hour, and now was trying so hard to get himself over the edge, but no matter what he did, nothing would happen. He didn’t have a cock anymore, after all. Could he even have an orgasm? If this is what it felt like to get fucked now? It felt like just having an orgasm would tear his mind to shreds. He both craved it, and also didn’t know if he’d even be able to survive it. Chances were, it would just drive him mad if it lasted much longer.

He didn’t have to worry for much longer, in any case. After a few more thrusts, Kyle drove his cock in deep, head popping out the other end of the sheath, deep in Toby’s guts, and unleashed a torrent of cum into his stuffing. Toby could feel it in there, gooping everything together, and a moment later, he felt something else. A warmth suffusing his entire body, from his flailing arms, to his face, to his fat, fuzzy feet. Everything was getting hazy somehow. Like…Like he was getting high off of Kyle’s cum. But the pleasure was still there–aching inside him. Dulled now, but still so frustrating, and when Kyle pulled his cock free, it didn’t help. Instead, he just felt so fucking empty. He felt a tug on his back, and Kyle pulled the drawstring again, and that voice–so close to his own, but twisted somehow, came out of him: “Oh fuck Master, fuck me some more, your dirty toy feels so empty, please…I…need…your…c-ock…”

“Oh don’t worry you stupid bear, you’ll get more later. How’s it feel, Teddy? You feeling good? Don’t you like the way my cum makes you feel? You were always such a wet blanket, you know that? Complaining about how much weed I was smoking in the apartment. It’s my fucking apartment, you know? Well, I thought this might help you loosen up a bit, get you feeling really good, all day long. Or at least for a few hours at a time. Once it dries, you’re going to start jonsing for another fuck. You’re going to need me inside you whether you like it or not. For now though, I need to smoke something myself, and then it’s time for some breakfast.”

Kyle got up to go find his weed and eat something, abandoning Toby on the bed. This was his chance, right? Maybe…he could escape somehow. Get help. But his high was only growing more intense, his vision starting to swirl, and he was still so weak. He tried to manipulate his body as best he could, but all he managed to do was fall off the edge of the bed and land on the floor. It didn’t hurt, thankfully, but on his back there was nothing he could do, other than stare at the ceiling spinning around him, feel the dull ache of his groin, Kyle’s cum slowly drying inside of him. He came down after about an hour, and Kyle was right–he did feel terrible. The ache in his crotch hadn’t lessened one little bit, and he felt…hungry, of all things. Hungry for cum. Hungry for Kyle’s cum. It was eating away at his guts, and there was nothing he could do, aside from lay there on the floor of Kyle’s bedroom, next to a pair of dirty underwear, smelling his musk rolling off of them. He had to get a handle on himself, but as soon as Kyle came back into the room, all he felt was relief at the sight of him.

Kyle fucked him again, slower this time, relishing it, pulling on Toby’s drawstring over and over, making his little stuffed bear beg for his mercy, beg for his cum, promise to be a good little toy forever and ever. Toby hated hearing his voice saying those things, but the more he heard them, he found them growing more and more true in his heart–or what remained of his heart. Kyle came again, and left his bear there to enjoy his high while Kyle got some work done. From where he was lying on the bed, on his back, he could look up and see the other bears on the shelf. Earlier, they had been sitting there, looking straight ahead, but now they were all leaning forward, looking down at him.

Were they jealous? Probably. Kyle wouldn’t put him up there, right? No–of course he wouldn’t. Toby was the best model yet–and…and as long as he kept his Master happy, he’d keep getting his cum, and he’d be able to stave off the ache for a little while longer. Toby caught himself, horrified at what he’d been thinking. He had to get out of this somehow–someone would come looking for him right? At the school? His family? But no one ever came. Day after day, they all passed the same for Toby, or Teddy, as Kyle called him, and Toby started calling himself that too.

The first year was great–or as great as it could be for a fucktoy like him. Then, during a rough session one evening, his drawstring broke, and Teddy never spoke again. Kyle didn’t mind. It had been hot, but it didn’t really matter that much to him one way or another, and he just kept on using him, but he was a bit disappointed, and Teddy panicked–his voice was gone, but he was still there. Teddy was covered with stains now, lumpy and misshapen from all of his stuffing being stuck together with Kyle’s cum. One drunken night, Kyle pissed in him as well, and that…well, nothing could really get the smell off of him, and Teddy could tell that Kyle just wasn’t looking at him, or fucking him, like he used to. And then, there was someone new. A roommate, a guy named Terry. Then, Teddy knew. He knew that he was too dirty, too gross. He’d been worn out, and a few months later, he too was up on the shelf, and Kyle had a brand new teddy bear to play with instead, and all Teddy could do was sit there watch his beautiful Master plow his new bear’s hole, and ache. 

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 8)

They stood in their small living room, the pills settling in their stomach, wondering when they were supposed to start feeling something. “Is…somethin’ supposed tah be happenin?” Kevin asked, looking around.

“Uh…I think somethin’ is man, look at yer gut,” Alex replied.

The last few months on the road hadn’t been particularly kind to Kevin’s waistline. Spending so much time on the road didn’t exactly leave him a lot of time to try and keep the shape he’d had when he was living in the city, and the constant diet of truck stop fare only made matters worse. He’d remarked a few times to Alex that he was a bit disgusted by it, but as he watched, his gut was pushing out his shirt, making it ride up, and he let out a little groan of dismay. “Nah, fuckin’ hell, I don’ wanna get fatter!”

He tried to push back against it, but nothing he did made a difference, as the weight piled on him. He’d started out around 200 pounds, and after a few minutes, and a few hastily removed clothes later, he peaked at around 350–a substantial gut hanging down over his waist, two heavy moobs where his chest had been, rolls under his arms, thighs touching, and two prominent chins under his round, puffy face. 

Alex, on the other hand, was experiencing something rather different. He’d bulked up a bit since he’d started working at the garage, just from the physical labor he’d never had to do before, but this was something else entirely. Every part of him was swelling with muscle, his chest, his arms, his ass, his legs, everything. He flexed, and he could…feel the strength running through him, and looking over at Kevin, he was almost embarrassed by his good fortune–at least until he felt his cock twitch, and start to shrink. “What the hell?” he muttered, and saw that his rather average cock was indeed shrinking up into his body–until he was left with a two inch long nub, wider than it was long, with a sizable sack of balls hanging underneath it. A foreskin grew over it as well, making the whole thing seem even smaller, like it literally had slid inside his body. He looked over at Kevin, and saw that he’d hadn’t noticed his own new addition yet–the eleven inch cock swinging under his gut, with balls even larger than Kevin’s below it. 

Kevin looked over at him, then down at his cock, and realized what must have happened. He reached down, and while he couldn’t see his new member, he could feel it–one hand couldn’t even reach around it, and touching it was electric. “Fuck…that’s…I ain’t felt one that big before, gotta say…”

Alex was distracted from their dick measuring by a new sensation–a body wide itch. From the look on Kevin’s face, and from his discomfort, it was clear he was feeling something similar, but the results appearing on their bodies were entirely different. Alex saw the body hair on his body–something he’d never had much of–start to spread and grow in thicker and thicker. Across his chest, down his firm muscle gut, all over his legs, over his shoulders and down his back, down his arms and onto the backs of his hands, and even on his knuckles. His face wasn’t spared either, and a heavy beard sprouted all over, growing up high on his cheeks, long enough to reach his belly. His hair grew in as well, and grew long into a heavy mane of hair. Then came the first prick, in his ears. He reached up and found two gauges in his ears, and then more and more pricks came, as heavy metal rings, bars, and pins appeared all over his body. His tiny cock and balls weren’t spared either–his cock had a massive doorknocker as a PA, almost larger than his cock was, and his balls looked like a pincushion from all the metal in them.

Kevin, in the other hand, found himself losing the body hair that he did have–and in its place, tattoos were appearing on his skin. Not particularly flattering one’s either–everything was about being a redneck, being a trucker, being a glutton, being a smoker, or being a total sex pig. The He ran one hand over his scalp, and all of the hair on his head fell away, leaving him with a perfectly smooth cueball, and his scruff from not bothering to shave the last while disappeared as well–making him seem even fatter. Tattoos appeared on his scalp now, over his ears on across the back of his head, things he’d never be able to hide, no matter how hard he tried. 

But something else was happening to them–they were looking at each other, and they found themselves impossibly attracted to one another, and also incredibly horny. “Git over here, and put that giant cock in my ass, boy,” Alex said, and bent over the couch. Kevin didn’t need to be told twice, and after lubing up his tattooed cock with amble engine oil, just how Alex liked it, he rammed it into his muscular ass, and Alex nearly screamed from the size of it, but he couldn’t stop. 

The last changes were finishing as they fucked, the hair all over Alex picking up a bit of grey as he grew a bit older, and Kevin’s skin softening as he lost a few years, back to his mid-twenties. Alex found himself taking charge of the scene, and Kevin was more than happy to do as he ordered, their positions in the relationship shifting slightly. Despite his small cock, Alex tended to call the shots from now on, and Kevin was more than happy to do as the older muscle mechanic told him to do.

After they both came, they pulled apart and took stock of what had happened to them, both of them horrified, and yet also turned on by their new bodies. It was Kevin who noticed the new envelope that had appeared, and handed it to Alex to tear open and read:

We hope you enjoy your new bodies you two, we think you’re a perfect match now. They do, however, come with some new resolutions to enjoy as well, of course

Alex, you resolve to get fucked or fisted at least three times a day from now on. Since your cock isn’t really good for topping anyone anymore, you’re going to become obsessed with getting as much dick, and hands, in your ass as you can.

Kevin, you resolve to become a gainer from now on. You won’t be able to get that big dick of yours hard unless your stomach is stuffed full, and the act of someone else feeding you is going to turn you on more than most anything else from now on.

Enjoy you two–you’ve made so much progress. You should be proud of yourselves!

Alex moaned, reached around, and felt his ass–he needed something else inside it, desperately. Preferably Kevin’s massive cock, man, that boy could fuck! “Come on Kev, get that cock hard again, Daddy’s ass needs another fuck.”

Kevin nodded, but then a loud grumble came from his gut, and he gripped it, surprised by the hunger that overwhelmed him in a moment. “Fuck daddy, think we could eat first? I’m starvin’.”

Alex growled a bit, annoyed that his boy’s insatiable hunger was getting in the way of his own cravings, but nodded, and ordered some pizzas for them both. First, he’d stuff his boy’s face, and then his boy would spend the rest of the night stuffing his hole. That was the way it ought to be, right? He felt like he was…forgetting something, but he had more important things to think about from now on.


Alright, that brings Alex and Kevin’s tale to a close. Let’s do one more, I think. Here’s a poll of the other three options I suggested last time. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as usual!

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 7)

“Uh…Alex? Where are we?”

Kevin had set up in bed, only to find himself staring at a rather unfamiliar wall. It was not the wall of the condo that he shared with Kevin, most certainly. The room was…smaller, for one thing, and outside the dingy window–much smaller than the large ones he was used to–were the sounds of songbirds, not the usual call of city traffic below them. He got up and looked out the window, and found himself looking out the side of a small double wide, set down on some property in a mobile home park, and beyond that, woods. This was not the city anymore. 

Alex had left the bedroom and gone into the rest of the small house, and came back. “This…isn’t where he live, how the hell did we get here?”

Kevin looked around and spotted the envelope on the dresser. He tore it open, and read it aloud:

We here at New You Resolutions feel that, given the current lifestyle you two are enjoying, your current residence and former employers were not the sort best suited to two men like you. With that in mind, we feel it would be best for the two of you to relocate. As you can see, we took care of moving you while you were sleeping. I’m sure you will both enjoy your new residence much more. Here, as well, are a couple of resolutions to help you settle in:

— We resolve to behave, act, and speak like two men who have been poor white trash all their lives. We will speak in a heavy drawl, and by next year we resolve to completely forget that we had ever lived in the city at all.

Given the fact that your prior possessions, savings, and investments are currently being liquidated for use by the New You Corporation, it is rather important that each of you acquire a new means of employment. Not to worry, New You Resolutions has already matched each of you with a great employer–and each of you has an envelope of your own to ease you into your new positions. You start today though, so you’d both best be on the road as soon as you can.

P.S. Remember, all of your other resolutions still apply! We’ve updated your gear selection to be a bit more rural–more leather and industrial rubber, less spandex and latex since that no longer is the sort of thing a couple rednecks like you will be wearing.

“There ain’t no way they coulda moved us all the way o’er here without us…” Alex said, and then slapped his hands over his mouth. That…was not his voice–how in the hell had that happened?

Kevin didn’t really want to try and respond, and hear what he might sound like as well. Instead, he handed Alex one of the smaller notes tucked into the first card, the one with Alex’s name on it. Kevin looked at his own, and they read them silently. Here was Kevin’s:

Kevin, you are going to be working, from now on, as a long haul trucker! No need to worry–as an owner-operator, you’re your own boss, and New You Resolutions will be sure to supply you with regular work. In addition, you have a few new resolutions:

— I resolve to stop at every rest area when I drive. I will not leave until I have either had sex with another man there, or until I have drank a load of piss from another man there.

— I resolve to have a smoke fetish. I chain smoke cigarettes or cigars in my truck. The sight of another man smoking is irresistible to me, and I will feel compelled to try and have sex with them.

Alex’s note was as follows:

Alex, you are going to be working as a mechanic from now on! We’ve taken the liberty of getting you a job at Mick’s service station down the road. No need to worry, Mick’s on our team, and he’ll be more than happy to help you satisfy your sex quota while Kevin is trucking. In addition, here are a couple other resolutions for you.

— I resolve to start smoking, along with Kevin, though my fetish will not be as strong as his.

— I resolve to have a grunge fetish. In particular, I love coating myself in oil and grease before jacking off or having sex. From now on, the only lube I will use during sex is engine oil.

Alex looked up, and Kevin was already getting dressed, though he was struggling a bit as well. He tugged on a pair of filthy jeans, a wifebeater, a leather vest, a trucker hat, gave Kevin a pitiful look, and then left. Outside, his cab was parked next to the double wide, and though he’d never driven anything like it before, it came naturally to him, and he was off down the road. He didn’t even notice the cigarette in his mouth until he was a few miles off–he couldn’t even recall lighting it, it felt so natural, and the taste of the smoke was getting him hard as a rock. Thankfully the first rest area came quick, and he was compelled to pull over, and start cruising for dick–it didn’t take long for him to strike up a conversation with another trucker on a smoke break, and take him back to his cab for a blowjob. Then, he was back on the road. 

He picked up his load a little before noon, and then he was off–two days there, and two days back. The rest areas all blurred together. At night, in the back of his cab, he’d smoke and jack off, thinking about Alex, and shoot a load all over his little mattress, and then pissed on it too. At least it would smell like home soon enough. Four days later he was back home, finally. Exhausted, he pulled in next to the old pickup Alex drove, went inside, and found him there on the couch, watching TV, his cock soaked with motor oil, slowly jacking off and smoking a cigarette at the same time.

Alex’s first work week had been just as eventful. He’d pulled on his filthy coveralls and work boots, along with a leather cap, and then driven over to Mick’s garage to meet his new boss. True to New You’s word, Mick was just as filthy and greasy as Alex and Kevin, and the two of them wasted no time getting to know each other in Mick’s filthy office, before getting to work. Alex was a natural, and by the end of the night, exhausted, he’d agreed to go out with Mick for a night cap–and they’d ended up at the little porn shop, getting their greasy cock’s sucked off in the gloryholes by who knew who, and then gone home. Alex arrived back, took out a cigar and started smoking it, noting all of the ashtrays that had appeared around the room, and figured there was no way out of this new habit either.

They were so relieved to see each other, that Kevin hoped right onto Alex’s greasy cock and rode it, both of them sharing smoky kisses while they fucked for the rest of the evening, and then for the rest of the weekend while they were at it. Then, come Monday, Alex went back to the garage, and Kevin drove off again for another long trek.

They fell into a routine easily enough. They would force each other to talk about their old lives, just so they could hold onto them, but more and more often, they were forgetting details, entire histories, and finding them replaced with all sorts of lewd tales of their time here in the trailer park, and in the small town they were on the edge of. Mick would come over with some regularity and they would all play together, or head over to the porn shop to suck and fuck at the gloryholes. It was a few months more before the next envelope arrived, signalling another round of changes:

Now that your sex lives are much more interesting, we feel like the two of you could use a little more character as well. Besides, like they say, opposites attract, right?

Inside the card was a pill pack, with a green pill and a red pill, and directions for each of them to take one–but nothing about what the pills would do to them. Alex took the red one, Kevin took the green one, and they swallowed them together–wondering what the company had in store for them now.


Alright, so this poll is a little odd. Below, you’ll find a list of opposite qualities.  The ones that get the most votes will have the most extreme changes. So, for example, if Hairy—Smooth is the top result, one character will have a full pelt, while the other won’t have a hair on their body. Changes in the middle will be less extreme, and changes at the bottom of the rankings will be left out, or the characters will both fall on the middle of the spectrum. As for which quality affects which character…well, that’s for me to decide! You pick the intensity, and I’ll figure out how to apply them. You all have three votes, and Patrons have their bonus poll over here!

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 6)

“Well, what is it?” Alex asked.

Kevin gulped, and read the note aloud:

Here’s your next resolution:

— We resolve only have sex with dirty, unwashed, musky men. We will no longer be sexually interested in anyone cleaner than we are, and we resolve to become as dirty as possible.

Now don’t fret! We here at New You Resolutions know that resolutions only become possible with a bit of help. We’ve already taken to liberty of making a few modifications to your wardrobe and your apartment to make living with your new interests easier than ever. Why don’t you go into your bedroom and check things out?

Kevin dropped the note on the counter, his face white. “What the fuck is this shit?”

Alex pulled him into a hug, hoping to make him feel better, but Kevin…smelled something, and without really thinking about it, pushed his nose into his boyfriend’s armpit. It was a bit musky after their sex eariler, and Alex felt his cock twitch in excitement–not much, but enough that he pushed Alex away from him in surprise.

“What was that about?” Alex asked.

“Sorry, you…I…I don’t know, I…should we call the cops?”

“No, it’s just some dumb prank.”

“But what…what could be in the bedroom?”

“Probably nothing, come on, let’s just check together,” Alex said, and led the way into the bedroom.

Nothing appeared to be out of sorts, but when they stepped into the room, next to their shared dresser, they both caught of whiff of some stench that made their noses twitch. It should have disgusted them–they knew that–but something in them had changed. The musky smell was making them hard, and horny. Alex pulled open the top drawer of the dresser, looked inside, and saw that all of their clean socks and underwear were gone–replaced with filthy, cum and piss stained briefs, boxers, undershirts, and socks. He slammed the drawer shut again, and looked at Kevin with his eyes wide, and then saw the envelope on top of the dresser. He tore into it and read it:

Doesn’t that smell better than all of that clean underwear you had in there before? You should check out your closet too, see what else we left you, once you’re done reading these other resolutions for you two:

— We resolve to no longer wash our clothing. Out of the apartment, we will always wear the dirtiest underwear and socks we can find under our suits. Whenever anyone notices how we smell, we will feel pride in our musk, and also incredibly horny.

— We resolve that, when at home, we must be wearing at least three pieces of fetish gear. Outside, we must always have at least one piece on our bodies somewhere, even if it’s under our clothes.

— We resolve to shoot at least two loads of cum a day onto either our dirty underwear, our fetish gear, or our bed, in addition to the two times we have sex each day.

Why don’t you go look in the closet, get geared up, and then meet us in the bathroom?

Kevin went to the closet door and threw it open. Usually, all that was in there were their suits for work, and there were, thankfully, a few of them still there. Most of the space inside was now taken up by a sizable collection of fetish gear: rubber, leather, spandex, gloves, boots, hats, more than either of them had ever seen in their life, and all of it smelled about as dirty as the nasty underwear in the drawer.

“I’m not…wearing that shit, I’m not!” Kevin said, but neither of them could stop themselves. Kevin pulled on a yellow rubber tanktop, some spandex compression shorts that reeked of the gym, and some rubber waders. Alex grabbed a leather jockstrap, a leather biker jacket that stank of beer and cigarettes, and some leather gloves. Then, they went to the bathroom, where sure enough, the shower had disappeared entirely, and one last envelope waited for them.

You’ve probably noticed the changes to the bathroom at this point. Here’s your last two resolutions:

— We resolve to no longer shower or bathe in any way. The dirtier we become, the hornier and cruder we resolve to become as well.

— We resolve to no longer waste our piss in the toilet–from now on, the only place we will piss is in each other’s mouths, in our bed, or in our pants. Each of us resolve to only cum with the smell of piss around us, or with the taste of piss in our mouths.

Enjoy you two! We’ll check back in with you in a few months. All the best from your friends at New You Resolutions!

Kevin balled up the letter and chucked it in the corner of the room where the shower had been. “This is fucking insane, I can’t believe–” he started to say, when Kevin shoved his face against the yellow rubber tanktop he was wearing and sniffed it.

“Fuck, it…smells like someone pissed all over this thing, I…I gotta fuckin’ smell it…”

Kevin tried to push Alex off him, but the smell was getting to him too, in the enclosed space, and it wasn’t long before the two of them were fucking again for the second time that day. When they were finished, they just sat in their bedroom in their gear, unable to pry it off themselves, wondering how in the world they were going to get through the next few months.


Kevin rolled over, and groaned. One of them had pissed the bed in the night, from the heady scent of piss in the air, and the wet spot he’d just found when he’d rolled over. Alex was still asleep, so he wrapped one rubber gloved hand around his cock and jacked off quickly, adding a load of cum to the puddle of piss in the middle of the mattress.

It had been four months at this point. They’d tried to keep things normal for as long as they could, but the dirtier they’d gotten, the harder it had become to resist pushing things…further. More and more often, their lack of hygiene was noticed at their workplaces, and as humiliating as it was, neither of them could help the feeling of pride that welled up inside them knowing how filthy they both were becoming, and how much they enjoyed it. Kevin was the first to be let go, towards the end of February. He pissed himself in the middle of a presentation, and that was that. Alex had managed to hang onto his job a little longer, only because he could work from home. But working at home meant he was constantly tempted by Kevin into more and more sex, he fell more and more behind, and it wasn’t long before he was let go as well. The last month had been hopeless, both of them sinking deeper and deeper into filth and depravity, no longer even caring about who they’d been at the beginning of the year. They just…wanted to be dirty, more than anything else.

Alex woke up a few minutes later, with Kevin’s face buried in his crack, eating out his stank ass. Kevin fucked him, and Alex shot his own load into the mattress under him, and then they got out of their filthy bed to start the day–only to spot the envelope on the dresser.

It was time for the two dirty men to find a couple of occupations more suitable to their hygiene standards–what sort of jobs are in store for them?


Here’s the next poll! Kevin and Alex are going to be getting two different jobs–one is going to be the top result from the public poll, and the other will be the top result from the patron only poll. You get two votes! Be sure to use them both. The bonus poll for patrons is over here!

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 4)

Like the other envelopes, it was waiting for him downstairs, after breakfast. He was up to four pitchers of shake each morning now, and Jim found himself relishing it, enjoying how full he felt. It seemed impossible to believe how different he was now, but was this really worse than what he’d had? He didn’t have to worry about work, didn’t have to worry about other people. Just him, his videos, his fans, his massive cock and hairy body, and nothing else. What could the company possibly have in mind for him now? He tore open the envelope, and found out:

Looks like you’re coming along great Jim, but we’re worried that you’re…stalling, a bit. It isn’t your fault of course, but there’s only so far one man can take himself. So, here’s another resolution for you:

— I resolve to find a partner and encourager dedicated to worshiping me, and making me as fat as possible.

We’re sure a few of your fans would be more than happy to help out–maybe you should ask them?

Someone…else? Jim didn’t know what to think about that, in all honesty. He honestly couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen someone else in real life, and not on the other side of a computer screen. Had…had it really been his boss? Was that the last human face he’d seen since all of this had started? He hauled himself up to his office, sat down at his computer, and saw that one of his regular chat and cam buddies was around.

His name was Carl, and he was a massive fellow, though in a different sort of way than Jim was. He was a powerlifter, obsessed with getting as muscular and fat as he could, and he was obsessed with Jim’s body–almost to an unhealthy degree. But with that new resolution in mind…Jim found himself pushing, and suggesting that Carl, who only lived one state over, come and visit him for a weekend. They could make a couple of videos together, maybe, and Jim…was desperate to feel a real life fist in his loose hole. Dildos were great, but…but fuck, he did want someone inside him so bad.

Carl was ready and eager, and that next weekend he was there, and both of them had the time of their lives. Carl force feeding Jim his shakes before worshipping the older man’s massive cock and balls, then fisting Jim with his thick, muscular arms. The connection was undeniable, and all of Jim’s reluctance evaporated. Carl took a couple of weeks to wrap things up where he’d been living, and by the next month, he was living with Jim, and the two of them found it impossible to remember a time they’d been apart.

Carl wasn’t the cleanest fellow, Jim realized quickly, but much to his surprise, he didn’t mind all that much. If anything, catching a whiff of Carl’s musk after a few hours at the gym, or after a day working construction, was enough to make his massive cock start leaking precum all over his massive thighs. Carl, for his part, was more than happy to help Jim reach weights he could have never imagined before this–by December, he had crested 600. Standing and walking was difficult for him, not just because of the weight, but also because of his massive cock and balls making it even harder to swing his legs. Over Christmas, while Carl had a break from work, he forced Jim to stay in bed for two weeks, feeding and fisting and filming the entire thing for their growing fanbase online, and Jim was in heaven. On January first, the first time he’d stood up in weeks–something that he could barely manage in fact, with how atrophied his muscles had gotten over that time–he found one final envelope waiting for him from New You Resolutions:

Congrats!

You’ve done so well this past year, Jim, and we hope you’re as proud of the results as we are. We’ve given you a brand new life–here’s a little reminder of where you were, and where you are now.

There were two pictures in the card. The first was the old Jim, sitting at his desk in that office, pudgy and bored and exhausted with his life. In the second photo, it was a picture from the last week or so, his legs hoisted up in stirrups while Carl fisted his hole, most of his arm disappearing inside Jim, his face wracked with a powerful orgasm. He was a filthy, dirty, perverted old man, and he couldn’t imagine ever going back to that old life again. The card wasn’t quite finished, however:

One last thing–a gift for the new year:

— I resolve to gain until I’m completely immobile.

We here at New You Resolutions don’t think you’ll have any problem with that one, right?

Jim had to chuckle. He was one step ahead of them, in fact. He’d already broached the idea with Carl, and they’d agreed this was one of the last times he’d ever be up on his feet again. Jim knew he should be terrified, but where else would he want to be? And with his sexy powerlifter pig taking care of him, what did he even have to worry about? This was going to be the best year of his life–he could already tell.


Alright! That’s one set of resolutions down, who should our next target be do you think? You get two choices of the options below. Patrons have their bonus poll as well, over here!

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 12)

Sorry for the delay on this, Christmas week turned out to be a lot busier than I was planning.

WARNING: SCAT


Skip could do nothing as the genie twisted Jason’s words yet again:

“Please, I just wish we would get fuckin’ dumber!”

“God fuckin’ damnit! Shut yer trap!” Skip said again, feeling a slight sense of deja vu as it happened, looked over at the genie, who snapped his fingers, and Skip could almost feel the thoughts in his head slow down to a crawl. “Fuck…I…Fuckin’ feels so…so fuckin’ good,” Skip said, and gave a great guffaw as he pounded deeper into his son’s hole, “Don’t it feel good boy?”

“Fuck, I…I didn’t mean tah, why, I…why’s it so hard tah think?” Jason said, his hole finally adjusting a bit to his daddy’s cock, and the pleasure started to overwhelm him a bit as well. “Fuck…feels…better Daddy, feels good havin’ ya inside me.”

Skip didn’t reply, he didn’t have the mental processing power to fuck and talk at the same time. He was just grunting and snorting behind him, driving in faster and harder until he exploded inside his boy’s guts, an even larger load than the one he’d shot in the restroom just a few minutes before this…but had he even been there really? Everything seemed like a dream to him all of a sudden, and his simpler mind couldn’t really comprehend what was happening to him. He pulled his cock free of his boy’s hole, suddering a bit, and whirled on the genie where he floating in the corner of the filthy bedroom, and stomped over to him. “I might not be the smartest fucker, but I can tell when someone’s fuckin’ with me. What the fuck are ya doin’? Yer messin’ with the shit we say, ain’t ya?”

“I can assure you, Skip, that I am fully within the bounds of the contract of my service to you, that you consented to when you made your first wish with me.”

“Contract? What fuckin’ contract?”

The genie waved in the air, and a thick document appeared in his hands, written on rather ancient parchment. He handed it to Skip, who stared at it for a few moments, and shook his head. “I can’t read fuckin Arab or whatever this is!”

“Oh, I gave you a copy in English, Skip,” the genie said.

Skip stared at it again, and realized that his son’s wish had made him illiterate on top of everything else. He threw the document in the genie’s face, who made it disappear again before it got anywhere close to him. “Fuck you, I want ya tah change us back!”

“I only accept requests in the form of a wish,” the genie said, shrugging and smiling at Skip, who scowled at him, and turned back to where his son was lying on the bed, sweaty, fat stinking, trying to sort his own thoughts out. 

“Come on son, we gotta figure this out. If we put our heads together, we can figure out a wish that’ll fix this.”

Skip concentrated–or at least he tried to concentrate. His face turned a bit red, and just as a thought was coming to him, a loud fart escaped his ass, and distracted him. Jason thought that was a hoot, and laughed on the bed, his dad cracking a grin as he did. “Oh ya liked that, huh? Ya like yer dad’s smelly farts?”

“Fuck no Pa! Yers are the worst!”

Skip lifted a leg, gave it a shake, and let another one loose in Jason’s direction, before climbing up on his boy, already feeling a bit horny again, his worries about the genie pushed to the back of his mind where they disappeared.

“Fuck Pa! Git offa me,” Jason said, “I can’t breathe with yer stink in the damn air everywhere.”

“Hell boy, wish the stink a mah farts made ya as horny as hell.”

Too late, he realized he’d just made a wish. The genie twisted things around, and what came out the second time chilled Skip to the bone:

“Hell boy, wish the stink a mah farts made ya hungry as hell fer shit.”

Skip saw the swirl of color in his son’s eyes, and Jason liked his lips, his stomach growling. “Fuck Pa…ya…ya got a load fer yer toilet boy yet? Sure smells like ya do.”

Skip shook his head, and looked over at the genie, “Ya fucker! What the fuck?”

“Come on Pa, yer boy’s so damn hungry, feed me yer shit.”

“Fuck no, git a hold a yerself, that ain’t…I mean, we’re dirty fellas, but that’s just gross.”

“I wish Pa loved feedin’ me shit,” Jason said, as Skip looked at him in horror, and it only got worse after the genie twisted it:

“I wish Pa loved feedin’ on shit with me.”

Skip felt his stomach give a great big growl, and the smell of his farts on the air was…enticing. “Fuck…fuck, you sick son of a bitch…”

“Come on Pa, feed yer dirty fuckin’ pig boy.”

Unable to stop himself, Skip got on the bed, squatting over his son’s face, and bore down, licking his own lips as he did, smelling his own shit, hoping his boy saved him some…but then, his boy loved feeding him too…didn’t he? Yeah, of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?

***

The next morning, they awoke to the sound of an alarm on one of their phones, still in the pocket of their pants, and Skip and Jason untangled their filthy bodies from one another, still in the bed. Shit was…everywhere, but then, when wasn’t it, when they got down to business? “Fuck boy, we’re gonna be late fer fuckin’ work,” Skip said, checking the clock on his phone. Gotta…gotta make ourselves a least a bit…presentable…”

Skip went into the bathroom to wipe some of the worst shit off his face, and Jason rolled out of bed, licking the dried shit off his lips. “Fuck Pa, I don’t wanna go tah work.”

“Gotta pay the bills son, come on.”

The genie was still there in the corner of the room, and that was when Jason had the idea. A great idea. An idea that could fix everything, right?”

“I wish we got paid just tah eat shit.”

The genie’s smile grew wider than Jason had ever seen it:

“I wish we got paid just tah eat trucker’s shit ‘n piss.”

Skip didn’t hear his son’s wish over the running tap, and after they threw on some clothes, they got in the truck, and headed down the interstate to a little truckstop owned by a friend of Skips–one who understood the special sort of needs a father and son like this could have. There, they took up their place in the back of the trucker’s showers, ready to take whatever the trucker’s passing by wanted to give them–piss, shit, cum–they had no limits. They were infamous really, and they truckstop was always busy with all sorts of nasty fuckers off the interstates, but Skip and Jason were happy. They had a job perfect for a couple of illiterate, filthy shit-scarfing rednecks like them, and the genie left them there, certain they would manage well enough on their own from here on out.

Where did the genie go next? We’ll have to find out some other time–but needless to say, be careful what you wish for.