Emptied Out (Part 5)

Nate nodded dumbly, and Biff helped him out of the tub, and led him by the hand out into the living room, and sat him down on one side of the couch. Licking his lips and groping his own cock, which he still hadn’t shot today, though he’d soaked the front of his whities with plenty of precum already, watching his son change right in front of his eyes, he put on his favorite porno of two slobs cleaning off each other’s fat bodies, and let Nate watch for a bit, while he went into the kitchen and returned with two big bottles of soda and bags of snacks, which he sat by them both. “What ya love most of all, Nate, is the same thing Daddy loves–wastin’ yer whole day on this stinkin’ couch, watchin’ porn, ‘n edgin’ yer cock. Fuck boy, I been alone so damn long, dreamin’ ‘bout this day, thinkin’ ‘bout when I’d finally get a son a my own, and now we can do it together–ya love spendin’ the whole damn day edgin’ with daddy, right son?”

Nate nodded, and started groping himself again, staring at the screen. Biff stuck the cigarette back in his mouth, and he started digging into the snacks and drinking the soda as well, letting off belches as he did.

“Yeah, just a dumb ass boy, as dumb as your daddy. Can’t read, can’t really think ‘bout anythin’ important, but sure does love feelin’ good, ‘n this makes ya feel real good boy, endulgin’ like this, without a care in the whole world, just a horny, filthy pig,” Biff sat down with him, the couch sagging between them and making them roll together slightly, “A fat horny pig just like yer daddy.”

Nathan surfaced again, but slower this time. He could tell something was very wrong with his head, like someone had taken his brain and smoothed out some of it’s bumps and ridges. Still, watching porn was fun, and he had plenty of snacks to eat and fags to smoke–but he couldn’t help but feel like it was…wrong. He looked over at the computer, knowing he’d thought about something earlier, something about how to use it to get away, but getting up just seemed like so much work. Better to just sit here, and watch the two fat pigs rutting on the screen, like his daddy was doing. One movie ended, and Biff got up and started another one. There wasn’t a clock that he could see, and the windows were blocked out–Nathan had no idea what time it was, or how long they’d been here, groping himself in his daddy’s nasty underwear.

“Enjoyin’ yerself, Nate?”

Nathan didn’t know quite what to say, but after a moment, he nodded. He…was enjoying himself, he supposed. He liked sitting this close to his daddy, groping his cock, feeling their big bellies shifting against one another–even if his daddy kind of stank, and not in a good way. Still, this was wrong. He knew this was wrong. “D-Daddy? I don’t think we should be doing this…” he said, hesitantly, not quite sure how to put his reservations into words.

“What are ya talkin’ bout son? This is what we always do, ain’t it?”

He was right–but he could remember something else, he could remember himself this morning, dressed in pressed khakis and a button down shirt, excited to go home for the summer and to finally be away from his nasty housemate. He…knew that was right, somehow, even if it now felt so far away. “I…I want some more snacks, daddy,” he said, got up and waddled towards the kitchen, passing close to the computer along the way, but when he saw the keyboard, all of the letters swam around him–he had no idea what any of them even were. That…wasn’t surprising, though–he never learned to read, right? Daddy didn’t see any reason for a nasty boy like him to learn much of anything.

“Thought ya were gettin’ snacks, son,” Daddy said, his voice a bit cautious, seeing Nathan staring at the computer, thinking hard, “Why don’t you come on ‘n sit back down here, ya still got plenty tah eat ‘n drink.”

Nathan waddled back over, and sat down with a mighty belch, making his daddy laugh, and he chuckled too.

“Nice one son, but get a load a this,” Biff said, leaned away from Nathan and let loose a long, wet fart in his direction. The stench brought tears to his eyes, and he coughed, nearly dropping his cigarette.

“Fuck daddy, that’s nasty,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” Daddy said, leaning in close and digging his hand under Nathan’s huge gut to his cock. “Smellin’ mah farts always makes me so damn horny, boy. Fuckin’ kiss me, give me some a yer smoke.”

Nathan leaned in and they smoked each other out, one eye still on the porn playing on the TV, and Nathan didn’t feel like this was…so bad, really. He liked how his daddy rubbed his cock, and how it gave him two free hands to stuff his face, when he wasn’t breathing in Biff’s cigarette smoke. The front of the whities he had on were sticky and wet still from the other load he’d shot into them–not to mention how sweaty his gunt had become as well in the hot, stuffy apartment. He was humping into Biff’s hand now, feeling his gut shake around him, Biff using his free hand to tweak his boy’s nipples, watching him sweat and get closer to another orgasm. “That’s a good boy, gonna get ya so empty…”

Empty. He remembered Greg then, remembered himself, his old self, but it was too late to stop it–he came again, and felt himself fading away, falling back against the couch.

Emptied Out (Part 4)

Nathan woke up to something being thrown in his face–something that reeked. He pushed it away with a gag, and found the passenger side door open, and Biff standing there. The things he’d given him were clothes–or rather, just a pair of underwear. A set of briefs, heavily stained in the front and the back. “Put ‘em on boy, ‘n let’s git ya inside.”

“I’m not wearing these,” he said, holding them away from him.

“All I got boy–’n if ya don’t wanna wear ‘em, ya’ll just have tah cross the complex ass out.”

“Fuck, give me a fag,” Nathan said, irritated, “I need a smoke to think.”

“Put the briefs on, and I’ll let you light up.”

Nathan growled in frustration, swung his legs out, and struggled into the briefs. They were tight on him–clearly they were Biff’s, but he wore a size larger than daddy did at this point. Nathan shook his head, pushing the memory away. It wasn’t his bulk, this wasn’t real. He stood up, feeling the whities riding up his sweaty asscrack. He considered making a break for it, but he had no idea where he was, and a morbidly obese man running around in his underwear wasn’t going to make him any friends here. He took the fag Biff gave him, relieved for smoke, and was thinking clearer when they got to his tiny, filthy apartment–and the stench of the briefs was nothing compared to the smell inside.

There were pizza boxes and fast food bags littered everywhere, and nothing looked like it had been cleaned in ages. Furniture was minimal, with most of the space dedicated to a couch and a large TV, with a computer off to the side–hopefully with an internet connection. It would be his best chance to get help, probably, unless he could get to a phone. Biff tore the rest of the rags off of him, leaving him in just the loaned whities, his massive gut hanging out now with no obstruction.

“Git in the bathroom, boy, that mop has gotta go.”

“What?” Nathan asked.

“The hair, son. Don’t ya want a good buzz like yer daddy?” Biff said, running a hand over his head. “Ya will soon enough, so let’s git ya buzzed–or else no fags, and no soda, either.”

Thinking about the soda made his gut growl. How could he possibly still be hungry after everything he’d eaten today? Still, his gut wasn’t lying, and his fag was already half gone. It was just hair–best to cooperate for now, and see if he got an opportunity to use the computer later.

The bathroom was somehow even dirtier than the rest of the apartment. Biff told him to stand in the shower, and from the layer of fine hair coating the tub, it was clear it hadn’t been used for a proper shower in quite a while. Biff grabbed the clippers by the sink, and started attacking Nathan’s hair–the blades hadn’t been oiled in a while, making them hot to the touch, and they kept pulling at his hair, but before long Biff had his hair razored down to nothing, just a layer of fuzz. He ran his hand over Nathan’s head, and saw the boy shiver in the whities he was wearing.

“Feel good, boy?”

“Y-yeah, it kind of does…”

“Yeah, ain’t nothin’ quite like a freshly buzzed head,” Biff said, rubbing it slowly, standing closer to him so their bellies pressed together. Nathan had expected it to feel disgusting, but it was comfortable, and…familiar somehow. “Lookin’ real good Nate, gotta say–real happy with ya so far.”

“My name isn’t Nate, don’t call me that.”

“Best just get used to it boy–ya ain’t gonna be gettin’ away from me, not now.” He took a drag off his cigarette, leaned in and fed Nathan his smoke, and the two of them passing it back and forth a few times, until Nathan got a bit lightheaded, feeling his cock pressing hard against his gut. Biff stepped into the tub with him, pushing more of his fat against him, and pinning him to the wall, one hand holding his cigarette, taking long drags of smoke to feed Nathan, his other hand reaching under his boy’s huge gut and rubbing his cock through his crusty whities. Nathan was trying to keep himself calm, but everytime he started to push away, Biff would shove him back, and rub his hand over his shaved skull, making him shiver and buck against his hand. “Go on boy, do it,” Biff whispered to him, “Shoot a big load right intah yer daddy’s filthy whities, I wanna see how wet ya can get em, ya fat fuckin’ pig.”

None of that should have made him horny, but Nathan lost control, rutting harder against Biff’s hand, feeling himself fast approaching the point of no return. The cum spilled out of him, and he felt the comfortable blankness washing back over him, Biff plucking the cigarette from between his sagging lips before it fell onto their guts and burned them.

“Yeah, such a good boy for daddy, Nate–we’re gonna have you all empty here soon, don’t you worry about a thing. Now come on, I wanna show ya the thing ya love tah do most in the world with daddy, even more than smokin’ fags ‘n stuffin’ that pig face a yers.”

Emptied Out (Part 3)

“Hot smoker, just like yer daddy,” Biff said, and pushed some smoke in Nathan’s direction. It…smelled different, coming from him. Hotter, somehow, and he blew some of it back, his hand slipping back down to his crotch, thinking about how horny he always got, trading smoke with his daddy like a couple of perverts. Biff noticed, but didn’t say anything, just kept pushing smoke in his direction, watching Nathan slowly lose focus, groping himself more and more, his hand slipping into his still damp khakis to stroke himself properly. He finished his second cigarette, and came back to himself for a bit, pulling his hand away, but he only lasted half an hour before asking daddy for another.

“Sorry boy. Ya want another cigarette from me, you’re gonna have to shoot a load. That, or ya gotta give me some good road head.”

The idea of getting anywhere near Biff’s cock horrified him, and he wasn’t about to jack off again…but he needed a cigarette. Biff kept pushing smoke in his direction, and it was maddening, and hot and sexy, and his hand slipped back down. What harm was there in…one little cum shot? It wasn’t so bad, right? Biff kept sending him smoke, and watched him give in, stroking faster now, until after a couple of minutes he shot again, and just like before, Nathan went slack, eyes glazed over and mouth hanging open.

“Emptied yerself out again, Nate?”

“Yes daddy…” he muttered.

Biff took the next exit off the highway into a small town, “Good, I was gettin’ hungry. Let’s get us both filled back up, eh?”

There was a fast food joint right by the off ramp, and he pulled into the drive through, and the guy taking the order thought it was a joke at first, Biff ordered so much food. It took a little while to get everything, but before too long, they were parked, with bags and bags of burgers and fries–with plenty of soda to wash it down. Biff pulled out a burger and put it to Nate’s mouth. “Go on Nate–feed that big ol’ gut a yers.” Nate mindlessly took a bite, chewing slowly and swallowing. Biff grabbed one of his slack hands and put it on the burger to hold it. “Faster boy. Ya eat like a fuckin’ pig. Don’t care how messy ya get, ya just need it in ya.”

Nate started eating faster now, and Biff kept encouraging him, reminding him to take plenty of drinks of soda–after all, he loved soft drinks, and anything sweet. He was hungry, always hungry, even hungrier than his dad, usually. Hell, he was fatter than his dad was even–he could remember how proud he was the day his gut sagged down even lower than his dad’s did, couldn’t he? Nate kept trying to agree, but his mouth was too busy shoveling in food for any of it to be intelligible. He ate and ate, his gut expanding at a rapid pace as he did, the buttons on his shirt popping off one by one, the undershirt riding up as his gut dropped between his thighs, his pants stretched to the limit as he grew larger and larger. He became more animated, slowly, Nathan coming back to the fore as he filled himself back up, but he didn’t stop eating–he couldn’t stop eating, sucking down his soda, and sucking down on his cigarette, of course. He was such a good son, cumming for his daddy, and now he got his reward–another smoke, and a massive fast food meal to boot! It wasn’t until he finished most of the food off–his dad having eaten a sizable portion as well, that he leaned back, let off a belch, and realized just how much bigger he’d become–and realized that they’d stopped moving.

Nathan fumbled with the door handle, and nearly fell out of the van. As he did, he felt a massive shudder in his fat as his khakis, and underwear, finally burst from the pressure, and he was left standing in the parking lot, in full view of the people in the restaurant, naked from the waist down, a massive, hairy apron hanging free…and he didn’t know what to do. He needed to get help, but not like this. He couldn’t possibly let anyone see him like this!

“Son, git yer fat ass back in the damn van!” Biff shouted at him, and Nathan struggled to resist.

“You…you aren’t my dad! This…this can’t be real, I’m just imagining this. I can’t…actually be this big,” he muttered, hefting his gut and letting it fall, feeling it thwack against his thick thighs. “I mean…I eat lots, but…but not like this.”

“Boy, git back in the van.”

“No. No, I’m not…going anywhere else with you.”

Biff sighed, “Boy, git back in the van, and we’ll go ‘round again ‘n git ya some shakes. Ya are still hungry, ain’t ya? One a every flavor–enough tah git ya home.”

HIs gut rumbled like an earthquake, and his mouth watered, thinking about it. Fuck, he was…hungry. So hungry, even though he’d just eaten so much food, he could barely believe it was still inside him. “But…but I…”

“Son, what ya think’s gonna happen when those folk call the cops on ya? Think Master’s gonna be happy when he’s gotta bail yer fat ass outta jail? Probably just leave ya in there with ‘em, ‘n make ya some jailbitch. Now git in the car, ‘n let’s git dessert.”

He was right–there was nothing he could do looking like this–without even any clothes to wear. That…and dessert sounded really damn good. He got back in, surprised by how hard it was maneuvering his huge bulk, and Biff drove him back through, ordering a shake in every flavor as promised–twelve in total–and then headed back for the highway while Nathan sucked down shake after shake, and cigarette after cigarette to go with them. He managed well enough for the rest of the ride at least–though Biff kept ripping off the worst farts Nathan had ever smelled in his life, laughing after every one he made, and refusing to roll the windows down. Thankfully the food made him sleepy, and not too long after finishing the last shake, he passed out for a while, snoring and belching away, Biff reaching over to grope his boy’s massive fat belly occasionally, and then drove into the city, arriving at the small apartment complex where he lived not too long after that, in the evening.

Emptied Out (Part 2)

“Yes daddy,” Nathan said, and Biff put the cigarette between his lips for him, Nathan holding it and smoking it while Biff lit a second one for himself.

“That’s good boy, breathe it in deep, just like I taught ya years ago. Two packs a day, just like yer dad, getting those teeth of yers good ‘n yellow. Yau reek a smoke all the time, and ya love it–makes ya horny as hell, right son?”

Nathan nodded, and kept smoking–and as he did, Greg noticed a few things change about him. For one, the stench of smoke surrounded him, like it did Greg, and he noticed that his teeth, and his fingers, were tinged yellow, just like they would be for a man who’d been smoking for ages. “Lookin’ good Daddy, now finish ‘em up.”

Biff nodded, “Alright boy, keep breathing in all that smoke, and after your next inhale, you’re going to feel completely full again, got it?”

Nate nodded slowly, took a deep breath, and as he did, his eyes refocused, and Nathan came back to himself, exhaled and coughed, unable to understand why he was smoking a cigarette. “What…what the fuck did you do to me?” he said to Greg.

“Well, everytime you cum now, Nathan, you’re going to shoot out a big chunk of yourself–of this self, all that brain and will and memories of being an uptight little prick–and your daddy here is going to get to fill you back up with much, much better stuff–anything he wants, in fact. After five or six loads, you won’t even exist anymore–you’ll just be Nate, and Nate is going to be everything Biff here could want in a nasty, perverse, disgusting pigson in the whole world. How’s that fag taste, anyway?”

Nathan looked down at the cigarette between his fingers, and realized he’d been smoking it this whole time like it was the most natural thing in the world. “No–no, I’m not a smoker, I…” Nathan said, but as he did, it felt wrong. He was a smoker. He fucking loved to smoke, and he…he loved his daddy’s smoke most of all. He looked over at Biff, and before, where he’d seen a complete stranger, he now felt an odd…affinity, or attraction. Definitely an attraction. Looking at him, smoking that unfiltered cigarette, he just wanted to kiss him and suck that smoke right from his lungs…he shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts, but he didn’t know where his real self ended and this new, alien person began. “You can’t do this–you fucking can’t make this happen.”

“Oh, I’m very capable, Nathan, trust me,” Greg said, “But all you have to do is not cum anymore, and there’s nothing I can do–think you can control yourself around your new daddy? Now, why don’t you two head home? I’ll come check on you in a couple of weeks, and if there’s any trace of you left, Nathan, then I’ll fix you right back–I promise. Still, I bet Biff will have you all gone here in a day, and all that’ll be left is his good son Nate.”

Nathan didn’t know how to process any of that, and just looked back and forth, cigarette hanging from his lips, wondering when they would let him in on the joke, but the punchline never came. Biff just ordered him into the van waiting outside, and Nathan’s feet marched him out to it and into the passenger seat, while Biff shared a passionate kiss with Greg on the steps, thanked his boy and master again for the privilege of raising and owning a son of his own, before getting in the driver seat and heading off, getting on the highway and heading for the city about five hours away.

The whole time, Nathan kept smoking. He’d never smoked a cigarette in his life, but every time he took it out and tried to resist inhaling from it, his brain would start screaming, and wouldn’t stop until he took another drag. He finished it in a few minutes, the air on the van cloudy and thick from them hotboxing–and he was forced to ask Biff, his daddy, for another cigarette, though he insisted he call it a fag, before Biff would give him another one, and a lighter to use.

Nathan smoked that one slower, and with the addiction satisfied, he sized up the man who had essentially kidnapped him, and wondered how he might try and escape. It was clear that Greg had some control over him, but Greg wasn’t here–that meant if he could be clever enough, he might be able to get away and get help. Certainly Biff wasn’t in any shape to fight him–he was…huge. He had to be close to 400 pounds, with a massive apron of fat hanging out the bottom of the filthy wifebeater he was wearing, stained with ash and who knew what else. He was hairy, and stank, and looked like this was the first time he’d been outside in ages. Nathan noticed, after he’d been staring at him for a few minutes, that his hand was in his crotch, groping his cock, and he tore his hand away, horrified that looking at this disgusting man was making him horny.

Biff noticed, and grinned around his cigarette. “Go ahead boy–it’s healthy fer a perverted boy like ya are tah jack off lookin’ at yer daddy.”

He felt his hand drawn back to his crotch, but he resisted the urge–while Biff had some power over him, it wasn’t nearly as urgent as Greg’s control had been earlier. He could beat this, if he kept his head about him. He didn’t reply, and averted his eyes, trying to focus on nothing in particular, and he ended up thinking about his cigarette, and how…good it tasted. He pushed out a couple of thick plumes from his nose, like Biff had earlier, and felt that horny twinge return again.

Emptied Out (Part 1)

Nathan gave a start, and realized what he’d heard that had woken him up was someone knocking on the door of the small house he was renting with a few other students on campus. He’d been waiting for his dad to arrive and drive him home for the summer–the only other person still waiting was Greg–the housemate he detested the most. Every living situation had a bad egg, but Greg was worst than most–refusing to clean up after himself, getting everything filthy, smoking cigarettes and drinking in his room, and Nathan had even caught him masturbating in the living room to porn once. He was vile, and he was sitting in the chair across from Nathan on the sofa, just smiling–and giving him the creeps.

The house was empty except for them, their other two housemates had left the day before, carpooling to the airport, and that had left Nathan alone with Greg since then…and he’d been a bit stranger than he usually was. On top of that, Nathan had noticed that he’d been zoning out off and on–almost always while Greg was in the room with him. If he focused, he could…almost remember them having conversations, but if he thought too hard about it, he always seemed to get a headache.

“I think that’s your dad, Nathan,” Greg said, still not letting the grin down.

“Yeah, probably,” he said, got up, and straightened out his ironed shirt and khakis. Unlike his roommate, Nathan took good care of himself–went to the gym, ate healthy meals, and attended all of his classes. His family was rich, and he would admit that he could act a little spoiled because of it, but when it came to people like Greg, they deserved to be reminded of their place in the world–that is, as people much lesser than Nathan. He’d flunk out before even graduating, probably, and Nathan wouldn’t have to think about him ever again–in fact, he’d ask his dad to help him pay for an apartment for himself next year–he didn’t want to get trapped with another terrible housemate like this again. He went to the door and opened it, but it wasn’t his rich father waiting to drive him home in his Tesla on the other side–it was some nasty looking fucker, even dirtier than Greg, with a beat-up van behind him parked in the driveway. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man looked past him to Greg, and grinned, “Is…Is he the one, Master? He looks fun.”

“Yeah daddy, he’s the one you’re getting.”

Nathan just looked from one slob to the other, confused as hell with what was going on.

“He don’t know yet?” the older man asked.

“Nah, daddy,” Greg said, “I like them to find out now, what’s about to happen to them.” He got up from the chair where he was sitting and walked to where Nathan and the man were standing, “Let me introduce you, Nathan. This is Biff, one of my daddy slaves, and the man who is going to be your daddy from now on. Biff has been real good lately, and I thought he deserved a boy of his own as a reward for being such a good slave.”

Biff nodded, and beamed, while Nathan just looked at Greg like he was insane. “Slave? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I know you don’t remember much of it, Nathan, but I’ve been hypnotizing you for months now–isn’t that right, horndog?”

Nathan didn’t know what came over him, but his cock got immediately hard, and he shoved his hand down the front of his pants, stroking himself right in front of them both while they watched, leering, “I…what the fuck is this!”

“This is just the tip of the iceberg, Nathan. We’ve had so much fun together–all of us have. You, me, Hal, and Josh–all of you have been such good little piggies here with me, all semester long. You though–you just never could drop the attitude…well, that and when I saw that picture of your dad, I just new I had to have him as one of mine, which means I need to find a place to keep you.” He paused a moment, and smiled, “You’ll understand everything here in a few moments, once you cum–then daddy Biff here can start filling you back up.”

Filling him up. He…knew those words somehow, but they lacked context–he was sure it wasn’t good though. Nathan did his best to try and control himself and stop masturbating, but he was helpless. He could already feel his load building, and with a muffled groan, his cock exploded in the front of his khakis, leaving a sizable wet spot on the front, but Greg wasn’t looking at his housemate’s crotch–he was looking at his face. As he came, Nathan’s mouth went slack, his eyes unfocused, shoulders slumped forward in a daze.

“Are you there Nate?” Greg asked.

Nathan nodded, “Yes, Master.”

“Good. Tell me Nate, are you empty, or full right now?”

“Empty…”

“Yes, you’re very empty, because you just shot a big chunk of Nathan right into those pants, didn’t you? Well, the good thing is that your daddy is here now, Nate–you know who your daddy is, right?”

Nathan nodded slowly, “Biff is my daddy…”

“Good. And what can your daddy do?”

“Fill me back up.”

Greg looked over at Biff. “Alright Daddy, he’s all yours, like we talked about. You know what you want to fill him up with first?”

“Sure do boy! Been thinkin’ ‘bout it the whole way here,” Biff said, and pulled out a carton of cigarettes, tapping one out into his dirty palm, and pulling a lighter from his pocket. He stuck it in his scruffy maw and lit it, taking a deep, practiced inhale, and sighing two jets of smoke from his nose. “Alright boy, let’s fill ya back up with some smoke. Here, let Daddy give you some,” he said, took another long drag, leaned in, pressed his mouth to Nathan’s slack jaw, and pushed the smoke into him, and Nathan inhaled deep, his body resisting the urge to cough. “That’s good boy,” Biff said when he pulled away, “Ya love gettin’ smoke from yer daddy whenever ya can–not that you’re ever without a fag yerself, right son?”

Performance Reviews (Part 5)

*~* Six Months Later *~*

“Come on, Shitface,” Aaron said gruffly around his cigar, and tugged the leather leash. Whatever had caught it’s attention, the office pet followed Aaron into the bathroom to start it’s day. The bathroom had seen better days, but then again, it hadn’t been cleaned in nearly a year at this point. The partitions had all been torn out, leaving just two open toilets, covered in piss stains and shit smears, a couple sinks that no longer worked, and a urinal with a puddle of reeking piss that Shitface headed towards, while Aaron attached the end of the lead to the hook on the wall, next to the toilets. Shitface didn’t notice, it was too busy sucking up as much of the piss as it could. Aaron watched for a moment, still unable to believe that after all of this time, Carson was still in there somewhere. Cum dripped from the head of Shitface’s chastity cage, but it’s cock didn’t harden–Aaron had taught the beast better, with a good amount of electric shock punishment, and while it remained plenty horny, it hadn’t strained in its cage in a few months. With that, Aaron left the bathroom to get to work–Bryce needed his morning whipping while he ate breakfast. The fat fuck had been slowing down lately, and Ollie wanted him cresting nine hundred pounds by the end of the month, and pain had turned out to be a great motivator for him.

Shitface, meanwhile, finished off the puddle of old piss, and then knelt by the toilet, panting, and waiting. It wasn’t long before someone came in–Cletus, in fact, hauling around his huge gut in a pair of overalls, tobacco spit drooling into his wiry mass of a beard. He sat down with a grunt and started shitting, Shitface sucking his cock while he did and drinking his dipspit as well, until he finished, and then Cletus stood up, turned around, and let Shitface get what the beast really wanted, the nasty filth left in the crack. When it was clean, Cletus gave the beast a pet on the head and told it that it had dome a real good job, and noticed Ollie had stepped in after him without saying anything. Cletus offered his nasty redneck hole to him, but Ollie said he had some business with Shitface first, and Cletus left, disappointed, but some other dirty fucker in the office would want to ride him, he was certain.

“Well, it’s been another six months–why don’t we give you a real nice reward, eh Shitface, and see how Carson is doing in there?”

Ollie walked over, got down, and unlocked the cage around the beast’s cock. It didn’t know what to do–it hadn’t had it’s cock free in so long, and when Ollie started rubbing it, it didn’t respond at all–the beast knew what happened if it got hard, after all. Still, with some urging from Ollie, Shitface got into it, humping into his fist while he sniffed at his pits, but he didn’t manage to cum until Ollie bent over and let it eat out his crack. Only then, did he finally work a massive load from the beast, six months worth of cum pouring out of him and onto the filthy tile, and slowly, from the depths of himself that he hadn’t even known he possessed, Carson pushed his way back to the surface.

Or at least, what was left of him.

“Wha, where am…I? He muttered, lips struggling to form the words it had nearly forgotten.

“Welcome back Carson,” Ollie said, “It’s time for your review. But maybe, first, you should take a look at yourself in that mirror there.”

Carson crawled over where Ollie pointed, getting about a yard before realizing he was crawling. He tried to stand up…but didn’t quite know how, and ended up in a strange stoop, clinging to the sink to keep himself upright, and he could see what the last six months had done to him.

He was so smooth–smooth, and filthy. The hair on his head had either been freshly shaved that day, but from the grunge on his scalp, it was more likely that it had been removed entirely. The same with the hair on his face–and the hair on the rest of his body, though it looked like Ollie or Aaron had decided to replace it with tattoos. His entire front was covered with ink, and it ran down his arms and legs as well–but not on his face, for some reason. No–his face seemed wrong in other ways–his nose turned up, eyes small, mouth too large. That, and he was so…fat, so much fatter than he had been. He couldn’t remember clearly, but he’d been…around 275 when he’d last gone under, but now he looked to be close to 400, enough that he’d felt his gut graze the ground when he’d crawled a moment before. “What…you do to me? Not right, this not right.”

“Of course it’s right, Carson. This is you. You’re a brownnosing, filthy little animal, aren’t you?”

That did sound right, actually, but something…was saying no. A distant voice, but it was there. He shook his head, his hair flinging around him, but nothing seemed any clearer than before. “Not right, not right!” he yelled, “Not right, not me, no!”

He tried to turn and face Ollie, but fell back onto his hands and knees, where he knew he belonged. Ollie regarded him, and the cage in his hand. “I should probably just lock you away for a while longer, really do away with you, make you too stupid and weak to resist, but you know what? This is going to be more fun, you fucking animal.”

Carson slipped away, back into the darkness, and when he next surfaced, he had his face planted in a filthy crack, and someone was fucking him rough, rough like Master fucked him, rough how he liked it now. He’d cum again, and he struggled to pull away, but couldn’t–he was too tired, he was too tired to fight it anymore. The crack pulled away eventually, and Carson looked behind him, and saw it was Master fucking him, leering down at him around his massive cigar, and he felt…fear. So much fear. Obey master, always obey Master, or else punishment, so much punishment.

“Fuck, he is still in there, ain’t he?” Aaron said.

“The code phrase will work for you too, use it if you have to, and cage him up if his mind starts to come back and resist. I don’t think he will though–give him a few weeks, and he’ll accept it.”

Aaron waved the cage in his face, and said, “I don’t know, think I can trust you with your mind out, Shitface?”

He knew that wasn’t his name, not really, but…he couldn’t remember the other one, even though he knew Ollie had said it earlier. He nodded regardless. It was Master’s name for him, and that was all that really mattered.

Aaron looked back at Ollie, “I’m gonna enjoy having him know what’s happening to him–and trust me, in another six months? He’ll love it. I’ll make him love it, all of it. He’ll want to be a fucking pet–he’ll be begging me to use the words on him, to give him the release he craves.”

Ollie laughed. “Well, I’ll let you get started then, Aaron. And that was an excellent review as always–you’re my star employee.”

“Thank you, sir,” Aaron said, “I wouldn’t want any other job than this one.”

Performance Reviews (Part 3)

*~* Six Months Later *~*

Don’t leave.

Carson opened the door to his apartment, stepped outside, and locked the door behind him.

Don’t get in the car, don’t do it, you don’t have to go there. You don’t have to be what the want you to be.

He walked down the steps, smelling the filth all over his unwashed shirt–the same shirt he’d been wearing for over a month at this point, the front stained with cum, ash, food–everything he could think of. He was horrified that someone might see him again, like they had yesterday–the shame…fuck, he hated this, he hated it, but he had to go, he had to. It was his job.

It’s not a job! It’s some fucked up twisted fucking shit. Don’t start the car. Don’t start the car, get out, and call the police, fucking call the police!

He started the car, backed out, and drove to the office, part of him already thinking about the delicious, unwashed asscracks waiting for him, and the other part, the real part, the…smaller part of him, horrified that he’d been doing this for months on end, and he hadn’t once been able to resist it. Still, at least he was trying to resist it–it seemed like the rest of the men in the office had all given into whatever strange shit Ollie had done to them, and never once looked back.

He parked the car, tried one last time to keep himself from going in there, and then took the elevator up, a bit of drool escaping the corner of his mouth and running down the stubble on his chin. Other things had changed about him too, he was certain. Some of them were indisputable, like his weight. Every guy in the office had gained at least fifty pounds over the last six months, and some had gained…substantially more. More than should even be possible, in all honesty. Then, there was the hair. Everyone was hairier, and everyone had grown some kind of facial hair–usually a full beard, but depending on the role, some were allowed to shave parts of it appropriately. Carson, however, wasn’t like the rest of them…and it made sense. He was lesser than the rest of them, after all, he didn’t deserve hair. He shaved his all off twice a week–both on his head, and on his face, and around his cock too. It made him feel strange being around so many hairy men, but…but he didn’t deserve to look like a man, he supposed. Everyone should be able to tell right away, looking at him, that he was something less than a man, less than human, even.

The office was thick with smoke and the stench of rank bodies. The men already there were all involved with their usual activities, but he didn’t get to anyone before Aaron spotted him and made a beeline for him down the hall. Aaron was…huge, and one of the few men in the office who had packed on muscle in addition to a layer of fat. He was wearing his usual office attire–or what had become his usual attire, at least. Leather chaps and a vest, his gut hanging out that seemed to get hairier by the day, muir cap, and his favorite paddle in his hand, ready to strike anyone who needed a little extra discipline that morning. “Shitface! Bryce and Ollie want to see you–time for your six month review.” Then he gave Carson a wink–not a good sign. “Already had mine, told me I’m doin’ great. Turning into the perfect, nasty, domineering leather bear they wanted me to be. Tell me I’m gettin’ some new responsibilities around here soon. Hope I’ll still have time to spend with that tongue of yours.” He passed Carson, and as he did, gave his ass a sharp smack with the paddle, making him yelp and hurry along faster to Bryce’s office–or Ollie’s office really, he supposed. Ollie was the one who was really in charge here after all.

He knocked, and Ollie told him he could enter after a moment. Inside, he found the usual scene, or what had become the usual scene. Bryce was at his desk, which was clear of anything work related these days, and was now piled high with food. In six months, he had somehow gained nearly three hundred pounds of pure fat, a massive stinking apron hanging down between his huge thighs. He looked over at Ollie, love struck, and then kept stuffing himself, while Ollie, relatively unchanged, though filthier than ever, beckoned Carson in and had him sit down in the chair in front of the desk. Carson did everything he could to try and get out of there–the last review he had in here was still fresh in his mind–but Ollie had him, and Ollie knew it.

“Now Carson, why don’t we start off with a…self-assessment. As you remember, six months ago, Bryce and I gave you a new position here in the office. How has being the official brownnoser been going? You can be honest.”

“Fuck you,” Carson said, “You fucking freak, I don’t know how the fuck you’ve been doing this, but this stops–”

Ollie held up his hand and Carson’s lips froze, “Alright, that’s plenty of honesty from you. I was worried that you weren’t taking to your new role as readily as some of the other men in the office. In fact, I’d say you’re probably the most stubborn man here. Everyone else, in fact, has been adjusting great, and loving their new lives. You should have heard Aaron gush about how much he loves flogging Bryce’s big ass here. You love it too, don’t you Bryce? Be honest.”

“Oh fuck Ollie, I…I’m so disgusting, but I do,” he moaned with his mouth full, “I wanna be bigger, I wanna get…get stuck in here, fuck, I wanna be so big I can’t move.”

“See?” Ollie said, and turned back to Carson. “Now, with you, I’ve tried some extra programming, tried to convince you to give in, but I just don’t think it’s in you, Carson. You just can’t let go of that person you used to be.”

Performance Reviews (Part 2)

Bryce just looked at him, and then frowned. “You…oh, well…” Bryce flipped through the self-assessment in front of him, “We do seem to be on the same page, Carson, judging from this. Your performance this last review period has been…severely lacking. Look, you said it yourself, right here,” he cleared his throat and started reading from the papers Carson had just handed him, “‘I find being in a leadership position to be extremely stressful, and I lack the confidence to give clear direction. If anything, this promotion has shown me that I am much more suited as a follower than a leader,’ I have to say I agree with you, Carson. You just don’t seem to have it in you to be…in control, and Ollie agrees with me.”

Carson just stared at him for a moment, and then reached over, snatched the assessment back, and read it for himself. He didn’t remember writing that, he couldn’t have written that, and yet…and yet, there it was. He…thought he’d given himself a glowing review, but as he flipped through it, he…he realized everything he’d written about himself was terrible, and worse, as he read it…he found himself remembering writing it–he found himself believing it.

“You put a good face on it, I admit. I take some of the blame for this, you understand, I pushed you too far, before you were ready. I set you up for failure–I thought you could be something you aren’t. Still, this failure is helpful–we can find you a position more in line with your skills and natural aptitude. That said, I’m going to have to take away your team, and that promotion–I already told Aaron he’d take them over tomorrow, after we’re finished here, and I think he will be much more suited to the role of leader than you were.”

Carson knew he should feel…something. Something more than the numbness spreading through his entire body. This couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t. He hadn’t written that, had he? But now that he’d seen it, right there…he couldn’t remember it, all of it. How he’d felt like he was drowning for the last months, how he hadn’t been able to feel…useful, how he knew he was out of his depth, and he was thankful that someone, at least, had seen it. “I’m…I’m sorry, I thought I could do it, I really did.”

“We know.” It was the first thing Ollie had said, and he stood up before continuing, and walked over to the desk, next to where Carson was sitting. “We know you thought you could, but we know what you really are, Carson.”

Bryce nodded, “Yes, Ollie and I have been discussing what your role here should be going forward, and we…admittedly struggled, trying to figure out what skills, exactly, you could offer, because so far, it seems like the only thing you’re really good at is sucking up to me, and brown nosing your way into places you don’t belong. So Ollie and I have decided to give you a little…assessment of our own, and see if we can’t find you something a little more appropriate for your skill set.”

Carson had no idea what Bryce could be talking about, and beside him, Ollie undid the fly of his pants, turned around, dropped them and bent over, pushing his ass into his face. “Go on boy, just do what comes naturally.”

In his mind’s eye, Carson saw himself looking up at Bryce in horror, and storming out, giving some big self-righteous speech. He might not be good at his job, but he certainly wasn’t going to do something like this. But the crack was right there, inches from his face. Carson could smell it, and he leaned closer, sniffing at it, and then, he pushed his face into it and started licking. Tentatively at first, and then more fervently, one hand and then the other finding their way to Ollie’s asscheeks and spreading them apart, letting his tongue get in even deeper.

“What do you think, Ollie? Looks like he’s taking to it.”

“Ha, taking to it? He’s a natural, just like I fucking told you.”

“Fuck Ollie, I should know better than to doubt you–you’re always fucking right.”

Carson looked over at Bryce, desperate and terrified, unable to understand what he was doing, or why they were doing this to him. He kept trying to use his hand to push himself away, but it was like they were misinterpreting the signals from his brain. He would push, and his hands would spread, knead Ollie’s cheeks, and his tongue would dig a little deeper into his dirty hole. Finally, Ollie stepped forward and stood back up. “Passed the first test–why don’t you see about the suck up part, Bryce?”

His boss came around the desk, to Carson’s other side, his cock already out and hard. Again, Carson couldn’t stop himself, and he took it in his mouth, sucking eagerly, while Bryce and Ollie just laughed and chuckled, proud of themselves for finding just the right sort of job Carson would be good for–the office’s official brownnoser.

Two hours later, Aaron had already moved into Carson’s old office, and Carson was in there with him, apologizing. After all, he had never been suited for a leadership role here–no, he had figured out his place now, and that was making sure all of his betters in the office had the cleanest assholes, and had their cocks sucked promptly, whenever they needed it. In his head, Carson was horrified, and kept trying to put the breaks on, but when Aaron finally came down his throat and sent him away, he retreated to his new cubicle, and masturbated right there, thinking about how…good Aaron’s hole had tasted. He came, spraying cum on his shirt, and then got up. Maybe…maybe he’d just ask around a bit, or hang around the bathroom, and see if anyone else needed a little brownnosing. It’s what he was there for, right?

Performance Reviews (Part 1)

It was time for review at his work, and Carson was in his office, watching the clock on his computer tick away slowly to the top of the hour, when he’d be meeting with his boss to receive his “performance assessment”. Carson didn’t know why he was so nervous this time around. He knew there was no reason to be nervous, after all, he’d been doing a great job, and after the last stellar review he’d gotten, which had been capped off with a promotion, a substantial raise, and the privilege of running his own product development team, he knew everything was going to be just fine…and yet, everything at the office had been so strange lately, he couldn’t help but have a sense of some ominous doom hanging over his head.

He looked away from the clock and back to the rest of the screen for a moment, and then back at the clock in the corner, only to discover that in that briefest of moments, ten minutes had somehow passed in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t the first time it had happened either–if anything, it had been happening more and more often while he was in his office, this…losing time. Usually it was just a few minutes here and there, but just the other day he’d lost two hours he couldn’t account for. He’d have no memory either, of what he had been doing for that whole time–as far as he could tell, he’d just been sitting there, staring off into space, and yet as disturbing as that concept was, it also didn’t unnerve him nearly as much as he knew it should that it kept happening–after all, it had to be a sign of something serious right? Like a stroke, or who knew what? He hadn’t talked to anyone else about it, but it seemed like everyone in the office had been on edge for a few months now, ever since that last batch of hires, when their boss had brought on Ollie as some IT support, who was now their only IT support, after the rest of the team had quit without explanation over the next few weeks. Ollie was…a creep, and a slob, and never seemed to be getting any actual work done. No one could understand why Bryce didn’t just fire him, but any time someone tried to talk about it (including Carson a couple of times) Bryce wouldn’t even entertain the idea.

Still, with that ten minute loss, it was almost time for his review. He got his self-assessment together that he’d been working on for the last few days, put on his coat, and left to head for Bryce’s office. It was on the other side of the small building where they worked, and so Carson walked past most of his co-workers in their cubicles, and again, that sensation of doom swept over him as he passed them by. Most of them were just staring at their screens not doing anything at all, their jaws slack, but a few were…well, their behavior was a bit worrying, in all honesty, especially the ones who had already gotten their reviews this week. Phillip, he swore, hadn’t changed his clothes once since he’d had his three days ago, and when he passed him by, he…swore he was masturbating, but he didn’t want to get close enough to find out for certain. He caught a whiff of cigar smoke as he passed by Aaron, who seemed to be taking at least five breaks a day to go outside and smoke–though Carson was suspicious that he’d started smoking inside too, which was vile. Aaron looked over at him as he passed him by, and sneered slightly. They…weren’t on the best of terms, and things had only gotten worse since Carson had ben picked for that promotion over Aaron after the last cycle of reviews. Aaron thought he deserved it because he was older and more experienced, and he’d been spreading rumors around that Carson had only gotten it because he was a brown-nosing suckup to the boss. It wasn’t true, of course, and Carson hadn’t dignified it with an argument–he’d decided to just let his performance speak for him, and he’d done a good job, hadn’t he? This review would settle it at least, once it was over with.

He knocked on Bryce’s door, and a voice called him in. he opened the door, expecting to just find Bryce there on the other side–and his boss was there, but in a chair against the wall was another person–Ollie. Carson just stared at him, confused why he would be there. “Did…you just have your review, Ollie?” he asked, assuming he would be leaving in any case.

Ollie smiled at him, showing off his yellowed teeth, “Oh no–Bryce has asked me to sit in on reviews this cycle–you don’t mind that, do you Carson?”

Carson looked from Ollie over to Bryce, who was just staring into space at his monitor. He hadn’t even seemed to notice Carson stepping into the room. “I…I suppose not, no,” Carson said, and took a seat in front of Bryce’s desk.

His boss still didn’t seem to notice him, and he remained sitting for a few moments, until Bryce finally gave a start, and looked away from the computer. “Oh, Carson! Is it that time already?” he said, “I didn’t notice you come in–I’ve been getting very absorbed in my work recently.”

“Uh…yeah,” Carson said, “Here’s the, uh, self-assessment you asked me to fill out, sir.” Carson slipped the papers over to Bryce, his eyes looking back at Ollie. “Do…you mind if we do this in private, Bryce? I…don’t know why Ollie is here.”

“Ollie has been helping me out with all of the reviews this cycle. He’s a sharp guy–really understands people, what they need, what their potential is. Just try and relax Carson, I know you’re nervous, but a bad review can be more helpful than a great one, sometimes.”

Carson looked back at Bryce, confused. “A…bad one?”

Patreon Suggested Stories Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

For everyone supporting me on Patreon, you can go ahead and download this month’s exclusive stories, based off of your suggestions! For those who don’t support me, and are curious what these look like, here’s one from this month.

For the Winning Team

Every coach has their methods for bringing the best out from their players and Coach Harper was no exception. It had been a good game–not their best, but some of the new…policies he’d put in place, after disposing of the old coach and taking his place, were having an effect. The most notable, of course, were the cock cages around every single player’s cock and balls. It turned out that being denied the basic pleasure of masturbating for losing a game was enough to encourage all of these young college kids to bring their best out on the field, every time. But they’d won–it had been a squeaker, but they’d won, and so they deserved a reward–or at least the best of them did.

In front of him, in three rows, were every player, naked now aside from their cages, glancing at one another, wondering what they would be granted now that they’d won their first game. “Alright boys–you can do better, and that other team played like shit, but a win is a win,” Harper said. “But not all of you did your best, and I think you know that. But for the best of you, you’ll be getting a weekend without your cages. The rest of you…well, you’ll see soon enough. I have something extra special for the MVP as well–and that, this game, was Clarkson. Get over here, and kneel next to me, boy.”

The runningback who’d scored two of the night’s touchdowns stood up, got over next to the coach and knelt beside him, trying not to look too pleased with himself. The others knew he deserved it, but wondered what the coach might have in store for him–and for the rest of them.

“As for the best of you. We have: Brophy, Finch, Fields…”

The coach named off a list, and as he did, there was a faint clunk with each, as that players cage fell off, releasing their cock. They all looked down in glee, most of them touching and stroking their cocks for the first time in a month.

The coach finished his list, looking at half the team relieved, the other half crestfallen. “As for the rest of you–well, I think your weekend is going to be spent a little different that usual. Boys, with your cocks free, pair up with one of your poorer fellows please–and fuck their throats.”

They all looked at one another in horror, but as always, none of them could disobey an order from their coach. They paired off, the best players fucking the losers’ mouths, and as they did, they watched their teammates begin to change. They heads were losing form, their bodies shrinking and turning to mesh and elastic.

“That’s right–maybe some of their skill will rub off on you if you get to be their jocks for the weekend, eh boys? Or at least you all might run a little harder next week against the Cougars.”

Clarkson looked away as his friends lost their form, but the coach stood in front of him. This close, the musk rolling off him was even more powerful than usual, making both Clarkson’s mouth and eyes water. “But sir, if…if I’m the MVP, why do I still have my cage?”

“You, boy, get a very special prize–you get to be worn by your coach for the entire week!”

Before Clarkson could do anything else, coach slammed his thick, greasy cock into his mouth, and Clarkson felt his mouth…cling to him, somehow, his head beginning to soften, arms turning to floppy fabric even as he tried to resist.

“That’s right boy–an entire week, getting all of my cum right into that pouch of yours. You’re going to love it–trust me. If you’re extra good, I’ll even give you a load or two of piss–how does that sound? In fact, coach has to piss right now…”

Clarkson felt it flooding his fabric mouth, soaking down into his body, which was already half the size he should be. Coach’s stream finished just as the last of his body disappeared into the mesh pouch, now sopping wet with piss, squirming slightly, trying to adjust to its new reality as nothing more than an article of clothing.

In front of him, the rest of the team–or what remained of it–was all similarly clad. “Practice on Monday, as usual. Feed those jocks plenty of cum now–we have to make them good and strong. Three loads a day at least, understand?”

“Yes coach!”

“Good. Team dismissed.”