Stinkers – Eric’s Story (Part 2)

Greg laughed at Tom’s joke as he hit the bottom of the stairs, though Eric didn’t get it. He was about to ask what they were talking about, when he caught his first whiff of Greg’s stench, and gagged. He’d thought Tom smelled bad, but this old guy reeked. He wanted to gag, and he wanted to vomit, but it was like the smell had short circuited something in his head, and all he could do was stand there, mouth limp, still breathing in the man’s funk. Who the fuck was he, and why in the hell would someone like Tom want him living anywhere near him?

He tried to back away as the man approached, but like the rest of him, his legs had been mysteriously paralyzed, as the old man got close, his breath rancid, teeth yellow or missing entirely, running his greasy hands over Eric’s body. He wasn’t nearly as fit as Tom was, but a linebacker didn’t need to be fit, he just needed to be big–and Eric fit that bill plenty well. He was six four, and even though he weighed about 325 was still nimble enough for what he needed to do on the field. Greg, however, was getting very personal, very quickly, grabbing Eric’s gut and giving it a jiggle, like he was judging it’s heft, before leaning in close, Eric trying to flinch away as the man pressed his nose to the side of his neck and gave a sniff, and then hauled up his arm, shoving his face into Eric’s still sweaty and ripe pit and smelling that too. “Fuck,” Greg said, “Oh fuck…” he gave another snort, and then started chewing at the fabric of Eric’s shirt a moment, before stepping back. “Oh fuck boy, you don’t know what you fucking found, this is fucking amazing.”

“Fuck daddy, we can work him over together, after I to sniff those pits of yours a bit,” Tom said, went to get close to Greg, but the older man shoved him away into the wall of the hall. “What the fuck, daddy?”

“Fuck off boy, go play with one of those other pigs in the the living room for a bit–I need some alone time with this fucker for a bit.”

“But I thought–”

“Fuck off boy! Daddy’s gonna be busy for a while. You–” he said, pointing at Eric and jabbing him in the chest, “You come with me–upstairs. You need to learn what you are.”

Eric didn’t know what that meant, but he sure as hell didn’t really want to find out. Tom tromped off to the living room, and Greg started upstairs, checked to see if Eric was following him, but he wasn’t. Eric was resisting as hard as he possibly could, keeping his feet anchored to the floor, trying to move back, or at least not give into the nasty fucker’s command. “Damn–pretty strong will on ya.” Greg said, and walked back down to him, “Don’t worry, we’ll get ya straightened out here soon enough. Now come on.”

“No–” Eric said, through gritted teeth, “I want to leave.”

Greg just laughed, but said nothing, just swung Eric around and gave him a shove, making him stumble back until he hit the foot of the stairs and fell back, landing on his ass on a step. “You think you want to go. Fuck, you repressed fucks–I was like you once too, you know. Didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with me, didn’t know that there wasn’t anything wrong with me, that this was what I’m supposed to be.”

Before Eric could get back up, the man was on him, one hand around the back of his head, the other arm up so Greg could shove the young man’s face into his pit. The smell was horrific…but being this close to it…reminded him of those times when he was alone, when he’d…press one of his own dirty jocks to his face and jack off. How every time he farted and smelt it he…felt a tingle in his crotch. How just a whiff of his pits on a day without a shower could turn him on. He’d fought all of that, repressed as much as he could, but smelling Greg brought it all back and to the forfront of his mind, and he found himself licking and sucking at the nasty, sweaty pit, his cock hard in his shorts.

“Yeah, that’s it man, just relax. Just let go for a bit, that’s all.”

“Fuck, why…does this…always feel so good.”

“Cause you’re one of us, fucker. You’re a stinker like me.”

Greg sat back, but Eric wanted–needed more. Greg got up and stepped over Eric, who caught a whiff of the man’s filthy crotch and ass as he passed by, and felt his cock spurt a load of cum into his shorts without even touching himself. The layers and layers of control he’d amassed to keep these desires in check were reeling from the assault. What had the man meant by that, that Eric was one of them? Why did he…want to smell him still?

“Come on man, get over yourself, get the fuck over fucking society. Get up here, and let’s have some real fun.”

Eric wanted to say no, knew that he should say no, but that word didn’t carry the usual force, not with a deep, instinctual yes roiling and burning in his guts. He got up, hesitated a moment, and then climbed the stairs after the man, the two of them kissing in the hallway, grinding up against one another, before Greg dragged him into one of the bedrooms–and Eric didn’t emerge again until Sunday morning.

Stinkers – Eric’s Story (Part 1)

This story takes place in the same setting as a previous story, also called “Stinkers”–you can find parts one, two, three and four of that version at the links. This isn’t a sequel, it’s not exactly a retelling, it’s something I tend to call a redux (though that doesn’t have a specific meaning, it’s just the word that feels the most right to me). This is probably more info than you needed, but deal with it!

“How about you, Eric?”

“Huh?” Eric said, looking up from his locker to where a few of his teammates had been chatting a few yards away. He hadn’t really been listening very hard–he’d been thinking about what he needed to do to get ready for a couple of tests coming up next week, as well as an essay he had to finish. This was the time of the semester he hated–in the thick of the football season, and classes were ramping up for midterms. Eric wasn’t kidding himself–he’d never be going pro, but football was a handy was of helping him get an education, especially considering he didn’t come from a very wealthy family, unlike some of the other guys on the team. “What were you talking about? I wasn’t listening.”

“I wanted to know if you wanted to come over to my place tonight, with some of the guys,” Tom said.

“Thanks, but I have a few tests I have to study for.”

Tom groaned, “Ugh, Eric, you’re such a fucking bore!”

The rest of the guys around laughed, and Eric’s turned red in the face.

“Have you got booze?” one guy asked.

“Of course!”

“I’ll be there.”

“No girls, right? It was fucking awesome, last time you had that guy’s night.”

“That’s what I was thinking too!”

“Is Greg still there? Dude’s fucking awesome.”

“Yeah, he’s still crashing with me.”

Eric pulled on his shirt and thought it over again. He could afford one night for some fun at least, and study the rest of the weekend. Tom was always throwing parties on the weekend, and Eric had only taken him up on his offer a couple of times early in the semester, and he always felt a bit left out to be honest. He might care about his studies, but a guy has to have fun too, right? “You know, I think I can come tonight,” he said.

“Hell yeah, that’s the spirit!” Tom said, came over and clapped him on the back, and Eric was taken aback by how strong his musk was. Usually they all stank after practice, of course, but this was another level altogether. “Fuck Tom, did you shower yet?”

“Whatever man, so what if I stink?” Tom said with a laugh, raised an arm and took a deep whiff of his own musk, the other guys laughing. “Come on you guys, let’s go get the party started already!”

The rest of the guys all threw on their own clothes, and together, the group of them crossed campus, and followed Tom to the house he was renting with a few other guys off campus. In his disgust with Tom, and in the hurry to catch up, Eric realized he himself had forgotten to shower, and felt a bit self-conscious. All his life, he’d hated how much BO he could generate, and it didn’t help that he usually sweat like a pig during practice. Hopefully no one else would care too much if he stank as bad as Tom did, or hell, even a bit worse.

They got to Tom’s place, the rest of the guys all jeering and laughing with each other as they climbed the steps and went inside–Eric was in the midst of the pack, and Tom let them all inside before following behind them all. Eric hadn’t been in Tom’s place since the beginning of the semester, but the place was a mess–dirty clothes were strewn everywhere, the air was stale and stank of smoke, musk and cheap beer. The rest of the guys all seemed to not mind, but he was a bit disgusted by it, and hung back a bit, wondering if this was really how he wanted to spend his Friday night, and Tom caught up with him, standing in the hallway. “What’s up man?” he said, putting an arm around Eric’s shoulders, that musk assaulting him again, “Make yourself at home!”

Eric shrugged off Tom’s arm and resisted the urge to gag at his teammate’s stench. That was more than just musk, there was some outright filth in that pit. “You know? I…really should get to my place and study tonight. I promised a guy in my class we’d work together on some stuff, and I don’t really want–”

Tom slapped his forehead, interrupting him, “Fuck! This is your first time here, isn’t it?”

“I was here a couple times when the semester started, but–”

“No, I mean you haven’t fucking met Greg yet!” Tom grabbed Eric’s wrist and pulled him deeper into the house, passing through the living room where the guys on the team had all settled in for the most part, most of them with a beer in their hands, a couple even smoking cigarettes or cigars, lying amongst the dirty clothes and mess, most of them seeming…kind of close to one another. “Hey Greg!” Tom called out, “Where you at man? I got someone new from the team you gotta meet!”

“Who’s Greg?” Eric asked, “One of your housemates?”

“Nah man, Greg’s just passing through.”

“What?”

“You know, like a couch surfer and shit. Greg! Where you at?” Tom called again, and they heard a thumping on the stairs–and some pretty heavy thumping at that. Tom tugged him around the corner of the living room, and there, coming down the stairs was a huge, fat older man, probably in his forties or fifties, with his head shaved, a massive beard down to his hefty gut, wearing nothing more than a wife beater so filthy his was a light brown and a pair of disgusting briefs similarly shaded, smoking a cigar.

Greg was grumbling a bit, but when he saw Eric standing there he grinned around his cigar, and hurried up his pace. “Fuck boy, another teammate a yers?”

“Hell yeah–you’ll like this one I think, and he sure could use some of your help, that’s for sure.”

“Trash, get out of those clothes, and get over here. My nasty cock is waiting.”

“Please, don’t…call me that any more. I did what you asked, I gave you the money, please, just let me go…” the man said, He was dressed in an expensive suit tailored for a frame different than his current one–his gut pushed the buttons apart, but he had to keep pulling it up, the pants falling down around his ass. At the word ‘Trash,’ the man’s hair–already lank and greasy–had grown another inch, added more grey, his hairline receding further. “I don’t…want to do this…”

“Oh trust me, I appreciate the money–a few thousand will cover rent and drugs for a month–but why pass up a nasty fucker like you? Now come over here–you don’t want me calling you anything else, right?”

But the man was fighting all the same, trying to make his body move towards the door. “You fucking piece of disgusting filth, I said get over here, and suck my cock!”

The energy drained from the man’s eyes, as a wet patch appeared on the front of his pants. He was pissing, unable to stop himself, and kept pissing as he dropped his pants, stumbled over to the filthy young man, got down, and began sucking at his cock.

“Nobody gets away from me, you fucking pig,” the man winced, a tattoo appearing on his back, another on his arm. “You hear me pig? You fucking nasty whore?”

The man moaned, reaching around behind him and pushing a few of his fingers into his own loose hole, while his tormentor laughed. “That’s the spirit! You want me to fuck that hole of yours, bitch?”

“Oh god, I…please, fuck my nasty hole…”

He was more than happy to oblige him–and what the man didn’t know, was that as soon as the man shot his load deep into his guts, reality twisted around him, his previous life as a young, wealthy entrepreneur gone forever, his suit now just a bunch of rags thrown after him, as he was thrown out naked into the hallway, the young man still laughing the entire time.

Source: boxcardick

Asslickers Inc. (Part 6)

The dildo was quite small now, especially compared to the width of Judd’s ass. The white and blue had faded away from the shaft as it had shrunk, leaving just a pale, creamy rod which Ari slid in deep. “Why don’t we just let that melt for a bit?”

“Aww fuck…can’ believe ya fuckin’ turned me intah some dumbass redneck slob. Can’t believe how much I fuckin’ love it, fuck! I’d fuckin’ plow mah ass if I could, hot damn, what a pig…” Judd muttered to himself, gazing at his reflection. “Ya got anythin’ tah smoke round here? Could use somethin’…got an itch tah scratch.”

“Sorry, I don’t smoke. I can get you a beer though.”

“Fine, two cans though–’n just the cheap shit! Don’t need so sissy fuckin’ import shit. Real fuckin’ ‘Merican’s drink domestic!”

Ari just shook his head, and went into the kitchen, as a new taste flooded Judd’s mouth. It was like sweet whipped cream…but with a sour tinge, almost like yogurt, or…cum. Yeah, it was like sugary cum, that was it exactly! Fuck, it tasted pretty damn good–he wouldn’t mind some real cum, now that he was thinking about it. Ari returned, and since Judd’s body was still paralyzed and limp, He had to help the big lug drink the two cans down. A good amount ran down his chins and onto the rubber sheet, running around his filthy body, but he got a small buzz going–enough to ignore the growing need for tobacco in one form or another. “Thanks fucker–now git that cock in mah mouth–this pigs hungry fer some cum.”

“No kidding. Still, I want to check on the rest of the effects, and see how that’s working first.” Ari walked around behind him, and looked at Judd’s ball sack–which was tingling a bit, and Ari gave a few noises of approval. “Damn Judd–you’ve got quite the sack on you now! And better get used to having the crotches of your overalls wet, because that cock of yours will be leaking at the first sight of a guy’s cock you want.”

“Yeah? Well I fuckin’ want yers! Now git round here, ‘n fuckin’ feed me! This pig’s fuckin’ hungry.”

Judd didn’t actually get through the blow job before he fell asleep, thanks to the tranquilizers Ari had put in the beers. Still, he took pity on him, skull fucked his fat, bearded face and buried deep into his throat, pumping his gut full of a load, and then got up off the bed, found his phone, and made a call.

“Got a pickup for you. He’s asleep….Sure thing, one hour.”

Overall, a successful test–as good as he could hope for really. He could review the tapes later, and decide on what changes he might make to the product line–but for now, it was nearly four in the morning, and he needed to sleep. He managed an hour nap, before the crew arrived, marched in, bundled up Judd and carted him off out of the apartment–Ari didn’t know where they took them when he finished with them, and he didn’t really want to know. All he really wanted, was a nice long sleep–and when he woke up? He’d pick another target, and conduct his next test in next week.

Judd woke up to a pounding headache, and with a groan, rolled over in the tight queen bed that barely contained his bulk, and wondered where, exactly, he was. He should be home…right? Was this his home? He had fuzzy memories of some crazy dream, but they were already fading–he sat up, belched, gave his furry pit a scratch and sniff, before hauling himself up and squeezing through the tight trailer, finding the filthy bathroom where he pissed mostly into the toilet, and then started scrounging around for something to smoke. The only thing he found was a can of chewing tobacco, so he hauled out a thick wad of the dark leaf and shoved it in his mouth, feeling better as he gnawed on it, dark spit rolling out the side of his mouth and down into his beard. Beer next–then breakfast. Then he could worry about how he’d ended up here.

Still, by the time he’d gotten four beers in his gut, cooked up a pile of eggs and potatoes and scarfed the whole thing down, his brain had managed to catch up–and he realized he was home. After all, it didn’t make sense for him to be anywhere else…and he’d probably just drank a bit too much, and fucked up his head, like usual.

Breakfast hadn’t quite sated all of his hungers, however, and he hauled up his massive gut and started proding at his cock–turnin’ on the cumtap as he liked to call it. His balls were massive–at least the size of two grapefruits, and the cum streamed out of him in a torrent–fast enough for him to hang off a chair, milk his cock with one hand, hold a big glass in the other, and guzzle down a full cup of fresh jizz every few minutes. His milking routine was interrupted by an unfamiliar ringtone–he dug through the filth of the trailer for a few moments, hunted down the years out of date flip phone, and answered it with a long, drawled hello.

“God fuckin’ damn it Judd, where the fuckin’ hell are ya? This god damn truck ain’t gonna drive itself, ‘n yer half an hour late n’–fuck, from the way yer pantin’, were ya milkin’ yerself again?”

“I don’t know…who ya are, but…” Judd stammered.

“Shut the fuck up pig! If ya weren’t such a cum hungry faggot, I’d a canned yer worthless fat ass months ago. Git here now, fucker–’n if ya don’t got her nasty mouth round mah cock in twenty minutes, yer gonna be findin’ another fuckin’ job!”

Memories were falling into place again–that was his boss–Heathrow Midstel–and the owner of one of the biggest, fattest cocks Judd had ever seen. Trucking wasn’t something he liked to do–but if he got to drink his boss’ cum on a regular basis, he’d manage. Grumbling, he hauled on a pair of filthy overalls, the crotch stained dark and stiff with cum, threw on some boots, and went out to his old beat up truck. It wasn’t a perfect life–but it was the only one he had…and if Judd was honest, it was the only life he wanted now too.

Asslickers Inc. (Part 5)

Jules didn’t like the sound of that. “Why? Are you just going to keep me here? As some fucking freak for you to play with?”

“Oh goodness no, you’re pretty much used up at this point I’m afraid. Testing is always better on a fresh canvas–I can get a better feel for the effects. That said, I can’t just keep you here–I’d be drowning in you fucks before too long, with the amount of testing I have to do to get these models ready for production. Still, you’re not completely worthless at this point, so don’t feel too bad. You can still test one of the biggies.”

“The biggies?”

“Oh yeah–these ones are real impressive. Some of my best work! Not entirely sure I’d be able to pull them off, when Arctos asked me for them, but they actually work quite well at this point. Now, you’re going to get a rather special one–a new combo I’ve worked out just last week, and I’m excited to see how it works.” He walked back to the wall, and returned with a sizable shaft, this one with a rather uneven texture, and colored a dirty, greenish brown. It didn’t look particularly appealing, and he certainly didn’t want it going in his ass at all. “What in the world does that thing do?”

“This one? Well, this is the grand finale! It’s part of a new line I’m calling assbreakers–it’s got two mystery flavors inside as well, which you’ll discover soon enough. Still, it’s late, and I’m tired, so let’s get this thing in you, and see if it works how I hope it will.”

“No, look, please–I don’t want to change anymore! You can have the money, just…I don’t know, don’t do this to me again.”

“Sorry Jules, but this is the last one. You’ll love it too–or at least, you should by the time we’re finished with it.”

“But I don’t want–” he grunted, as the thick shaft pushed into his loose hole. It wasn’t as large as the massive one had been, but when the taste flooded his mouth a moment later, he gagged, trying to spit it out. “Fuck, what the fuck is this? It tastes vile!” It was like someone had wadded up an extremely filthy and sweaty pair of underwear into his mouth, or like hi tongue had been glued to the armpit of that one gymrat who never wore deodorant and never wiped the machines down after he was finished. It was filthy, and he couldn’t escape it. Ari pushed it all the way in, and then started pistoning it in and out, eager to be finished with this. Jules noticed that he was starting to sweat profusely, all over his body–his hair becoming matted, greasy and tangled–and then he belched, the smell roiling up out of him in a thick cloud of gas, and he was appalled by it…and yet…enjoyed it a bit, too. Fuck, no, he wasn’t going to enjoy this, he wasn’t going to be some disgusting slob! He let of another belch, bigger than the last, and followed it up with some gas which slipped out around the dildo, Ari waving the stench away from his face.

“No, I’m not going to be some fucking disgusting slob, you twisted fucker!” he said, and belched again.

“Oh? Tell me Jules, when’s the last time you had a shower?”

“Just…I mean I think…” but his memory was failing him, because he didn’t take showers…right? No, why the hell would he take a shower? He loved his nasty stench! Jules shook his head, fighting the thoughts invading him, faster now, but they were changing him faster than he could even grapple with them. He could feel the filthy taste rotting his teeth, but he didn’t care–he let off another wet fart, and laughed, smelling his nasty pits wafting up to his nose.

“Think I got that layer a bit too think,” Ari said, sliding the dildo out, to check it’s progress. “Still, I don’t think you mind much, right Jules?”

“Nah, I don’t mind none–fuck!” Jules said, surprised by the long, slow drawl which had warped his words. “What in tarnation? Why’s I talkin’ like some dumbass hick?”

“Cause we hit the second layer a few minutes ago,” Ari said, sliding the dildo out, giving Jules a chance to see it in the mirror to his side. Sure enough, the greasy brown layer had all been absorbed by his now filthy body, and what remained below was a red, white and blue pattern–a red field, with blue stripes and white stars…just like the confederate flag. “Aww nah, git that fuckin’ thang outta mah fuckhole! I ain’t gonna be no fuckin’ redneck!”

“Now now Jules, mind your double negatives…” Ari said, and pushed the dildo back in. Sure enough, the taste in his mouth was shifting from rank filth, to a new medley–tobacco, cheap booze and liquor, hay, dust, grease…it tasted like…like home? No, not his home, but it did make him feel comfortable, or somehow at ease. That was a trap too, he realized, but it was difficult to resist–in the mirror, he saw his hair shifting slightly, the top shortening until what remained was a mullet, straight out of the 80’s and very long in the back. He also knew…somehow, that underneath all that fur of his, he’d find all sorts of tattoos he’d picked up over the years–but the only ones he could see easily were the confederate flags on the sides of his flabby neck. it was getting harder to think–which wasn’t surprising. After all, Judd hadn’t gone to any sort of college–hell, he hadn’t even graduated from high school!

He was confused for a moment, about who Judd was, before he realized that was his name. But it wasn’t really, right? He’d had a different name, something else–but as hard as he tried to remember it, the further it drifted from his grasp, leaving him with Judd–and Judd’s dull life. Growing up in a trailer park, drinking and chewing tobacco, getting a job as a trucker which barely paid the bills, hooking up with other nasty pigs and bikers at rest stops to get his nuts off. His old memories of offices and city life had disappeared before he could even think to miss them, leaving him grunting and groaning, demanding that Ari, “Pick up the goddamn pace, ya fucker! Pound that nasty confederate hole a mine real fuckin’ good., fuck yeah…”

“Heh, looks like that layer’s all finished,” Ari said, checking what remained of the shaft, “Guess we finally made it to the creamy center.”

He’s deep in the pits of Pigtown, taking a break from the mass of men around him, pumping his dick to new sizes, staring at it through the plastic tube, panting a bit, wondering how big it can get, what it might feel like shoved up some faggots loose cunt. He looks to the side, and catches the eye of someone across the room, in the dark. He can’t make out much of him, but in those eyes, what is it about those eyes?

“Pigtown? You can’t be serious.”

“Oh come on, I’ve heard it’s one of the best bathhouses ever.”

“You told me you weren’t going to do this anymore.”

“I’m…look, I like to have fun. This is one of the ways I have fun. I just thought, if you came along, maybe you’d enjoy yourself! I brought some E–you had a blast last time–”

“No, I’m done with this, I’m done with you–go get lost in there, or whatever the fuck you want to do with your life, I’m fucking done.”

How long had he been down here? There were no clocks anywhere–hadn’t he arrived a few hours earlier? He looked down at himself, the filthy jockstrap, his rubber boots–hadn’t he been…wearing something else? Wearing more? It seemed…so long ago, for some reason. Lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed the man make a beeline for him across the room.

“Jack…oh fuck, Jack, I can’t believe I found you–we have to go, please…”

Those eyes, now that they were so close…he did know them, but not the body they were attached to. The head shouldn’t be shaved. The body was too…thin, like it had lost some mass and wasted away, and he’d grown older–years older. The beard was wrong, and there shouldn’t be a piercing in his nose, or those tattoos. “You came in after all–looks like…you’re having fun…” He had trouble getting the words out, and he couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d bothered using words.

“Jack, it’s been weeks! You’ve been in here for weeks. I…I’m losing it, Jack. But I know how to get out, I can get us out, I can get us better!”

Jack just smirked, released the pump, and hauled out his massive cock, wrapping it tight, keeping it full, hefting it, those eyes latched onto it, unable to look away. “Just give it a chance–you’ll like it, I promise.”

He fought. He fought hard, but he collapsed, the knees of his bleached jeans in a puddle of piss and cum, as he explored the massive cock with his hands and mouth, losing himself in the pit, like all the other pigs around him had already.

Source: studio-mineshaft-berlin

Redneck Haunt (Part 3)

Jay didn’t last much longer at the smoke shop–a few weeks later, his manager caught him sleeping on the job for the last time, read him up and down the wall, and kicked his ass out. Jay tried to muster the energy to care, but he was too drained and exhausted to put up much of a fight any longer, and so he went home. He didn’t want to go there, and the thought of not having a job to go to for all night scared him in a way he couldn’t quite understand, but once he was inside, it was too hard to think about anything at all. It was about one in the morning, and he could hear something happening in Kerry’s room. He opened the door a crack, and saw his friend, on his knees, thrusting his hips into thin air. He was completely asleep, or at least his eyes were shut, and his mouth slack, his body seeming to move more like a puppet, than by any internal force or desire. Still, he was too tired to think much of it, and so he climbed into bed, and fell asleep almost immediately–the boy could sense him, but focused on his daddy for the rest of the night, only joining Jay once Kerry had woken for real, late, and hurried to get ready for work.

After that…Jay didn’t wake up much any more, and the boy drained him even further, now that he no longer had to worry about him having to leave the house for any reason, feeling the young man’s strength and life flowing into him with every load of cum. Kerry was too focused on what was happening to himself to focus much on Jay–his mind was a riot of memories, old and new, real and created by his boy, that he wasn’t even quite sure who he was anymore. What he did know, was that he loved his boy. He shouldn’t love him, but…but he did, and the feeling was so strong it was impossible for him to deny. He also knew that his boy was going stronger. He would possess Jay regularly, and each time, he was shocked to see what had happened to his friend’s form. He looked closer to sixty now, his hair receded back past the crown of his head, now just a dingy grey. His muscles had all collapsed, and his gut was heavy. He stank, and not like healthy musk–he stank of death, his teeth rotting out of his head, and yet…Kerry desired him anyway. Party, because his boy was inside him, but also…also because it was Jay. Because he’d always wanted Jay, and that desire persisted, somehow, even as his body seemed to age and decay right before his eyes.

One day, when he was feeling particularly guilty, watching his boy suck his cock with Jay’s throat, he pulled together all of the strength he could muster, and pushed him away. “No boy, no–no, you have to stop this, you can’t…he’s going to die, if you keep doing this to him. You have to stop, please, for me–for daddy.”

Jay’s sunken eyes looked at him, and then his body stood, and they looked down at his body, “I could kill him, that’s true. I was planning on killing him–or rather, I assumed I’d have to. But I’m almost strong enough daddy, I just need a little bit more.”

“I…I don’t even recognize him anymore. How did you do this to him?”

The boy smiled a toothless, unsettling grin, and then went back to sucking his daddy’s cock, pushing back, making sure Kerry wouldn’t fight back or protest, not until after he’d gotten another load from him. But Kerry kept pushing, thinking about that smile that had turned his stomach in a knot, looking down at himself through the cigar smoke, really looking, down at his hairy, sweaty gut, smelling himself, lifting up a hefty arm and snorting at his stench. It made his cock jump, his heavy balls pumping out a bit of precum which his boy drank down eagerly into Jay’s gut. This wasn’t him, was it? Whose clothes was he even wearing?

He had on a pair of coveralls and filthy workboots, neither of which he could remember buying in his life, neither of which should have fit him. He shouldn’t be this fat, he shouldn’t reek, he definitely shouldn’t be smoking, or drinking another warm beer from the 24 pack he’d started bringing home on an almost daily basis. What was he becoming? Who was he becoming? Who was he forgetting in the process? He came, and it made him feel dirty–he finished his cigar, and then his boy told him to get to bed.

The dreams became stronger. He lost sense of where the dreams ended, and real life began. His boy was always there. Jay was there too…or…or was it just his pig? He still cared about him, but the love he’d felt started to curdle into disgust and contempt, his desire for company into a deep pleasure in control. He enjoyed abusing the pig’s toothless mouth, slamming his massive cock deep in it’s filthy hole, his son cheerleading from the sideline, the two of them sharing smoky kisses while Jay drooled on the floor, his own cock and balls barely a nipple, completely inert.

One night, as winter was thawing slightly into an early spring, Kerry came home from a long day at work, hungry for a beer and his boy’s holes, maybe a rough fuck for his pig too, and his boy was there, shaking with excitement…and he touched him. It was electric, it wasn’t just…force. It was flesh. His boy was there–really there, in front of him. “I’m here daddy, I’m back.”

He knew, in his gut, he should be happy, but all he found welling up was absolute terror. His son had anticipated this, and forced his daddy to the floor with his mind, tearing away his filthy overalls and running his hands over his filthy ass.

“Now I can finally give you a piece of me, daddy, after I’ve taken so much from you. I seeded Piggy earlier, and he’s never looked better, don’t you think?”

He looked over, and saw Piggy curled up in his bed, fatter than before, looking healthier as well, like a kind of life had returned to him, but his eyes were so empty, empty of everything that had been Jay, just…just a slave, a pig, a thing. “Don’t…not like him, please…”

“Oh daddy, I’d never make you pig–not unless you made me very, very angry. No, but we can get rid of that young man now, forever. You won’t be troubled by him anymore, you’ll just be my happy, nasty daddy, and we can be happy together again, like before. Isn’t that what you want?” he ran his cock up and down Kerry’s crack, making his shiver, his cock leaking against his own desires, and after a quick fuck, Kerry was gone. The boy’s daddy let off a great big belch, feeling his boy’s cum leak from his hole, gave him a long, sloppy kiss, happy to be home at last.

Dale’s Story (Part 6)

Ha, well, it wasn’t quite what I was expecting to win, but option number four (pig farm) pretty much ran away with 34% of the vote. Option two (beers with friends) was in second place with 25%, so we’ll try to have Bishop meet back up with his friends at some point, beers or no. Let’s see where this goes first, however!

“Ya know what ya always called me, the name I hated the most a all?” Dale said, leaning in close to Bishop’s face, where his much younger brother was kneeling in front of him. He didn’t say anything, “Go on, guess. Ya called me it often enough that ya obviously knew how much I hated it. Go on.”

“P-Piggy?”

“Yeah, that thar’s the one! But do ya remember what ya’d always do as well?”

Bishop didn’t want to do it, but his mouth opened, under Dale’s control, and he started squealing, loudly. He’d always done that to chase Dale off–call him Piggy and squeal at him until he ran away crying. He kept trying to talk, trying to apologize or beg, but all his mouth would do is squeal, grunt and snort.

“Now, how’s ‘bout we go visit a piggy farm, Bishop? I think we could have some real fun there, don’t ya?”

Bishop shook his head, but couldn’t fight Dale’s control over him. He stood up and began stripping off his clothes, abandoning them in the office. He squealed and grunted in protest, and Dale just laughed.

“Ya ain’t gonna need those on the farm, piggy, ya’ll just git ‘em dirty,” Dale said, and examined his brother’s physique. He’d put on a bit of weight since graduating from high school, but he was still quite the stud–and as he was, he certainly got Dale’s cock hard in his fat, but Bishop didn’t deserve it, and he wouldn’t have that body for much longer, if Dale had anything to say about it. He led Bishop out of the office, caught his son’s fucking against the side of an old truck in the garage, and told them to finish closing up the shop without him, that he had an errand to run and he’d see them later. He forced Bishop into his truck, he climbed in with him, and drove out of town, keeping Bishop occupied licking and sucking at his fat until they arrived at one of the pig farms surrounding the town, and he forced Bishop out again. He covered himself up as best he could, embarrassed to be naked in the evening light, and thankfully no one was around to see him as he and Dale walked to the barn and went inside.

Bishop fell to the floor, and only after trying to get up a few times did he realize it was Dale, who’d removed his ability to walk upright, forcing him to crawl up to a massive trough along the wall, while Dale looked around, figuring out how to dispense the feed, and after finding it, he pulled the switch, and a thick, sloppy mash dropped into the trough in front of Bishop.

He fought as hard as he could for a moment, but drove his face into the muck and started eating it as quickly as he could. Dale stopped the flow once the trough was full, and then walked up and got down beside his brother, running his chubby hands over his naked back, down to his ass, slipping a couple greasy fingers inside him as he talked to him, influencing his mind.

“Yeah, that’s it Piggy–ya go tah town on that shit. That’s yer new name, by the way–the only thing ya’ll let people call ya from now on. Piggy–just hearin’ a guy say it, inside, yer gonna hate it, it’s gonna fill ya wit’ so much shame, but outside, you’ll grin, and that piggy cock a yers is gonna get a flutter. Ya’ll look like a piggy soon enough to, since we’re gonna make ya eat all the time, I think. Yeah, I can do that to ya–ya can feel that hunger now, can’t ya? The pleasure yer gettin’, fillin’ that gut a yers. Damn Piggy, got her cock hard ‘n everythin’ already, ‘n all ya’ve done i stuff that fat fuckin’ face a yers like a damn animal. Fuck, feel how full this gut a yers is? Damn piggy, yer gonna–”

He was interrupted by the barn door opening, and Dale looked behind them to where the farmer had just opened the door, shotgun in hand, staring, unbelieving, at the scene in front of him. Dale took control of him easily, and the older man set the shotgun down against the wall. From the look of him, he’d been in the mud with the pigs, the man’s rubber waders coated with muck. He wasn’t the cleanest fellow either, which was fine with him–and he had a feeling Bishop would enjoy him as well. But what does he do?

Alright, time for you to choose! Here’s a range of options, from a couple more normal ones to some…more extreme options. Again, they can be mixed and matched a bit, if two are more popular than the rest.

Dale convinces him to hire Bishop, and degrades Bishop’s mind and memories to match his new position in life.
He makes the farmer an aggressive leather master, and Bishop is his new pigslave in training.
Two pigs are better than one–he has the farmer join in with Bishop, and Dale enjoys them both.
Dale convinces him that Bishop is actually one of his sows in heat, and together they get a boar to mount him.
As an apology for trespassing, he offers Bishop’s services as a toilet and cumdump for the filthy farmer.

So, what would you all like to see happen next?

Perfect Girlfriend (Part 1)

“I’m not kidding guys. She’s, like, the perfect girlfriend,” Andy said, talking with his two friends, Sam and Owen in the breakroom. He’d just finished his shift, and was getting ready to go home for the day, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to keep bragging about Kendra, his girlfriend of six months. They’d moved in together last week, and so far, it had, apparently, been bliss. “She’s so fucking horny, you wouldn’t believe it, needs me, like, four times a damn day. How am I supposed to keep up with that?”

Sam and Owen rolled their eyes–they were both tired of hearing about Kendra–it seemed like the only thing Andy was interested in talking about, and it had only gotten worse over the last few months. Andy had used to be a pretty fun guy, hanging out, playing video games, but ever since he’d started dating her, the guys had seen less and less of him, and he’d started changing in odd ways as well. He’d packed on at least 25 pounds, going from a wiry fairly normal 200 to a husky 230, with no sign of stopping–but he did love her cooking, he said, over and over again. All of this, and neither Sam nor Owen had ever even seen her, much less met her. They’d both suspected she was fictional, but even they’d never heard of someone going so far as to “move in” with a fictional girlfriend. Needless to say, neither of them replied to Andy’s news of sexual conquest–it didn’t matter if they said anything or not; he’d keep going regardless.

“Anyway, she said she’s making meatloaf tonight, so I’d better get home quick, right?” Andy laughed at himself, “See you two tomorrow!”

“Yeah, man.”

“Later.”

Andy loved these days when he could get off early, around three. He got in his car and drove home to his apartment, fifteen minutes or so from work, thinking about Kendra. How as soon as he opened the door, she’d be there, ready for him to ravish her, and then she’d cook him dinner. Fuck! This was the damn life, right?

He pulled into his parking spot outside the complex, got out of his car, and couldn’t help but notice his hands were clenched into fists he couldn’t quite get loose, his guts roiling, body shaking slightly. Damn, what was up with him all of a sudden? Probably just hungry, or maybe that sushi he ate for lunch, who knows? He walked up the flight of stairs to his apartment, fingers fumbling with his keys, and he couldn’t quite get it into the lock, like his hand kept missing it somehow. Still, he needed to get in and see Kendra, he was so damn excited! On the third try, the key slipped in and turned. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

“There’s my handsome boyfriend,” Ken said, sitting in the recliner in front of the TV, the same place Ken always was when Andy got home, when he remembered. He grabbed the door handle, trying to twist it, but he already knew he wouldn’t be able to get it open–he could always get in, but he’d never once been able to get out without Ken’s permission.

Ken. Andy had moved into the apartment across from him a year ago, and he’d just assumed his neighbor was an old weirdo, and a bit of a pervert, from the way he kept looking at him when they passed on the stairs. He was dirty, with long hair and a big beard, teeth rotting, clothes reeking with cum and smoke and who knew what else. He…didn’t know when he’d been ensnared, but he’d dated Kendra without knowing her real identity for a month, before Ken revealed himself one night, before raping Andy’s hole. He’s been trapped in this nightmare ever since–outside, he’s dating his beautiful, perfect girlfriend Kendra. Inside, he’s little more than Ken’s mindfucked slave.

“Come on over here son,” Ken said, “Daddy’s been edging for hours, waiting for you to get home.”

Oh fuck yeah, Andy thought, stripping off his work clothes as fast as he could, hurrying to his dad’s side. Fuck, he loved his dad so damn much, he’d do anything for him. He immediately climbed on top of his dad, grinding their bellies together, waiting for Ken to pull his cigar out before giving him a long, wet, sloppy kiss, sucking the smoke from his mouth as he exhaled, before kissing him again, slipping down lower, feeling his dad’s thick, hard cock slipping up and down his crack, catching slightly on his boyhole. God, he wanted daddy inside him, it was the only time he felt alive, serving the cock that made him. Another few tries, and the head slipped in, followed by the rest of his shaft, Daddy holding his son tight, the boy letting him slide in and out, slow, moaning and sighing and whimpering.

“I love you son, do you love me?”

“Oh god daddy, I love you so much!” Andy cried, “Oh fuck daddy, fuck me!”

“Could never fucking help yourself, you know. I remember the first day you came into my room, begging me for my cock like a little whore. Telling me how you’d seen guys fucking on the damn internet, wanted your old dad here to show you what it felt like to have a cock in your ass…”

Andy didn’t remember that, really, but he’d probably just forgotten that. His dad would never make something like that up. It did sound like something he’d say anyway–Daddy was always talking about how much of a nasty, desperate slut his son was.

“Finally getting some meat on those bones, turning into a damn hot fuck.”

“Thanks daddy.”

“But you want to be bigger, I bet–think you’re hot now, just wait till you finally top 300, you fucking pig.”

Andy’s eyes glazed over, mouth going slack, and he gave a great, long snort, bucking his hips faster, grunting in time with Ken’s thrusts, mouth exploring his master’s body, lciking and sucking at his sweat and musk.

“Nasty, disgusting, filthy piggy. Gonna stuff yourself today. Stuff yourself, and you won’t be able to fucking stop, hell no.”

The hunger was back, oh fucking god, he was so hungry! He slurped and licked at his master’s neck before biting down on his shoulder, slobbering, gut kneading itself into knots, master closer to cuming now, closer to cuming deep in his pig’s filthy hole, and then maybe he can eat, maybe it can fucking eat! Drool ran from it’s mouth uncontrollably as Master thrust in time with the pig’s grunts, and then with a groan, he came, holding pig on for a moment longer, before letting him slide off. The pig tried to stand on two feet for a moment, but fell onto hands and knees, where it felt much more natural. Master’s cock was there, and it crawled over, cleaning off the filth from it’s own ass, and as disgusting as it tasted, it was too good for a pig like him, and it ebbed the hunger slightly, having something it it’s mouth to lick and slurp on.

Dale’s Story (Part 4)

Thanks again for all of the participation with this one! I hope you’re all enjoying how this is shaping up so far. Option four won handily over the last few days, with a solid plurality of 44%. Despite an early lead, option two came in second, with 27%. Here’s the next chunk! Hope you all enjoy.

The stranger smiled, and said, “Boys, why don’t we make sure your daddy doesn’t run off with a few more pitchers of beer and some greasy bar food.”

“Yeah!” Mike said, “I’ll go get some food from George. Jerry, you make sure daddy finishes his pitcher.”

“Heh, sounds good to me–sound good to you, Daddy? Come on and have a seat, you must be starving.”

“Starving is right,” the stranger said, and before Dale could object, his gut let off a massive rumble, and the hunger he’d lived with his entire life doubled or tripled in force. “Come on and sit back down Dale–we all know you aren’t going anywhere for a while yet.”

Dale fought his body, he fought the desperate need to eat gnawing away inside him, but he sat back down at the table, Jerry picked up the pitcher, skipping the glass, put it to his daddy’s bearded lips and tipped it up. All Dale could do was drink, and stare at the stranger leering down at them both, feeling the beer take hold of him, making things…fuzzier. He felt the beer running out each side of his mouth and down his front, soaking his coveralls, his cock hardening at the thought of what a mess he was making…and…and at the thought of Jerry cleaning him up. Yeah…fuck yeah…

The pitcher came away from his lips, nearly empty, and Dale let off a massive belch, groping his soaked gut for a moment, before unzipping the front of his coveralls. “Made a right mess a mahself boy, go on and lick daddy’s fat tits clean.”

“Ah fuck daddy…” Jerry moaned, swung a leg over his Daddy’s lap so he straddling him, his son’s cock pressing into his daddy’s expanding gut, leaned in and started licking up the beer from his dad’s fat chest and neck, listening to Dale groan and belch, feeling him pull his boy closer, grinding into him.

“See Dale? I knew you’d start to enjoy yourself eventually,” the stranger said, then looked up, “Oh good, Mike’s got your evening snacks I see. George knows what you love, of course.”

Dale looked over at the door as it opened, both terrified and desperate to see what his other son was bringing. The sight of fried chicken, piles of fries and onion rings, all drenched in ranch and barbeque sauce made his mouth water, and he licked his lips. “Fuck boy, get that shit in mah big belly, I’m fuckin’ starvin’…”

“Heh, sure thing daddy, but Jerry’s in the way.”

“Git down there boy, daddy’s gotta eat!” Dale said, and pushed Jerry down, under the table, where he unzipped his daddy’s coveralls further, his massive flabby body spilling out, and started digging around for his cock in Dale’s inflating gunt, while Mike started shoving food in his dad’s open maw, Dale focusing on chewing and swallowing as fast as he could, kneading his fat, feeling himself grow even larger still than he had been. Every little while, Dale would get a break, and guzzle some more beer straight from a pitcher, and then keep eating, his focus collapsing to just him and his two boys, getting drunker and heavier until he came with a long, food muffled moan, down Jerry’s throat, having demolished all of his snacks, Mike kissing and cleaning up his food coated face.

He looked about the patio for the stranger, but he was gone–when had he left? He couldn’t recall. “Where’d mah friend go?” he asked Mike.

“Who? Daddy, it’s just us out here.”

“Nah boy, thar was another guy. Older, with a pipe.”

Jerry crawled out from under the table, and got up, dusting off his knees. “Dad, it’s just us–I think ya had too much tah drink–let’s git on home. Ya good tah drive, Mike?”

“Sure bro.”

Together, they hauled up their massive, 600 pound father from his chair and led the very drunk Dale back through the bar, as he kept insisting to talk to the stranger, but everyone just ignored him–they knew how Dale got when he’d had too much to drink, and the fat ass had too much to drink quite often. At least he had his two boys to take care of him, right?

Dale was in the office at the auto shop the next day, working on some paperwork, shoving chips in his mouth absentmindedly, thinking back on the night before, wondering how much of it had just been his imagination, how much had been the beer, and how much had been real. He’d woken up in his own bed, two boys beside him, and after a morning fuck and a big breakfast, they’d gone to work, like normal…right? But then why did this feel so new to him? He knew what he was doing, sure, but…but something still didn’t quite feel right. Even a big lunch at the buffet hadn’t improved his mood much.

The office door creaked open, and he looked up to find himself looking right at the stranger from the night before, and his jaw dropped. He was real! Then…then did that mean…everything else was real too? “Sorry I disappeared so suddenly yesterday, but I had plans to make, people to see. But don’t think I forgot about my promise Dale! It just so happens that brother of yours is having some car trouble–he’ll be calling here to make an appointment, I think.”

Before Dale could respond, the phone rang, and Dale answered it. Sure enough, it was Bishop–his car was making an odd noise, and he couldn’t figure out what it was, and Dale told him to bring the car by in a couple of hours so he could look at it. He set the phone down. “He…he can’t be my brother…but he was by brother, wasn’t he? Fuck, what did you do to me?”

“This was the deal, Dale. This is my town now, and everyone’s going to find out what that means soon enough, but you’re the first. Now, here’s the deal–I have three powers at my disposal–the power of body, the power of time, and the power of mind–and I’ll give you one of them, so you can have some fun with your brother and his friends, so you can get the revenge I know you still crave. So Dale, the choice is yours.”

Actually, the choice is yours! Here’s the three options:

Power over time – the user can manipulate the strands of time to create alternate outcomes, including control over age, fate, the past and the future.
Power over body – the user has control over the body’s natural form and processes, including control over physical features, physiological function, and size.
Power over mind – the user can manipulate and control an individual’s mental states , including control over desires, memories, belief and intellect.

I have various ideas for each option, but if there’s something you’d like to see in particular, let me know and I’ll consider it! So, what would you like to see?