Interactive: Dale’s Story (Part 3)

“Whatever Mike, you know she’s hot for me.”

“Fuck no, bro–she wants me!”

The two younger men laughed and paused a moment to light up a couple of cigarettes. Dale recognized them–they were Mike and Jerry, a couple of young fraternal twins in their late 20’s. They’d moved here from a couple of towns over to work as a couple of mechanics–they were still dressed in their coveralls from the day, coated with grease and grime from boot to face. They were both is solid shape–muscular and beefy from the heavy lifting they did all day long, but each of them with a fair sized paunch as well. While not exactly identical by any means, you could definitely get them mixed up if you weren’t careful, and the two were rarely seen separated.

Dale wondered if he should call out to them. Maybe they could go get help? They at least needed to get away from this crazy lunatic. He had to say something, but the breath was still locked in his lungs, the stranger smirking at him struggling to speak. “Well lookie there Dale! If it ain’t yer two boys–ya didn’t tell me they were joinin’ us tonight. Come on over here and have a seat”

Dale just gawked at him–and the brothers did as well…but neither of them found themselves capable of resisting the suggestion. Still…they didn’t know these two older guys, did they? They set themselves down on either side of Dale at the round table, slightly uncomfortable and quiet.

“Well Dale? Aren’t you proud of these two boys of yours? I must say they’re fine looking young men! Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“I can’t introduce you, I don’ even know yer name!” Dale said, his tongue untied, “Ya guys, git the hell outta here. I don’t know who this guy is, but he’s fuckin’ insane!”

“Come…come on Pa, why would we leave? We just sat down…” Jerry said, his voice with an odd slowness to it, his eyes a bit hazy, like they were clouded with smoke.

“Yeah Pa, let’s have a beer–who’s your friend, anyway?”

Dale glowered at the stranger, “I ain’t gonna their damn Pa!”

“Now now Dale, words can hurt!” the stranger said, “Still, I suppose you can’t introduce me, can you? I mean, I have claimed this town here, but no one’s really met me yet! You’re the first person I’ve had much conversation with, really. But I don’t really want to talk about me anyway–I’d rather talk about you! Eh boys? Why don’t you tell me some things about your Pa here.”

“Pa? Oh, he owns the shop where we work–he taught us everything we know about engines. He didn’t finish high school, and he isn’t too smart, but he can tell you anything you want to know about any damn car!”

“Yeah–he was a trucker for a long time when he was younger. Wasn’t til our mom dumped the two of us on him that he settled down here, but we’re happy here, right Pa?”

“No!” Dale said, and forced himself up from the table and backed up a few steps–looked down at himself, but he too was now clad in a massive set of coveralls, coated with grease from the cars he’d spent all day working on–right? No, no this wasn’t right, this wasn’t real–it was a trick! “I don’ know what game ya think yer playin’,” he said to the stranger, “But I ain’t havin’ no more a it, ya hear me?”

“Now now, Dale, I know you aren’t too bright, but double negatives can be especially dangerous in situations like this, don’t you think? Still, it does seem like we’ll need to give you some…extra incentive to settle in to your new life a bit better. What do you think boys, you want to help you Pa out?”

“Please, just let me go…” Dale said, trying to back away, but his feet were glued back to the floor.

The stranger smiled, and said…

Alright, here are your options for what the stranger says:

“Now we both know how much you love your son’s musk after a day at the shop–go give him a taste boys, and jog his memory.”
“How about we give you something else to occupy your mind–like a ten inch cock and lemon sized balls to keep your horny boys happy.”
“Now daddy, get on your hands and knees. We all know how much you like feeling them plug you up at both ends.”
“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.”

Tumblr won’t let me add an answer box! You can answer by clicking the reply button below, if it’s visible for you, or send me a message an ask, or use this post here!

You still have a few hours to vote for the next chunk of the interactive I’m doing. Follow the link, give it a read, and tell me what you’d like to see next!

What does academic probation mean, exactly? Easy–that means that when jocks like you get out of line at school, when they thing they’re too good to follow the rules, that their athletic prowess makes them untouchable by any authority, the principal decides they need a few weeks to relearn their place in the world.

I own you for the next two weeks–smirk all you want, but you have to do everything I say. Yes me–old fat Mr. Gannigan–but trust me, you like daddies, don’t you? Nothing tuns you on like an old fat fucker with a big old cock. Don’t try to deny it–after all, you can’t. Yeah, confused? I see that terror in your eyes. Looking at me a bit differently now, aren’t you? Eyes can’t quite seem to tear themselves away from my crotch, it seems. I know you want it–and you’ll get it, trust me.

Yeah, it’s a bit smelly–I don’t shower all that much, but go on, taste it–I guarantee you’ll hate the taste, but you won’t be able to stop eating all that cheese out from under my foreskin. I was gonna have my weekly shower tonight, but I wasn’t expecting to have a new jock to play with! No showers for me then–just a few, nice long tongue baths.

But you want to know the best part? When your two weeks are up, you’ll be back to normal, mostly–but not completely. Maybe you’ll still find yourself craving the smell of my sweaty ass crack. Maybe you’ll enjoy your own musk a bit more, since you’re going to skip all the showers for the next two weeks as well. Hell, Aaron? That quarterback of yours? Mr. Lewis fucked him so much that boy keeps a plug in his hole 24/7 now.

Now–here’s your orders. Go get dressed in the nastiest, smelliest football gear you can find in the locker room, and then come meet me in the parking lot. Detention’s at my apartment tonight, and we’re going to break you in right away–trust me, you’ll love it.

Source: justaguync74

Something…odd’s been going on with my roommate, Titus, lately. We were getting along pretty well–he was an athlete but not too much of an asshole about it, and I was a pretty run-of-the-mill college student. Both of us were looking for girls, and he decided to rush a frat…but I wasn’t really that interested to be honest. The frat challenged him and a few other pledges to a panty raid on a sorority. I don’t know what happened, but the next morning I woke up and found him passed out, face down on his bed, in just a pair of the strangest looking underwear–a bit like a jock, made out of mesh. I saw the pouch when he rolled over–or I suppose, the lack of one. I could make out every vein on his cock–I blushed and covered him up, but ever since…

I think he might be gay, for one thing. I don’t have anything against fags, but it’s just…a surprise. He seemed so obsessed with women before, but I’ve caught him jacking off in our room to gay porn a few times now. His body is changing too–away from his stocky build to something a bit trimmer, his ass fuller, his body hair going away as well. He shaved off his goatee and trimmed his hair down, picked up a lisp–you see what I mean, right? It all started with that sorority, so…so I think I’m going to go over there, and find out what happened to my roommate.

Fuck, I have to stop this, I have to. I don’t remember what happened at that place–I just woke up in my room the next morning, wearing the nastiest pair of boxer briefs I’d ever seen. The crotch was stained and crusty with cum, they reeked of piss and musk…and I haven’t been able to take them off for days now–I can barely manage to get them down to piss and shit, and I have to cum in them…and I’ve been cumming a lot, thinking about…about Titus’s ass…

It’s right there–he’s not really asleep, he’s just…pretending. Needs…daddy to breed him good.

No! No no no, I’m not some fucking daddy! I might look like I’m in my 40′s, and I have so much damn body hair now it’s not even funny, but I’m not a daddy, fuck those bitches…but I…I am so damn horny, and the boy’s ass is right there…

The boxers slip down, and my seven inch, uncut cock springs out, dribbling cum already. Maybe…just one fuck. Feel the boy’s hole one time, and we can both stop this damn charade. He don’t need no damn school, not when he can strip for a livin’, payin’ his daddy’s bills…fuck! He’s so damn tight! Yeah boy, moan for daddy–think I’ll be renting this hole out to a few of my friends tonight!

Derelicted (Part 2)

That was all he was able to notice before Wyatt got up from the couch, cock still leaking piss, and he rushed to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. “What the fuck!” was all Caden heard–and not knowing what else to do, he got up, went into the kitchen and opened another beer for himself–that piss had been rancid.

He heard the first pounding on the door, but ignored it, and went to the bathroom, but Wyatt refused to open the door.

“Come on man, just let me see!”

“Fuck no! Fuck this fucking shit!”

His voice sounded different–deeper and raspier than before.

There was another pound on the door.

“Dude, you need to call the hospital or something,” Wyatt said.

“The hospital? Why? Because you pissed yourself?”

“No, you don’t get it man, you don’t fucking get it! Just call 911!”

The pound came again, but this time it kept coming, a relentless beat.

“Dude, what the fuck would I even tell them?”

“Just fucking call them! Get a fucking ambulance!”

Caden backed up from the bathroom door, trying to focus. Call 911? What the hell for? What was going on in there? He tried to calm down and think a moment, but the pounding on the door was growing more urgent and he…he needed to get the door. Yeah, he could at least tell them to leave, and then he might be able to focus on what the hell had happened. He went to the apartment door, and flung it open, more than ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off, but the words froze in his throat when he saw, and smelled, the man from the alley, well awake and grinning a mouth of rotten teeth at him, eyes black aside from a glimmer so deep Caden could barely see it without falling into them.

He couldn’t breathe. The smell had locked up his lungs, and he stumbled back and collapsed to his hands and knees, fighting, trying to get his lungs to function again, and managed a weak, rasping breath. The man gave him a short look, sniffed the air noisily, and then pushed open the door, stepping into the apartment and walking right to the bathroom door, where he pounded once again on that door.

“Caden, did you fucking call them? Why are you pounding on the damn door?”

He tried to speak, but all he could do was cough and wheeze for air. His phone, where the hell had his phone gone? He saw it–it was on the table, he reached for it, but before he could grab it his entire body froze, midbreath, his eyes snapping toward the bathroom where the dark-eyed derelict was staring at him, and pounded once more on the door, louder.

“Fuck off Caden, and leave me the fuck alone until the ambulance fucking gets here!”

This must be what turning blue felt like. The derelict pounded again, and then again, and then a third time, louder and louder. Someone else would hear, someone else would have to come see, right? He managed to twist his eyes to the apartment door, but it flung closed in a snap. Did it read his mind? Was he going to die here?

“Fucking what?” Wyatt opened the door, and Caden came to life again, heaving for breath, the thing’s attention away from him and focused entirely on Wyatt, or at least the man Wyatt had become. He was shorter now, with a sagging gut heaving out, arms and legs withered sticks. He was old now, at least in his fifties–his eyes lined with wrinkles, beard and hair the grey sidewalks. His eyes were wide, lungs frozen, the thing leaning in and locking lips with him, filthy fingers running through Wyatt’s tangled locks, down his body to his cock. It looked like he was trying to scream, but something was caught in his throat, and eventually he collapsed to his knees. Caden’s first thought was that he was dead–but he could hear the slick smack of mouth on cock, and Wyatt was swallowing the thing’s cock to the hilt. Satisfied, it’s neck twisted a few degrees too far to look back at Caden behind him, those black holes freezing him in place. The medallion was once again back around it’s neck, a black tongue hanging down past it’s chin. Caden didn’t want to look, but couldn’t peel his eyes away.

Eventually, it was satisfied, and broke the gaze itself, leaving Caden a whimpering, sobbing heap on the floor. Wyatt stood up, lickiing cum from his lips, his eyes now a solid steel grey, and followed it out of the apartment. Caden was found that morning by Wyatt’s father, still curled up naked in a puddle of his own piss, cum and sweat. He claimed to remember nothing, when the police questioned him–he knew no one would believe him. They suspected him in Wyatt’s disappearance, but without any evidence of anything beyond Caden’s severe trauma, the case went cold.

Derelicted (Part 1)

“If I can get it off him without him waking up, then you have to blow me again,” Wyatt said, slipping closer to where the homeless derelict was slumped over in the alley. The man looked like the rest of the trash around the city, but the medallion around his neck had glinted in the streetlights, catching the young man’s eye. He would have taken it even if he wasn’t with Caden–but hey, if he could get another bj out of his closeted friend, why not kill two birds with one stone?

“Dude, I was drunk, I’m not–” Caden shook his head. Wyatt wasn’t exactly a good friend. In fact, he was a shitty friend, but he was Caden’s only real friend, and so he tagged along like he always had, trying his best to keep the trouble that always followed Wyatt off himself. He looked at the necklace which had caught Wyatt’s eye for some reason–it was hard to tell in the dark of the alley, but it looked like a rusty gear hung around the guy’s neck with a piece of twine. “What the hell do you want that for anyway? It’s just junk.”

“It’s not junk, it’s a challenge,” Wyatt said, the metal glinting for him in a way that it didn’t for his friend. It wasn’t the first time he’d lifted something interesting off a hobo–he stepped close, checking to make sure the guy was deeply out, then he carefully caught the disk in his fingers, and lifted it away. The hobo’s head was hanging forward–all Wyatt had to do was slowly guide the ring back over his head, slipping the twine out of the man’s filthy, matted hair, and it was his. “Yes!” he said, skipping down the street with the medallion in hand, “One free blowjob for me!”

“I never even said…” Caden started to say, but Wyatt was already off down the block. He took another look at the man, and then hurried after. Once he’d caught up, he tried to finish, “I never said I would blow you Wyatt! That was an accident last time, and you said–”

“You know you can’t trust anything I say,” Wyatt said, “Besides–I’m horny. Come on to my place, my dad’s working all night.”

Caden didn’t dare say no. He’d snubbed Wyatt a few times before, and every time his wrath had been quick and humiliating. Now, Wyatt had his deepest secret, and he’d be holding it over his head until Caden had the courage to come out proper–and maybe even after that. If he ever said no…well, Wyatt would be more than happy to tell the whole school for him, he was sure. So he followed after, Wyatt slipping the medallion around his neck before lighting a cigarette from the pack he’d stolen earlier for himself, and handing a second to Caden.

They were back at Wyatt’s place fifteen minutes later, and it was empty, like Wyatt had promised. “You need to get drunk again, or do you want to get straight to it?”

“A drink.”

Wyatt brought him a beer and cracked one for himself as well, and they both watched TV for a bit on the couch, smoking and sipping, and occasionally Caden would catch a whiff of something…else. It was like musk, but fouler somehow. He gave himself a sniff first, but it wasn’t him–was it Wyatt? Something in the apartment? Granted, neither Wyatt nor his father were big on hygiene, but even this was bad. Two beers later, he didn’t notice it as much, and Wyatt started getting insistent on his blowjob–so Caden swallowed his pride, got down in front of him on the couch, and waited a moment for Wyatt to undo the fly of his shorts.

Wyatt wasn’t anywhere near being a looker–chubby, hairier than most of the teachers at school at seventeen, with a scruffy beard, girls weren’t exactly lining up to be with him. He bragged a lot, sure, but Caden knew he was a virgin–aside from his mouth of course. He himself was a bit cleaner, less hairy, but mostly the same. Together at the bottom of the social ladder–he couldn’t fucking wait to go to college. Wyatt opened the fly, and that stench appeared again with even greater force–and Caden saw right where it was coming from–Wyatt’s cock.

He’d been drunk, sure, but he still remembered what he’d seen. Wyatt had been cut, with smallish balls, about four inches and decently thick–but the thing he had in there now–it was eight inches at least, with low hanging balls coated with hair–but mostly it reeked to high heaven like it hadn’t been washed in ages. Even more disturbing, a foreskin had grown up over the head–as it hardened, the head emerged, crusted with cheese. “Wyatt…Wyatt, what the fuck happened to your cock, man?”

“Don’t try backing out now,” Wyatt said, “A deal’s a damn deal man.”

Before Caden could protest further, Wyatt grabbed him by the hair, yanked a bit, and when Caden’s mouth opened to yelp, slipped his cock into his mouth. The taste was horrific, but Wyatt held on tight, skull fucking him a few times. Wyatt was a quick shooter, and he felt himself getting close–but it wasn’t cum that filled Caden’s mouth–it was piss. Horrified, Caden flung himself back away from Wyatt, who realized what his cock was doing–the stream was still flowing, arcing from where he was sitting onto the carpet. “Dude–what the fuck!” Caden shouted, wiping his mouth and spitting, before reaching for what remained of his beer in an effort to get rid of the taste.

“I can’t–it won’t stop!” Wyatt said, gripping his cock, piss still streaming everywhere. “Shit is this…what the fuck is this thing! This isn’t my fucking dick.”

“That’s what I tried to tell you!” Caden said, he looked up at Wyatt from where he was sitting on the floor, and saw something else–Wyatt’s cock wasn’t the only thing that had changed. It was a bit difficult to figure out what was different at first–he just seemed grungier than he had been. Beard longer and tangled. The hair he usually kept cropped close had grown out and was receding, flecks of grey appearing in it. His skin was shiny, whether from oil or sweat Caden didn’t want to know. He was looking both fatter and skinnier than he had been–his arms and legs wasting slightly, while his gut and chest filled out with fat.

Arctos: Briar (Part 3)

He couldn’t see very well through the smoke, but the TV was still playing one of his favorite pornos. He waved a bit of it away, watching that thick, massively hung daddy line that cock up with that cub’s hole, hearing him whimpering with need, and start slipping it inside, bit by bit, the moaning now pained, but still so eager, and Miles bounced on the dildo in his hole a bit faster. That’s what he fucking needed, some god damn daddy dick in his hole! That thought set off some doubts, some worries–he wasn’t gay, was he? Then again, he’d thought he wouldn’t like pipes, and look at him now? Still, he was old enough to be a daddy himself, after all, Jase was right upstairs. Hopefully his son couldn’t hear him moaning…then again, Jase was sexy. Not quite daddy material, but Miles wasn’t feeling too picky. Any cock in a storm, right?

His full beard had pulled back in a bit, shortening as the grey disappeared, turning a vibrant red he hadn’t seen on himself in decades. His body hair thickened in, spreading across his chest and especially in his pits and crack, and his nose caught a smell he loved–he lifted his arm and took a deep breath of his musky stench, and shuddered, leaning his face in and licking at the sweat there. Hopefully jase hadn’t taken a shower yet; it would be so much better if he still stank from work, tasted like dirt and dust and sweat, letting his cub lick him from pit to toe, fuck! He could suck on those damn feet of his all night, if he let him. The room around him was a bit messy, and he got up for a moment, finding a pair of Jase’s work socks and taking them with him back to the couch, sniffing at first, in between puffs on his pipe, and then started sucking the sweat out of them, wiping up his own cum and sweat with them and sucking that out too. Getting close, but better to edge for a bit longer. Maybe Jase will come down, and catch him. Fuck, embarrassing, sure, but at least it would be out there. That fucker can’t know what he’s missing, plowing Mile’s tight cub hole, if he hasn’t seen it, right? That didn’t happen, but a few minutes later, there was a knock at the front door.

Someone killing his damn vibe. He ignored the door, and just kept stroking, moaning a bit louder, hoping to summon Jase down by curiosity, and there was another pounding at the door, louder, and a deep voice yelled through it, “Goddamn it cub, I can fucking smell you in there! Open the damn door and take care of this fucking daddy cock.”

Now that caught his attention. He got up from the couch, wondering who in the hell it might be, nervous and anxious, but whoever it was, daddy was hot. Now that he was closer to the door, he could smell him too–the scent was new and yet so…damn familiar. Surely he must have smelt him somewhere before. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, and Cole was standing them, sneering around his own pipe, rubbing his cock through his sweat soaked cutoffs. Daddy. Seeing him…it clicked into place. His daddy. He had a daddy, thank fucking god, a daddy to save him from himself.

Cole pushed into the house, shutting the door behind them with a slam and pressed their bodies together, slick with sweat, smelling his new boy, and moaning. “Fuck, I can’t fucking believe how hot you look, better than I fucking imagined!” Cole said, and shoved his face into Miles’ pit, snorting and licking, “Yeah, fucking reek! Just like they fucking advertised…Come on cub, give daddy one of those sloppy kisses of yours, suck my tongue like you’re gonna be suckin’ my cock from now on.”

They forgot to take their pipes out, but caught them, and kissed, Cole spinning them around and shoving his cub up against the door, hard, the wall shaking a bit, licking his boy’s bearded face, Miles sucking his tongue into his mouth, nibbling at it, both hands working his daddy’s cutoffs, hauling out his huge daddy cock and stroking it, his ass aching for it, even though it was still stuffed full with his favorite dildo. “God daddy, fuck me, my fuckin’ hole sir…”

Cole growled, bit down on his boy’s neck, hearing him hiss, back arching as he sucked at his wet throat, and let go with a pop. “Fuck, yeah, forget the fucking bj, I want that hole, I can smell it pig, get on the couch.”

Miles bounded over and got on the couch, facing the back on his knees, spread wide, crack ready. Cole shoved the coffee table back and got down on his knees behind him, hauling the big dildo out, tossing it to the side, and shoving his mouth against his cub’s hole, licking and sucking at the pucker, and Mile’s let loose a long fart.

“Oh fuck boy, you know how to turn daddy’s damn cranks…”

“Fuck yeah, I know what daddies want…”

“Wanted you since the first damn day I saw you, you know that?” Cole said, pulling away for a moment, “Now you’re mine now, ain’t that right?”

“Fuck yeah, Daddy, I’m fucking yours!”

“That’s what I wanna hear,” Cole said, and dug back into Miles’ crack, wrapping one hand around his massive sack and tugging it away from his body, listening to him moan loudly, loud enough that Cole didn’t hear the sound of Jase coming down the stairs. The sounds coming from the lower level had grown too loud for him to ignore, but he couldn’t imagine what his father might be watching, or doing, downstairs. He came down and around the corner, facing the back of the couch, and he saw a strange young man, thick red beard and short hair, puffing on a pipe and groaning in some strange rubber get up, and he froze, before saying, “What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?”

Arctos: Briar

Cole gave off another belch, then patted his gut and laughed, looking over at Jase, the younger man just rolling his eyes and walking off to get back to work on the site. “Come on, you have to admit that was a good one!” Cole shouted after him.

“You’re gross, Cole,” he said over his shoulder, “ Would you get some work done for a fucking change?”

Cole laughed, but did go back to working on the houses they were building, but he let off another belch, groped his thick cock through his cutoff jeans, amazed that he was horny again already. He’d fucking jacked off in the damn porta-potty twice today, and it looked like he was going to have to take another smoke break. Still, he kept up for a few more minutes, until his cock was aching, and then he pulled out his pipe, made a show of patting his pants, and said, “Out of fucking tobacco,” loud enough for a few guys to hear. Jase noticed, and sighed–it was just Cole being Cole, he thought, as frustrating as the fat fuck was, watching him head for his truck. He’d be missing for half an hour, leaving everyone else to pick up the slack. Still, he’d been a part of the crew for so long, none of them could imagine it without him. As annoying as he was, he was just…there. Most of which was true, except for the fact that Cole had only been working with them for about a week.

Cole hadn’t forgotten his tobacco, of course–it was in his pocket, but he needed some time alone to blow off some steam. After a week, he’d gotten used to this body for the most part, and he’d thought he’d quit getting turned on by it so much, but damn, every time he let off a belch, or noticed the heft of his gut, or caught a whiff of his musk…He lifted an arm and took a whiff, hauling out his cock before fumbling with his pipe. It wasn’t a perfect pack or light, but it did the job well enough, and the cab flooded with smoke as he stroked himself slow, smelling himself.

He’d been playing a game, the last few days, trying to remember things about himself, before he’d opened that pipe club kit he’d received from Arctos in the mail, but the image was fading, and the memories too. He’d been younger than he was now, in his thirties. Clean shaven. Working at a desk all day, but he had no clue what he’d done. Pushing papers, spreadsheets, something like that. So much fucking better, getting sweaty all day under the sun, working your body out with a bunch of other burly fuckers. Of course, this job of his was new–he’d been so happy with his pipe, that of course he’d taken advantage of the discount to order a few things from Arctos, the construction kit and a few other accessories, and here he was–a nasty pig working on the site all damn day, and he loved it. He knew, in the back of his mind, that his old self would be disgusted by what he’d become, but why in the hell should he care about that fucker? He didn’t even smoke! Fuck, if Cole had to go without his pipe for a day, he didn’t know what the fuck he’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

He hiked his dusty wifebeater up over his hairy gut, giving it a rub with his free hand, pinching one of his fat nipples, thinking about Jase. He’d been saving his referral to the pipe club for someone special, and on the first day, he’d decided that special someone was going to be Jase. The guy was young, but built–at least six four, three hundred pounds, a bunch of it muscle. Beard down to his chest, a bright red. He’d requested a kinkcub cut tobacco with a heavy musk flavor added, and expedited shipping of course. Earlier that day, he’d gotten a message from his phone that the package had arrived while they were here at work. He’d give Jase a few hours to…get acclimated, and then come knocking tonight, and the two of them were going to have some real fun. He storked a bit faster, gave a long fart, and then shot his load up onto his gut, rubbing it in until it turned sticky, and then climbed out of his truck, puffing smoke, and headed back to the worksite. Quitting time couldn’t come soon enough, in his opinion, and all day, jase noticed that Cole kept glancing over at him, rubbing his crotch, head shrouded in that pipe smoke of his–and he too, couldn’t wait to get away when the day was over.

Something Cole hadn’t bothered to learn about Jase, however, was whether or not he lived alone. In fact, Jase still lived with his father, Miles–he’d been trying to scrape money together to move out for a while now, but honestly it was just easier to stay with him. They were both pretty laid back, he helped out with expenses, he had privacy, and his dad, he thought, was mostly happy to not have to live all by himself. He was in his early 50’s, and worked a warehouse job early in the morning, and was usually home early in the afternoon–early enough to have answered the door when the burly delivery man from some company named Arctos showed up with a small package for his son. As soon as he touched the box, he felt an odd rush through his body, and along with that, an intense curiosity for what might be inside. To his knowledge, his son had never been one to order things online or anything–what in the hell could it be?

He made himself a snack, and went to watch TV, but he couldn’t focus, and kept looking at the box, and then the clock. Jase was usually home by six…but sometimes he went out for drinks with the guys. If he wasn’t home by…say, seven…would he really mind if his dad opened it for him? It was a breach of privacy, sure, but he had a growing certainty inside him, that whatever was in there was meant not for jase, but for him. It was his! So nice of Jase to get him a present! Sure, his birthday was still a few months away, but father’s day was around the corner. He’d never splurged on anything like this before–if it was meant for him anyway, what harm was there in opening it?

He forced himself to wait. It hurt, but it was, technically, Jase’s, after all. He might be angry if he spoiled the surprise, after all. Thankfully, he heard Jase’s truck pull up outside the house and into the driveway, and it was excruciating, waiting for him to come into the house, so he could show him the package, and ask him about it. He had to play it cool though, at least a little bit. So he waited, and Jase came through the door, and in a bit of a rush, Miles said, “Hey, some guy brought you a package today–it’s by the door. What did you order?”

Jase looked at him, confused, and then went over to the box. A intense jealousy shot through him, as he watched Jase turn the box over in his hands, and then set it down again, like nothing had struck him at all. “No idea–I didn’t order anything. Who was it from?”

“He just said it was a gift, from Arctos. Are you…do you just not want to tell me about my present or something?” he asked.

“Present? What are you talking about?” Jase asked. The question hung in an awkward silence for a bit, and then he said, “It’s not mine. We might as well send it back.”

“We don’t even know what’s in there though!” Miles nearly shouted.

“Jeeze dad, get a grip! Open it if you want, I don’t care. Anyway, I’m tired–I’m going to chill out for a bit, and we can have dinner later, ok?”

Jase headed off towards his room upstairs, but Miles didn’t bother replying. How in the fuck could he not care at all, just like that! He grabbed the box, clutching it to his chest, then went and found a knife in the kitchen, slit the tape open, and opened it–inside was a large pipe, a pouch of tobacco, and a slip of paper. He’d expected the need to ebb a bit, once he’d gotten the package open and sated his curiosity, but seeing the pipe, it only got worse. With a shaking hand, he picked up the nose, but all managed to read was:

Here at the Arctos Briar Division we strive to provide the highest quality of pipes, pipe tobacco, and accessories to ensure that any man who tries one of our products is determined to be a pipe smoker for life!
Included here is one pipe smoker starter kit, which has been provided to you at no cost, through our refer a friend program. By now, our patented smart memory chemicals…

Miles already knew what he needed to to, what he wanted to do. He was a cigarette smoker, had been all his life, and while he’d seen guys smoke a pipe a few times, he had never tried one himself, even though he’d always wanted to, right? He was having a hard time figuring that out, actually. He’d thought he’d never been that interested in pipes, and yet, looking at one now, he couldn’t help but ask himself why he’d never thought of trying one before. He didn’t know quite what to do with it, but he picked up the hefty pipe, surprised by how heavy it was, feeling the smooth wood and briar, and then reached into the pouch for the tobacco. The leaf was black and quite pungent, but the smell actually made him a bit horny, for some reason. He didn’t have any trouble packing and tamping the pipe–it was like his hands simply knew what they were doing, without him needing to guide them. At last, it was ready–he put the end in his mouth, lit it with the matches from the box, because he was too excited to try and find his lighter, and puffed it to light, drawing deep as soon as he could, and exhaling with a long plume of relieved satisfaction.

He took a few more long inhales, enjoying the rush he was getting off the smoke, so much more intense than anything he’d gotten from cigarettes before. He should have switched ages ago! He went back out into the den and sat back down on the couch, stretching out, staring at the TV but not watching anything in particular. The panic and anxiety had ebbed, and now all he felt was horny, which was strange. He didn’t exactly get horny very often anymore, and he didn’t exactly go out looking for women much anymore either. Still, it was good to know the old lizard could still wake up on occasion, right? He checked behind him, at the stairs, but his son usually camped up in his room all afternoon until dinner, so why not rub a load out? It had never occurred to him that he had never once considered jacking off where his son might discover him–he just pulled his cock through the fly of the boxers he was wearing and started stroking it slowly, leaning back, puffing on the pipe, and then pulled his balls through the hole as well, the cloth tightening around the base, hardening into steel, and the resulting cock ring only made his cock engorge further, the rest of the cloth tightening up around his thighs, turning black and slick, becoming a pair of rubber shorts which left both his cock and ass entirely exposed.

The wifebeater he had on was contorting as well, the collar pulling up closer to his throat, the rest tighting around his hefty, hairy gut, beginning to darken. The collar detached and tightened around Miles’ neck, thickening into a leather collar studded with short spikes, the rest becoming a tight fitting rubber tank. Oblivious, he rubbed his nipples through the rubber with his free hand, feeling how huge and sensitive they were–all that effort he’d been putting into pumping them had really paid off–same with his fucking balls. His cock wasn’t huge, but his sack was bulging larger and larger, hanging lower onto the seat of the couch–he hefted them, and then gave them a tug, his cock immediately spewing precum at the sensation.

“Oh fuck boy, you know how to turn daddy’s damn cranks…”

“Fuck yeah, I know what daddies want…”

“Wanted you since the first damn day I saw you, you know that?” Cole said, pulling away for a moment, “Now you’re mine now, ain’t that right?”

“Fuck yeah, Daddy, I’m fucking yours!”

Cole heard that. He sat back and stood up, his face appearing from behind Miles, and he did a double take. “Jase?”

“Cole?” Jase said, “What the fuck are you–who the fuck is this? What…Where’s my dad…?”

Miles was blushing a bit, but also found it kind of sexy that they’d gotten caught by his…son? His mind immediately told him that couldn’t be right–he and Jase were almost the same age after all. No, so then…housemates? Yeah, housemates, of course. He kind of wished they were more than that, after all, Jase was one sexy fucker, but he’d settled for Jase’s equally hot coworker Cole in the meantime. He figured that if Jase…stumbled in on them a few times, he might eventually get up the courage to maybe join in. “Sorry Jase,” he said, “we got a little carried away, right Daddy?”

Cole didn’t say anything–if this wasn’t Jase, then who the hell…his mind started filling in blanks for him. How he’d met Miles when he’d stopped by the worksite one day to give Jase something from home, and the two of them had known at a glance that they were going to fuck, and soon. That very night, in fact, Cole followed Jase home and fucked around with Miles, much to Jase’s frustration. He could still recall, of course, that Jase had been his original target, but Miles was certainly a nice consolation prize if nothing else. “Yeah, sorry man…you know how I get around Miles, right?”

Jase didn’t know. Even as the other two had new memories forming, Jase was at a loss, the smoke filled room making his eyes water a bit, unable to understand where his dad had gone, and how these two strangers had gotten here instead.

“Guess he’s speechless–come on daddy, wanna keep going in my room?”

“Sure thing cub, lead the way!”

Miles got off the couch, grabbed Cole’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs, passing Jase along the way, who was still unable to process what was going on. He shared a look with Cole as he passed, the older man regarding him with a smile, but was there also a bit of disappointment there? They both went upstairs, and all that remained was their plumes of smoke, which Jase couldn’t help breathe in, and he started looking around wondering where his dad was, but the more second hand smoke he breathed, the less certain he became that his father was there at all. Still, he could remember him, right? Certainly he could remember someone else who should be here besides Miles, his housemate. No–what?

He paused. Where in the hell had that thought come from? And wasn’t Miles his father’s name? That was an odd coincidence he supposed, but not really that strange in the end. His memories felt more and more confused, and he heard a loud thump from upstairs in the master bedroom, where Miles slept, a groan, and then the squeak of his bed’s springs. Ugh, he couldn’t believe Miles liked Cole of all people. He didn’t really care that they were fags, but did he have to pick the coworker he liked the least the fuck around with? He shook his head, figuring there were just some things he wouldn’t understand, and he too, went upstairs, back to his room and inside, but where the air was clearer, the worries returned.

He saw pictures of him and his father, pinned to the wall, the memories of them here in this house so damn clear to him, but at the same time, some other part of him kept saying he had to be mistaken. He pushed that other part of himself away, and focused on his memories–coming home and talking to his dad. That strange box he’d received in the mail. It was crazy, but…but what if Miles…was his dad? Had something happened to him? Or more precisely, had Cole done something to him? He thought of the surprise he’d seen on Cole’s face downstairs, of the sense of disappointment as he’d walked past. The box…it had been for him. Was…did something happen to his dad that should have happened to him instead?

He could still smell smoke. He threw open his window, leaned against the screen, and his head cleared further still. His dad had been acting so strange about that package, and Cole was such a raging pervert…there was a piece of the puzzle he was missing though–what had been in the box? He went downstairs and searched a bit further, until he found where his father had opened it in the kitchen, but there was nothing there–just an empty box with Arctos printed on the side, a blank piece of paper beside it. This was no use–he’d have to…maybe if he spied a bit, he’d figure something out, something that would help him figure out what had happened to his dad.

He crept up the stairs, towards the door to the Master bedroom. The smoke was thicker here, the smell as strong as it had been downstairs, and he could hear them moaning behind it–he cracked open the door, smoke billowing through, and it was so thick, he could only see the outlines of them fucking on the bed. His housemate was there, Cole’s cock buried in his hole–no! No, it was his dad. Fuck, looking at him, how hadn’t he seen it before? He looked like he had in old family portraits, just hairier, and…sluttier. But he was so young, he couldn’t be his dad, and be that young. The smoke was thick in his lungs, making him feel lightheaded. Those doubts were back, and he fought harder, knowing that they were false…but the more smoke he breathed, the stronger they got. He could sense them, trying to rewire his mind somehow, frustrated that he was being as resistant as he was, and then they noticed his awareness, and they pushed harder. He focused as hard as he could, focusing on his dad, on helping him, on fighting, but it was too much. He felt a sharp pain rip through his brain as something in him broke apart, and then fell back clutching his head, trying not not to scream.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was gone, leaving Jase gasping and shaking on the floor, trying to understand what had just happened to him. Where even was he anyway? He looked around, found he was in the hallway outside his son’s door, which was open a crack. He must have been…been peeping. Yeah, he always liked to watch his son get plowed by the guys he brought home, and he’d been bringing that sexy fucker Cole home a whole lot lately. Damn, that pig was nasty, and a huge damn cock…

No–No, he wasn’t thinking straight. Jase stumbled up, but couldn’t catch his balance, felt like he was going to throw up. He went into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror…but the reflection was wrong! He looked so…so young, not even a hint of grey anywhere, and certainly more muscular…right? He looked more like his son, if anything–what it the world was going on? Some other part of him was trying to tell him he was wrong, that something had happened to his mind, that he wasn’t thinking straight somehow, but everything was so hazy…maybe if he had a smoke…He patted his pockets, but his pipe wasn’t there. He checked the floor where he’d fallen, but it wasn’t there either.

Downstairs, he heard the doorbell. The pipe could wait a moment–it was more important that he go down and get his package. He opened the door and found a burly delivery man there–a sexy fucker, huge cock outlined in those tight shorts, and he handed Jase a small package, told him to have a good day, and then left. Jase closed the door and opened up the box, where he found a short note:

“Valued Arctos Customer,
We’ve been alerted to a reality incongruence event, and wish to apologize for any distress this may have caused you with a complimentary gift to help ease your transition.
Enjoy!”

It was his pipe.

His favorite pipe was in this box for some reason, along with a pouch of his usual tobacco, but how in the hell had it gotten there? Then again, maybe…maybe that wasn’t worth worrying about, better to just get it lit as soon as possible. He’d feel better with some smoke in his lungs. He found his son’s lighter and packed the pipe, fumbling with it awkwardly, like his hands kept trying to fight him somehow, some voice screaming deep in him, best to shut it up quick before he got any ideas. He pulled in the first lungful of smoke, and calm suffused his body, muffling the objections he’d been feeling. Everything was alright, now that he had his pipe–now he could get back to what really mattered–watching that hot daddy Cole give his son a proper pounding. His standards seemed pretty low–maybe he’d even give Jase a fuck too.

He climbed the stairs, and halfway up his joints and muscles started to ache familiarly. He passed the bathroom and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Funny, he thought he’d looked odd a few minutes earlier, but things were looking more normal now–his frizzy mane of hair had lost nearly all of it’s red at this point, the same with his beard. He was short, with a thick gut, arms and legs withered a bit with age, that puny cock of his…couldn’t even get hard anymore, not that he’d ever had much use for it. No, he was an old pig through and through–taught his boy everything he knew, and he couldn’t be more proud of the filthy slut Miles had become.

He got back down on his knees, slowly this time, one hand on the wall to steady himself. It fucking sucked getting old–twenty years ago, there wasn’t a single pig around here who could match him. Still, maybe it was time to pass the baton to his boy, because fucking look at him. The way he’s taking Cole’s cock, god damn. Jase reached down under his sweaty, greasy gut for his short cock and found it at half mast–even that was an increasing rarity these days, but a relief to know that the old pecker wasn’t quite dead yet.

Miles and Cole shifted positions, and the cub looked over and saw the door was open, and someone was crouched down in the crack. He had no idea who it could be, but he recognized his pervy, nasty dad after a few moments. Odd how he’d looked like a total stranger for a moment, but rare was the time when his dad wasn’t watching his son get fucked by the men he brought home with him. He put on a bit of a show, watching his old man’s gut heave a bit, drool in his thick beard, old tongue on his thin lips, huffing on that ancient pipe of his. Past his prime, but damn, Miles wished his old cock could still work. His dad wasn’t much of a fucker of course, but Miles had always liked how…close he felt, getting fucked by his dad, back when he was still learning what a damn pig he was. Cole noticed him a moment later, and his reaction was a bit more extreme. He hauled his cock out and stepped back, shouting, “Who the fuck is that?”

“Just my pig dad Cole, don’t worry about it. I always let him watch,” Miles said, “Get back in me daddy, I want your damn cock, sir…”

Cole ignored him and strode to the door, opening it, and looking down at the short, flabby old man in the doorway. Jase–he could still see him in there, even as the smoke rewrote his memories. He’d always pictured him as a cub…but damn, he made a sexy old pig in the end too. “Nonsense, I think your dad should play too, don’t you Miles?”

“His cock don’t work anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jase added, “Was never much a top anyway.”

Cole smirked, “Get in here dad. Shove that fist up your boy’s cunt, and I’m gonna feed his throat. How’s that sound?”

Jase’s cloudy eyes lit up with a sparkle. Cole helped the old man up and together they flanked his son and got to work. By morning, all three of them couldn’t even fathom a time when they hadn’t been living together, their own fucked up family unit, getting more and more perverse every time a new Arctos sample showed up on the doorstep…well, that’s a story for another time, don’t you think?

The place was a sty, sure, but they hadn’t seemed that bad at the bar. They weren’t exactly the kind of guys he usually hung out with–Barry was a bit of a social climber, and if he didn’t think someone had anything to offer him, he wasn’t likely to hand around for long. But these two, they seemed…different. So laid back and relaxed, working their basic jobs at the warehouse, smelling like they hadn’t showered in a few days. One of them had spilled their drink on his suit, and Barry had cussed him out; they’d bought him another one, stuck around to chat, and now here he was, at their apartment. Strange, he hadn’t even bothered to get their names! One of them went into the kitchen and brought back a round of beers for the three of them, handed one to Barry, and the night continued.

Three beers later…

Something definitely wasn’t right. His suit felt so damn tight all of a sudden! At first he’d thought it was just the fact he was a bit woozy with alcohol, but no, his clothes…really didn’t fit him very well all of a sudden. He took another swig of beer, trying to follow whatever football game the guys were watching, but he’d never been much of a sports guy, he was too wiry and short for that. He leaned back, trying to make some room, and a button popped free of his shirt, striking the TV, the guys turning…and leering at him, while Barry started down at his…his new gut in horror.

“Think he needs another beer man.”

“I’ll get it, why don’t you get him a bit more comfortable?”

The guy got up, walked over, grabbed the front of Barry’s shirt and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere, and Barry’s hefty, and rather hairy gut spilled out. This wasn’t right.

“Guys, I think I should go…” Barry said, tried to stand up, but he couldn’t keep his balance.

“No way man, no way you can drive like this–best just stay over, you know?” said the other guy, returning from the kitchen with another can, “Here, have some more.”

He didn’t want it, but he took it anyway, swigging deep, and letting loose a belch. Did his gut just…grow when he did that? He knew that was impossible, but…

Four more beers later…

The two guys were still watching sports, but Barry wasn’t watching anything. The world was swimming around him, he couldn’t…quite feel his body. The worst part, however, was that he needed to piss, had needed to piss for ages it felt like, but he couldn’t, not here, not just…in his pants.

His hand moved up, pouring more beer in his mouth, though a good amount dribbled out. Beer was good, made him feel warm and comfortable, made it easier to just, let go of things.

Too late, he realized he’d let go of his bladder, soaking his suit pants. The guys had noticed as well, they were saying something, but he couldn’t hear what. One pulled the can from his hand and replaced it with a fresh beer, and he kept drinking as best he could. It felt like his brain was slowly being choked off, deadened.

Six more beers later…

Just a pig now. The guys had stripped it of all it’s clothes, and had it sucking their cocks, drinking their piss, getting it used to their scent. Nothing was left of the asshole businessman they’d decided to take down the night before, their ultra strong beer had made short of his weakass mind, leaving him with barely enough faculty to serve, provided they kept him provided with plenty of beer from now on, of course.

Drinking it all the time would only make him heavier of course. And hairier. But that was how the two friends liked their pigs. And when they got sick of it? It was definitely still a seller’s market.

Apartment Hunting (Sketch)

A tribute to AgainstMyWill for what is still one of my favorite stories ever. WARNING: FILTH/SCAT

There really wasn’t anything worse than looking for apartments. If it wasn’t the crazy fucking people who lived in this city, or the strange apartments where some contractor must have finished, looked around, and said “someone could live in this,” it was the astronomical rent required for a fucking room. Rent too fucking high indeed, it was horrific. But if you wanted to be somebody, this is where you had to live, and so here Parker was, fresh out of college, looking for a room to rent.

He knocked on the next door, and waited for a few minutes. He could hear someone on the other side, but it took a few seconds for him to get there–the guy opened the door, which was stopped by the chain, and it was exactly the kind of person Parker loathed more than anything else. Lean and fit, though that natural kind of body, the kind of young guy who couldn’t keep an ounce of fat on him if he tried. Scruffy face, unshaven, and from the musk rolling off him, obviously unwashed. Not the sort of guy he wanted for a roommate. “Yeah, what do ya want?” The guy asked.

Parker could have just said he had the wrong apartment…but he was getting to the point where he was about ready to settle for anything. “Oh, hey…uh, I saw an ad on Craigslist about a room for rent?”

“Oh…us…” The guy said through the crack in the door, and then he obviously gave Parker a glance from head to toe. “Yeah, actually…you wouldn’t be half bad.”

The door shut, and then opened wide, giving Parker a better look at the apartment–and the place was a fucking sty. The floor was littered with trash, aside from small walkways through the muck, mostly leading to a grungy, well stained couch in front of a TV on the wall, which had some stupid reality show on. “Come on in man, let me show ya around.”

Parker really, really didn’t want to step in there, but his standards were…low at this point. It wasn’t, in fact, the worst place he’d seen that day–though it was the filthiest. He stepped inside, carefully staying on the trail between the trash, and let the guy close the door behind him. “I’m Aaron” he said, “Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

Parker let the guy lead him, winding through the filth to a hallway, passing the kitchen as they went. He heard something in there, and he took a peek around the corner–there, in the middle of the floor was some, disgusting fat man on his hands and knees, wearing only a pair of well soiled briefs, his face shoved in a pizza box, eating some who knew how old pie in there, and he nearly vomited. “What…who the fuck is that?” He said, unable to look away.

“Aw hell, that’s just my pig,” Aaron said.

“He…he lives here?”

“Well yeah, he’s my pig. Where else would he live? Not with me?”

“That, I…No, fuck this, I’m leaving, this is disgusting,” Parker said, turned around and started back towards the front door.

“Stop right there, Mister,” Aaron said, and without even really understanding why, Parker froze in place. “Turn around–I haven’t even had a chance to show you your room yet. You do want to see your room, right?”

“What…why can’t I…” Parker said, but his feet, helpless, turned him around and he kept following Aaron deeper into the apartment, “How are you doing this?”

“You came into my apartment Parker!” Aaron said, “Or our apartment, really. You came in, and I get to play in your head. Getting all my fun strings in there, don’t worry about it–it feels good, actually, doing what I say. You like it. You like obeying me.”

They kept going, except now, every step brought him a strange tingle of pleasure, all of it going right to his cock. Halfway down the hallway, Aaron stopped in front of a door, and said, “Here we are Parker, you’re new room!” He opened the door and turned on the light, revealing inside a filthy bathroom, the floors stained with who knew what, and…and there was no toilet. It was obvious where the toilet was supposed to be, from the empty space, but it just wasn’t there. “What…what the fuck? I can’t live in a bathroom!”

“Well toilets don’t live anywhere else. And that’s what I placed the ad for–for a new toilet. The last one managed to run away, but we’re going to be extra careful with you, Parker–you won’t be going anywhere.”

“No–No, I’m not, this is fucking disgusting!” Parker said, and managed to push back against whatever control Aaron had over him, stepping back bit by bit.

“Yeah, see? That’s the problem I had before. That’s why I specified in the ad that I was looking for a toilet. And you came! That must mean you want to be a toilet, right Parker?”

“N-No!” But his memory said otherwise. The ad…how had he missed it? It had said toilet, why had he thought it was about a room? He…hadn’t thought it was for a room though, he’d specifically come because…because he wanted…wanted to be– “No!” He screamed, and pried himself backwards again, but not as far as he should have been able to go.

“I mean, I have high standards for toilets too, you know,” Aaron said, “I asked for references even, and your references…man, they’re something else? Serving as the football and rugby team’s personal toilet all through college? Those are some references, I gotta say. I know, serving as the toilet for just me and my pig won’t be as strenuous, so you’re welcome to work elsewhere–I know some clubs nearby who contract for toilets on the weekends. And I certainly don’t expect you to take the position without a sample. Wouldn’t want to spend your time eating shit you hate, right! Go on in, get on your knees, and you can taste all you want, Parker.”

Parker his eyes glazed over now, let loose a grunt, his nose flaring, lips curled in a sneer, hurried into the bathroom and got down, panting at the thought of a fresh load of shit. Hell, even if it was terrible, he’d probably take it–after all, finding a room is easy, but finding a place to live out your destiny has a toilet for filthy men? That was an opportunity he couldn’t bear the thought of passing up.

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 6)

Ray tried to pull away at that point. He really did, but the cruelty programmed into him, knowing his prey was without escape, couldn’t resist the opportunity presented. He forced the pig back onto hands and knees and ravaged it’s hole for the second time that evening, longer than the first, relishing it this time, enjoying himself. After all, this pig wouldn’t be going anywhere for the foreseeable future. It was his now. His, and no one else’s, to do with as he choose. He whispered things into the pig’s unhearing ear, describing what it could do to it, but Noah didn’t care. Noah was just a pig at this point, consumed by its senses, unable to muster any kind of consciousness beyond pleasure and filth. Ray came, at long last, long after the pig had cum, slumping down against the concrete in the throes of its long orgasm. Again, as soon as Ray’s cock slipped free, his old mind reverted, and he backed away as quickly as he could, furious at himself for losing control, but still shaking from the pleasure and excitement he’d felt, dominating the pig.

No, not the pig. It wasn’t a pig, it was Noah! He focused, pushing away the invasive thoughts as best he could, but they felt so natural to him, it is difficult to believe that they weren’t actually his. He was so focused on himself, he hadn’t noticed Noah returning to his own senses, and trying to stand, but the chain was only long enough to allow him to squat. He struggled with the collar, beginning to panic, yanking at the chain, but it was heavy steel, and well rooted in the floor. He fell back to his hands and knees, looking at his coach. “Please, Coach, you can’t do this to me, you can’t. I just want to go home.”

What could Ray say? He had reasons, but he knew Noah would never believe him. This…this was for the best, he tried to convince himself, but he fled back upstairs as quickly as he could, slamming the door behind him, but it wasn’t until he was in his own master bathroom that he could no longer hear Noah’s screams and sobs from below him. A shower. A shower would make him feel better. He turned on the water, and as it was heating he got down on the tile next to the tub, put his feet high on the wall, arced his cock and released a stream of piss that flew and soaked his chest and face. So refreshing he told himself, drinking in some of his shower–it wasn’t until he got back up and turned off the water that he realized what he’d done, and that Julian was there beside him, sneering, but he was gone again before Ray could try and throttle him.

What had he just done? What in the world was he doing? Did he have any control over any of this, anymore? Julian was toying with him, he knew that, but he had no idea what kind of game he was playing with them both here. Was he actually managing to oppose him, or had he simply done everything Julian had hoped he’d do. He was crying, and he didn’t quite know when he’d started, but he snorted back his dripping nose and got control of himself. He could figure this out. He’d gotten Julian fired, he was only trying this because he was desperate. If he could stay calm, maybe he could get out of this before they get any deeper.

“You should probably be the one to hang on to this, you know,” a voice said behind him. Ray spun back, and found Julian on his bed, naked, with a single key on a ring hanging from his finger. “I tend to lose things rather easily, and this is the only key to Noah’s collar. If you have a change of heart, and decide to release your sex pig sometime soon, you should have it.”

“He’s not my pig.”

“You seem to call him that quite often, so I don’t know that I believe you.”

“You fucker, you’re doing this, you’re forcing us to do this shit.”

“Oh coach, I’m not forcing you to make these choices–you’re just behaving in a perfectly rational, self-interested manner. Still, the key–I’ll just leave it here,” Julian said, setting it on the bedside table. “Now, coach, are you thirsty? Need a drink?”

Ray nodded, and without much thought, he walked over to where Julian was, wrapped his mouth around his fellow teacher’s cock, and waited. After a moment, he started pissing, and Ray gulped it all down. When the flow ebbed, he started sucking, and after a few minutes was rewarded with a load of cum as well. He stood back up, wiping his beard, amazed at how much better he felt. “Thanks, I guess I was thirsty.”

“Well, you had a busy evening. Now, why don’t you go play some Solitaire before bed? I know that always helps you relax. You won’t worry about Noah until the morning.”

Ray nodded, and then turned and left the bedroom, not noticing that Julian had disappeared from his bed. He could hear Noah in the basement still, his voice hoarse, but he didn’t need to worry about that until the morning–he’d figure out what to do about Julian’s tricks then. First, Solitaire. He went into his office and sat down at his computer. In his mind, he opened up his favorite game, which always helped him calm down when he was stressed, and played a few rounds. In reality, he started a slideshow of porn, sat back, and started jacking off over and over, making sure to catch as much cum as he could on his filthy shirt and in his soaked jockstrap, the screen flickering on occasion, and if you looked close, a second face was reflected behind the Coach in the screen, even though no one else was in the office with him. It was a few hours before Ray finally started to feel tired, and then he went to bed, certain, somehow, that come morning, he’d know just what to do to foil Julian’s plan and get his freedom back.