Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 5)

One moment, Julian was there, and then the next, he wasn’t–or maybe he still was feet away from him, but Ray just couldn’t see him. The calm ebbed away, and the sheer terror of what Julian had just told him sank into his bones. After everything he’d seen today, after everything he’d just been through, he knew this was no bluff. If Noah went home–hell, if Noah stepped out of the house–then Ray knew he was done for. He’d be the one taking the fall. He’d be the one going to prison, and he had no doubt that Julian’s control of him ran deep enough that his time there–as a registered sex offender and pervert–would be horrific. He heard the water turn off in the bathroom, and he thought about his basement. He almost never used it–it had been a workshop at one point, but he’d never had much time for his long list of projects, especially now after his divorce. What in the hell could be down there, that Julian thought might help him? He knew he didn’t have time to go investigate, not with Noah about to step out at any moment, but he also didn’t know how to get Noah down there without alerting him that something was awry.

The bathroom door open, and the stench of fresh piss immediately derailed Ray’s thoughts, sending his cock to half mast. Half of him wanted to lunge forward, but his rational mind won out, and he took a few steps back, staring at Noah in the doorway, just as filthy as before. “What..Did…did you even take a shower? I heard the water running–”

“Yeah coach, I took a shower,” Noah said, matter of factly, but it was clear he hadn’t given himself the kind of shower he’d intended to. Either he was simply oblivious–which was likely–or Julian had ruined his mind in more ways than Ray might have thought. Then again, those two possibilites weren’t mutually exclusive either.

“Noah…Noah, look at yourself.”

The young man did, staring down at his sweaty body, freshly soaked in his own piss, and it was clear he was trying to make sense of what was going on. “I…I turned on the water. I even remember getting…under it, it was warm, and…and delicious…oh fuck…did I?”

He took off towards the stairs, away from Ray. “Noah–Noah!” Ray shouted and took off after him, “Noah wait!”

“Fuck this!” he shouted, “This shit is fucked, I just want to go home!”

Ray didn’t know what to do. He had to keep him here, he had to, no matter what. That was the only way he could buy himself enough time to figure out how to expose Julian and get his own life back. A thought occurred to him, and he hated himself for even considering it–but what choice did he have? Noah…Noah would understand, once all of this was over, why he did it, wouldn’t he? He’d have done the same thing if he was in Ray’s position.

Noah got to the door, was trying to work the locks with his trembling hands, and Ray didn’t stop–slamming into him, shoving him up against the door, his entire body pressed to Noah’s. The smell of him, especially the fresh piss, nearly drove him out of his mind, humping his cock against Noah’s ass. For a few moments, Noah kept trying to work the lock, but his hand slipped away as he groaned, allowing his coach to spin him around, grab his face, and pull it into his chest, feeling Noah lick up his sweat and chew at his nipples.

Focus, he had to focus. The basement, get to the damn basement! He fought the urge to just give in there, and fuck the pig right on the floor, seed his ass all over again, maybe…maybe even give him a shower of his own, since the little bitch liked being stinking wet so much. He pulled away, shocked by his own thoughts, but now that Noah had gotten another taste of his coach’s filthy body, he was advancing, drool dripping down his bearded chin, eyes slack. “Coach…fuck…why?” he muttered, but he couldn’t stop–and Ray backed away, leading him towards the back of the house towards the laundry room, and down the stairway into the basement below.

He flipped on the light, but went down backwards, so he could keep an eye on Noah, and make sure he followed. Everything went smoothly at first, but Noah stumbled about halfway down, tumbling right into coach, knocking them both down the rest of the flight where they landed on the dusty ground, Noah on top, and he went back to licking him clean, grinding his own hard cock against his coach’s thigh, while Ray tried to recover from his daze. Looking around, him trying not to think about how fucking good Noah smelled right now, he could see that his basement was no longer a workshop–no, at some point it had been converted into a very well equipped sex dungeon. He just stared at the racks and tables, unable to imagine how all of this could have gotten here without him knowing it, but there was Julian, in the center of the room, holding a metal collar in his hands. A short chain was attached to it, leading to the cement floor where it was attached. Julian set it down, and vanished once more.

The cruelty was welling up in him again, he could feel it. He forced his way out from under Noah, who crawled after him towards the center of Ray’s new dungeon until they reached the collar–he allowed Noah to chew and suck at one of his armpits, while he picked the metal collar up and examined it with his other hand. It had an open padlock hooked in it, all he had to do was get it around Noah’s neck, close the hinge, and lock it. Could…he really do this to him? Did he have a choice? Trying not to think too hard about it, he slipped it around Noah’s neck, the young man barely aware of what he was doing but powerless to stop him anyway, and then he clicked the padlock into place.

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 4)

The coach was behind him, and he hadn’t looked around–but he heard Ray stand up, and he whirled around, fear locked in his eyes, but when he saw his coach, he relaxed a bit. “C-Coach? Oh god, did he get you too? Is he here?”

“Is who here, Noah?” Ray asked, happy to avoid the subject of why they were both naked in his kitchen.

“Master Porter, is he here?”

“He was, but he left.”

Noah swore, and then broke down into tears, shivering and shaking, “Oh fuck, it’s not fucking over, why can’t it just be over!”

“Noah, it’s just us!” Ray said, “I saw him leave.”

“He doesn’t leave,” Noah shouted, “We just can’t fucking see him!” He stood up and put his back to the wall, looking all around the room, “We can’t see him, but he’s always there, of fucking Christ! Just leave me alone! I said I was sorry, please!” He screamed the last words at the empty room, to nowhere in particular, “Please, please…”

Ray was torn. He wanted to comfort him, but he also knew that if he got too close…he didn’t want to get trapped in a cycle like the one he’d just experienced. Instead, he got Noah to focus on him, and together they did a breathing exercise he’d taught the team to help them calm down and focus, in order to recover from a mistake. About five minutes later, both of them felt marginally better.

Noah looked out the window, and started to laugh, “My parents are going to be worried sick, I should have been home hours ago.”

Ray wasn’t sure what he meant. “Noah…you’ve been missing for about three months.” Noah just stared at him, and Ray wasn’t sure what to add. “It’s June, Noah. School ended a few days ago. No one has seen you since March.”

“But I just…I remember walking home, and then Master was there and I had to follow him. Then…then I was here,” Noah said.

“You don’t…remember anything?”

“Oh god, I have to get home!” Noah said, and headed for the front door, “My parents, they must be worried sick.” He grabbed his own clothes and threw them on as quickly as he could, and then headed for the front of the house.

Ray hurried after him, “Noah, wait! You…hold on, you can’t go, please, just listen to me,” Ray said, and managed to get between him in the door, but too close. Both of them caught a whiff of each other, and quickly backed away, the sudden flame of desire reignited. “You can’t…go home looking like that.”

“Noah looked down at himself then, and saw his body. What he was wearing, his gut. He grabbed the flab, unable to believe it was real. “I…when did…”

“We can figure this out Noah, please, just trust me.”

Noah looked up at him, “Please coach, just let me go home…don’t help him.”

“I’m not helping him.”

Noah didn’t say anything, but it was clear he didn’t believe him.

“Noah, you have to understand. He’s trying to frame me for this! If he can implicate me instead, then I’ll go to jail, and that fucker will get his job back, and who knows how many people he’ll do this to. Please, Noah, just trust me on this…help me.”

“I just want to go home,” Noah said, crying again.

“I know.”

“Can I at least call them?”

Ray shook his head. “I can’t trust you Noah. I can’t trust that you would tell the truth. I can’t even trust that I would tell the truth, if the police knocked on the door right now. We have to stay here. Look, let’s…let’s take some showers, and that’ll…help. Then we can figure out what to do, alright?”

Noah looked at the front door behind his coach, and then nodded. “I guess…I shouldn’t show up smelling like this.”

Ray smiled, and at a distance, showed Noah to the bathroom, heard the water start up. He turned to head for his bedroom, only to find the hallway blocked by none other than Julian Porter. Ray tried to shout, tried to run at him and attack him, but Julian spoke first, “Calm, Coach.”

Immediately a perfect euphoria swept over him, and he nearly fell to the floor as his muscles lost all their tension. He only managed to stay upright by leaning against the wall beside him.

“That’s better. We wouldn’t want to disturb Noah, now would we? The boy’s in such a fragile state, after that…brutal fucking you gave him down there. I had no idea you could be such a beast!”

“You…did this…to us…” Ray managed to say, but his tongue didn’t want to work that hard.

“Oh, let’s not focus on the past, Ray! You need to realize, that Noah here is never going to want to stay here. He’s going to want to get home, and as soon as he does, I promise you, he’ll tell his parents everything about how you’re the real abuser here. And like you just worried, if the police question you? You’ll spill the bean yourself, and then you’ll be going to jail for a very, very long time. And trust me, in jail? You’re going to spend a lot of time begging for cock, I guarantee it.”

“Ya…fuck…”

“Don’t worry Ray, if I wanted you to go to jail, I wouldn’t have gone to this much effort. No, what you need is right down in the basement. You’ll know what to do.”

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 3)

Ray didn’t notice that Porter had cum down Noah’s throat. He didn’t hear him leave, his entire mind had been overwhelmed with the athlete’s musk. His cock was so hard and leaking, but…but he couldn’t cum. He knew if he could just cum, maybe his mind would clear, but instead, the raging horniness only dragged him in deeper. Without warning, Noah’s cock released a torrent of piss into his spandex, sending Ray’s senses in overdrive–he lost track of what happened after that, the two of them ripping each other’s clothes off their bodies, writhing around in the puddle of piss and sweat on the kitchen floor.

The more of a taste he got, the rougher Ray felt himself becoming, and he sensed Noah slowly relenting to his dominance, the young man presenting his ass to his coach, grinding it against the older man’s thick cock, grunting and mewling, neither of them capable of stringing together a sentence. Still, Ray relented as long as he could, desperately trying anything else to cum, but he only grew more certain that what he wanted–what he needed–was to fuck Noah. The drive overwhelmed him eventually. He shoved Noah down onto his stomach in the middle of the piss, climbed on top of him, and as soon as he penetrated that loose hole, something changed.

Thinking back, he struggled for a way to describe what, exactly, he experienced, each time he fucked Noah. On one hand, it felt like he was suddenly wearing colored glasses–nothing had really changed, but everything appeared to be completely different. This didn’t seem to fully capture what he experienced however. It was also like being lost in the woods and utterly certain you have been walking east…only to discover, in a moment, that your whole orientation was utterly wrong, and you’d been travelling West the whole time. A deep sense of vertigo and disorientation. Still, even that couldn’t capture the sensation that he was no longer himself. Not only had he been travelling in the wrong direction, he hadn’t even been the right person travelling in the wrong direction.

What all this meant, is that as soon as his cock had slid inside Noah, his head popping through his cherry, a cruel sneer evolved across the coach’s face, he dug his hands into Noah’s hips, hard enough to bruise, and drove his cock in deeper with a roar, flinging spittle across the boy’s back. “Yeah you fucking pig, you fucking piece of shit!” he screamed, “Take your master’s cock, fucking take it!” Ray (if he even was Ray at that moment, which isn’t how he had felt) wanted to hurt him, wanted to tear into him. Wanted to cause pain and humiliation, wanted to ruin him. Beneath him, Noah simply snorted and grunted mindlessly, slamming his hips and ass back to meet his coach’s brutal thrusts, face smearing across the filthy tile, eyes glassy wide. Noah came first, and Ray didn’t even notice, his entire mind focused on his own pleasure, on destroying this disgusting pig he was fucking. He had kept up the stream of obscenities for a few minutes, but now Ray was simply yelling his voice raw, biting and scratching at Noah’s back, a few deep enough to draw blood, before with a deep howl, he finally spilled his seed deep in Noah’s guts, but kept slamming into him, until his softening cock popped free, and it was like everything shifted back all at once, and he was himself again.

He scrambled backwards, away from Noah–who was still lolling in the puddle of piss, his hole leaking his coach’s cum, and the entire event felt like a dream to Ray. Noah had been unaffected by the sudden absence of his coach’s cock–he was still licking at the piss coated tile, eyes rolled back in pleasure, bucking his hips into the floor. Ray could remember doing everything, could remember everything he’d thought and said but he hadn’t wanted to do any of it. He hadn’t wanted to, and yet he had. And as much as he hated it, as much as he tried to deny it, he’d…liked it. He’d liked it enough to think, just for a moment, about crawling back over there and…and mounting that whore’s fat ass all over again, really working to make that pig squeal this time. He caught himself falling forward, and instead threw himself back against the cabinets behind, hard enough for his head to smart. Taking a few breaths, he finally managed a soft, “N-Noah?” his voice hoarse. “Noah!” He tried again a bit louder.

He didn’t get an answer, and so Ray just sat there, fifteen feet away, his back to the counter, trying to figure out what he was going to do. He’d just molested one of his own students. Worse, he’d put on a show that, had anyone seen him perform it, would incriminate him for certain. He looked around the room–Julian had invaded his house, but had he set up cameras? Was this his plan? He grabbed his clothes where he’d thrown them, feeling horribly vulnerable and exposed. Sure, they were filthy, but having his shirt, jockstrap and shorts back on also made him feel…safe. As he tried to figure out what he could possibly do to convince anyone he’d been set up, Noah slowly began to calm down, his sighs of pleasure and lust becoming gasps. He finally picked himself up out of the puddle, on his hands and knees, looked around and asked, “Oh god, now where am I?”

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 2)

Noah charged at Ray, bent low for a tackle. The coach managed to slip to the side, and Noah glanced off him, unable to get a solid grip. He moved away as Noah slammed into the wall behind him, and he kept the kitchen island between them. “Noah,” he said, “Noah, where…where have you been? Everyone’s been worried sick about you.”

“Coach, I fucked up man, I fucked up. I’m a fuck up!” Noah said, slamming his head against the wall, “Fuck! He’s in my head and I know it but you smell so fucking good, I…I gotta…” he turned and started stalking toward him and Ray maneuvered around the island, keeping it between them. They made two circuits when he saw the third person watching him from the other side of the room–Julian Porter.

“You! What the fuck have you done to him?” Ray said, still slipping around the island as Noah pursued him.

Porter didn’t say anything, he just watched them for a moment, and then said, “Coach, remove sensory block Alpha.”

It hit him like a brick, the stink in the room. He didn’t know what it was, and he was momentarily distracted, searching for the foul odor. It reeked like a locker room, like a bar bathroom, a month old cumrag. Noah took advantage of the coach’s confusion, dove over the narrow section of the island, and pulled the coach close to him, shoving his face into Ray’s chest, snorting and licking at his shirt…his…filthy fucking shirt.

It was then that Ray realized where the stench was coming from–it was coming from him. Suppressing a gag, he wrenched himself away from Noah, looking down at himself. His usually white shirt was stained brown and yellow with who knew what, the black mesh shorts he was wearing didn’t have as much visible evidence, but they felt crispy, as did the jockstrap he was wearing, though he was too terrified to look at it. “What…how the fucking…what the fuck is this?” he screamed at Porter.

“Oh, you’ve been wearing those clothes for over a month straight now. Cumming into them. Pissing into them. Working out in them.” He smiled wide, “What, don’t you…remember?” The emphasis on that last word, the way Porter drew it out long, chilled Ray, but Noah had climbed off the counter and ran at him–this time Ray wasn’t so lucky to dodge him. Noah hit him square in the chest, driving him back against the counter, and they both toppled to the floor, Noah on top of him, snorting into his shirt, at his pits, licking at his face, all the while grinding against Ray’s body. The spandex shorts he had on did nothing to disguise how hard the young man’s cock was, and Ray tried to shove him off, but he was too heavy.

“What the fuck, get him off me!”

“Now coach, you’ve been looking so hard for Noah, aren’t you happy to see him?”

“You fucking piece of shit, what the fuck did you do?”

Porter didn’t answer right away. He walked over, his feet on both sides of Ray’s head. He unzipped his fly, pulled out his cock, and Noah immediately sucked it into his maw, the whole of his weight planted on Ray’s chest, still grinding against him. “You fucked up a good thing of mine, Ray, a real good thing I had going. All the fresh meat I could want, and none of them even knew about it! A victimless crime, since none of them even knew they were victims. And really, I have you to thank–you, were the one who told them to take my computer science courses! They were easy A’s, you’d say. I mean, I might have had a small hand in that recommendation of yours, sure, but my classes were easy for your sexiest athletes. I never flunked a student of mine if they were sucking my cock. This one got a bit wise to it, but he would have settled back down if you hadn’t stuck your dirty nose in my business, coach.”

Something was wrong with him. He kept trying to struggle out from under Noah, but this close to him, he could actually smell…smell him, how filthy he was, and it was making him hard. He wormed his way down, but only managed to get his head locked between Noah’s thick thighs, the spandex coated with sweat, and then he couldn’t get ary further. In terror, he realized his mouth was open and licking at the student’s spandex clad taint, one his hands down the front of his shorts, massaging his cock which had grown inexplicably hard.

“Oh, very good coach, I see you’re already adjusting to your programming rather well.”

Programming? His mind flashed back to his computer in his office, how even this afternoon he’d fallen asleep at the keyboard. It hadn’t been the first time. In fact he’d…been doing that a lot lately. He’d always just passed it off as stress and exhaustion, as worry over Noah. He’d been thinking about Noah so much, about how much he missed him, about how much he wanted him. He pushed himself back up, rubbing his own scruffy face against the athlete’s cock, sucking at the cum crusted spandex, thinking about all of the fantasies, all the desires he’d kept bottled up for so long. No! No, these weren’t his! They weren’t his, but they felt so…real. They felt just like his own thoughts, they felt so authentic, this desire. How did he know it wasn’t real?

“Amazing, isn’t it? Just a big computer, you know, stuck in all of our heads. So easy to…fry a few circuits if you know what you’re doing. Lucky for us, I know what I’m doing, right coach?” He fucked Noah’s mouth a bit deeper, his breathing a bit ragged, “Still, I know how…deeply you care for Noah here, I know you’ve always wanted him as yours, and so, as a sign of how much I respect your filthy, dirty nose, I’m going to give him to you. Sure am going to miss this mouth of his though. Still, you should be careful with him–I wouldn’t want to be caught with a runaway teen, you know, especially after your…connection to all of that child abuse happening at the high school. I mean, the only person who had as much contact with those students as I did was, well, you.”

Request by Anonymous

Hey, have you got a second–

Yeah, I know you don’t have much time for fags like me, but…

*click*

Why don’t you go sit down on that bed over there, hang out for a bit.

Oh I know you were heading to wrestling practice, I can see you in your singlet under those sweats. Why don’t you take those off, hang out for a bit with me?

Yeah, that’s it. Cuss me out all you want, but I know how much you like that body of yours, all hard muscle, top to bottom. Go on, you can rub yourself for a bit–trust me, it’s the last chance you’ll have in a while.

*click*

You can feel it can’t you? That shift? It’s already starting, those abs of yours getting swallowed up by that new gut of yours. No no, don’t stop rubbing yourself, trust me, you’ll enjoy being a fatty just as much as you loved your muscles before, you fucking pig.

Yeah, did that catch you off guard pig? There it is again, that whimper. Your cock hard yet? Don’t lie, I can see it straining that spandex, pig. Words sure do have power, don’t they? I’m damn tired of you calling me a fag, but I have a feeling you’re going to love your new title pig…

Oh? did you just cum? Just you wait.

*click*

Yeah, you’re getting bigger alright.

How big? Do you really want to know?

Five hundred pounds.

Yeah, that’s right, five hundred. Hairy too–look at how fast that beard of yours has filled in, damn. That spandex is growing with you, don’t worry–after all, you won’t be wearing anything else. Oh, everyone else will think it’s normal, seeing you waddle around in that thing–they’ll think you’re disgusting sure, but that’ll only turn you on more. I’m the only one who’ll know any different, you see. We’re the only one’s who’ll remember you being anything beyond a fat, hairy, filthy pig.

Oh, speaking of filthy…

*click*

Damn, get a whiff of that funk rolling off you. Go on, lift that arm, get a whiff of yourself pig–damn, another load already? I can see the cum dribbling through the uniform, down between those massive, stinking thighs. Don’t worry, the ass is ripped out, gives me easy access, but you’ll have to piss through the front–I don’t think you’ll mind too much, though, after all, you like being filthy, I can see it in your eyes. Deny it all you want.

Only one more change to go. Pretty soon, you’re going to be a faggot just like me. My slave. My fat, horny, stupid pig slave. Oh, you’ll remember who you were, sure, but you’ll never want to change back. You’ll love being my pig too much to even consider it. Well, shall we?

*click*

How does that feel, Master?

No, wait…that’s…oh fuck, did I…I fucking reversed our names, how the fuck–I just have to be quick–

Yes…sir…I won’t touch it sir.

Yes sir, I was a bad faggot sir, I’m sorry.

What kind of punishment, sir?

Make…make me a pig like…you? I…please sir, I don’t–

Yes, I understand. It would…be an honor to be your dirty sowboi, I…agree completely. Thank you for the honor sir, I’ll have the changes ready to go within an hour.

Oh, after I suck your cock and eat out your ass? Of course sir, your pleasure is the most important thing in the world! Thank you for letting me serve you sir, thank you for everything.

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 1)

Ray gave a start, and shook his head; he was falling asleep at his computer again, so it must be time to head home. He looked up at the clock in his office, in the high school locker room, and was surprised that it was already seven. He must have really dozed off there, for a while. Ray Montaigne was the head coach at River Hills High School, and he was one of the student bodies favorite teachers. He wasn’t quite in peak physical shape anymore, unfortunately–he was in his late forties, had a bit of a gut, but he could still run a nine minute mile, and bench press 200, so he wasn’t doing too badly.

Still, it was finally summer, if nothing else. He’d been nearly finished entering grades when he’d fallen asleep, and so he finished the last few, uploaded them to be processed, and then started packing up his things, happy to see this year in particular behind him at last. What a nightmare. No one had really recovered from what had been happening with Julian Porter, one of the computer science teachers, who had been systematically abusing the school’s athletes for years now. Ray was still furious with himself for never even noticing anything, but none of his previous students even remembered anything. If it hadn’t been for Noah approaching him in confidence, that afternoon, begging him to help–no one would have been the wiser at all. And now look at where they were–after Ray brought the abuse to the attention of the principal, he’d ordered Mr. Porter fired, but no one had seen Porter in days. He’d skipped town or run somewhere, and they were still searching for him, now months later. That hadn’t been the most disturbing part however–because not a few days later, Noah disappeared as well. It was assumed he had run away, though Ray and a few others suspected Mr. Porter had something to do with the boy’s disappearance. Still, no one knew anything for certain–Noah’s parents were an absolute mess, and Ray was too, though he couldn’t show it around his students. Other athletes had come forward, admitting that Mr. Porter had been abusing them as well, and Ray still couldn’t understand how no one had noticed anything in all of that time.

Just thinking about it was giving him a sick stomach. He put together his things, shut off his computer, double checked the lights, and left, happy to not have to see the place for a few months. Hopefully next year things would be better, for everyone. Especially Noah–Ray was really worried about him. He’d been so…strange when he’d told Ray what had been happening, almost like his tongue was fighting itself in his mouth, trying to keep the words from pouring out. Noah had told him Mr. Porter had him under some kind of control, but no one had believed him about that, no one other than Ray. It explained how Julian would have managed to get to Noah as well–if he had some kind of control over him that would explain a lot, but he hadn’t been able to find any sort of hard evidence. All he could hope was that they would find Noah and Julian soon, before he could do any more damage to anyone else.

He left the school and drove home. He’d gone through a messy divorce a few years back, but he’d at least managed to keep the house, even if he had to pay fucking alimony out the ass. He didn’t have any kids at least–he’s turned out to be sterile and not even that interested in kids, but she’d always wanted some. That was part of why she’d left, after she’d frozen some of her eggs years ago, and finally found a daddy for them she approved of. Already had pumped out two of them, last he heard. The house had always been too large for them, and he hated how big it was now–half the rooms were just storage at this point–but if he sold it, he’d have to give her a hefty chunk of the sale, so he might as well just sit on it, since it was almost paid off anyway.

However, when he got home that night, he immediately had the sense that something was off. It wasn’t that anything in particular was amiss–though there were small details. A light off he’d thought he’d left on that morning was off. A door ajar which was usually closed. The house seemed quiet not because there was no one there, but because someone was trying to be quiet. He tried to shrug it off, and went into the kitchen to make himself some dinner. He put one of his stockpiled frozen dinners in the microwave, turned it on, went over to find the remote, only to see a figure silhouetted in the doorway to the hallway leading towards the front of the house. He froze–the man, whoever he was, was far enough back that his face was still in shadow. Neither said anything, but Ray could hear the stranger breathing through his nose, long snorting breaths. He stepped forward, into the light of the kitchen, and Ray found himself looking at Noah.

That said, Noah wasn’t looking much like Noah at the moment. He had on a tattered and well worn football uniform, but it seemed at least two sizes too small for him. As a receiver, Noah had always been slender and quick, but his physique had shifted–his muscles had bulked up, he had a gut peeking out between the pants and jersey he had on. He was still snorting, nostrils flaring, eyeblack across his cheeks, though his entire face looked like it was smudged with dirt. Part of that was the short beard he had across his face, his hair shaggy and damp. “He…he said you’d smell good coach…” Noah muttered between snorts, “But fuck man, fuck!”

Family Portrait (Part 2)

Another touchdown! Both Keith and Marty threw their arms up, shouting with excitement. Their team was doing great, and Keith couldn’t be happier if he’d tried, sitting here with his favorite person, his brother, watching the game with him. He grinned over at him, grabbed another handful of potato chips and shoved the whole wad into his mouth, chewing loudly with his mouth open, washing it all down with his seventh can of beer, a huge belch rumbling out of his fat belly. He gave it a pat, feeling it jiggle and wiggle around him. It felt…damn good, actually. Like Marty had told him, he’d always been a fat ass–he couldn’t stop eating if he fucking tried, he loved it so much–drinking too–and it showed, nearly six hundred pounds of flab, but he didn’t care. Like Marty said, he found it…kind of hot, actually.

He still wasn’t feeling quite like himself though. Ever since he’d sat down and started watching the game, he’d felt…almost like he was in a dream. Marty was there for him though, reminding him to get the snacks and beer, talking with him while they waited through replays, about all sorts of things. Like…like his lucky jersey. He’d worn in for years, ever since their team had won the superbowl, and he wore it for every game, religiously. He never washed it, so it stank to high hell, and was easily three sizes too small at this point, but it just didn’t feel right not wearing it, right? In fact, Marty had been doing most–or rather, all of the talking. Keith had focused on cheering during the game–with how hard it was to think, he didn’t feel capable of keeping up a conversation at the moment. Besides, it was more important for him to listen to Marty. Marty was the smart one, the clever one…but his eyes kept going to the clock next to their family portrait, and Marty noticed.

“Worried about the time, bro?” Marty asked him.

“Just…wondering when…Tara and the boys…” he said, but couldn’t complete the thought through the haze in his head.

Marty smacked his head and scowled at himself. Fuck, he’d forgotten–that would have made a mess of things for sure. “Why in the hell would that bitch be coming here? She hates your guts. The two of you haven’t laid eyes on each other since that last time she dragged you to court over missing your alimony payments. You’re lucky you didn’t lose partial custody over that shit.”

Keith looked at his brother, confused…but he…he was right. Tara hated him, and she kind of had good reason to. “Yeah…don’t know…why I’d thought…”

“Don’t worry about it bro, you hate women anyway. They fucking disgust you. The only people you want to spend time around is family. Especially me, your best friend. Your best big brother in the whole world. You love me more than anyone, right?”

Keith nodded and grinned at him, letting off another belch.

“Yeah, you’re just a fuckin’ deadbeat dad, really. Can’t hold down a job–doesn’t help that you dropped out of school, still, considering how stupid you are, that ain’t surprising. Luckily we could move in together–I support you, but that’s ok. There’s nothing you’d rather do, aside from lounging around the house, naked all the time, stuffing your face, drinking beer, watching TV, and loving me.”

This time, even Marty could feel it, the changes sweeping through them. The house around them began rotting–there was no way either of them could live in a neighborhood like that, after all. Still, served the fucker right, Marty thought. They ended up in a double wide trailer in some rundown park–still nicer than pretty much anywhere Marty had lived before, and it felt like home, his brother splayed out on the couch next to him, completely naked aside from his lucky jersey, eyes glued to the TV.

“Oh, and smoking cigars, of course. You couldn’t live without those.”

The air grew dank and smoky all of a sudden, and Keith sucked deep off his cheap cigar. Smiling, amazed at how well the portrait was working, Marty leaned forward and lit a cigar for himself, sighing smoke out, groping his cock through his filthy shorts, wondering how much further he could push this before getting down to business. Hell, why not now? He could remember how big Keith’s cock had been when they were teenagers, and it had only gotten bigger–but no fucking way did he deserve a tool like that, not after what he did.

“The smoking, the food, the beer–it makes you fucking horny too, right bro? So fucking horny all the time. Too bad you can’t find your inch long cock in all that flab of yours. Just makes you sex crazed all the time, leaking cum everywhere, desperate for release.” He watched Keith start panting, heaving smoke, sweating, crotch damp with precum, “Luckily you have a big brother to take care you, right? Help you out?” He reached over and dug around in keith’s new gunt, finding his miniscule cock, stroking it, watching his obese brother spasm with pleasure. “And luckily you’ll do anything your perverse big brother wants you to do, right? You love satisfying all of my sick, disgusting fantasies. At heart, you’re all bottom. A sex crazed pig, aching to have all of your holes stuffed at all hours. That’s the only way you can cum, with a big cock in your ass or buried in your throat, while you grunt and snort like a pig.”

Keith didn’t make it to halftime, before he tore into his brother’s shorts and started sucking on his cock. He ended up bent over the couch, his brother balls deep in his sloppy hole, dull mind desperate for sex, cock leaking like a faucet onto the already well stained couch. His eyes–he felt them pulled up, to the portrait on the wall. The background, it was swirling again, but his image–it was becoming clearer now–no longer blurry. His massive frame barely contained by his favorite jersey, wearing a pair of massive sweats. His shaven head and face looking even larger, three chins drooping under his thick handlebar mustache, a stupid grin on his face, leaning on his brother, his big brother, the best big brother in the world. With a snap, the portrait froze in place, and it was like all of him came alive again. With a holler, his tiny cock spurted a load into his fatty folds, and Marty shot deep in his filthy brother’s hole, and looked up at the photo. A good start, for sure–but there was still so much room in the portrait. Luckily, he had a few ideas for other people he could add to their family–starting with his new nephews. He knew that they would be so much happier away from their bitch mother for good and living with their dad and uncle, where they really belonged.

ChatChange (Part 3)

DaddySugarBear: Hello, anyone there?

HTHogarth: Hi. Who is this?

DaddySugarBear: Oh, just a mutual friend. Hold on a sec…

<<RealiChangeChat Enabled. Establish ChangeConnection…Connection Established. Subject ready for change.>>

<<Toggle SubjectAutonomy: Obedience–Unaware>>

DaddySugarBear: Alright, there we go. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself? And turn on your webcam too, please.

HTHogarth: I’m not really that interesting. Just a bookworm mostly. I’m studying microbiology, and I’m planning on going into medicine, like my father. He’s always pressured me pretty hard to follow in his footsteps, though I always kind of wanted to be a musician.

HTHogarth: I play in the band here, and that’s a lot of fun–gives me something to do when I don’t have my face in a book, you know?

DaddySugarBear: This is all rather boring. Turn on your cam.

HTHogarth: Oh…sorry. You did ask.

DaddySugarBear: Yes, I did, I shouldn’t have. Cam?

HTHogarth: Oh right

<<CamChat enabled>>>

HTHogarth: You know, this is kind of weird. Do I know you?

DaddySugarBear: Oh no, you don’t know me yet.

HTHogarth: You know? I think I might just log off.

DaddySugarBear: Oh don’t go anywhere! We haven’t even started having any fun yet. Lean in closer so I can get a better look at what I’m starting with.

HTHogarth: What do you mean, “starting with”?

DaddySugarBear: Don’t worry about it. Damn, you’re like a twig, we’re going to have to fix that for sure. Just as boring as your friend was too, so we’ll have to make you a bit more interesting. I mean, what’s with your chat handle?

HTHogarth: HTH are my initials. Howard Thomas Hogarth.

DaddySugarBear: How about a nickname to start with? Nicknames make everyone more interesting, right Ogar?

HTHogarth: Ogar? What kind of name is that?

DaddySugarBear: Yours, soon enough.

<<Change initiated…Change applied successfully>>

OgarRoar: Well ya thats my name. People always call me that cause I look like a fuckin ogre.

DaddySugarBear: You sure do, damn! Look at the size of you! Back up from the cam man, all I can see is your damn chest.

OgarRoar: Sory

Ogar: That better?

DaddySugarBear: Much better. Damn, how tall are you?

OgarRoar: Like six eight. Tried to play basketball but Im too clumsy. Better at football!

DaddySugarBear: Oh? You play sports?

OgarRoar: Duh with a bod like this why not? I get all the damn chicks I want too

DaddySugarBear: Ugh, I need to just make that a damn default already.

<<Change initiated…Change applied successfully>>

OgarBear: All the dudes I mean, duh, pussys fuckin gross

DaddySugarBear: Of course, I agree completely

OgarBear: U wanna fuck? I got the evening free if your close. A/S/L?

DaddySugarBear: Oh don’t worry, I have someone you can fuck. Would you like to meet him?

OgarBear: Sure I guess. Kinda weird tho

OgarBear: Why not just have him message me?

<<Initiate Group Chat.>>

<<Invite contact [RbbrPissSkinPOS].>>

<<[RbbrPissSkinPOS] has joined the conversation.>>

OgarBear: Who the fuck? No fuckin way man that who the fuck is that?

DaddySugarBear: Oh that’s the guy you’ll be fucking. Our mutual friend, though I don’t think your paths have crossed really, not now.

OgarBear: No fuckin way am I touching a disgusting piece of shit like that

DaddySugarBear: Oh? How do you feel about that, you disgusting pig?

RbbrPissSkinPOS: Hes fckin right sir i am a POS skin fuck

DaddySugarBear: Well you don’t technically have to touch him to punish him, I suppose.

OgarBear: Punish him? What the fuck r u talkin about?

DaddySugarBear: Well that’s what you’re going to do. He’s been a very bad pig you see, and I need him punished, but I’m too far away. So you’re going to do it for me.

OgarBear: No fuckin way you freak im out of here!

<<Change initiated…Change applied successfully>>

OgarBDSM: Fuck, what the fuck he do? I can work on him tonight for ya

RbbrPissSkinPOS: I was so bad, such a bad pig, plese punish me, hurry

OgarBDSM: SHUT UP PIG! Don’t Fuckin speak unless one of your superiors acknowledges you. Your gonna get it for that later!

DaddySugarBear: Just general disobedience. He isn’t very disciplined, which is why I think he’d be a perfect fit with you.

DaddySugarBear: Although…I’m not sure you’d really be willing to go to the extremes my pig needs. That uniform of yours is nice, but you’re just a bit too clean. Not quite rough enough.

OgarBDSM: Oh trust me im plenty rough. Tell me where the pigs at and I’ll show u

<<Change initiated…Change applied successfully>>

DaddySugarBear: Oh yes, that’s looking much better. Biker leathers, looks like you’ve been in plenty of fights. Put some years on you too-the silver in that big, nasty beard of yours looks great.

OgarBkeDdySdtMstr: What fuckin ever

OgarBkeDdySdtMstr: Tell me where the pig is already!!! cant wait 2 get started!!!

DaddySugarBear: Pig, give him your address.

RbbrPissSkinPOS: 2439 Eustace Lane, sir

OgarBkeDdySdtMstr: Couple a blocks!!! Gt ready bitch, here comes daddy!

<<[OgarBkeDdySdtMstr] has left the conversation>>

DaddySugarBear: Well pig, are you excited? You’re going to get the shit kicked out of you in a few minutes.

RbbrPissSkinPOS: Oh fuckin hell sir hes so damn hot! Ill do anything he asks I cant fuckin wait.

DaddySugarBear: You’re going to beg him for his piss, of course. And beg him for the privilege of licking his boots and his filthy ass. You’re going to let him fist your ass with both of those huge fists, until your hole’s just a loose crater.

RbbrPissSkinPOS: Oh god yes, all those fuckin fitlhy things!!!

DaddySugarBear: And when he’s finished with you, you’re going to beg–plead him to make you his total slave, aren’t you? To collar you? Lock up that worthless, disgusting cock of yours too. You’ll be nothing but his property, and even though you’re worth so much less, you’ll still be honored that such a man would be willing to let you serve him.

RbbrPissSkinPOS: Oh fuck, yes!!! Thats the door hes here!!!

DaddySugarBear: Make sure you two fuck in this room, with the cam pointing at you. I want to make sure he punishes you properly.

RbbrPissSkinPOS: Yes sir, of course. Thank you sir!

Joining the Family (Part 4)

All of us ended up waking up at about the same time, and went about trying to disentangle ourselves from one another. Unlike the night before, when everyone had been horny and out of their minds with lust, the morning was a much more sober affair–no one wanted to look anyone else in the eye, and Mikey couldn’t even glance at me, he just sat on the floor, head in his hands, mumbling something to himself. I wanted to tell him it was going to be alright, that we would get past it, but how could I tell him something like that? Decades of sobriety down the drain, just like that. I’d just fucked my own grandson–how in the hell could I ever get him to trust me again? How could I ever trust myself around him again? I didn’t know what to do, but I accepted a hand from the twin’s father, who helped me up, patted me on the shoulder, and he said “Welcome to the family, I’m sorry to say…” And then he walked into the bathroom, lighting a cigar along the way, and I heard him talking to himself cursing, and then he let off a thunderous belch, followed by a wet fart. “Hot damn, I’d been hoping that shit wasn’t gonna get any worse, fuck…”

The twins were next to each other, and I wasn’t sure whether it was the daylight, or just the fact that I’d never gotten a good look at them before, but the two of them seemed different than before. Bigger, more muscular, hairier. They didn’t look much like their father, now that I had light and time to notice. They lit cigarettes, and shared a few smoky kisses, but it wasn’t…lust. They just seemed to be searching for some small comfort with one another. All I knew was that I had to get out of there. The smoke was stifling, the air heavy. I went over and grabbed Mikey by the arm, and told him we needed to go home.

He told me he couldn’t. I asked why, and he said that he was home. Thinking back, what he actually said was, “We’re home,” but I didn’t notice, I wasn’t listening. All I could think of doing was regaining control. He kept insisting he stay, that he shouldn’t leave anymore, that he deserved this, that if he left it would just get worse. I hauled him up–he was heavier, and I was exhausted, but he didn’t fight me as I forced him back into his clothes, dragged him out of the trailer and into the sun. It felt so good, in the light, but it also…hurt somehow. We got in the truck, and he was sobbing at this point, muttering how sorry he was over and over. My hands were shaking; I needed a drink something fierce. I drove off, pulling into a gas station where I bought a bottle of liquor, and it was only when I got in my truck again that I realized how natural that had felt, how instinctual, and I resolved to pour the bottle out once we got home.

Mikey had gone quiet, but he was still crying. I told him everything was going to be ok, and he shouted back, “Everything is not ok! Don’t you know what happened last night? Why couldn’t you have just left me alone? Why the fuck did you have to show up? I…I didn’t want that, I can’t believe what I did…”

I tried to tell him it was me, but he stopped responding. I drove home, and the both of us went into my trailer. I went to pour the bottle out in the sink, only to discover a third of it was missing. I could…taste alcohol in my mouth, on my breath…and something else too. I looked down, and found a thick cigar smoldering between my fingers. Mikey was sitting in a chair, head in one hand, cigarette in the other. The bottle was at my lips again–I realized I had been drinking and smoking ever since I left the gas station, and I hadn’t even noticed it. I recoiled from the bottle, and left the cigar on the counter–Mikey saw my terror, and shook his head. He told me I couldn’t fight it. That it had me now, that there wasn’t anything any of us could do. He wasn’t crying anymore, but I could feel the weight dragging him down, dragging us both down, and at that moment…all I wanted was for him to be happy, was…was for him to feel good again, like before.

I hadn’t actually managed to put down either the cigar, or the bottle. I walked over, got down, and we kissed again, sharing smoke and booze until the bottle was empty. Over and over I told myself that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this, not with a man, not with my grandson. He started begging me to fuck him, telling me he was a slutty pig, that his hole was aching for a big cock like mine. I…I was so hard. The room was filled with smoke, it was like a dream. I slipped into him again, and I felt so alive, so heavy, so filthy, so…good. It was so good, being inside him again, I never wanted to be anywhere else. Words were pouring out of my mouth, words I never could have imagined saying in a million years, telling him what a naughty boy he was, how he was going to have to learn to keep grandpa happy from now on with both his holes, whenever I wanted it. I licked his sweaty body, he tasted so…so young and sweet. I filled him up over and over again, every shot just made me want to fuck more. It was evening before we finally managed to take a break for food. I wasn’t really hungry, but we needed to eat, I thought. While we snacked, I looked at myself in the mirror, at my sagging gut, my suddenly all white beard, my bloodshot eyes and red nose. I hadn’t looked like that before, but it also seemed…right.

The food tasted rotten, even though it wasn’t, and we didn’t eat much. The hunger was still there, the darkness clawing at my guts. Mikey told me we should go back, that we’d been away too long. He was pale and shivering, sweating. I knew he was right. We got back in the truck and drove back to Dale and Rick’s, with a quick stop for more booze and smokes. We got there, and Dale opened the door. He told us to make ourselves at home, and we haven’t left since.

He’s fucking clueless.

It all started after that day in our intro to psych class, the one where our professor discussed hypnosis, and even demonstrated it on one of our classmates–with his permission of course. I was amazed–I had no idea it was so easy to put someone under like that, and I just couldn’t quite shake the idea of…my roommate for some reason.

He was a bit of a pig, kind of a slob, and it had always bothered me. I thought I’d…put him under and just make him clean up after himself a bit better, but once he was under, I just…it seemed like such a good idea to get him to suck my cock for me. I’d always been gay, and I hadn’t exactly had much luck with any of the guys here, and he seemed game enough.

Needless to say, he’d basically my pet pig at this point. I did make him clean up his act a bit, but I’ve been increasing his appetite, and it shows–he’s packed on the Freshman Thirty at this point, and it’ll be fifty by the end of the semester. All I have to do is say a word, and he’s on his knees, eyes shut, begging me for my cum. Yeah, fuck, just seeing him, the fucking mindless slut, it makes me nut every time. I’m gonna start whoring him out, I think–I know a few other guys in my psych class who might enjoy the pigs mouth for some cash, and he loves sucking cock so much, I doubt he’d object.

He’s fucking clueless.

Ever since that lecture in psych, I just knew I had to. My roommate and I, we’d never really connected, you know? I was too dirty, he was a clean freak–I thought that if I hypnotized him, I could get him to loosen up a bit, you know? But once I had him under, I thought–why not get something else out of him too?

I’d always been a bottom, and he wasn’t about to object to getting his cock sucked–and damn did he have a fine cock–the rest of him just wasn’t much to look at you know? Well, we’ve been working on that lately, of course. He’s going to the gym five days a week at this point, working out with a couple of other guys from our psych class, and dame, he’s looking buff all of a sudden, and I think the workouts are making him hornier.

He sure as hell is making me hornier–he hasn’t noticed that he’s stopped showering at this point, and the musk rolling off him when he walks in the room, it’s enough to send me to my knees, tongue out, eager for a load of cum. I’ve been molding his personality a bit, and he’s turned into a nice, brutal top now–fucking my face and my ass long and hard, talking dirty to me. I think I’ll start whoring him out–I know a few other bottoms who’d love a top like this, and he won’t complain about the extra tail, not after another one of our conversations.