Tag: slob

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 9)

“Let’s get you in the sling,” Ralph said, but that was easier said than done, however, since Doug had started growing fatter and shorter throughout all of this. Now, he was just barely five foot two, and it took both of them to get him up into the leather seat, Ralph securing his boy’s ankles to the industrial chains, giving him easy access to his loose hole, and then chained Doug’s wrists as well, giving him complete control over his body.

He teased him for a few minutes, admiring the changes that had spread across him like wildfire, changes he was having a hard time even recalling. Everything about him just seemed so…normal. He sucked and chewed on one of his boy’s thick nipples before digging through one of his drawers, pulling out two snake bite suckers and attaching them, and then he tugged on his boy’s balls, feeling them swell and drop in his hand, Doug unable to suppress in groans, nor the precum which had begun flowing from the head of his huge cock. He was…beautiful, looking at him like this. Fat, filthy, nasty, covered with tattoos, everything he fucking wanted in a man, but…but that was because Ralph had made him this way…right?

He could remember now, dimly, how he’d taken the boy under his wing, fed him fatter, taught him the ways of filth and sex, covered him with the tattoos of his choosing, forced him to smoke constantly until he needed smoke and ash all day long, forbid him from cutting his hair of shaving any part of his body. As these memories flooded him, he felt like his own past was fading away. College–who the fuck was he kidding? He’d never gone to college, hell, he’d never wanted to go to college, he’d dropped out a high school years ago. Yeah…years…ago. His beard was beginning to grey, long streaks mixing with the brown–the same with his hair. Face growing cragged and wrinkled, scars to match his oft broken nose from fights and rough fucks, and this sweet young boy, fuck. His boy. He’d always wanted one, and now he had one.

He stepped away from the sling and pulled on a thick, industrial rubber glove, coating it with a thick layer of crisco from a half used tub on the dresser, and then walked back, pushing two fingers into Doug’s ass, his weak hole accepting them willingly, listening to the boy moan, swinging his body onto the intruding hand. Three fingers, four, and then his fist popped inside him, Doug letting off something between a sigh and moan as his daddy’s fist invaded his ass. It was…so familiar to him. Ralph twisted his wrist, applied a bit of pressure, and his boy’s dick started spraying piss all over the both of them, Ralph licking it from his beard and mustache as he grinned, watching his boy loose complete control, pressing harder until it was completely empty, and then he switched again, and started prodding his prostate.

He never touched his boy’s cock–he didn’t need to. Doug’s groans and moans only grew louder from the stimulation, his cock flooding precum from his massive balls, until his daddy finally milked a massive orgasm from him, making him shout and groan and cry, sucking down smoke from the cigar still in his mouth, and Ralph yanked out his hand and replaced it with his cock, fucking the loose hole raw until he too was cumming, feeling a bit…light headed. His boy’s collar…it was glinting, shimmering. It seemed so bright, all of a sudden, and everything else was so dark. Doug seemed to have passed out in the sling, and Ralph struggled against the darkness. He didn’t want to go under again, he didn’t want to loose himself again, no more, no…more…

*

“Daddy? Daddy!”

Ralph gave a snort on the filthy, piss soaked floor where he’d collapsed, rolled up onto his ass, rubbing the side of his head. Fuck..what the hell was that?

“You ok?”

“Fine…I think…” Ralph said, grabbed onto the chains of the sling and hauled himself back up, Doug swinging to and fro from his weight, the ceiling groaning where the chains were anchored.

“Thought I might be stuck,” Doug said.

“Heh, ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that,” Ralph said, leaned over his boy and gave him a deep, smoky kiss, “Just got…too excited, is all. Still, how ‘bout we get ya down?”

He undid the shackles holding Doug’s arms and legs, and helped his short boy down from the sling, holding his filthy body tight to him. He was still horny, and before Doug could get dressed, he bent his boy over and ate out his nasty loose hole, tasting the grease and his own cum from earlier all over his boy’s crack, sucking down his farts in between drags off his cigar, and Doug looked around the room.

It wasn’t much, their little studio, but neither of them made much money. Well, he was the one who worked to support them, really, with construction work during the day and offering up his ass all night. Daddy worked…sometimes. He had a hard time getting hired, and he usually lost his temper whenever anyone tried to tell him what to do. Still, it worked out, and he did what he could. He had his daddy to think of, after all. Some little voice in his head was screaming though, that this was wrong, but it was getting quieter. He gripped his chain collar and felt it diminish more, until he couldn’t hear the words, just feel an odd unease.

Ralph finally came up for air, licking his lips, “Let’s go for a ride, boy. A long one, a few weeks–nah, fuck that. Even longer I gotta feel the wind for a while, too fuckin’ cooped up here.”

“I gotta work in the morning, daddy. We ain’t got nothin’ for rent.”

“Fuck that,” Ralph said, grabbing hold of his chain, “We’ve lived on the road before. Only thing you gotta do is keep daddy happy, and daddy ain’t happy here. Now come on, let’s pack our shit, just what we need. We can meet up with some old buddies a mine; they got a nice clubhouse where we can stay as long as we want. Don’t need rent–they’ll just want our holes. They’re sick fucks, but nothin’ we don’t love anyway.”

Doug couldn’t say no, and so they suited up in their filthy leathers, hoped on their bikes, and rode off into the night, their old lives just glimmers in the back of their minds. Eddie, however, had been keeping an eye on them. Another great buy–he looked at the two collections of preppy clothes and college supplies he’d recently acquired–and knew he’d be making someone happy next weekend at his next special sale.

The End

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 8)

Thankfully he didn’t pass anyone on the way to the dorm, though it was difficult getting out his key so he could swipe it at the entrance to the building. Their room was on the second floor, and he must be getting tired faster than usual, because it seemed like with each step up Doug grew heavier, dragging him down a bit more. He stumbled to their door, fiddled with his keys, pushed his way in and unslung his roommate off his shoulder and onto his bed. He was still out–is this how long he’d been out, when it had happened to him before? It hadn’t felt like it had taken this long, but he wasn’t sure. One thing he did know, was that something strange was happening to Doug.

The sensation of him growing heavier hadn’t been an illusion. He’d started off as very lithe, probably one hundred forty pounds on a six foot two frame, but here in the room, he seemed to have lost a bit of height…and he was packing on weight. He already had sprouted a gut, and as Ralph watched, it was only getting bigger…in fact, he couldn’t…look away. Fuck, just seeing his boy like that, he was getting horny. The small clothes were starting to cut into him; Ralph grabbed hold and ripped them off, licking his bearded lips as he did, and fuck, he pushed up one of Doug’s arms, got down on his knees and shoved his nose and mouth in the pit, snorting and licking, feeling a bush of hair sprouting as he did–nearly as thick as his own…and the more he licked, the thicker–and ranker, the armpit became.

No, no! He yanked himself back, unable to understand the feelings washing over him. He couldn’t do this, the guy wasn’t…wasn’t even awake…but the need, the desire was overwhelming him. He passed over the stinking pit and started sucking his nipples, biting and pulling on them until they were thick, inch masses, studded with piercings, and then worked lower to his cock. It was hardening from the attention, and he swallowed it down, sucking it, feeling it grow and expand as he did until it started pushing its way down his throat and was so thick his jaw ached. Then he rolled his boy over, kneading his ass with both hands, feeling it inflate as he did, before spreading them apart and diving in, licking the crack with broad sweeps of his tongue, his spit sprouting thick ass hair as he did, and then started tunnelling into his hole, feeling it loosen at his will. He took deep inhales of smoke and blew it into his ass, and it was blown back into his face as ripe, pungent farts–but Doug didn’t wake up until Ralph shoved his cock inside him. He screamed, and tried to claw away his way off Ralph’s cock, but he grabbed a handful of Doug’s hair, feeling it lengthen so he could get a better grip, yanking back, bucking deep, sinking his teeth and sucking at his boy’s neck, feeling his terror ease into pleasure, until he was pushing back, eager to feel his daddy’s dick inside him. Ralph’s teeth left a strange mark on his skin, it began to discolor in odd shades, and then began to spread out as wild, whirling tattoos around his neck, down his entire back, around onto his chest, and down his arms past his wrists. Ralph’s breathing was turning ragged and quick; he was close. With a low growl he came deep inside Doug’s loose ass, but this was wrong, fuck, what the fuck had he just done? He pulled out early, spurting cum all over Doug’s filthy crack and stumbled back and away towards his side of the room, staring at his roommate, his…boy.

Doug was still moaning and groaning on the bed, but it wasn’t clear whether it was from pleasure or pain, or some strange combination. Now that he no longer had Ralph’s heavy body keeping him down, he could roll over and sit up, cum leaking from his hole onto his sheets, and he looked down at himself, at his fat body still growing fatter, the tattoos coating him, and he looked up at Ralph across the room. He wanted to be angry–he knew he should be angry, but all he felt was hunger, and this strange desire to…to serve. It was overwhelming, his daddy…he had to serve his daddy, and he got off the bed, falling to his hands and knees and crawled towards him.

“Don’t…don’t come over here, I don’t know what’ll happen if you do,” Ralph said, “I can’t stop this, I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

“F-Fuck you…” was all Doug could manage in reply, before pressing his face to Ralph’s filthy boots running his tongue over them, coating it in the filth there, eating it down. He kept…trying to grab his cock, but for some reason it was hard for him to grasp. It certainly wasn’t an issue with it being small–rather it was this…strange idea in his head that he shouldn’t touch it. That he wasn’t allowed to touch it.

Ralph was quivering, looking down at Doug licking his boots clean, feeling these desires rising in him, strange, perverse fantasies. He sucked a deep draw off his cigar, a large cinder falling from the end and hitting the floor–without even needing to be told, Doug scooped it up in his mouth and chewed it down, before returning to his daddy’s boots. He couldn’t stop himself. He aimed his cock and started pissing all over him, watching the stinking yellow run over his head, soaking his long hair and coating his body in filth, Doug shuddering beneath him and licking up as much as he could from the floor, but Ralph reached down after he finished, grabbed his boy by the chain collar, feeling that same odd heat pulse through him, and hauled him to his feet, shoving his tongue in his mouth. After eating his boots, ash and piss it was none too clean, teeth chipped and rotting, yellow with smoke, black with ash, but it tasted…it tasted wonderful. They pulled apart and took a hit off their cigars–though Doug couldn’t remember when he’d actually lit one, and then shared another smoky kiss, grinding their filthy bellies together, Ralph’s hands twisting and yanking on his boy’s nipples, and then one dropped down and started stroking his cock, feeling him spasm and groan.

“How long has it been, boy, since I gave you a good milking?”

“Too…too long daddy,” Doug sighed.

“Well how about we do somethin’ about that, eh?”

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 7)

Doug had heard tales of wild roommates in college, that the “matchmaking” attempts by colleges generally resulting in horrible Freshman combinations, but it was past Labor Day, and he was already wondering how in the hell he could get rid of this fucker. Everything had been fine for orientation, hell, Ralph had actually seemed like a normal, decent guy, but this fucking weekend, what in the hell had happened to the guy from before? He didn’t have a problem with someone being a bit of a slob–hell, he wasn’t exactly the cleanest guy either–but this…mess.

Ralph’s “side” of the room looked like a bomb had hit it, and smelled like it had been a bomb filled with piss. Filthy clothes were strewn everywhere, across the floor, the chair, all of it muddy and messy. His computer had disappeared, replaced by a tool box, his posters of indie bands suddenly biker memorabilia, but how had he even had time to redecorate, when it seemed like he’d spent all weekend out getting drunk and smoking. Hell, it smelled like he’d even been smoking in the room, while he was gone. He’d already tried talking to the RA, but he’d said that unless he did it in front of him, there wasn’t anything he could do, which meant Doug was on his own. He’d tried to just stay away from the room as long as he could, but maybe he just needed to have a fight with the guy, see if he could sort some this shit out before it got even more out of control…but when he returned to the room that evening, Ralph wasn’t there–thankfully–but the room had somehow grown even more disgusting. It was littered with sex toys, leather gear and who knew what else. Disturbed at what might have been happening, he fled the building and walked around the side, when a nearly familiar voice shouted out his name behind him.

Doug looked over his shoulder–the fattest, filthiest man he’d ever seen was panting after him, beard grown down past his waist, hair nearly as long grown down his back. He had a cigar shoved in the corner of his mouth, and was wearing chaps and a vest over some of the most disgusting clothing he’d ever laid eyes on in his life, and the guy looked like he’d gotten in a fight earlier, from the swollen nose on his face. He didn’t know how he knew it, but it was Ralph–his roommate. Part of his head knew it couldn’t possibly be, but it was, and that uncertainty drove him to walk faster, and then break into a jog.

“Wait! Fucker, I just…come on!” the man behind him shouted. Doug knew he could outrun him. He ccould outrun nearly everyone–hell, his performance in track had helped get him into this school with a scholarship, but what was he doing? He’d been planning on confronting this guy, they needed to hash this shit out before the semester got going, if they were going to live together…right? But why…why was someone like Ralph going to…college? He looked much too old for one thing, from the streaks of grey in his hair and beard, which Doug could see better once he turned around, stopped, and let the fat biker catch up to him.

Ralph reached where he was standing, and then doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

“Be easier if you didn’t smoke that shit.”

“Fuck…Fuck you…” he gasped, “I really don’t need that shit right now, it’s been…a really strange weekend.”

“No fucking shit!” Doug said, “What the fuck are you even doing? Our room’s a fucking sty, and I know you’ve been smoking and drinking in there. What the hell is wrong with you? Classes start tomorrow.”

“I…I know that…” Ralph stood up and bent back, but when he did something slipped from the pocket of his vest and hit the ground in front of Doug’s feet. It was a small box, and when it hit the sidewalk it came apart, a shiny chain landing on the ground, with a lock. Doug…couldn’t look away from it, and he bent down to grab it. Ralph tried to warn him halfheartedly, but didn’t move to stop him. His roommate grabbed it and picked it up, feeling a bit woozy and hot suddenly, his heart racing.

“Fuck, I feel…kind of weird…” Doug said, and Ralph, realizing what was about to happen, guided his collapsing roommate into his arms as he fainted–and he looked around. It would be easiest to get him back to their room–so he hefted his limp, unconscious roommate over his shoulder and started for the dorm, not noticing that somehow the chain had gone from being in Doug’s fist, to being around his neck, with the padlock closed, securing it tight, like a necklace…or perhaps a collar.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 6)

“I can’t believe it fuckin’ happened again,” Ralph said, and peeled the wad of paper towels away from his nose, “How does it look?”

“Broken,” Eddie said, “But here, I know how to help that.”

Before Ralph could tell him no, Eddie grabbed the broken nose in his fingers and twisted it back into place, making Ralph howl in pain, eyes watering, nose gushing blood all over again. “Fuck! That fucking hurt, you fucker!”

“Well, at least it’s straight…er,” Eddie said, “I’ll go get you some ice.”

He’d woken on the garage floor in a pool of blood, Eddie slapping his face and trying to get him to respond. His nose hurt like hell; Eddie had tried to catch him when he’d fallen forward, but Ralph had been too heavy for him. He’d helped him up and brought him inside, where they were trying to get the bleeding under control, and Ralph was trying to figure out what had happened. He’d fainted again, he could remember that…but the events leading up to it were just…blank. He was mostly pissed he’d gotten blood on his leather vest–sure, it wasn’t the first time he’d gotten blood on it, but still. Eddie returned with a bag of ice that Ralph gingerly pressed to his nose, and sighed.

“You know, usually the best thing for an injury is something to distract you,” Eddie said. Ralph wanted to ask what he had in mind, but he felt the hand unzipping the fly of the filth crusted jeans he had on under his leather chaps, and decided he could use a little pleasure after all this…even if this wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind, when he’d come here, planning on getting into Eddie’s pants. That…is what he’d been planning, right? Eddie pulled his cock free of the filthy jock he had on, and started sucking it clean. Ralph moaned, and the pain in his nose did ease up a little bit, and he started rocking forward and back, the dildo lodged in his ass under his jeans grinding against his prostate. He didn’t last particularly long, and Eddie seemed happy to swallow down the full load of biker cum, and then some. He stood back up, and dropped his own pants, letting his own cock loose in Ralph’s face.

“Man, I ain’t suckin’ your cock with a broken nose.”

“I just sucked yours, fucker.”

“I thought that was a pity suck!”

They fought, and Ralph eventually relented to a compromise, bent over the side of the couch, and let Eddie pull the six inch dildo from his hole and give him a good fucking, which did help with the pain too, Ralph decided, though he didn’t admit it out loud. Eddie eventually came, and then slipped the dildo back in.

“Not quite how I thought this afternoon was going to go,” he admitted, getting his jeans and chaps sorted out around his fat ass again.

“Heh, well, I did have something else I wanted to give you…or rather, I thought you might want to give it to someone else,” Eddie said. “I mean, if you like it, go ahead and wear it, but I think that would be a bit of a waste.”

Ralph gave him a confused look; Eddie refused to elaborate, but handed him a small box. He opened the lid, and found a thick chain inside and a padlock, long enough to turn into a necklace–although why that was the first thing he thought of, he couldn’t say. Still…he was wary of touching it, and put the lid back on the box. “I don’t understand…”

“Hey, it’s almost done, and you’ve done so well Ralph, really.”

“I…I never told you my name. How do you know that, anyway?”

Eddie winked. “Look, I hate to cut this short, but I really need to get myself packed up, you know? How’s the bleeding? You good to ride?”

“I’ve ridden with worse,” Ralph said, and with a hand from Eddie he got up from the couch, and handed him the ice pack, “Can I at least rinse the blood from my beard?”

“Hell, take a shower if you want.”

Ralph laughed, “I don’t fuckin’ take showers.”

Eddie showed him to the sink, Ralph carefully rinsed the clotted blood from his beard, and then left through the front door, box in hand, but when he got to the sidewalk, next to his Harley, he looked back, and his jaw dropped. The house…the house was gone. Well, not gone, but…abandoned. It looked like it had been foreclosed on years earlier, and no one had moved in since…but then…how had…

It was like he was grasping at straws. He could remember Eddie, but everything else, it was a blur, including his life. He had a bike, but where was he supposed to go? He didn’t have a home, he didn’t…didn’t have anything, really. Just a box with a chain inside. It was hard to remember, but hadn’t he been…a student? Yeah, he could kind of remember a dorm room, or something like that. It was, he decided, better than nothing at all. He climbed on his bike, revved it up, and drove off towards campus, hoping he might find an answer there.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 4)

He woke up the next morning, later than even the day before, face down and snoring on his side of the room. He…didn’t quite remember what had happened the night before, very clearly. He was still dressed in his overalls, but they were…damp. Or at least the crotch was…and one leg all the way down to his socks. He only had one boot on. Next to the bed were two bottles of cheap whisky, one empty, the other nearly, which did a lot to explain his raging headache…but where in the hell had he even gotten the booze to begin with? He’d gone to eat dinner and stuffed himself for a couple hours, but when he’d finished and gone back outside to smoke…he’d felt kind of antsy, almost jittery…and walked a little ways off campus to a convenience store where he’d bought the whiskey…he thought. Yeah…he bought it all the time. Sure, he wasn’t twenty-one, but nobody fucking carded him, not with the beard and his hair and his clothes. He yawned, and felt something hard clink against his front teeth, and he covered his mouth with one grimy hand, before sticking out his tongue and feeling the piercing in the middle of it. Where in the fucking hell had that come from? Had he gone out last night? All he could remember was coming back to his room, getting drunk, yelling at his roommate when the guy came home and complained about the booze and smoke, and then nothing else.

He pushed himself up in bed, and he could smell the piss soaked into the bed. In his mind, he knew it should disgust him…and yet, his cock was getting hard in the cold, wet crotch of his overalls, and he rubbed it, unable to help himself. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, at the piercings studded all over his face–eyebrows, septum, lips, ears…nipples…cock–and the tattoos covering his arms and chest, and that was all he needed–he freed his cock through the fly and jacked off quickly into the palm of his hand, tugging on the thick gauge PA lodged in the head, licking the cum up afterward, and then lit a cigar, feeling the hangover easing off–finishing off the last bottle of whiskey helped too…and so did whipping out his cock, leaning back on his bed…and pissing up all over himself, feeling it soak into his shirt and coat his belly, running down into the creases of his fat, stinking body…and…and what the hell was he doing?

Seriously, what was he doing?

His body continued, but his mind felt like it had derailed. This wasn’t him, this wasn’t anyone. No one behaved like this, especially not in college. Was…was he even going to college? He had to be right, or else why was he in a dorm room? Classes started tomorrow, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall one piece of the schedule he’d signed up for during orientation the week before. This was wrong, how had any of this even happened?

Eddie. Fuck, just…just thinking of him now, he couldn’t stop himself from jacking his cock again, disturbed at his own behavior, at the volume of his moans, at the delight he was taking it rolling around in the now twice soaked bed, feeling it creak and groan beneath his massive heft. But everything had started with…with that first time he’d fainted. Maybe…Maybe Eddie knew something. Maybe he could tell him something about that, the first time, something that could help him understand what was happening to him. Yeah, he needed to see Eddie, if he could just…just talk…talk to him, he could…could…

He groaned, shooting a massive load all over the front of his overalls, his fat hands grinding it into the fabric along with his piss and sweat. He didn’t…didn’t have any time to waste, before this just got worse. Who knew when he might faint again, and what might happen to him if he does? He…he certainly didn’t have time to change clothes or anything, certainly not. He sat back up, slipped on his one lost boot, and then waddled his way out of the room without even thinking of changing his clothes, down the stairs and out onto campus, reeking of piss and cum and smoke. But Eddie…Eddie would help him. Eddie would help him sort all of this out, he was sure of it.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 3)

Ralph hoped that simply getting away from Eddie would be enough for his heart to settle down, but instead it just kept thumping away in his chest as he walked down the street, to the corner, and turned towards campus. He was still exhausted from the first walk, however, and by the time he was halfway home, his thighs and quads were burning from the exertion of hauling himself around. There was a park on the block he was walking past, and he decided he could use a rest–just a short one to catch his breath, get himself back under control, and then he could get back to campus, and try and forget all about Eddie. He couldn’t go back there, he knew that. Not after blowing his load like that, how could he explain that moan he’d let off when it happened? He could have sworn Eddie had seen the wet spot covering his crotch too. He sat down on the first bench he came too, heaving a sigh, trying to figure out why he felt both so tired and so full of energy, all at the same time, like something was building up in him, something he couldn’t quite explain.

He ran his hands down the sides of his jeans, trying to get rid of the sweat coating his palms, when he felt something hard in his front right pocket, along with his keys. He had no clue what it could be–he fished around inside it, grabbed in his fist, the warmth nearly making him nauseous. From the feel of it, it could only be one thing–the lighter, the zippo lighter. Had…had he taken it? Had Eddie handed it to him without him noticing? The warmth was intense, like the lighter was on fire. He kept trying to make his fist drop it–instead it clutched it even tighter, feeling the metal imprint his flesh. He certainly had to pay for it…right? He…He should…go back…pay for…

He snorted awake on the bench a short while later–he wasn’t quite sure how much later. It couldn’t have been an hour, but he was still disoriented, looking around and trying to figure out where he was. It took him a few moments to piece things together, how he’d left the garage sale in somewhat of a froth, though he was having a hard time remembering why he’d been so…crazy. He’d been walking home and tired, and he’d been craving a cigar. He’d sat down on the bench to take a break, and then…then he’d just fainted away. He must have been more tired than he’d thought.

He fished a cellophane wrapped cigar from his pocket. His lighter was already in his hand–he must have gotten it out before falling asleep. He unwrapped it, slipped it in his mouth and puffed it too life, taking a deep inhale, and sighing out a plume of smoke into the crisp fall air, slipping his lighter back into his pocket as he did. A small part of him wondered what exactly he thought he was doing; wondered where he’d gotten the cigar from; wondered about these strange fainting spells he was having all of a sudden. Those concerns drifted off in the cool breeze in the park, and he found himself squeezing his cock in his jeans, thinking about bumping bellies with Eddie, and wondering if his garage sale would be open again on Monday. He had said all weekend…maybe he could pay him another visit. That strange energy he’d felt building all morning was still lingering in his chest, but he passed it off as butterflies. Halfway done with his cigar, but feeling rejuvenated, he hefted himself up and continued on towards campus, itching his face as he went.

He got back in the early afternoon, after a short detour to a local smoke shop for another pack of cigars, since this was apparently his last one. As soon as he’d smoked it to the butt he found himself compelled to light a second; sure, he knew he shouldn’t smoke this much, but he just couldn’t…stop himself. Didn’t want to stop himself. He got back to campus and got any number of odd looks from students, and a few angry comments reminding him the entire campus was smoke free, but he brushed it off. A little smoke wasn’t going to kill anybody–but he did have the courtesy to finish before going into his dorm. His roommate was out, which was a relief again. Between the cigars and his earlier contact with Eddie, he was horny as fuck all over again…and then he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

Those…weren’t the clothes he’d put on when he’d left for the day. He remembered, when he’d woken up on the bench he’d had on jeans and a collared shirt, sneakers on his feet. Not…overalls, the knees crusty with mud, grungy work boots (which he swore he had seen somewhere before) and a white tank stained yellow, reeking of sweat (and…piss?) which left a bit too much flab exposed for him to feel all that comfortable. His face was odd too, his stubble thick, or was it a beard? He’d never had facial hair before in his life, or ever really been able to grow anything like a beard, but…but it looked good. His hair was too long, though. Still, if it was a bit longer he could put it in a ponytail or something, at least keep it out of his face. His…fat face. Was he fatter? I mean, he’d always been fat, but it seemed like he was even…bigger. The discomfort evaporated faster than he could process it, and when he checked the closet for some more…professional clothes, only to discover all he had was filthy workwear, it bothered him less than he knew it should. It also did nothing to help his horniness, and after he blew a wad in his jockstrap, he felt much better–aside from being hungry as fuck. He tromped downstairs and headed for the dining hall, but stood outside so he could smoke a cigar first. He felt…good, but the looks he kept getting…from the students filing in and out of the doorway…it didn’t help him shake the feeling that something had gone horrifically wrong, and there might be nothing he could do to stop it.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 2)

Ralph tried to not be there too early, but how early could he get there without looking suspicious? He occupied himself with breakfast–which took longer than he’d expected after three trips through the dining hall to fill his fat gut, unable to stop rubbing his hard cock as he ate himself silly and occasionally sticking his hand in his pants, feeling his damp jock, coating his hand in his precum and musk and smelling it off the palm of his hand, thinking…thinking about Eddie. Something about him, it had flipped a switch he hadn’t even known, and all night long he’d had these dreams. The most intense wet dreams he’d ever had–hell, even his roommate hadn’t been able to look him in the eye this morning, so they must have been loud–but fuck him. Or rather, fuck Eddie. Fuck, he wanted to fuck him so damn bad…or be fucked by him, or…or all of it was confusing, really. He’d never felt this way before, but it was just…just there, and he didn’t know how to turn it off or deny it. He just had to see him again. He knew there was no way a man like that, a big man like that could be interested in him, of course, but…well, the way he’d looked at him, he had a feeling that maybe, well, who really knew who was into what or why?

He finished eating at around ten, and then started walking towards Eddie’s house. It was a good distance, and the walk seemed much more difficult than it had the day before, and when he finally reached his driveway, Ralph was soaked with sweat, and he could smell his filthy jockstrap through the jeans he was wearing. Eddie grinned when he saw him coming, and waved; Ralph waved back, and then walked over to where he was sitting in his lawn chair, panting a bit. “Glad to see you made it back,” Eddie said, “You doin’ ok? I don’t need you collapsin’ at my feet again.”

“Nah, I’m…I’m good,” Ralph said, “Just a…longer walk than…I remember.”

“You need something to drink? Some water?”

Ralph nodded, and Eddie handed him a water bottle from the table next to him. Ralph drank almost the whole thing, and gave it back. His hand touched his, and something he could only call a shock raced through him, heart pumping a little faster, cock hardening, straining in his jock. He remembered from his dreams, the two of them, naked, grinding their fat sweaty bodies together in the garage, wondering if he tasted as good as Ralph had dreamed.

“You gonna take a look around?”

Ralph nodded, trying not to visibly shake, and backed away, walking into the shade of the garage and the tables, where a few older ladies were also looking at his wares. A few things on the tables caught his eye, and he picked them up as he went–occasionally, something would give off a similar spark and warmth to…to something else, something he could barely remember. Something would tell him to hold on, to cling to it, but instead he would drop it back the table like a hot coal. A half empty bottle of beard oil, an assorted collection of hair ties, a box full of thick metal rings and studs that looked like piercings; a well used pair of steel toe biker boots; a pile of red, black and yellow bandanas, all stained stiff with sweat and who knew what else; a collection of empty liquor bottles. At the back of the garage were a few racks and stands of clothes, most of it workwear in various states of disrepair and cleanliness. In fact, nothing seemed to have been washed, and the smell…it was Eddie’s smell. He leaned in close to the clothes, sniffing them, cock leaking into the front of his jeans, veins throbbing, head light, but he saw someone else shopping give him a strange look and he pulled back from it, but that throbbing, that numbing sensation was only building in him, in his chest, in his groin.

He could also sense Eddie’s eyes on him, almost constantly. At first he was worried that he made Eddie out to be a thief; but the man’s attention seemed more intense than that, like he could sense this odd energy building up inside him, but Ralph did his best to ignore him, even as his body tried to draw him closer under any pretext, his mind trying to distract himself with other objects. He felt insane, he felt like he was going to explode at any moment. He had to get free, he needed some air. The garage was too stuffy, he was too horny, and he moved down the aisles towards the garage door, where he found himself blocked by Eddie, their bellies colliding, making Ralph shiver and nearly cum in his jockstrap.

“Hey, I was thinking, and there’s something in particular I thought might interest you, Ralph,” Eddie said, and held something out to him. It was a shiny silver box–Eddie flipped it open, revealing a lighter, “I used to collect these, they’re worth a good penny to the right buyer, if you aren’t a smoker–but the way you were looking at my cigar yesterday I thought–”

“Thanks, but I need to get back to campus,” Ralph said and pushed himself past, pressing their bodies together, and he spasmed, feeling his cock release, “Got a bunch of homework, I’m not that interested…really.” He pushed past him and waddled down the driveway, head spinning. Eddie thought about following him, but decided against it. The boy had all he needed, after all, he could just wait.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 1)

Ralph was a bit of a sucker for garage sales. Having grown up with a working single mother, they had spent quite a few weekends going around town to different sales, where they would occasionally find some clothes are a game for him, but her real target had always been collectibles. She had a knack for haggling, and she could usually pick out some piece of glassware or ornament priced way below what she could get for it on ebay, and Ralph had always sort of enjoyed watching his mother get the best of people, sometimes with a few hundred dollars of profit to help make ends meet. Now, as a poor college student starting as a Freshman, he’d found his mother’s lessons proved more beneficial than he might have imagined, and decided he too could make some extra cash. Labor day weekend was a great time for sales, and he started early Saturday, eventually coming round to a sizable sale out in front of a rundown ranch style home. It was manned by a bored looking, heavy set man slouching in a lawn chair under an awning–easy target, if he had anything worthwhile.

He made a quick circuit of the tables, other people talking quietly around various curios, mismatched dishes, and piles of towels. Nothing seemed particularly interesting–but one table simply had rows and rows of boxes full of disorganized stuff, all of it free for the taking. There might be something of worth in there, but going through all of them would take forever. Still, he had the time, and so he started digging around, finding nothing until he reached the third box, and his hand brushed against something strange, some sort of scratchy cloth, but as soon as it brushed his skin, he felt a shiver ripple through him, his breath growing quick and shallow. He gripped the thing and pulled it free from the box, only to find a wadded up jockstrap in his hand, not a small one either from the amount of fabric, none to clean from how crispy it felt, in fact he could smell it, could smell the…the cum soaked and dried into it, the piss…he…he was feeling hot now, and a bit faint, his vision tunnelling–

“Hey–Hey! Buddy, you ok?”

He was flat on his back. What had just happened? There were a bunch of faces looking down at him.

“You alright?”

It was the man from the lawn chair, the fat guy who’d seemed so bored. What in the hell had just happened? He’d…he could remember picking…something up, but he couldn’t remember what, and then…then he’d obviously fainted or something. The guy got down on one knee with a grunt, and Ralph could see his gut hanging out the bottom of his…his shirt, his eyes fixated on it there, barely able to keep himself from reaching out to touch it, instead grabbing hold of the man’s hand, helping him sit up. It seemed to take more effort than it usually did, like something was pushing back–and sure enough, something was. He’d sprouted…sprouted a gut…or had he always had a gut? He was still feeling dizzy and light headed, but he could…could have sworn he hadn’t been fat, and yet who was he trying to kid? Of…of course he’d been fat, he told himself, he been fat all his life.

“You need to come inside for some water?”

“No…No, I’m ok, I think…” Ralph said, “Must just be the heat today.”

“No kidding. Look, at least let me drive you home. Where do you live?”

The rest of the group had dispersed, and Ralph told him he was fine, that he’d feel bad if the guy had to abandon his sale for him. The guy insisted, however, and so they shut the garage door, Ralph told him he was a college student, and the man smirked. He helped Ralph into his truck, started the engine, and headed for campus.

“I…did you tell me your name?” Ralph asked.

“Eddie’s what most people call me,” the man said with a wink, “You mind if I smoke?” he said, pulling out a cigar. From Ralph’s meek reply he could sense that Ralph did mind, but he lit up anyway. He dropped him in front of his dorm, and before Ralph shut the door, he said, “I know ya didn’t get to buy anything, but I’ll be set up all weekend. Come back by tomorrow, and we’ll see what we can find for ya, alright?”

Ralph nodded, not quite able to figure out why his cock was so hard, and trudged up the stairs to his dorm room, which was empty, thankfully. He stripped off his shirt shoes and shorts, admiring his fat form in the mirror, groping his cock through his filthy jockstrap, milking a load of cum into the pouch before climbing into bed, figuring a wank and a nap would make him feel better than anything else. He woke up feeling very refreshed, got dressed again and helped himself to a massive meal on his dining card, already excited to go garage saling again…and excited to see Eddie again, though he didn’t really want to admit to himself why.

Justin’s Lost Nights (Parts 3 & 4)

Sorry for the missing post yesterday, things are still a little chaotic post surgery. Today will be a double sized post to make up for it. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to take next week off from providing original content so I can finish off some of my monthly commissions and build up a buffer of content again, because I ran dry in the thick of all of this. I’ll still have four posts this coming week, highlighting some other authors and favorite pieces of mine on tumblr, and if anyone has a piece they’d like to submit for a guest post this week, let me know, and we can work something out.

Justin rolled over in the bed, looked over, and saw that whoever he’d brought home the night before was already up and getting dressed in his jeans and shirt. The old radio alarm on the nightstand said it was just shy of five in the morning–he grabbed a cigar from the humidor beside, and lit it, before saying, “Where do you think you’re goin’, so damn early? Get back in bed.”

The guy looked over his shoulder, and buckled his belt up. “Can’t. I gotta get back home–have a meeting at nine this morning, and I can’t show up at work stinking like smoke and sex.”

Justin rolled his eyes–he showed up at work smelling like that everyday. He’d just have to change tactics a bit. “Boy, I said get back over here, and wrap your pretty mouth around this cock, while I have a morning smoke. I’m not going to ask you twice.”

The man gave him a long, impatient look. He was young–probably in his late thirties, well built, but…he didn’t seem very interested. “Look, in the bar, late at night, I get it. You’re some hot biker bear top, whatever, I’m into that. But come morning? You’re just another sorry old bear living in a shithole apartment like this, and I don’t have anymore time for you–

–old man.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“Old man, get the fuck out of my way.”

He wasn’t that much younger than he was, but that didn’t matter. Justin had a few double whiskeys in him, and that meant he wasn’t in the mood to take shit from anyone, especially not some sorry looking biker bear wearing a leather vest, chaps and jeans, tattoos…everywhere…No, he knew he shouldn’t but…but some part of him wanted it. Wanted his cocky attitude, wanted that bullshit smirk.

Before the biker knew what was happening, Justin had him pinned against the wall, cigar close enough to singe the man’s handlebar mustache. “What the fuck?” the biker asked, but Justin…Justin knew what he was doing, as he reached down pulled off his shirt, and then with his fingers be pulled away one of the man’s harley davidson logo tattoos, letting the pattern dangle in the air for a moment, before laying it across one of his pecs, where it stuck. The man just stared at him, Justin taking a big breath of smoke, leaning in–

and he locked lips with the struggling man he’d pinned against the wall and exhaled the whole plume of smoke into his lungs, whether he wanted it or not. He coughed it back up, and shoved Justin away–who couldn’t quite remember getting up from the bed. “Don’t you roughnecks know that no means fucking no? Fuck–I should know better than to go out on a fucking Sunday night and think I might meet someone worth two fucking cents.”

Justin didn’t say anything else, as the man pulled on his boots and left the apartment–he was still trying to figure out what he’d just remembered. He walked to his grimy bathroom and looked at himself–sure enough, he had that same harley tattoo right there on his pec, where it had always been…or had it? Was this even his apartment? Suddenly it didn’t seem right–his body didn’t seem right. Sure, he’d had tattoos before, but now–fuck, now he had them everywhere. The smoke on his arms, his daddy bear tatts–both were now interspersed with bikes and motorcycles, all over his chest and down onto his belly–even on his back and down onto his legs. In fact, now he had tattoos all over his body–and he could remember getting them all, but he could also…also remember…

The biker didn’t know what to do, beyond stare, as the rest of his tattoos lifted off his body, crossing the gap of space between them, and settling down onto Justin’s body, their clothes worming around until each of them was dressed as the other had been, but Justin had a few other changes–his beard longer, his head shaved bare, and he was dirty, hands greasy. “Why don’t you do this old man biker a favor, and put your mouth to better use than mouthing off, boy?”

The man got down and started sucking, and Justin relished it–a blowjob and a smoke–what was better? And after shooting, he dragged the man back to his place nearby for some extra fun, of course.

Justin kept stroking his cock in the bathroom, running one hand over his hairy body, before lifting it up and smelling his sweaty pit, feeling his long beard brush against his chest. Fuck him. He didn’t need to fuck some rich business fuck to feel good about himself. Sure, he wasn’t rich, but he worked, and he had his bike, and his fucking freedom. Riding all weekend–that’s what he loved. The highways, the backroads, but especially fucking truckers and bikers in rest areas along the way. He shot his load across the cabinets and the floor, and left it there, climbing back in bed–sleeping another hour before he had to get up for work–throwing on his grungy work gear and riding his bike to the construction site for a day of labor, and afterwards, stinking of sweat and musk, he went right to Pigtown, parking his bike with the others outside. He had a feeling about tonight–he was getting closer to something, to someone. He greeted the bartender by nickname–his drink already waiting for him, and the hunt began again.

Justin was sulking at a small table in Pigtown’s front bar, the seat opposite him empty, smoking his sixth or seventh cigar of the night, the ashtray in front of him piled high and spiling over, a small collection of empty glasses to one side. What in the hell was the matter with him tonight? He usually had no trouble pinning someone down for a good fuck, but tonight, no one seemed appealing, or he just didn’t feel like fucking any of them, or perhaps a bit of both. He heaved a sigh of smoke. It was three in the morning. Pigtown never closed, of course, but he did have work in the morning, and as much as he hated the idea of going home alone, maybe he should just give up. But each time he made an effort to get up, the barcub would bring around another drink, light him another cigar, and park him back down, and so he was still sitting there, getting drunker, and…waiting for something, or rather, someone. He was sure it was a someone, but who?

The bar was moderately crowded–Pigtown had a rather devout clientele, and it was often packed, even on the weekdays. But he didn’t want a regular, he wanted someone…fresh. Someone…blank. Blank? He didn’t quite know what that meant, but the word seemed appropriate. His attention was drawn to the door, and a face he didn’t recognize poked through nervously, his heart skipping. Younger, probably in college. He looked a bit drunk already, and he made his way in. Gay? Did it matter? Everyone who came to Pigtown was gay, so why bother asking? Most important, Justin wanted him, but not just sex.

He felt an odd squirming on his arms, looked down, and saw his tattoos were…moving across his skin, the smoke swirling and ebbing–seething, perhaps. He knew, in his mind, that he should be terrified, but something else told him to relax…take a deep breath of smoke, hold it for a moment, and then blow it in the young man’s direction. The smoke had an odd consistency–dark and opaque, like even as it moved through the air, it remained flat. The tattoos on his arms lost some of their detail, looking older and well worn, but he watched the cloud drift towards the young man, who was at the bar getting a beer, where it wrapped around his neck and shoulders before dissipating, leaving a tattoo around his neck matching the swirling smoke patterns on Justin’s arms.

The young man was clueless, but he took his beer and turned towards the bar, where his eyes glued themselves to the fiery tip of Justin’s cigar. He couldn’t look away, his legs plodding towards him, forcing him into the seat opposite, while Justin just leered at him, and without saying a word, leaned over the table, wrapped a hand around the back of his the young man’s head, and pulled him into a long, smoky kiss. He resisted at first, but after the first lungful he relaxed, accepting the smoke, desiring it, needing it–when at last the pulled away, Justin gave him a cigar, and watched the young man light it like an expert–no, stranger than that, he lit it just like Justin did, like Justin had taught him himself.

“I don’t…what am I doing?” the young man asked, his eyes glassy like a dream.

“Don’t think about it boy,” Justin said, “I don’t need a boy who thinks, you know? Actually, get up, we’re gonna go find someone.”

He hauled Justin up from the table, and together they searched through the back rooms, for someone Justin had seen earlier, a semi-regular, and it was relatively easy–his head stood up over the rest of the crowd, and the bright red hair on his head was obvious even in the darkness. A thick muscle headed brute–but it was his tattoos which had caught his eye earlier. He could feel the tattoos across the room, and he urged them to leave their current master and come join him–they obliged, drifting across the room, darting between bodies, and he turned to his boy, grabbed his shirt by the collar and ripped it down the front with a rough yank.

He tried to object, but the tattoos struck him, adhering and crawling over his body where Justin directed them. Four leaf clovers wound up his arms, red hair sprouting on his relatively bare arms as they did, spreading up onto his chest, where the word “Irish” was tattooed over his pecs. Something else slid over one shoulder and onto his back– “Brawn over Brains”.Justin stepped back and watched his boy start to expand, red hair filling in all over his body, muscle bulking up under his skin, and he began growing taller as well. He just stared down at himself, unable to believe what was happening, his mind turning foggy, but it wasn’t enough for Justin–he pulled in more tattoos from everywhere in the club. “Daddy’s Little Cub” across his lower back, “Jock” across his bulging gut, decorative swirls of leather bands up and down his legs. His clothes were tattered from his rapid growth, but reformed, his shirt becoming a leather bulldog harness, his jeans tattered from a day at the work site just like Justin, and the smell of him, of his boy, of his smoke, and he bent him over, yanked down the back, exposed his cub’s ass and rammed his cock home.

He woke up the next morning, his big, red headed cub snoring loudly beside him. He didn’t quite know when they’d gotten home the night before, but looking at his phone, he saw they had to get ready for work. First things first, however. He lit himself a cigar, feeling the jitters die back, and then slipped his cock into his boy’s loose hole, feeling him groan, waken slowly, and start pushing back as his daddy bear fucked him.

Funny to think that a man as big and burly as Pat could be such a bottom, but something about his old biker bear’s cock just did something to his holes he couldn’t explain. He topped more often than not otherwise, usually him and daddy taking some old bear and both ends in some rest area park on a long ride, but for Justin, he’d always be his submissive cub. Justin could dimly recall the events of the night before, but they were fading rapidly. More than anything else, his life felt…stable for the first time in days. Like he’d finally reached the end of a long slide, or like some strange force had finally left him for someone else. It was relaxing–but maybe he and his boy could go a few weeks without another visit to Pigtown. He liked the place, and he’d always be a regular…but sometimes it gave him the creeps, you know?

The Fetish Gun (Part 9)

Ray tried to pry himself away from the nipple in his mouth, and Jeff watched him struggle for a few moments, smiling the whole time. A few times he took a wild swing or two at the gun, but Jeff had crouched well out of reach, where he could watch him struggle. Eventually, he gave up, and asked, “You wanna make me a cow? Fine, get it fucking over with then.”

“Be a little patient, I’m still trying to decide on what kind of cow to make you, you know? Still, why don’t we start with this,” Jeff said, pointed the gun, and pulled the trigger, holding it down for close to fifteen seconds, before releasing the button, revealing a very different Ray when the light dimmed away.

He was no longer kneeling–in fact, he was even shorter than Wade, making him the perfect height to keep sucking at his tit. However, instead of Wade’s muscle, Ray’s body had ballooned with fat. He still had on a complete leather uniform, however the leather now looked comical on his round figure, the leather pulled tight over his rolls and apron, the seat of his pants massively wide to accommodate his much fatter ass. Ray could feel an odd wetness around his heavy moobs as his nipples started to spontaneously pump cum out, but with nowhere to go, it ran down inside his shirt, making him feel clammy and uncomfortable. A second burst of the gun eliminated the uniform entirely, leaving him naked up top aside from a wide strap leather harness cutting into his fat, his own massive set of balls flopping out of some crotchless leather shorts, rubbing against Wade’s, both of them soaking each other in their cum.

“What do you think, Ray? You enjoying yourself? It sure looks like you are. This fucking cow sure does love it. Look at him, completely mindless, ruled by instinct–what do you think Ray? Is that what you’d like? You want me to empty out that head of yours? You want to be drooling, just a fucking sack of milk for men to drink all day, every day? Or is that too easy for someone like you? Maybe you should just rot away in there, your head dulling a bit more, day by day, feeling your sense of self drain away until you finally give in and there’s nothing left to lose?”

Ray tried to talk, but the only thing that emerged was a series of moos and grunts. No matter how hard he tried to form them, he couldn’t seem to make an intelligible word.

“Oh stop trying, Ray–cows don’t get to talk, you know that. Cows don’t get to make decisions. Cows don’t get to beg. Pup–do me a favor and plow this cow’s ass pussy for a while. I want him to take a moment to think about what might be coming for it in the future.”

“Yes sir!” Ben said, and happily came around behind Ray, got on his knees, and drove his cock in between the fat cheeks of his ass. The cock slid in smoothly, and Ray let out a long, deep moo of pleasure, cum spewing helplessly from his tiny nipplecock. By now, the two cows had a full-fledged puddle of cum and milk between them, and every eye in the place was glued to them–letting Ray turn the dial on the gun to setting E. But instead of shooting it at any one person–he instead pointed it up at the ceiling of the bar, and pulled the trigger, focusing on the image in his mind like he’d seen Ray do the night before, when they’d turned that shitty breeder sport’s bar into this fine leather establishment, but this time he had a different idea in mind. The gun’s light flew out in a shower, up to the ceiling and then cascaded down around onto the entire bar and everyone in it, the light throbbing and pulsing, absorbing all of them aside from Jeff, who kept still in the middle of the maelstrom until the gun’s power finally drained away, it’s battery exhausted for the night, leaving him in a place much different from what it had been.

Now it was the filthy bathhouse of his dreams, and he was the sole proprietor. He wasn’t standing in a bar–rather it was a dimply lit locker room, and his pup was fucking one of their in house milk cows over a bench. Ben had changed quite a bit–gaining a substantial amount of muscle, but that was important, since he was the primary bouncer and enforcer. He finished with a few loud grunts and slid his cock free, before dragging the cow back to its cage, shoving it inside, hooking up the milker and turning it on, Ray’s attempts at resistance melting away into moans of pleasure as the pumps sucked away at him. Wade was in the cage beside him, hooked up to his own machines. The two of them stored the milk and sold it on tap–each of their milks was highly sought after in the bulking and gaining communities–Wade’s for building muscle, and Ray’s for packing on fat.

“What do you think, pup? Think we’ll be happy here?” Jeff asked.

He gave him a confused look, unsure of what his Master meant. Hadn’t they always owned the bathhouse?

Jeff rolled his eyes and ordered his pup down to suck his cock, deciding it was best not to worry. He was happy–and if he ever wasn’t happy, he was confident the gun could take care of any nuisance that might crop up in the future.

The End (Of this storyline at least)