Mr. Drake’s Games – Part 3

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, boy,” Mr. Drake said, “Or rather, what you’re gonna do. I want to see you jack off, lard ass. I wanna see you pump a load of cum out into those massive rolls of fat you have now. And what I’m gonna do, is every minute you spend trying to cum, I’m gonna change something about you. Alright? See that clock on the wall? In fifteen seconds, that second hand is gonna hit the twelve, and then you can start–heh, well why don’t I give you a head start? You might need it.”

Jay didn’t need any encouragement or direction beyond that. He started digging around under his fat with both hands, desperately searching for his half sized cock. He could find his balls relatively easily, and they were really very huge, but for the life of him, he couldn’t quite reach his cock. He kept trying, pushing up into his fat as hard as he could, occasionally brushing his hand across the head, but he couldn’t get a grip.

“That’s your first minute–How about he give you some more hair? Hell, how about a lot more hair? I like my fatties hairy as hell.”

“I can’t fucking reach it. I can’t fucking reach my cock!” His body was itching as hair grew in, dense across his entire body, and the thick bush accumulating at his groin didn’t make it any easier to reach his cock either.

“Well, then I guess I’m gonna be changing you a whole lot then, aren’t I?”

Jay kept trying, one hand working his nipples, keeping himself hard, but it was no use.

“Another minute down–how about a big beard to go with that hairy body of yours? I want to see that head shaved, though.”

“Please, there’s nothing I can fucking do!”

Mr. Drake wrapped his hand in the long beard pushing it’s way out of Jay’s chin, and he leaned in closer, “I just don’t think you’re being very imaginative, is all. I don’t think you really want to cum, is your problem.”

Jay did his best to calm down, and tried to think. If he couldn’t reach his cock, then he was going to have to try something else to stimulate himself. He rolled his body, and felt a shiver of pleasure, and then shoved his hips forward, feeling his cock working its way in and out of his fatpad. With a grunt, he started tugging at his nipples, feeling his arousal growing higher, bucking his cock into his fat. Closer, he was getting closer now.

“Still taking too long, boy. How about we see what happens when we make you a bit dirtier, eh? No more showers, no more baths, just a stinking pile of fat, and you fucking love it.”

The sweat building up as he tried to fuck himself suddenly reeked, and as much as Jay wanted it to disgust him, it didn’t. It only made him hornier, and he lifted one arm, taking a long snort of his hairy pit, licking up his own fat sweat. But he was getting tired, he had to find a better way to rub his cock off. Maybe if he tried a different position. He rolled over and dropped off the couch onto his knees, facing the seat, bucking his hips as hard as he could into his fatpad, but it still wasn’t enough for him.

“Poor little piggy, it seems like you’re still having some trouble there. Maybe you should go ahead and start making some sexy pig noises too?”

His face hurt, like his nose was pushing into his face, and suddenly he was snorting and grunting, unable to help himself. “Please, I can’t, *grunt* I need help…” he managed to get out between gasps.

“Do you want me to help you? I could probably do that, but you’d better ask me nicely. You’d better beg.”

“Please, please help me, I *snort* need to cum so bad, I can’t do it, I need you to help me.”

Mr. Drake helped Jay stand up and bend over the sofa, presenting his ass away towards Mr. Drake. Of course, all of this had cost another minute, and he could feel the heavy septum ring now hanging from his nose, feel the studs in his nipples, the rings in his scrotum which Mr. Drake added. Mr Drake worked his cock into his fat hole, and it was unlike anything Jay had ever felt before. He was squealing, desperately trying to get as much of the old man’s cock in him as he could, and he was cumming, he was finally cumming, and he huffed and puffed and collapsed into the couch while Mr. Drake kept pounding his fat hole, shooting his own load deep inside his ass.

“Well done, pig–too bad that still took you an extra minute. But watching that performance, I know just the thing, right pigslave? Yeah, Pigslave. Owned by your fat, nasty dad, and he lends you out to all the perverts in the neighborhood, and you fucking love it. You love it because you’re too dumb to know any better. You love it because seeing someone look at you like you’re less than human makes that little piggy cock of your hard. You love it because it gives you an excuse to belly up to your trough and get even fatter, isn’t that right, Pigslave?”

He tried to say no, but all he could do was grunt and squeal–after all, he wasn’t allowed to talk. Pigs were never supposed to talk like men. Something tight was around his neck, and he recognized it as his collar. It felt good, actually, a reminder that he was owned. That he was just an animal for men’s pleasure. Mr. Drake clipped the leash onto it, and led him out the door and across the asphalt, back towards his house. He knew he should be embarrassed, but he also wasn’t quite sure why. Why would a pig like him be embarrassed? This is just what he is. His dad–no, his Master–was happy to get him back, and made sure he’d done a good job pleasing Mr. Drake. As a reward, Jay got his dinner an hour early. He crawled over to the trough in the kitchen, and his dad poured in his slop, and he lost himself in his feast. By the time he’d finished, Jay was dead and gone, and all that remained was the neighborhood pigslave, exactly what he’d always wanted to be.

The Fall of Troy – Part 5

Troy woke up slowly, stinking, sweaty and wet. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he might have pissed himself on the couch in the night–he knew that should disgust him, but all it did was make him feel surprisingly horny. He sat up, groping at his hard cock, and found Leo sitting in a chair off to the side of the couch, his eyes glowing white. Not the flashes from before–a steady, constant white, and Troy felt his old self pushing up through the filth. He wanted to fight, he wanted to go take a thousand showers, but something held him there on the couch, pinning him there while Leo smiled and said, “Good morning, son–how are you doing today?”

“Fuck you, Leo. Fuck…” but he didn’t know what else to say.

“I just thought it might be nice for the two of us to talk today, father and son–you know, about your place in this household going forward. You see, Troy, I can only push you down so far, and you have a strong mind. Letting you out for air on occasion helps me keep you under control, but it just wouldn’t be a sustainable solution in the long run. So you see, that really leaves us with two choices here, a choice you’re going to have to make.”

“How in the hell can I believe anything you say?”

“Well, you probably can’t. But if you really want to keep this mind of yours, if you want to start the long, arduous climb back out of this pit of filth I’ve thrown you down into, you can do that. But not here–not under my roof. If that’s what you want, then you’re on your own–we’ll drive into the city, and I’ll leave you on the streets with no memory of where you lived, of who I am, or who your step-mother is, and you can try to make it on your own. I mean, as well as a fat slob like you with no money or resources can make it. I don’t think you’ll get very far on your own, to be honest, but that’s a choice you can make.”

“That’s not a fucking choice! What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“Well, the other option is that you stay–and you fall completely. You lose the will to fight, you accept this, and you keep falling. You see, I made a few changes to the basement last night. The main room? That’s a massive sex dungeon, wired up with all sorts of cameras so you can broadcast your filth to the internet. Because if you stay here, you’re going to have to pay rent, you know. You’re going to have to sell that fat, disgusting body if you want to stay here, but I have all the confidence that you can do it, and I might have a few contacts to help you out, if you ask nicely. But you’ll love your life, because you–this old Troy–won’t ever come back. You’ll just be a dumb stinking slob, falling deeper and deeper into your own perversions for the rest of your life. That’s the other choice you have–compared to that, well, maybe a life on the city streets doesn’t sound so bad, eh?”

Troy just stared at him, anger and fury boiling in him, “Fuck you, I can make it. Dump me in the city if you want, I don’t fucking care, anything to be away from you.”

Leo shrugged, “Alright then–get dressed, and let’s get in the car.”

They drove to the city in silence, but as they did, Troy felt doubt start to creep in. He wouldn’t have any money, just the clothes on his back and his wits. But worse, he’d still be saddled with this body. He was halfway there before he realized he still had the dildo in his ass, and that he didn’t want to take it out. That he still was hornier than ever, that he could smell the piss in his clothes, and all he wanted to do was taste it, suck it out, and piss in them some more. He had his mind, and yet this body still wanted everything Leo had forced on him. He smoked a cigar as they drove–it helped calm him down, but he couldn’t even stop that. What in the hell was he going to do?

Leo drove around and eventually pulled up in a well worn industrial district. The sidewalk was empty, and he put the car in park, the engine still running. “Alright son,” he said, “Here’s your stop. I’ll miss you, but not really that much.”

Troy stared at the sidewalk out the window for a few moments, before he muttered, “I…I can’t do this.”

“What was that?”

“I can’t do this. I can’t…not like this. What the fuck am I supposed to do? How the fuck could I get a job? Where the fuck would I even go?”

“That’s not my problem, that’s yours. You made your choice, Troy, now get out.”

Troy looked at him, “Please, don’t do this to me, please don’t make me do this,” he said, but that smirk on Leo’s face–he’d known. He’d known Troy was never going to get out of the car, not willingly. “Please, just…I’ll do whatever you want–be whoever you want. Just let me come home.”

“Fine,” Leo said, “But I did give you a choice, remember,” he pulled his cock out of his jeans, “Now suck me off, you got me all horny with that misery of yours.”

What choice did he have? Troy sucked his father off the whole way home, trying not to enjoy it as much as he was, and trying not to think about what would happen when they got home. Leo led him down into the basement, and gave him a tour of his new rooms. The sling and the rimseat. The cameras everywhere, including his filthy bathroom. His closet full of leather and rubber, almost all of it in yellow and brown. The bed covered in rubber sheets. He wanted Troy to know what he was going to become, before it happened, and then Leo’s eyes went dark, and then black, but not black like before. Not a forceful black–the black of an abyss. A pit you can’t help but stare into. A pit deep enough to lose yourself and not even notice. He gave a snort, and fell in, deeper and deeper into Leo, into himself, and he knew he would never make his way out of it again.

The Fall of Troy (Part 4)

WARNING Still somewhat filthy.

He didn’t have to look far; Leo was waiting for him in the living room, wearing only a pair of boxers. He smiled when he saw Troy emerge from the basement stairs, give his asscrack a scratch with his full hand, and then give them a sniff. “Hey dad, ya got anything to eat?”

“Well, I’m not cooking, but the fridge and pantry are pretty packed. You feelin’ better after some private time?”

Troy grinned, “Fuck dad, you know I love my time on the shitter. Still, I hungry as fuck, I’m gonna find something to eat.”

“Well hold on,” Leo said, and hefted himself up off the couch, “Before you do that, I got something to ask you.” He walked over, blinked, his eyes flashing brightly for a moment, leaving spots in Troy’s vision, “What do you think of yourself now, piggy?”

The stench.

His stench.

He gagged. Leo was laughing at him, and he barely managed to keep himself from vomiting. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, what the fuck did you do, you fucker?”

“You think I didn’t hear you, every time you called me a slob? You think I didn’t see you grimace every time I let loose a fart or a belch? You think I couldn’t feel your disgust? Well son, good to know I’m not the filthiest one in this house anymore–I think that title has passed to you.”

He had to fix this, he had to do something, but it was overwhelming. His hands were trembling, he had to calm down. He pushed past Leo and hurried to the living room table, where he grabbed a cigar, and lit it, but it wasn’t enough, so he chugged a warm beer, dulling the edge of his anxiety, but that only made things worse. Why had he done that? He could have run and taken a shower. He could have punched Leo in the face. Instead…instead he’d gotten a drink and smoke, but…but why wouldn’t he do that? “Please…please, I don’t…just change me back, I’ll do anything. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again, I promise.”

“Oh Troy, but where in the world would you go? You’re too stupid to hold down a job, not to mention no one would hire someone as filthy as you. No, I think you’re stuck living with your dad and stepmom for a good while longer I think.”

Dad and Stepmom? “No…No, that’s not right…you’re my stepdad…”

“Well, I was your stepdad,” Leo said, “But after that little session of yours, with all that DNA of mine…well, I think your paternity might have gone and switched.”

“No, I have a dad, a different dad…” Leo said, but he couldn’t dredge a face from his memory. It was just Leo, always Leo. “No, you can’t do this, I won’t just give in this time, I’ll fucking fight you.” He put out the cigar in the ashtray, but immediately regretted it. He needed it. He needed smoke, fuck, what the fuck did he even do that for? He fought the urge, but it was painful. Leo laughed some more, turned, and started walking away.

“Heh, suit yourself, son, but your dad here has to take a shit and a piss–I’ll go ahead and leave the door open in case you want to join me–you know, like you usually do.”

He winked, and Troy’s mind filled in the blanks. How he worshiped his father’s body while he sat on the toilet, how he drank his piss, licked his fat body clean, sucked on his feet…He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but he couldn’t quite get his hand out of his piss soaked briefs, couldn’t quite stop stroking his cock. He had to think, he had to figure out a way out of this, but how was he going to do that? He was a fucking dunce after all. Fuck, he could barely read, much less right, much less think. Thinking was fucking hard, thinking ‘bout his cock was easy though. Thinkin’ ‘bout his dad, sittin’ on the toilet, gettin’ ready to shit…He licked his lips, heard himself say, “Hold on dad, I’m…I’m comin’,” and he started after him.

He wasn’t really going to do this, was he?

Leo was already sitting on the toilet. “Fuck son, you almost missed it. Hurry up ‘n get down here, if you want to watch.”

He got down on his knees, and stuck his head down between his dad’s thighs and down into the bowl as far as he could, the bottom of his beard dragging into the water, his dad’s balls resting on his head. A loud fart, and the shit started coming out. It was so rank he could almost taste it. Something warm and wet hit the back of his head–Leo was pissing, arcing it up in a stream and back down onto Troy’s head and neck, and then he aimed it further out, soaking his son’s back, listening to the pig grunt and moan as he tugged on his cock in front of the toilet. Done shitting, he put legs up on Troy’s shoulders, rolling his ass forward, and his pig son, resistance forgotten, dove in and started licking and sucking at his shithole, cleaning him up, before licking at Leo’s balls and finally swallowing his cock. Leo had saved some piss–he fed it right into Troy’s mouth, and chased it with a blast of cum, and then he swung his legs off and stood up.

“I got some errands to run, pig–I’ll probably be back late. Make sure you clean up in here when you’re finished–I don’t want it looking like the sty you have going downstairs in here.”

Troy was only half listening–he had his face shoved in the bowl, his hand jacking at rapid pace, and he he finally shot across the base of the toilet. Leo shook his head went and got dressed and headed out. Troy stayed in the bathroom for a while longer, cleaning up–licking the piss off the floor and the toilet seat, making sure he got his cum off the toilet base, and finally, with a bit of regret, he flushed the toilet–at least he had his stash downstairs if he felt the need for some more private time, but now, it was time to eat.

The rest of the evening was spent watching porn on TV, making frequent trips to and from the fridge and the pantry. By the time Leo returned, carrying bags and boxes in from his truck, Troy was passed out, dildo shoved in his hole, deep asleep. One more day, Leo thought to himself, and started hauling things down into the basement. Of course, it would be Troy’s choice whether he’d fall the rest of the way, but Leo had a feeling his son would see things his way more likely than not.

The Fall of Troy – Part 3

Warning It starts getting a bit messy here, including some light scat.

Troy opened the door to the bathroom, and it was the stench that caught him first, and he had to suppress his gag reflex. Its true that he wasn’t exactly the cleanest guy, but even that was a bit more than he could handle. The floor was littered with dirty laundry–a large amount of it underwear, the toilet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in ages, and the sink was clogged with hair. The cleanest part of the room was probably the shower, which was missing a curtain…and also a shower head, meaning it probably hadn’t been used in quite a while. Still, how did it look this bad? He was pretty much the only person who used the room, since Leo and his mom shared the master bath upstairs.

“What’s wrong, son?” Troy looked over his shoulder, right into Leo’s pitch black eyes, eyes he’d seen the night before. He could almost…remember, but his mind, Leo was inside him again, messing with him again, and he couldn’t do anything but stand there, drooling dumbly as Leo mindfucked him once again. “Now, son, I know how important your private bathroom time is for you, so why don’t you go ahead and enjoy yourself for a while, eh?”

Troy nodded slowly, and then stepped into the bathroom, allowing Leo to shut the door on him, and it was like he’d woken up in a dream. This couldn’t be real, none of this could possibly be happening. He took a few deep breaths of the stinking, stale air, and felt himself calm down a bit. He always felt better surrounded by his own filth, right? He looked at himself in the grimy mirror through an additional haze of smoke from his cigar, and had a hard time recognizing himself. The beard he’d grown the night before was even longer now, very curly and bushy, looking like his face was coated with a pubic bush. His hair had grown out as well, and it shone with grease. The rest of his body was similarly hairy, and he ran his filthy hands over his gut, feeling the fur, before lifting an arm to sniff at his massive, stinking pitbush. It was rank. He was rank. Then again, when you hadn’t taken a shower in months that’s what happens, not that he minded. He felt a gurgle in his gut, and let loose a long, wet fart–probably time to get down to business.

He walked over to the toilet to take a seat, and saw that the bowl was already filled with at least two loads of shit, and who knew how much piss. No wonder it smelled so fucking foul in here, and his smoke wasn’t helping either. He was starting to feel a bit lightheaded, though he wasn’t sure if it was the air, or just how fucking excited he was. A part of him, a small part growing smaller, tried to reach for the handle to flush it, but he pulled his hand back. It wasn’t time to flush it, not yet. He’d been saving it…right? Saving it for…for his private time. He was getting hard again–he pulled out his dildo and set it on the counter next to the toilet seeing the fleshy head coated with his shit (later–later) before plopping his fat ass down on the seat, and he let off a long, loud fart as he did. “Awww, fuck yeah…” he groaned, sniffing the fresh funk on the air for a moment, giving his fat nipples a twist. Still, he could shit in a moment–his bladder was calling.

Too bad he was too fat to piss on himself like before, still, he’d managed to devise a system that was almost as good. He fished around in the piles of his filthy clothes for a pair of briefs, well worn and stretched, stained a light yellow brown with a prominent shitstripe up the ass, positioned it under his cock, and started pissing on it, soaking it well, and then he stopped himself, took the soggy underwear and started sponging his fat body with his own piss, taking a moment every once in a while to suck as much as he could from the fabric with his mouth in between deep drags off his cigar, and once the briefs were no longer wet enough, he repeated the process with an equally filthy XXXL wifebeater, which he soaked through, wiped all over his body, and then pulled it on. His cigar was finished; he dropped the butt into the sink, and turned on a tap. He released the rest of his piss into the toilet, and then bore down, piling even more shit on top, his cock hardening, he he started working it slowly, taking long, snorting inhales of the filthy air, yanking up the filthy wifebeater to his nose and mouth, sucking at it, and when he was close, getting close, he fumbled for the filthy dildo next to him, shoved the nasty shit coated head in his mouth, and started sucking.

His cock exploded, spraying the toilet bowl, the wall across from him, the clothes in front of him. He worked the dildo deeper into his mouth, he kept milking his cock, horny as ever. With the dildo slick with spit again, he hefted himself up from the toilet, turned around, and got down on his knees in front of the full bowl, pushing the dildo back inside himself to the hilt, face to face with his own mess, and he fucked himself, taking long, deep breaths of his stink, until he came again across the base of the toilet.

Exhausted, coated with a foul mix of sweat and piss, surrounded by his filthy clothes, he started to calm down. He knew he should feel ashamed of himself, but it was like that part of his mind had shut off entirely. Instead he felt…proud. Excited. Happier than he could remember being in recent memory. He stared at the massive pile of shit in the toilet. He should flush it–or at least try to flush it, or…or he could just leave it. Just imagine what it might smell like in a few hours, if he did. Smirking, shit still smeared on his lips, he pushed himself back up. He found the briefs he’d soaked in piss and pulled them on, making sure to floss the ass deep into his nasty crack, and let out a belch. Fuck, he was hungry again already, maybe his dad had something cooking in the kitchen for them. He lumbered upstairs, and went to look for Leo.

The Fall of Troy – Part 1

For the life of him, Troy could never figure out why his mother had decided to marry Leo. It wasn’t that he was bad at her for divorcing his dad–he’d been as lousy a father as he’d been a husband, fucking plenty of women behind her back. But why couldn’t she see that Leo was just as terrible a guy, if not worse? Hell, at least his real dad could hold down a job–Leo couldn’t even manage that. All he did was lounge around the house, usually shirtless, his big gut hanging out, eating snacks, drinking beer and watching TV. And his mom just…accepted it. She was even working overtime at the firm to make extra money to cover expenses…but it was so strange. He tried to talk to her about Leo, but every time he did, she just got this…glazed over look in her eyes, like she wasn’t even listening. And she’d even had the nerve to ask him to find a part-time job after school to help pay for expenses! He couldn’t wait to graduate and head for college, just to get out of this crazy house.

Then, out of the blue, she left for an entire three day weekend–a girl’s weekend in Vegas that she hadn’t even mentioned to Troy, leaving him alone with Leo. Upset beyond words, he holed himself up in his room in the basement all Friday afternoon, just avoiding Leo as best he could, when there was a knock on his door. He didn’t answer it. Leo just opened the door, and he sighed, “What, Leo.”

“We’ve talked about this, Troy. I’d really appreciate it if you’d call me dad.”

“You’re not my dad. What do you want?”

Leo sighed, “Look, I know you don’t like me, I get it. But look, can we just try to…at least live together? Why don’t you come up and watch a movie with me or something? You can even have a beer, if you want. I won’t tell your mom.”

Troy looked back at him, suspicious, “You’ve never wanted to do something like that with me before.”

“I know I’m not always the nicest guy, but least come hang out for a bit. Two hours, one movie, have a beer, and I won’t bug you for the rest of the weekend if you don’t want me to.”

“I have schoolwork to do.”

Leo gave a heavy sigh, “Look…I’m trying my best, you know? But if you can’t even meet me halfway…No, you know what? It’s fine, really.” He turned and left, plodding downstairs.

Troy was happy he was gone, but the guilt still ate away at him, and he couldn’t even concentrate on his school work. After a couple of minutes, he grumbled a quiet “Fine…” to himself, stood up, and followed his step dad upstairs. “Leo? Look, I’ll watch a movie with you, if it means that much…” but that was as far as he got before he rounded the corner, and locked eyes with his stepdad, who was standing behind the couch…but his eyes, they were…black. Pitch black. And he couldn’t look away, but he felt something in his mind, he felt something happening to him. But before he could quite figure out what, Leo blinked. His eyes were back to normal, and Troy was left trying to figure out what had just happened to him.

“You know, on second thought, why don’t you enjoy some alone time, eh Troy?” Leo said, and walked around the couch, to his stepson. Leo wanted to run, but not…not really. More than that, he wanted to…watch a movie and…and relax. Yeah, take a load off, relax. Drink a beer and just…just…be for a while. Leo stopped in front of him, smiling, “I left you some of your favorite things on the coffee table–make sure you play with them all, son.”

Troy nodded, and then he lumbered past Leo and plopped down on the couch. The movie was already playing, and for a few minutes he watched some massively fat man, covered with hair, being fucked roughly by some massive, muscular, hairy man. He let out a moan, and stripped off his shorts and shirt, and he looked at the favorite things of his Leo had left for him on the table: a twenty-four pack of beer; eight or nine short, fat cigars with a zippo lighter beside them; piles and piles of snacks and candy; and one, massive, flesh colored dildo.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to run out the front door. What he did instead was sit up, grab a beer from the case, pop it open, and chug it. Then, he took a moment to light a cigar for himself, sucking the smoke down like he’d been doing it for ages (then again…hadn’t he been smoking for ages?) before grabbing a second beer, opening it, setting the the largest bowl of snacks next to him on the couch, and leaned back with a sigh, watching the porn like he did this all the time.

After a few moments, he reached down and started tugging at his cock, but as he did, his hand ran over something else–a gut. He hadn’t had a gut earlier, had he? He’d been in great shape, he spent almost all of his time in high school playing sports…or…or did he? He let out a belch, grabbed another beer, easily juggling the can, his cigar, handfuls of snacks, and his cock all the while. This felt…more natural than sports. Didn’t he really spend most of his time on the couch, binge eating, drinking beer, and watching porn? Fuck, that fat chub sure could take cock like a pro. He wondered what it might be like to get fucked like that.

Hours passed. He had no idea how many times he’d cum, or how many pornos he’d watched, but his eyes just kept drifting to the dildo on the table. Fuck it. He didn’t have any lube, so he licked it like he’d watched that fat chub lick that bear’s cock, and then placed it at his asshole, rolling over onto his big belly, reaching around and pushing the dildo into his hole. His cock shot a massive load as he did. He groped for another beer, but couldn’t quite reach. More important to fuck his piggy hole anyway, right? At least he still had a cigar to smoke.

Leo came down to investigate a little later, once he heard loud snoring coming from the couch. There Troy was–his stepson, weighing probably over four hundred pounds, reeking of beer and cigar smoke, a thick beard coating his face and fat chins, the dildo still buried in his ass as he slept. Just like he’d wanted. He headed down the basement stairs and made his way to Troy’s room, and sure enough, it was completely different. Where before it had been the cleanest room in the house, now it was utterly filthy. All of his athletic equipment had disappeared, replaced by XXXL shirts and drawers full of lube and dildos, and there on the desk beside an ashtray heaped with cigar butts–the set of college acceptance letters had disappeared, and he had a feeling that the new Troy had probably already dropped out of school entirely at this point. Leo smiled–if anyone was going to drain his bitch mom’s money it was him, not some clean nosed son going to college. Still, he wasn’t quite done–Troy had so much further to fall, after all. And luckily, Leo had all weekend to do shove him down further and further, but first he had some preparations to make down here, and got to work on Troy’s private bathroom in the basement.

Brad’s Junker

CAUTION This one’s a little…strange. Extreme grunge and some car sex. As in, sex with a car. Because why the fuck not?

He’d known it was a junker, however, he hadn’t expected it to be this frustrating of a project. Brad stood back up from where he was leaning over the car’s engine and scowled. He’d purchased it from a police auction the week before, planning on fixing it up in his garage and reselling it for a bit of a profit, but he’d been fiddling with it for two days now, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it. Well, other than the fact that it simply wouldn’t start. He’d gone over the whole car several times. It had been towed to his house, so he’d expected it to not run, but everything seemed to be working fine. Then he’d put the key in, tried to turn it on, and just…nothing. But more than once, the last few nights, he’d heard an engine revving in his garage, an engine he’d never heard before, but by the time he got out there to see what was happening, there was nothing beyond the faint scent of exhaust in the air.

He decided that he might as well check out the undercarriage one more time, see if there was something there that might explain any of this, although he doubted it. He got down on the greasy garage floor and slid under the car with his flashlight, checking for anything that might signal the problem, when he noticed the glint of liquid dripping under the engine. He scooted over, and sure enough, he could see something black and oily seeping from a connection between a pipe and some cable he didn’t recognize. He got closer, trying to figure out what was leaking, when the pipe burst open without warning, spraying his whole face with oil. He sputtered, trying to wipe the filth from his eyes, but the stream just kept coming, he coughed, and something shoved it’s way into his mouth and down his throat. It was the leaking cable, and he could feel the filth being pumped into his mouth and down into his stomach, making him want to vomit. With both hands he tried to yank it out, but it fought back, burrowing in deeper…and that’s when he realized that the car above him was running.

It was a very cold winter, and so he’d chosen to work with the garage doors closed. He didn’t know how the car had started itself, but if he didn’t get out from underneath it, he’d suffocate. He left the cable in his mouth and tried to push himself out from under the car, but for some reason he couldn’t move. Feeling around with his hands, he realized that the filth pumping into him had expanded his gut so much that it was pressing up against the underside of the car, pinning him to the ground. But…but was that so bad, really?

Brad shook his head, trying to clear it. The exhaust must be getting to him, he was feeling so lethargic all of a sudden. He could smell it now, the exhaust wafting back towards him under the car, a sickly smell, and he could see something else through the fumes. More cables were detaching from the car, winding down and ripping open his jumpsuit, attaching themselves to his nipples and the head of his cock. They were…sucking at them, and the pleasure was starting to overwhelm his terror, and he let out a loud groan around the tube in his mouth. Don’t fight it, he thought. Just…just accept it. He felt a spasm as he came, rubbing his taut gut with his hands, and that was the last thing he remembered before he passed out.

When Brad finally awoke, it was the next morning, and he was still underneath the car. In a panic, he hauled himself out from underneath it and stood up shakily, unsure if what had happened was a dream, or a hallucination, or who knew what. What he did know, however, was that he was horny. Very, very horny. Unable to stop himself, he undid the front of his jump suit, reached down, and pulled out his cock. It was huge–at least ten inches, with massive, low hanging balls to match, but something was strange. Looking down at his sack, while the skin was still flesh, it was like whatever was in there had turned black–he could see the color through his skin. This realization wasn’t enough to keep him from stroking his cock, and as soon as he did, a black, oily liquid started seeping from the head. Terrified, but curious, he got some on his finger and tasted it.

His mind immediately flashed to the oil the car had force fed him. It was the same substance, and while it tasted foul…some new part of him craved it. He coated his hand with the oily gunk and started licking it off, groaning, when he heard a pop from the car next to him.

The gas tank cover had flipped open, all on it’s own, and looking at that hole…just looking at it…he walked over, stroking his shaft, and fed it down into the tank. Immediately, the pipe came alive, sucking at his cock. It was all he could do to just grab onto the car and hang on, panting and groaning as the car sucked the oil from him into it’s tank, and revved to life. The exhaust filled the garage again, but rather than make him sick like before, the foul odor only made Brad even hornier. He ran his hands over his body, and realized that he his body had changed in the night, growing more muscular and defined, with a layer of hair all over his chest, and a short beard coating his face, and then he ran his hands over his hard nipples and…and they were so sensitive, and wet. Looking down, he saw the same black oil from his cock was seeping from them as well, running down into his hairy chest, and he looked down at the car–his car. He loved this car so much. He couldn’t imagine being away from it. The car stopped sucking on his cock, the tank full, and Brad pulled his cock free. The car was still running, and without any doubts, he opened the garage door and climbed into the driver’s seat. His car needed to be free, needed to be out on the road, and he had to go with it. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but he had a feeling he would know when he got there.

Stinkers – Part 4

WARNING: This section contains graphic scat play. If brown turns your stomach, it would probably be better for you to skip this one.

Kurt wasn’t really looking where he was going–his eyes were on his phone. He had to call Jerry to go over the final details of their presentation tomorrow morning. He scrolled through his contacts, and slammed right into a young man who had stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk’s flow. He looked up, his eyes catching the piss and cum stained shirt, the sleazy handlebar mustache, the beat up hat, and then he caught a whiff of him. Of that…funk, that was wafting from him. He was speechless. He was beyond disgusted. He wanted to scream at him, but all the man did was stare at Kurt a moment, and then walk off into an alleyway, beckoning with one finger.

He told himself that he followed the young man because he was angry. Because he wanted to fight, because he wanted to scream, but his breathing was turning ragged, he was snorting through his nose without even realizing it. His nose was…awash with smells he’d just never bothered smelling before. The city itself, the filth of it. The grime, the trash, the exhaust, the sewage. The alley was dark compared to the bright street, and rather narrow. He fumbled for a moment, following his nose while his eyes adjusted. There, he saw the man he’d run into on the sidewalk, beside one of the most massive men he’d ever seen. He was wearing nothing beyond a couple of dirt crusted work boots and a pair of jean shorts that did nothing to hide the massive cock clearly visible through multiple tears. His chest was coated with hair, and he looked…wet. Like he’d just stepped from the shower, but it was sweat. He didn’t know how he knew, but it was sweat soaking the massive man’s beard and chest, his arms, his…his thighs. His cock. He couldn’t stop looking at the man’s cock, his fucking…fucking cock.

The man he’d run into on the sidewalk was speaking, but Kurt only caught the tail end, “…your turn Jed.”

“Don’t fuckin’ mind if I do.”

The huge one stepped towards him, and the musk froze Kurt in place. He couldn’t process it, he couldn’t grapple with how it was making him feel. The man ran his hands along his body, over his suit, down over his flabby chest and gut, down to his crotch, where he groped Kurt’s hard cock, around to his ass and then up to his face, stroking his chubby, stubbly cheeks before wiping some sweat up and shoving two huge fingers right in Kurt’s nose. He snorted, and nearly came in his pants.

“Fuckin’ pig. Old, fuckin, nasty piggy.”

He pushed Kurt up against the wall, and then pressed his body to him, pinning him there. Kurt had never felt so small–he could feel the man’s cock jutting into his gut, and then something warm started soaking into him. He could smell the man’s piss, he could smell it and he wanted it. He didn’t know why, but he’d never wanted anything as much as that, but he couldn’t get down on his knees. He couldn’t get down there, he was pinned, and the man knew it, he could see Kurt’s desperation, and he relished it. “Please…” Kurt whimpered, but he didn’t know whether he wanted the man to let him go, or to let him drink.

“Not yet, you nasty piggy,” Jed said, “First, you gotta do some things for me. Show me what a dirty stink whore you are. Piss yourself. Piss these expensive suit pants of yours. I don’t think I soaked ‘em well enough.”

It was surprisingly easy. Kurt felt his bladder go almost immediately, and as much as he knew he should feel ashamed, he felt…relieved. Sexy even.

“Yeah…yeah, fucker. But here’s the real test. The real piggy test. Shit your pants for me. I wanna smell a full load back there before I count to ten, or there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“Wait…what? But–”

“1…2…3…”

Kurt tried to think about this, he tried, but his brain just wasn’t working, it wasn’t working at all. Why not shit himself? He couldn’t answer that question, he couldn’t.

“4…5…6…”

He grunted. He pushed. He heard himself fart.

“7…8…”

Another fart. It was coming, he could feel it, and he bore down harder. Filling the back of his pants like a good pig, yeah, fucking pig, he was such a fuckin’ pig!

“Good piggy,” Jed said, and smelled the air, “Gonna be a fun one, eh Sam?”

“You always make good ones man.”

Jed let up some pressure, enough to let Kurt come forward from the wall, and then shoved a hand down the back of Kurt’s pants, right into the mess, and then he pulled it out, dragging his hand up Kurt’s back, to his neck and up the back of his head. It was warm, it was warm and stank, and they were panting with lust. Another coating, this time smearing it across his face, forcing four thick fingers into his mouth, feeling Kurt try to suck all of them clean at once, leaned in and kissed him, invaded his mouth with a thick tongue, and he let him, he let him because he wanted it, because he was a pig, a nasty pig, a filthy pig, and he came. He came, and it felt like he was pouring out of himself, and someone he had never admitted was inside him was coming out in him. Jed stepped back, releasing pressure, and Kurt slumped down the wall, feeling shit squish around his ass and legs when he hit the pavement, but he was used to that…wasn’t he? He hadn’t been able to keep shit in for…for ages, not that he minded, a nasty derelict toilet pig like him.

The two stinkers were staring at him and grinning. The businessman they’d pulled into the alley was gone, replaced by an old, fat derelict dressed in filthy rubber and leather sex gear, his huge beard crusted with grime, cum and shit, his hair tangled, his skin barely visible beneath the layer of dried scum. Kurt smirked at them, showing his mostly toothless mouth, and licked his lips. Jed knew what he wanted. He dropped his shorts, bent over and braced himself against the opposite wall, and Kurt saw shit start pumping out of the hole. He scrambled up and tried to get ahead of the flow, tried to eat it all up like a good pig, snorting and grunting and shaking with need. Behind him, Sam yanked down his rubber pants and thrust his cock into the cooling muck stuck to the old man’s crack, stabbing around until he found the loose hole, and started fucking wildly.

After they’d both abused him, the two men left him there in the alley. He tried to follow them, but some small part of him was too ashamed to be seen on the sidewalk. What had they done to him? What had he just done to himself? He spent the night in the alley, eating his shit, trading his service as a toilet with other degenerates for booze and cigarettes, and by the next morning, Kurt had no memory of his old life–he was just a pig who wandered the streets, begging men for shit…and more often than not, he’d get it. Something about the way he smelled made men more than happy to slip into an alley and use him as the toilet he knew he was. After all, he was a stinker, through and through, just like the rest of them.

Stinkers (Part 3)

Jed slammed the door, and then punched a hole in the apartment wall. That was the third one. The third fucking prostitute, and every single one of them had reeked. Not unwashed reek, but this fucking reek of woman, and Jed hadn’t even been able to get past the nausea to fucking tough any of them. He stared at the hole he’d made, his arms raised up on the wall, his own unwashed stink calming him down, making him horny, making him hornier. He should take a shower. He’d already taken three showers, in fact, but as soon as he stepped out, it was like his body would immediately start sweating, and in less than five minutes, he’d be as filthy as before. But he had to do something, right? He had to try to get this faggot stink off of him somehow. He tromped back into the bathroom, and while he waited for the water to heat up, he stared at himself in the mirror.

What had that faggot done to him? He didn’t even look like himself anymore. He looked to be a good three or four inches taller, and his entire body was built like he’d been pumping iron at the gym for years. He was hairier, especially his chest, but even his arms and legs had a thick coating which hadn’t been there before, and his pits! They looked like fucking nests now, and the hair was always sopping wet with sweat. The same with his bush. If his cock hadn’t grown several inches longer, it would have been completely swallowed up by the mass of hair. Yeah, his cock. With that new foreskin which had grown over the head, he pulled it back and saw all the cheese he’d eaten off his fingers earlier (he hadn’t been able to control himself, he’d just had to taste it) had already been replaced with even more than before. It was disgusting. He was disgusting, he was turning into some freak faggot, and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop it.

There was another knock on the door. Probably that prostitute angry that he’d refused to pay her. He could set her straight, get her and her stink the fuck away from him, but as he stomped towards the door, he smelled something else. Something familiar on the other side. Something far more…appetizing. No, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let him in, he wouldn’t do that to himself, he wouldn’t be some stinking faggot like that! He’d fought it this long, he could fight it some more, he could bottle it up all over again, like he’d had to do before, but fuck. Fuck if his cock wasn’t hard as a rock. Fuck if his ass wasn’t twitching. Fuck if he wasn’t drooling into the two inch long beard he’d grown out in a single day. Fuck. Fuck it. He opened the door, and there, in the hall, was Sam.

He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him inside, shoving him up against the wall, door still open, and just smelled him. Smelled his pits, smelled his neck, fell to his knees and pressed his face against his crotch, smelling his cock, the cock he’d been wanting to taste all day, the cock he fucking wanted so fucking much. Sam reached out, and swung the door closed. Jed kept sniffing for a few minutes, fighting the urge to rip the jeans apart and swallow him then and there, but he pulled himself back from the brink, and stood back up.

“How…how did you find me here?”

“How do you think I found you? I can smell you across the city, you idiot. Why’d you run off like that?”

“I’m not…not gonna let you make me a faggot.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I can’t make you a faggot man, you just are one.”

“No…Fuck that. I’m not.”

“Look, this is my fault, I should have made sure you were finished before finding someone to stink up together. Let me help you man, cause you smell fucking amazing, and I can’t fuckin’ wait to see what you’re gonna be once you really let loose.”

Sam brought his mouth close; Jed could taste his hot breath. He’d never wanted to kiss a man before, that was true faggot territory, but…but he was so hungry, he was so horny, he closed the gap, pushing their mouths together, sucking Sam’s tongue into his mouth, chewing his lips, licking his mustache, pulling him closer, tighter, and then shoved him away, turning back, retreating into the apartment.

Sam stripped off his shirt, dropped his pants and dirty brown underwear, kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks. Jed just watched from a distance. “Please, just leave. Don’t make me do this.”

Sam walked past him, Sat down on the couch, and put his feet up on the table. “I’m not going to make you do anything. You just do whatever feels good.”

So many, different, smells. Crotch, feet, ass, cock, balls, pits, neck, navel. Why was he fighting this? Why? He got down on his knees, and started at Sam’s feet up on the table, licking the tops, and then the bottoms, burrowing his tongue between the toes, milking his cock with one hand, licking his own precum off his palm. Sam was nursing his own hard cock, Jed could see the cheese under the foreskin, and he ran his tongue underneath it, collecting it, savoring it, and then took the head and sucked, and then swallowed the whole shaft. Faggot. He was a faggot. But instead of shame, he just felt…nothing. He just felt like himself. He felt more like himself. He felt his muscles swelling, his beard growing longer, hair coating his body in an even thicker layer than before. Sam pushed him off his cock, rolled over, got on his knees, ass towards Jed’s face, and he shoved his tongue as far up the chute as he could, grinding his beard into the shitty crack, and when Sam farted directly in his face, he almost lost it, he almost shot his load, but no, no, he needed to fuck. He stood up, licking the scum from his lips and beard, pressing his precum slick cock head against Sam’s dirty hole and forced it in. humping and fucking, holding out as long as he could, but he was shooting, and shooting deep. And he felt…free.

Free.

He stayed in Sam’s ass as long as he could, licking the sweat from his friend’s back, sniffing his pits, Sam telling him what a good fucker he was, what a good stinker he was, what a good faggot he was. He was a good faggot. And Sam was a good faggot. Or maybe bad and good had nothing to do with it, maybe they just…were. His cock slipped out, and he finished Sam off, sucking the cum out, letting most of his load splatter into his bushy beard, smiling up at Sam, seeing him smile back. Just a couple of stinking fags, like Jed had always wanted, even if he’d never really known.

Stinkers – Part 2

They had gotten off the bus at around 5:15, and the sidewalk was swarming with men in business suits. Sam was quick, cutting against the flow with ease–more than once, Jed lost sight of him in the crowd, but discovered he could find him just as easily with his nose, if he focused on the foul stench coming off his body. The two of them swam through the current of men, any number of them throwing Jed nasty looks, wondering what a filthy worker like him could possibly be doing on their sidewalk. Jed eventually stopped following his eyes and relied on his nose–and he ran right into Sam’s back, discovering his strange acquaintance had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and was sniffing the air.

“What are we doing up here, anyway?” Jed asked.

“Eh,” Sam said, took a long snort, and sighed, “I was bored, wanted to play. I wasn’t expecting to find someone like you on the bus though.”

“Like me?”

“Another Stinker like me.”

“A Stinker?”

Sam took another deep breath, and gave a shudder, “Can’t fuckin’ concentrate with you stinking like filth behind me, fuck…”

Before Jed could do anything, Sam grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him across the sidewalk’s flow, towards a narrow alley between two large office buildings. There were a couple of dumpsters a fifty feet back or so, and Sam pulled him behind one, shoved Jed up against the wall, and pressed his body into him, licking Jed’s neck, sucking at the sweat there, listening to him moan and grind his cock into Sam’s filthy jeans. “Look…just…just stay here for a bit, I’ll be back in a moment with something fun to play with.”

Jed waited. Sam went back to the alley entrance, sniffing at the men who passed by without them really noticing. Something caught his attention, and he stepped back out into the flow of men, Jed struggling to see him in the throng of businessmen. A minute later, He stepped back, pulling someone with him–one of the businessmen. He was younger, probably in his late twenties. Well manicured, with that greased back hair that was so popular these days, and a smooth face. He was a bit taller than Sam, but probably a bit shorter than Jed was now. He didn’t look particularly happy, being dragged along by some strange filthy man, but Jed could see the tent in his tailored pants, and he could…smell him. He didn’t smell quite like Sam and him, not filthy, and he didn’t just smell “clean”, he smelled…like fresh meat. He smelled like prey, like a target, and without really noticing, Jed felt his mouth start drooling a bit, and he was stroking his cock.

Jed wasn’t a faggot, but he’d had sex with men before, always as a top, and now he realized that every single one of them had smelled exactly like this young man smelled. And every single one of them had done everything he’d said, no matter what it was, and in all of those situations, Jed had always been…surprised by the depths and filth of his imagination. He recognized that look in the businessman’s eyes, that confusion as he leaned in closer, Sam lifting one arm, the man sniffing, then giving in and burying his face in the stink. Sam spit in the man’s face, and Jed watched his anger turn to humiliation, then turn to arousal. Sam eventually walked away, deeper into the alley. The man didn’t want to follow, but he wiped the drool on his hand, sucked it up, and then followed him, staggering a bit.

“Ready to have some fun?” Sam said, when he rejoined Jed.

“I’ve…smelled men like him before, what the fuck is that?”

“Heh, don’t fuckin’ worry about it, just enjoy yourself.”

The businessman came around the dumpster, saw Jed there, smelled him…but this close, Jed couldn’t stop himself. He shoved the businessman back, hard enough to knock him onto his ass, surprised at his own violence. His hands quickly dropped his shorts, grabbed the back of the man’s head and forced him down on the shaft, enjoying the sensation of him gagging around it.

Sam came up behind him, pressing his body against his back, holding him tight. “Fuck, I forgot…what it’s like when two of us play together, fuck…and you’re still fuckin’ changin’, so fuckin’ excited man, can’t fuckin’ tell you…”

Jed, however, was having doubts. He wasn’t a fucking faggot. He’d had urges sure. He’d fucked pussy fuckers like this one, but he couldn’t explain Sam. He couldn’t accept that this man like him could be turning him on. That, when he felt Sam’s cock sliding up his ass crack, that he…wanted it inside of him. As much as it hurt–and it hurt a surprising amount, he got out from between them and stepped back a few paces. He needed some air–some fresh air. He couldn’t get the smell of Sam out of his nose, or the smell of this worthless business faggot. His head felt like it was slowing down, like he was just running on instinct, and his new instincts terrified him.

Sam stepped up. He said something to him, but all Jed could think about was how much he wanted to get on his knees and smell his ass, smell his crotch, smell his feet–all his faggot smells, fuck! He looked down at the man in the suit, and he looked different. He’d grown a beard, he had a gut, he had the hungriest look in his eyes and he was staring right at Jed, licking cum from his lips like a whore. Not this, he can’t do this, and he shoved Sam to one side, pulled his shorts back up and bolted. Sam shouted for him, but Jed just ran. He ran down the busy sidewalk, he ran as quickly as he could, until he couldn’t run anymore, until he’d finally gotten that smell from his nose, from his lungs. Home, he had to get home. Had to get home and just…forget any of this faggot shit ever happened. And once he calmed down, he could find some pussy (even though pussy was the last thing he wanted, the last thing he had ever wanted) and feel like a real man again.

Stinkers – Part 1

Jed met Sam on the bus (though he didn’t learn his name until quite a bit later), or rather, he smelled his pits as he walked past him, and knew, then and there, that he would have to get closer. Jed worked as a construction worker, and could build up quite the stink himself. He’d always enjoyed the stench of his sweaty pits, and while he would never in his life admit to enjoying any sort of faggotry, there was something about another fucker’s musk that got him riled up in a way no pussy stench could. And something in that guy’s eye, as he walked past, smirking under that sleazy handlebar mustache, made Jed think that he might not mind the attention. Before the bus could move on, he got up from his seat and followed him back. Sam took a window seat, and Jed slid in next to him on the mostly empty bus.

The musk simply enveloped him, and Jed breathed deep, feeling his heart pulse, his cock growing harder. Almost immediately a hand gripped the inside of his thigh, stroking the hardening shaft. He wanted to come up with something to say, but Sam put his arm around Jed’s shoulders, and he could see the yellow pit stains embedded in his white shirt, and he shuddered. Sam stroked a bit faster. Jed leaned in closer, snorting more of the stench up.

“Guess someone likes it nasty,” he whispered into Jed’s ear. He came in his shorts with a gasp.

“I’m…I’m not a faggot.”

He just smiled back.

“Fuck, you smell fuckin’ amazing.”

Sam leaned over, pressed his nose to the nape of Jed’s neck, took a sniff, and then licked up some of his hot sweat. “You’re not too bad yourself, you know.”

Jed couldn’t take his nose away. He took the pit of the shirt in his mouth and started chewing on it, filling it up with spit, and then sucking it out again, moaning louder this time. Somehow one of his hands had ended up in Sam’s lap, right on his cock. He ran his hand up and down the shaft. Eight inches? Nine?

“Not…Not a faggot…” he said again, but his heart just wasn’t in it this time.

Sam had his hand stuffed down the front of Jed’s shorts, coating his whole hand with cum, and spilled it back out. He pressed his hand to his nose, took a couple loud snorts, and then smeared it on the pit of his shirt. Jed sucked that up as well. It wasn’t the first time he’d tasted his own cum, but fuck, this was fuckin’ out of control. He wanted to look around, see how many people on the bus were staring at them, see how many were trying to not stare at them, check the rearview to see what the driver was looking at, but everytime he tried, somehow a hand pulled him back into the pit…and he just stayed there. He wasn’t quite sure how long, and then the bus came to a stop, and Sam put his arm down, forcing Jed to take his mouth away from the sopping wet fabric, his breath hot and quick.

“Sorry man, this is my stop.”

Jed looked outside, and realized he’d missed his own by three or four. Sam got up, purposefully ground the crotch of his jeans into Jed’s face as he pushed past. Every part of his nose lit up; it was an entirely different stench, and with a deep shudder, Jed felt his cock spasm, pumping even more cum into his already wet shorts.

He stopped in the aisle and looked back, “You could always come along for a little fun, you know.”

He kept walking, Jed kept sitting. He watched the man smirk at him as he got off the bus, and he scrambled up and after him, out onto the sidewalk. It was a part of the city he wasn’t particularly familiar with, part of the business district, men in suits hurrying past them on the sidewalk. The man was waiting for him. Jed fell to his knees, and pressed his nose to the front of the man’s filthy jeans, desperate to smell it again, running his tongue along the outline of his hard cock.

“I’m not a faggot, but fuck I wanna suck you off.”

“We can make each other gag later, don’t you fucking worry. Now come on, get up, and let’s have some fucking fun, man.”

Sam walked off down the sidewalk, and Jed caught a look at himself in the window of the building there, and he just stared at himself for a second. That couldn’t be right…could it? He looked…bigger all of a sudden. Taller, and more built, like he’d packed on some muscle during the bus ride. His shorts were tight across his thighs, and the shirt was riding up. He still had a belly, but there was more hair on it than before. In fact, there was more hair…everywhere. His arms were hairier, he had a short beard which had somehow grown in rapidly over less than half an hour. And…and fuck, he stank. He lifted one arm, and sniffed his own pit, his cock leaking more cum into his already wet shorts.

Sam had turned and was watching him. Jed hurried over and caught up.

“Did you do this to me?”

“If I said I did, would it even matter?” Sam turned and kept walking, “Come on, I want to have some fun.”

Jed told himself that this was a bad idea. That he shouldn’t follow him, but his legs were moving even before he’d made up his mind. His nose wanted more, his tongue wanted more. And he couldn’t quite manage to care much about what might happen to him if he kept on smelling.