New You Resolutions (Part 2) [Interactive]

Duncan read the list a few times, mostly just disgusted and confused by what was on there. Hell, some of the things didn’t even make sense, or didn’t even seem possible! There were five items on the list:

Stop going to the gym and work to get fatter instead.
Start smoking cigars, and age an extra thirty years.
No longer cut my hair, beard, or body hair, and grow it three times as fast, and three times as thick.
Cum only on myself and my clothes as often as I can, get as many men to cum on me as I can, and never shower again.
Replace my wardrobe with slobby clothes, and never wash them again.

He couldn’t control how fast he aged, or how thick his hair grew in–it had to just be some stupid prank someone was pulling on him. In any case, he had so much he had to get done today, and this stupid thing had wasted too much time. He skipped breakfast in his apartment–there was nothing that…would satisfy him here, went down and got in his car. Instead of going to the gym, like he thought he would, he wound up at a fast food place, went inside, ordered a massive amount of food–and ate all of it.

The whole time, he was trying to make himself stop…but he had to do it. He had to get fatter, right? That’s…what the list said. He didn’t understand where the compulsion was coming from, and eating the greasy food was disgusting to him, but he couldn’t get his body to stop, no matter how hard he tried. Once he finished, he again tried to get himself to drive to the gym, but instead he looked up the nearest smoke shop that sold cigars, went in and bought a pack, along with a lighter and a couple of ashtrays. He told himself to throw it out, but instead, he drove home, lit one, smoked it as best he could, and started stuffing his entire wardrobe into trashbags, and threw the whole thing into the dumpster. It took long enough that he finished the cigar–though it made him sick to his stomach and he nearly vomited, but he was…proud of himself, for finishing it. Proud of himself, for…for doing it, doing what he was supposed to do. Proud, and a bit…horny? Horny enough to sit down on the couch and rub out a load, which he onto his thigh, rubbing it in, feeling it get…tacky. He…wanted to shoot again, but he had more errands to run first.

He left the house again, this time going to the nearby thrift shop, and buying himself a new wardrobe–sweats and undershirts, some…used underwear, which disgusted him, and some mesh ahtletic shorts and beat up sneakers. Then he went home, lit another cigar, despite the fact he still felt sick from the first one, and he jacked off–spraying his load all over his flat belly, rubbing it in, and feeling the stubble growing there.

Duncan had always had quite a bit of body hair, and at his agency’s request, he kept himself shaved all over, and photoshop took care of the rest. Now though, he could see the first dark hairs coming back, much faster than they usually did…and there were so many of them! He went into the bathroom, and saw that the same thing was happening to his face, his stubble was so thick, and so obvious–he tried to shave it, but his hands just threw all of his shaving equipment right in the trash. Furious, he figured he could at least take a shower–but again, his body refused to even get in the tub. When he kept trying, his body ended up disassembling the entire shower fixture and throwing that away too.

And that was just the first day. He lost all of his modeling contracts in a week, and his agency dumped him by the end of January. He had some savings, but not nearly enough–he had, however, befriended the guys at the fast food joint where he went for most of his meals now…and while he held onto his dignity for a while, he eventually had to ask them for a job. He thought they would be disgusted by the idea–after all, he reeked like a cumrag and was so damn hairy now–but when he asked them they were eager to have him there…after all, it was handy having a cumrag around for them to use whenever they got horny. Even the owner of the place didn’t seem fazed by his hygiene, though he usually kept Duncan in the back, making fries and cleaning equipment, getting even filthier and greasier as the months wore on.

It was June when he realized, finally, how much he’d aged in just six months. He’d been 25 this year, but he’d already added another fifteen years or so, making him an even forty, according to his driver’s license, that was always accurate somehow. He was balding, his thick, already inch long beard was starting to grey, and his teeth were yellowed from the cigars he smoked almost constantly now when he was home, and always on his breaks at work. He got kicked out of his apartment for smoking and wrecking the place, and had to move in with one of his coworkers, another fat, horny slob like him, one who was more than happy to keep him around as a personal cumrag. More than once, he’d be woken up to his fat coworker looming over him, spraying his beard and hair with another massive load of cum, and Duncan, would just…thank him, and usually milk out another one of his own to go with it.

All he wanted was for 2019 to end, but he kept remembering the letter, and the party it had mentioned. He didn’t know what that might entail…but if it meant this nightmare could finally end, he’d be willing to do pretty much anything to get his body, and life, back to normal.

Of course, New Life Industries sent resolutions to more men than just Duncan. Who else got a letter from them this January?

Here’s a few options for possible targets by New Life industries. Some of these are more…revenge focused, while others are more about helping guys stuck in a rut become something…different. Also note, that there’s a space to write in your own ideas too! If I like them, I might include your suggestions in the upcoming polls to pick other victims of these New You Resolutions! Here’s the poll for Patrons (remember, your votes count for double in the Patron poll!) and the public poll is embedded below!

Porn Addiction (Caption Sketch)

Jackson knew that porn addiction was a thing, of course, but it wasn’t something that he imagined might happen to someone like him. That was a problem that losers had, losers who couldn’t get cock, or ugly old men who never left their houses. He wasn’t an addict…but the videos on this site–once he’d found it, he kept thinking about them, all the time, and thinking about them would get them horny, and he found himself needing to watch them more and more. So much so, that he’d started sneaking off to the restroom at work with his phone in hand, and he’d work out a quick load watching one…first just once a day, but then, more and more.

It was sex he’d never seen before. The guys in the videos–they were no holds barred, total freaks and perverts with no limits. He watched them do things he’d never even contemplated before, and…and once he’d seen it, he found himself obsessed with it–things that had disgusted him before, like watersports or fisting, were now just warm ups. Still, he wasn’t an addict. He was just…kinkier than he’d thought, is all. He hadn’t had sex with another guy in weeks (or was it months) but what did that matter? He didn’t know anyone like this in real life–the only way he could enjoy it was…in porn, right?

He kept denying it, as long as he could. The days when he called in sick, that he spent in his room, edging for hours, stuffing himself with food he had delivered. When he hit his limit on the site…he had to subscribe of course, but the cost just seemed to keep going up every month. Sure, he didn’t…need it, but he wanted it, and that’s what really mattered. That is, until he got fired. Until he spent three solid days in his room, edging for hours on end, watching video after video–then…he realized he had a problem. Then he realized what a mess he’d become. He’d gained close to fifty pounds of fat, his body was filthy, he…looked older. He looked like the losers he’d always imagined a porn addict might be–and he realized that was exactly what he’d become.

Jackson reeking of musk and cum, in the midst of a four hour edge session

That’s when he’d gotten the email–from the site, offering him a choice. Keep paying to watch, and the site would keep draining him. Within the year, he’d be in his sixties, massively obese, sitting in his own filth, mindlessly jacking off until he just keeled over and died from one last massive orgasm–or he could come join the company as an actor, and make all of his fantasies come true.

He was scared at first. Then his hair started to grey. Then, he realized he could barely take leaving the house at all. If he didn’t go now–he knew he would never get away. So he left. He left, and went to the address the email told him, and two days later, he was in his first film.

No one would have known it was him, of course. Even he wouldn’t have known himself, if there was anything of Jackson even left in the filthy fat whore’s mind–but the company had gotten rid of all that for him. No–he was just another slave to their perverse, demonic pleasures, channeling that lust into the videos, broadcasting them to the world, hungry thinking about the souls corrupted by his unending desires, and he went back to groping his fat body and sucking at the cock in front of him, lost to lust forever.

Home For the Holidays – Christmas (Part 3)

Ever since Thanksgiving, Luke hadn’t been able to sort out what was wrong with him, but he knew that something had to be wrong with him. He’d…fallen asleep, or whatever, with Mark in that room, and when he’d woken up with a load of shit in the back of his jeans and the front wet with piss, instead of feeling horror at what had happened, he…he’d climbed into his truck and drove off, heading somewhere–heading to Buzz’s place. Luke couldn’t recall what Buzz looked like, or where he’d met him, or why he thought this stranger was his best friend…but he had to see him. See, Luke was sick of working in real estate–what he really wanted to do, more than anything else, was work as a trash collector.

The dissonance in his mind gave him a headache, as he tried to reconcile what his commandments were telling him with what he knew he was supposed to be feeling, but everything in his mind was just being…rewritten faster than he could even begin to understand it. By the time his shit cooled in the back of his jeans, he could come up with a hundred reasons why he hated real estate, and why he’d always wanted to be a trash collector. By the time he pulled up in front of the rundown house with the brown, overgrown yard half an hour later, the new rules were just…him.

As soon as he saw Buzz, memories created themselves in his head, of past times they’d hung out, of all the good times he’d had with Buzz, how safe he felt here, and he asked him–asked Buzz to help him out, that he finally wanted to make the jump–he wanted to be a trashman, he’d do…anything to get there, and he knew Buzz could help him…and the cruelty in his friend’s face was so obvious, it gave Luke pause for a moment, until his head could catch up and bring that back under control.

Buzz made him beg. Buzz made him humiliate himself, tell Buzz about how he couldn’t control himself, how he wanted to be dirty, how dirty men turned him on so much. Buzz asked Luke if he was dirty enough for him, making him smell his rank pits, his nasty feet, working Luke up into a lather, telling him in was no surprise that he wanted to be a trashman, because the only thing he really wanted to do was clean up other people’s filth. In the end, he told Luke that the only way he’d help him be a trashman was if he ate the shit right out of his ass, if he showed him just how filthy and nasty he wanted to be…and while Luke tried to resist it, tried to get out of there, tried to get control of himself…he knew the truth. He was in control of himself. He was here because he…wanted to be here. And so, he did what Buzz demanded, and ate the dirty old man’s shit for the first time. He ate it, and felt so…dirty, and perverse, that he couldn’t stop himself from jacking off while he did it, couldn’t resist reaching down the back of his pants, so he could taste his own, cold shit too, see…see how they compared.

The rest was a blur, really. It had only been a week, but Luke was so…different now, his mind twisted so far by those three new commandments, that he couldn’t possibly think of his life going in any other direction. He wore a diaper at work, usually, the same diaper, day after day, and he would empty it at lunch and after his shift was over before putting it back on. During his days off, he would stay with Buzz, and Buzz would help him become dirtier, help him with new obsessions, help him be the kind of man he was supposed to be–and then Mark arrived in his room…and he could almost remember what his brother had done to him, that he was here because of him…but then Luke and Buzz started chanting at him, and he began to change again.

Buzz had been…frustrated by how skinny Luke was. He’d put him on a feeding regimen to help pack on some pounds, but it was taking too long. Now though, Luke felt his body suddenly expand with fat, and he let out a series of snorts and grunts as he felt himself, rubbed his grubby body, feeling a new, horrific, insatiable hunger welling up inside of him, even as he kept changing. His face…ached, mouth pushing out into a short snout, two tusks curling up from his lower jaw, his short beard turning rough and bristly, the same as the boar bristle running down his back, growing in thicker, even as his belly turned soft and hairless, three more sets of nipples appearing down the front. His cock changed too, growing a bit larger, twisting into a corkscrew as it did, wet from his sheath, and Luke…gripped it, stroked it, feeling the lusts inflamed inside him, feeling his mind shutting down little by little as violent, insatiable instinct crowding out his reason, and the half man, half pig, sat there in his own filth, masturbating, grunting and squealing, while Mark looked on in horror at what Buzz had just made him do.

“There we go, isn’t that better?” Buzz said to him, “He was such a skinny little thing–when he’s out in public, most people will just see him as a fatass glutton, but he’s going to be a fuck and food hungry pig from now on–how do you feel, Luke? Feeling…better?” Buzz leered at him, but all Luke was feeling was…lightheaded, and sick to his stomach. It didn’t feel like he had pushed the darkness out, it felt like it had grown inside him somehow, that even more of him was corrupted by some insidious force, and he stumbled, falling on the bed behind Luke, who barely noticed, Buzz looming over him, soothing him, telling him everything was going to be just fine, soon enough.

Luke picks up some of the pig qualities from the curse he just cast.
Luke’s reality shifts, and he’s a dirty trashman now too.
Luke finds himself compelled to fuck his pig brother, now just as turned on by filth as Buzz is.
Luke grows even older, and finds himself looking more and more like Buzz–and he’s attracted to him too.

Here’s the public poll!

Here’s the patron only poll!

Voting ends in a couple of days!

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Parts 3 & 4)

Jay let go of his wrist, but just stared at him as Bruce backed a couple paces away. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I can’t explain it right now, Jay, I just can’t.”

“You sure as fucking hell can–there’s someone else, ain’t there? What, you had to come back and compare, is that it? Am I just some joke to you, something you can dip in and out of whenever you like? I fucking love you, you fucking pig! I never fucking stopped loving you, and I know you love this too, I know you love me, you love what I can give you that no one else can, but don’t fucking stand there and try and sell me some pigshit line like that.”

“Jay, you just have to believe me.”

“Then ya gotta give me somethin’ to believe. Out with it–just fucking say it already.”

He owed him an explanation. He owed him much, much more than that, but at the very least, he owed him the full story. Whether he believed him or not…well, he couldn’t do anything about that, he supposed. “Fine. Fine, I’ll…try and tell you what happened, what I remember. But you have to believe me. I can…show you proof, but later, once I tell you what happened.”

So they sat down on the porch, and over the next half hour or so, Bruce told Jay what had happened since he’d downloaded the filters app on his phone–or at least, as much as he could recall, since after two resets to reality, things were a bit…muddied. He could recall the broad sweeps at least, how unhappy he had been, how being a pig had felt so much…easier, so much simpler, and how he’d wanted someone who understood that…and so, he’d created Jay. In fantasies at first, but then, the night before, he had…done something he couldn’t easily take back.

“Look…you aren’t supposed to exist, and neither should I. I made both of us, kind of, but it’s more complicated than that. I never asked you, and I’m so fucking sorry, it was so fucking twisted of me to do that, and I…I can fix it, I can contact the company, see if there’s something I can do–”

“Just…show me the program. I wanna see how this thing works.”

Bruce pulled up the program, found a basic filter to give himself an earring, used it, but Jay couldn’t see the difference, and just glowed at Bruce in annoyance. Puzzled, the pig poked around in the settings, and say that he could add others capable of seeing the changes–otherwise, everyone other than him never noticed a thing, even if it changed in front of them. He added Jay to the approved list, used the filter again on his other ear, and Jay just looked at him, amazed.

“Fuck–it’s just…there.”

“Fully healed too, like it’s always been there,” Bruce said, and removed both filters, the gold studs disappearing as easily as they had arrived, “and gone just as easily…usually. What I did to us…that’s more permanent. A lot more permanent, but I can fix it, I know I can, I just need some time, and some space, and…and do you understand?” he asked, pleaded almost, with Jay.

The farmer just looked at him, and at the phone in his lap, silent for a moment. “I don’t think there’s anything to fix.”

“Jay, you can’t…we can’t stay like this.”

Jay looked like he wanted to say something, but held back–not something he was used to doing, and then looked up at the sun in the sky. “I’ve wasted too much time on this shit, I have work I have to get done.”

“How the–it doesn’t fucking matter, Jay! None of this is even real.”

“It’s real to me. Besides, I need some time to think, but before you go off and do anything reckless, and make shit even worse, give me your phone, and your keys.”

“What?”

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you, not until we figure out what we’re gonna do about this. You can help if you want, with the work, or you can wait in the house. We’ll talk about it after dinner.”

“No, I’m not staying here another moment, I just want to go, I want to be normal again, I don’t want to deal with this shit!”

Jay just chuckled at that, and held out his dirty palm. “Give ‘em up, come on.”

That cocky tone always rubbed Bruce the wrong way, like Jay knew what Bruce was going to do before he’d even made up his mind. “How…do I know you won’t do anything to me with it?”

“Have I ever–ever–done something to you, without you saying yes first? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Jay was right about that…but he felt uneasy anyway, getting stuck out here with Jay…again. Still, he did it, passing him his keys and his phone. After all, he was right, in a way. All Bruce had done so far was make a mess of things–maybe with Jay’s help, maybe if he’d just talked to him about this to begin with, talked to whoever Jay had been, none of this would have happened at all.

“Good–now, you wanna help, or wait here? I’m running behind after that story of yours, and I think you owe me a bit of work, for breakfast.” That last bit was tacked on a bit later, implying that Bruce definitely owed him for more than that, and Bruce was happy to help. The thought of sitting around the house, just thinking about what was going to happen next, made him feel a bit sick. Better to be useful at least.

The work went much faster between the two of them. Bruce had always enjoyed the farm work here, it felt so much more fulfilling than anything he’d had to do back in the city, when he could find someone willing to hire him at all. There weren’t many pigs like him around, and most of them…well, they survived, but thriving was harder. Here, everything had always seemed to come so easily to him–at least, when Jay wasn’t busy trying to force him to try some new, stranger idea of his that had occurred to him. After a couple of hours reminiscing to himself, he realized that none of these things had actually happened–all of these memories were lies. After that, he mostly felt uneasy. They finished on time, thankfully, and headed back to the house where Jay set to work making dinner for them both, and Bruce was left waiting. He tried to broach the topic of his phone and keys more than once, but Jay just told him to wait until after they’d eaten. So they ate–another massive meal, just like breakfast, but while Bruce was happy to stuff himself, there was none of the playful banter from that morning. Jay just ate his own portion, not speaking, obviously still thinking about everything.

When dinner finished, they cleared and cleaned up the kitchen, and then Bruce insisted that they talk–and that Jay give him back his phone and his keys. Jay nodded, and handed them back, before showing Bruce into the parlor, and there, he finally spoke about it.

“What were you going to do, when you left here? What was your bright idea exactly?” Jay asked him.

“I just wanted to fix this. I wanted to try and make us who we were before this, before I went and messed everything up like I did. It wasn’t fair, and it was fucking cruel to do this to someone, to just turn him into someone he…he never had a choice.”

“Yeah, that’s true–he didn’t get a choice. But he’s gone now, and I’m here, and so I get a say in this now, don’t I? And you know what I think? I don’t think there’s anything here to fucking fix. I like my life. I like who I am, and I’m not about to let you get rid of me just because you did something shitty to someone else.”

“That person was you though! I know you don’t remember it, but you’re the same.”

“Nah, we ain’t the same. I don’t know anything about him, I only know about myself. So, you wanna fix something? You can fix yourself, if you want, but you don’t get to change me, not unless I say so.”

Bruce didn’t really know how to reply to that, and so he just sat quietly, thinking about it, about what he did.

“But I do have one demand–not one I can enforce, exactly, but I think you fucking owe me, for all of this shit you did. If you really think we’re the same person, then he should get a chance, right? Well, here’s my wager. I want one day with that program, and you. Tomorrow, here. I get one day, and I get to do whatever the hell I want to do to you, I can show you exactly who you should be. Who you want to be, but are too afraid to face. I get one day, and then you get to decide if you want to stay. Hell, you know what? If you don’t want to stay, I’ll let you try and change me back. I’ll let you talk to that other fellow, see what he wants. You want a normal life? Then fine, you can take it. Cause in all honesty, I don’t…fuck, I love you, you fucking pig, and I…I get fuckin’ lonely around here, and nothing has been as good since you left. So give me one day. One day, and if it isn’t the best day of your life…then I don’t really want to be here anyway, I don’t think. How does that sound to you? We got a deal?”

There it was again, that cocky fucking voice, that little smile. The fucker knew he wouldn’t turn him down, because in all honesty, the thought had already occurred to him, thinking about what Jay might…do to him, if he had the filters, and whether he’d…want it to happen or not. It also would give him a chance to put everything right, or at least, close to right, if…if he decided he didn’t want it, in the end. “Alright, it’s a deal.”

“Then I suppose you need to give me that phone, and those keys, back then, don’t ya?”

Bruce got up, and handed the phone back over to Jay, feeling his heart beat quicker as he did, his cock springing up against the front of his pants, and while he hoped Jay hadn’t seen in, when the farmer brushed his hand against it, he knew he’d been found out.

“For someone so adamant that this isn’t what you want, why are you so hard all of a sudden, piggy?”

His mouth was too dry to answer, and part of him wanted Jay to fuck him right here, do whatever he wanted to with the program to him, just…just make him happy, in the end, but that didn’t happen. Jay opened up the app and started poking around in it, and Jay just sat back down, watching him. “So, what are you going to do with it tomorrow?”

“Still not sure yet. Gotta see what kind of options there are. Why don’t you go up to bed? You’ll see what I have in mind when you wake up in the morning.”

Bruce thought about pressing him, seeing if he would give him an idea of what he had in mind at least, but if he knew Jay…Jay had been thinking about this a whole lot longer that Bruce had, and he already knew exactly what he was going to do to him. Given how Bruce tended to react to Jay’s suggestions, it was probably for the best that he not tell him what he had in mind either. In any case…it was just for one day, right? There wasn’t anything he could do to him, really, that would last longer than that–well, now that he had the phone, he supposed he could…but consent was always something that mattered to Jay. He wanted Bruce to want this. He wanted him to believe that Jay knew best…and yeah, Bruce had always wondered if, maybe, Jay was right. If he was pig first, and man second, and not…the other way around. He tossed and turned in the bed upstairs, alone, but eventually the exhaustion from the farm work earlier got the better of him, and he drifted off. Not too long after that, around midnight, Jay let himself in, phone in hand. He would show Bruce what he needed–he’d show him more than that. He’d show Bruce who he was, really, on the inside, who he needed him to be. He just didn’t know that Jay knew better than he did–but after tomorrow, he’d understand. Bruce would understand perfectly.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 4)

He loaded up the package he’d made for Jean, and looked at him on the screen–and he realized it was the first time he’d ever seen him in real life, breathing in front of him. All the other times it had just been still shots, warped from their own past…but this was so much clearer. He was…huge, for one thing, and that was saying something, since Bruce was over six and a half feet tall at this point. Jean was bigger than him, meaner than him, hairier than him…is that really what he wanted in a man? Usually, when he’d been with men, he liked to be the dominant one, topping them with his thick pig cock, making them squeal along with him while he fucked them…but as hot as those scenarios were, they weren’t the ones he remembered. The ones he craved–and which terrified him–were with the men like this. The ones who could overwhelm him, the ones who knew that what Bruce really wanted was to be treated like a fucking animal. They beat him, they caged him, they fucked him, they mocked him–all of it made his pig cock harder than anything else. Now, right in front of him, was a man…bigger than anyone he’d ever had sex with, someone strong enough to take him in a straight fight. Did he even know what kind of person he was going to be? He could only guess, he supposed…but while it made him nervous…he had to do this. It was the only way he could know for sure.

He took the picture. The screen loaded for a couple of minutes–it always took a little extra time when there were so many filters…and Bruce couldn’t really recall how many he’d ended up loading into the package. It was quite a few, maybe even a few more than he’d ended up using on himself. The picture loaded, at last, and he put the phone down. There, lying in front of him, was Jean, the hulking farmer of his dreams, snoring away on his king size bed, naked, ten inch cock half erect. The room around them had changed too–after all, they weren’t in an apartment anymore–they were in Jean’s house, on his farm, out in the middle of nowhere. Bruce crouched down beside him, snout next to one of Jean’s armpits, and took a whiff–it was hay, and sweat, and mud, and hard work…and his cock was so damn hard. Jean had always gotten him harder than anyone else–but he also terrified him. Why in the hell had he come back here, was he crazy? Hell–maybe he was. That, or maybe Jean was right. Maybe…Maybe Jean did know what Bruce wanted better than Bruce did. But what would happen when he woke up? After all, he hadn’t reset his default form–he supposed that when he woke up, he would have full memory of both himself as this Jean, and as the Jean from before–but if he found out what Bruce had done to him…he would be furious, and Bruce didn’t want to see either Jean that angry.

So what choice did he have? It was…such a violation of trust, he knew that, but he was so deep already, what the hell did it matter, fucking this up a little further? The only way he’d know, is if he went the whole way, all the way. He went into the settings, choose reset default form, and the program warned him, as it had before, that any changes made would be irreversible. Part of him felt terrible, but…but this was the only way he’d be able to know, really know, what he wanted. Besides, it wasn’t like the old Jules would be around to complain about it anyway–if anything, this man should be thanking him for letting him exist at all. He accepted the warning, and waited while the program began the process of resetting defaults.

He’d been drunk the last time this had happened. Well, he’d been drunker than he was now at least. Before, all he’d really felt was an odd, sweeping shift around him, and a bit of a knot in his gut, but this time, it seemed more…forceful–and he wasn’t even the one it was focused on. He supposed it was good that Jay was asleep for it, because it seemed…painful. He curled up tight, moaning and groaning, and as he writhed on the bed, his body kept shifting, looking too small or too large, out of proportion, once he even looked like his old self–just for a moment, but enough to give Bruce a bit of a heart attack when it happened–and then things settled back down, he rolled back over and fell back into his usual deep sleep, snoring logs, just like how Bruce remembered him when they’d been together…before Bruce had called it quits, and run off back to the city, a few weeks before.

That…didn’t sound quite right to him, somehow. Part of him was trying to say that it was Jay who had called quits on the relationship, that he’d gotten tired of Bruce never wanting to open up and change for him, but the more he thought about it, the harder his head hurt, and the more wrong it all seemed. He was tired–he’d be able to remember everything a bit better in the morning, he was sure. He climbed back into Jay’s bed and slid closer to him, smelling his musk–not quite as strong as his own…but more authentic, somehow, and wondered if this had been a good idea, coming back. Jay had seemed…happy to see him though, and hadn’t mentioned anything like what he’d wanted to talk about before, when Bruce had left. Maybe they’d be able to work it out after all.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 3)

Jean, on the other hand, felt like things were finally going good for him. No more hanging on crazy guys, or pigs, like Bruce. No more stern silent types, no more wasting time on guys who would never be able to open up to him. He was done. Done trying to fix men who couldn’t even see that they were broken. Done with people who took his goodwill and patience and caring and just threw it back in his face. He was so done–and yet, when a very, very drunk Bruce showed up at his apartment building, squealing for him through the intercom, what in the hell was he supposed to do? The dumb animal was going to wake up all his neighbors, if he kept up that racket–and Jean knew that Bruce could keep up a racket like that for a lot longer than anyone would expect, especially when he was drunk. He had no interest in hearing him out, but if listening to him plead got him to go away faster, then all the better for everyone.

So he let Bruce in, and while he tried to keep the stony heart he’d promised he’d keep for his own sanity, he also couldn’t quite help but listen as the pig begged him for forgiveness. It sounded good, on the surface. It sounded like Bruce had finally come to realize just how much of a mess he was, and that Jean had always only been trying to help him. Or at least, that’s what he wanted to hear, so badly. He wanted someone to take care of, he wanted someone to want him to take care of them. He did know best, really. He knew how to take care of men like Bruce–if only they would just let him help them. Could he really trust him though? This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, this wasn’t the first time someone had opened up, only to shut back down the next day, when the beer wore off, and then the whole thing would begin again. How likely was it, really, that Bruce wanted what Jean was offering? Maybe he was just here because he hated being alone more.

Jean tried to keep his guard up, but he couldn’t. He pulled Bruce into him, and he could…smell the sex and food on him–he could imagine what the big pig had been getting up to in the last few days since they’d broken things off. It was almost enough to push him away again, but Bruce was so…tender, and sweet, and so many other things he’d never allowed himself to be, all of the things Jean was looking for in a man. It was a terrible idea, he knew that. He should have never let him in the building, he should have never even answered the intercom. It was too late for that though, and so, he pulled Bruce into his bedroom, both of them shucking their clothes as they went, and then fucked like they did the first time they hooked up. Through it all, they both wanted to believe that they could be right for one another. They wanted to believe that this was better than being alone, and they thought that if they both believed the lie hard enough, that it might, just maybe, come true.

Bruce thought about it, lying there in Jean’s bed beside him, looking at him, thinking about what he’d have to give up to make this work. Jean would never be willing to accept him–the real him, after all. He knew that. He’d have to change. Clean up. Figure his shit out. Deal with his anger, his binging, his promiscuity. He’d have to learn how to be normal enough for Jean to love, learn to grow into the person Jean wanted him to become…but as hard as he tried to convince himself that he could, that he wanted to at least try, he knew it was a lie. He knew that it a couple of days, it would break him, and they would fight, and everything would fall apart all over again–unless he did it. Unless he made Jean into someone who wanted Bruce to be everything Bruce wanted.

He pulled the covers off him, slowly, making sure to not wake him up. He went out and turned on the hall light, just enough so the camera could take a decent picture of Jean, and then he booted up the app. This was…a terrible idea. He knew it was, and yet, he just couldn’t get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tried to discount it. It was the only way they could be together, be happy together, and stay together. It was the only way that Bruce could get what he really wanted…and maybe…maybe Jean would want it too, in one way or another.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 2)

When he did wake up again, he felt…so much better, aside from the hangover. Everything about his old self, that old Bruce, was just a distant memory now, and in its place, all he could remember was being this massive, sex obsessed pig. It was like everything that had felt so empty before was full now–full of gluttony, and lust, and other base desires, but at least full. So what if Jean didn’t get it? He didn’t need Jean–he could find plenty of other guys around town eager to use him like the sexy hog he was. He got on the various apps he used for hookups, and less than an hour later he had a guy over to his apartment, begging Bruce for his piggy cock, and already it was better than most of the sex he’d ever had with Jean. Once he was finished with the first, he kept inviting men over, and when he couldn’t find anyone, he’d just sit around and masturbate, thinking about how he wouldn’t have to clean up for him, thinking about how he wouldn’t have to deal with Jean wanting to talk about complicated shit, like feelings, or what Bruce wanted in a relationship. He wanted to fuck, right? But then why, as the days wore on, and he continued his constant sexual conquests with men obsessed with his freakish body…did he keep thinking about him, the entire time? Why was he still so damn angry at him? Why did he…still want him, so damn badly?

After a few days, the sex got old, as it always had before. Everyone wanted to see him as this animal, wanted to either treat him like some mindless beast, or be ravaged by him, but none of them really seemed to give two fucks what Bruce wanted. Sure, maybe he did enjoy ravaging, but was this all he was for people? Just some fucking animal? He knew he was more than that, but no one else saw it–Jean was the first person, he realized, who had seen anything about him beyond the surface, and that…that had terrified him, more than anything else in his whole life, more than the bullying he’d suffered at school, more than the looks of disgust he got on the way to work–the notion that someone might actually care had been too much for him to handle in so many different ways, he’d just lashed out and pushed him away, rather than deal with what he was feeling. Everything felt like a jumble, suddenly. As all of his old problems with his life, and with Jean, as a human had begun to fade away, all of his new past life as a pigman was coming into relief–and he was beginning to wonder if he’d made the right decision after all. Jean…might not have been the sexiest guy, but he’d cared about him, and he’d cooked real good food for him, and…and what if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his whole life, without even realizing it at the time?

The depression hit hard, and fast. The sex dropped off, and instead of finding random men to fuck online, Bruce stayed in his apartment, ordering a different takeout every hour, never once stopping until he was certain he was going to burst. He would look at pictures Jean and him had taken together–sometimes as the real Jean, and other times using the filter profiles Bruce had made for him, his fantasy Jean, a Jean…he hoped might be able to understand all of him–the sexy, wild hog, and the person behind the gruff, abrasive act he’d put on for as long as he could recall. He wondered if he’d be willing to give it a try, just once, to see…how it felt for them both. Maybe he’d understand how much Bruce needed this, even if he didn’t like it. Maybe Bruce could finally manage to show him what Jean wanted to see, to explain everything he’d never had any words for at all…but how could he ever even show his face there again, after making such a mess of things? In the end, he got drunk enough that the terrible idea of going back to Jean and begging him to forgive him sounded better than the idea of going on alone. He had to at least try, after all. He’d try, and Jean would shoot him down, and then…and then, maybe, he’d be able to get on with his own life, and put this awful episode behind him once and for all.

Spook Mart (Part 6)

Harrison loved Halloween–mostly because it was an opportunity to grind himself up against as many scantily clad women as possible, whether they liked it or not–but to be honest, there weren’t many who didn’t. After all, Harrison was a proper alpha male, as far as he was concerned–with an eight inch cock to boot, and the skill to use it. This Halloween he was showing off all of it, wearing a slightly too tight wrestling singlet and not much else, and he was getting so much attention he wasn’t paying attention to much else–he went to the fridge to grab a beer for himself, and grabbed something else instead–an odd soda pop in an odd looking can. He popped the top and took a sip, then grimaced–it was so damn sweet! He never drank pop–that shit could ruin a physique faster than anything else, but once he’d gotten one sip of it…it was kind of good. As he danced around in the living room, he finished it, determined he’d only have just one and then go back to light beer, like usual.

Instead, he found himself at the fridge, digging around for another soda–he just wanted one more, and one more couldn’t hurt. Besides, he was pissed off–Amy had just told him he stank, after he tried to dance with her, but whatever–he knew he smelled great, he always did. He did find another soda like the one before, and started slugging it down, but the more he drank, the less he felt like dancing–the less he felt like moving at all, really. In fact, all he was really feeling was, well, hungry. The house had ordered plenty of pizza of course, but Harrison had already eaten his one slice…but a few more couldn’t hurt. He started stuffing himself, the other guys from the frat laughing as they walked by, wondering who in the world had invited the fat ass–and what sort of balls he must have had, to come wearing a wrestling singlet of all things.

Harrison, mostly, was just confused. Confused by how hungry he was, confused about why the musk rolling off his pits was making him so damn horny, confused about why he just wanted to take a few of those sodas to his room, load up some porn and jack off for the rest of the night…but then, it wasn’t that confusing at all, and so he did just that, sitting alone, jacking off for a solid hour before his roommate, a cleanfreak by the name of Eric, came up with a potential conquest, and assumed their room was free. He opened the door, and gagged at the stench inside, the girl he was with running off immediately. He grabbed for the air freshener he usually kept by the door and sprayed it all over–at least until he heard the scream inside, and turned on the light.

There at his desk, wearing nothing at all (since the singlet had long since lost the battle with Harrison’s exploding frame) was a four hundred pound slob, covered in greasy hair with a thick beard, hand around his sizable cock, jacking off to the nastiest porn he’d been able to find on the internet–or at least, he had been. He’d spun around in his chair when he’d heard the door open, and the air freshener Eric had sprayed had been replaced by the nerds with…something else–a living latex spray, which was no coating a wide swath of Harrison’s large frame.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Harrison said, trying to wipe it off with his filthy hands, but he only succeeded in coating himself in more and more of it, and the liquid rubber seemed to be spreading all over his body as he sat there.

“Who the fuck are you?” Eric said at him, but by the time the words were out, Harrison couldn’t reply–the rubber had covered his mouth–all he could do was try and scream, until he was completely coated–and then relaxed as the rubber began to…shift, and squirm, conforming to Harrison’s body, and his new desires–and then the massive rubber drone stood up from the chair, and took a hesitant step towards Eric.

Before Eric could run, a tube where Harrison’s cock had been snaked out and forced itself into Eric’s mouth, the rubber sticking to the inside of his mouth–dragging him closer to the drone as other tubes began to emerge from the stink drone–from Harrison’s pits, from his ass, from his feet, all designed to collect his stench and feed it directly to Eric’s struggling body. Eric fought for a while, at least until the pleasure centers in his mind were rewired–and then he started to jack off, while the drome began to feed him its putrid concoction distilled from Harrison’s body, bloating up Eric with fat, warping his body’s chemistry to be even stinkier, and eroding his mind until a few hours later, when the rubber hood retreated from him, he was nothing more than a disgusting, fat slob, just like Harrison had been–and then the drome abandoned the new slob to jack off in his room, and went to go find other young men it could corrupt in the house.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 4)

“Look, you two stay here for a bit, I’m gonna go see what’s taking dad so long in there,” Jeremy said, and he opened the passenger door and climbed out, disappearing into the gas station after his father. Tyler and Dave watched him, and then Dave slid open the side door of the van, undid his seatbelt and got out.

“Dave? Where are you going?”

“We’ve been in this damn van all fucking day, it feels like. I just want to stretch my legs for a bit is all.”

Tyler thought about telling him to stay–they shouldn’t just walk away without telling anyone. He undid his own seatbelt, flipped around and shook his uncle’s belly, until the older man started awake.

“H-Huh? What?”

“Hey, we stopped to get gas. Dad and Jeremy are inside, Dave and I are gonna walk for a bit, stretch our legs.”

“Oh, uh, sure…don’t go too far…”

By the time Tyler had climbed out of the van and slid the door shut behind them, he was already mostly asleep again, and Tyler hurried to catch up to Dave as he slipped around the corner of the gas station. “Hey, wait up? Where are you going?”

“I was just gonna walk around the building is all–you didn’t have to come along.”

“No, it sounded like a good idea, getting out for a bit. And I told Uncle Logan where we were going, so they wouldn’t worry.”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but that snort Dave made usually meant he was rolling his eyes.

“What?”

“Do you…I mean…No, just forget it.”

“Come on, what–you haven’t said anything all day, what’s up?”

Dave stopped walking and leaned against the brick wall of the building, “Fine, but you have to be honest with me, promise?”

“Sure, of course.”

“Are you actually enjoying this as much as it seems like you are?”

Tyler shrugged, “Look, this isn’t the most exciting trip we’ve been on sure, but that’s just how it goes, sometimes. Once, I remember we were going through North Dakota, and–”

Dave turned and walked away, making that snort again.

“What? Come on. If you hate it this much, then why’d you come along?”

“Because I thought we’d be going somewhere interesting, but it’s like…like none of you want to go anywhere fun!”

“Hey, that second largest ball of yarn was kind of fun–who the fuck cares if it’s the second largest, right?”

“That’s exactly my fucking point! This trip is fucking boring, and your family is fucking boring! What the fuck is even wrong with all of you, that you don’t see this whole thing as a fucking disaster? I mean, we don’t even know where the hell we are!”

“We’ve gotten lost before, we always just get directions back to the highway.”

“That’s not the–gah, I hate it when you get like this.”

“Like what?”

“Nevermind, just…just go back to the stupid van or something, I don’t fucking care, just leave me alone already.”

“Whatever,be miserable if you want, I don’t fucking care,” Tyler said, and walked back towards the van, but didn’t get back in. He saw that while they’d been talking, a muddy tow truck that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years must have pulled up to get gas while Dave was trying to get him to join in his poutfest. It wasn’t like Tyler was having a great time, or anything, but this still wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him on a road trip. This did suck, but so what? Sometimes…sometimes things sucked, but you had to take the good with the bad. If there was anything these road trips had taught him, it was that. Be patient, solve the problems you come across, and everything will be alright in the end if you stay positive. He thought about getting back in the van, but he did want to walk a bit, so he took a few laps around the pumps, and a couple of people got out of the tow truck. The first was an older guy with a huge beard and big round gut jutting out, wearing clothes that looked like they’d last been washed at the same time as his vehicle. The guy saw him, grinned, and started toward him, when a second voice spoke up, “Pa, stay focused–go git yer beer, I got it handled.”

The man didn’t look very happy about that, “Sure Skip, you…got it,” but he turned and started towards the station and went inside, while the second speaker came around the other side, a young guy who couldn’t have been much older than Tyler himself. He was…big. Probably six foot four or so, more muscular than his father, but with a good amount of fat padding him out as well, just making him look thick–the fact that all he had on was a ragged flannel vest, showing off two thick arms and a very furry gut only accented his size. Skip took a drag off the cigarette he was smoking, and looked Tyler up and down, before walking over. Tyler went back around the van, keeping it between them, ready to get inside or pound on hood to get his uncle’s attention if he needed to. The young man must have found something about this funny, because he grinned a bit, showing off teeth which were way too yellowed for a guy as young as he was. He was a good five feet away, but the most horrendous smell wafted over to Tyler from the young man. He started breathing through his mouth, but it didn’t really help–the only comparable thing he could think of was walking into the locker room at school once after a bunch of practices, how musk had permeated the air so much, it was like the air had taken on a life of its own. But it wasn’t just musk, it was also…pangs of piss, and rotten eggs, and cum, and…and was…was he breathing through his nose? Deep–Deeper? Maybe, maybe it didn’t smell all that bad, yeah, maybe…maybe he could even get a bit…a bit closer. He forced his feet to stay still, but something strange was going on, he could tell, even if he didn’t know what.

ChatChange – Jock Slave (Flash Commission)

Thank you for using ChatRandom! You’re now being paired with a new chatter…..Partner found, welcome DirtyTubbs56!

DirtyTubbs56: Hey bud, how’s it hangin?

CollegeJock97: Fuck, put a fucking shirt on, would you? No one wants to see that.

DirtyTubbs056: Heh, how about this? Wanna see my big ol’ cock boy?

CollegeJock97: What the fuck, why won’t it let me close the window?

DirtyTubbs56: Sounds like someone didn’t pay for the premium membership. Guess you’re stuck with me for a little bit. Come on, whip out yer cock too–helps the time pass by real easy.

CollegeJock97: I’m not showing your my cock you fat, dirty faggot.

DirtyTubbs56: You know, I wasn’t too different from you when I was younger. You should watch what you say boy.

[Premium user DirtyTubbs56 has activated ChatChange]

CollegeJock97: What the fuck is chatchange?

DirtyTubbs56: You’ll see boy, now hold on a second.

[Change applied]

GrungeJock97: Oww! How the fuck–it fucking shocked me!

GrungeJock97: And why…what the fuck happened to my screenname? B?

DirtyTubbs56: Well I gotta say, it looks accurate–how old is that jock you have on boy?

GrungeJock97: Fuck, this…this thing? I’ve been wearing it all year so far

GrungeJock97: Why did I write that? I mean I have but I wasn’t wearing it, and my room, fuck it reeks so fucking good in here all of a sudden, makes me so damn horny.

DirtyTubbs56: Well then whip it out boy, let’s see what you got.

GrungeJock97: Fuck, you fucking did this to me, what the fuck did you do? Change me back, you fucking sicko.

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck boy, been wearing these whities of mine for months–bet you’d love to give them a sniff, wouldn’t you? Look at the color on ‘em–ain’t they pretty. Hold on, gotta get up here for a sec, show ya the shit streak down the back.

DirtyTubbs56: Eh? What did you think of those? Damn, did checking out my dirty undies just make you leak all that? Now who’s the sicko around here?

GrungeJock97: I can’t fucking help it!

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck, reminds me of when I was younger, sneaking underwear from the locker room, especially the coach’s, if I could manage. You like older guys, don’t you boy? Fat old pigs like me?

GrungeJock97: Fuck no, you…no, I won’t do this, I fucking won’t.

DirtyTubbs56: Well it wasn’t really a question anyway, no worries

[Change Applied]

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck, that fucking hurt! Fucking stop it! What did you fucking do this time, daddy?

Jock4DirtyOldMen:Why the fuck did I type that? You’re fucking with my head, aren’t you daddy?

DirtyTubbs56: Just made you a little more appreciative is all. You should be thankful, shouldn’t you? That I’m turning you into a whore for dirty old men like me? Come on, tell me what you’d do to me, if I was in that dirty room of yours.

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck, I don’t wanna say daddy, don’t make me do this, please sir.

DirtyTubbs56: Tell me boy, that’s an order.

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck–fuck, I’d…I’d sniff your pits, and clean your whole stinking body sir. Suck your cock, and eat out your ass if you wanted, I’d…fuck, feeling you on top of me, fucking my dirty hole makes me so hard just thinking about it

DirtyTubbs56: How about my feet boy?

Jock4DirtyOldMen: I fucking love dirty feet sir, I’d lick them clean–the…the stink of ‘em makes me cum harder than anything.

DirtyTubbs56: That’s a much better attitude boy–but I think we should punish you for some of your rudeness earlier, don’t you think?

Jock4DirtyOldMen: No sir, please, I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want, you don’t have to change me anymore, please

DirtyTubbs56: No–see, I think you’re still a bit too proud of yourself. Your youth, your body. But living like this, well, it won’t last for long, trust me. All those hours spent alone in your room, masturbating to your own heady stench–it doesn’t leave much time for working out, does it? But you can’t stop–and the more you lose, the more you want it back.

[Change applied]

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, that…fuck, what the fuck, I think I’m going to be sick…

DirtyTubbs56: Just accept it, just let it wash over you. You’ll feel so much better soon, trust me, you don’t know it yet, but you’re going to love this. I thought the same thing, but this is so much better than you know.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: I’m, fuck, I’m old, and I’m so fucking fat! Change me back you fucker! You can’t fucking do this to me, you fucking can’t do this, I was

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, why the fuck can’t I remember? I…I remember getting in the locker room, yesterday, but I wasn’t playing, I…fuck, that’s right, I took a fucking haul, five rank jocks from the locker room. I…know the janitor, and he’ll give me fifteen minutes to raid the place if I blow him, and it’s fucking worth it every time. Can’t do it too often though, but fuck, you should fucking smell these things.

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck man, they look so filthy, I can almost smell them through the screen!

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck yeah, I watch them at practice too, usually, wearing my favorite ones, even a jersey or two, while I’m under the bleachers, jacking off. Just fucking wish I could get close to them, you know? Really show those young studs what an old pig like me has to offer.

DirtyTubbs56: I bet you’d do anything for a stud like that.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: You fucking know it! I…fuck, I know you fucking did this to me, but everything feels so fucking…far away now. And fuck if I don’t fucking love this.

DirtyTubbs56: Tell me what you want, pig–if you really want to go back, I could be persuaded if you ask really nicely–though I might need a favor in return.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, all I really want is all those fucking jocks around me, fucking me, pissing on me, using me as their fucking pig slut, fuck now that would be the fucking life!

DirtyTubbs56: Well I can arrange that too, you know.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Wait, I didn’t mean it, not really, I was just fantasizing!

DirtyTubbs56: You sounded pretty serious to me.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck you, fucking change me back, I’ll do anything you want, I’ll find you and blow you, please

DirtyTubbs56: Nah, I like your idea better.

[change applied]

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: Fuck, what’s happening, why

DirtyTubbs56: Huh, he vanished–must not be living in that room anymore.

[Find user – FilthySlavePig4Jocks]

[User found. Local internet device found–connect user to device? Y/N]

[Y]

[Connection reestablished]

DirtyTubbs56: There you are–fuck, look at you, looks like those jocks sure did a number on you.

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I…I can’t be in here, this is Master Coach’s office if anyone finds me I’ll get punished so bad

DirtyTubbs56: No worries, I won’t keep you for long, I just wanted to see what those jocks did to you–and fuck, what the hell didn’t they do. Is that the mascot?

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I’m property of the team, they tattooed me to show it. Keep me shaved all the time, lock up my cock where it belongs The team uses me whenever they need to, and…and I love it. Thank you, thank you for doing this to me, I didn’t know I needed this so badly, and I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’m so happy–this was where I always belonged I just didn’t know it.

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I have to get back in my pen though, if anyone finds me they’ll put me in the box and I hate the box.

DirtyTubbs56: Alright pig–get back in your pen–and you’re welcome.

[End Connection]

[Find new User? Y/N]

[Y]