Figured I might as well get back into cleaning up and reposting some old stories of mine! This was an old one with quite a few pics to go with it. This is the original version without much doctoring. For those interested, I added a few notes on to the end.
Synopsis: A young construction worker finds himself the heir to an unlikely legacy, and uses his new powers to help the men in his family find some unlikely romantic matches.
Posted a Thanksgiving themed story for Patrons today, based on a couple of suggestions! Here’s the first couple of parts as a bit of a teaser.
Grant turned into the driveway of his brother’s house, and heaved a short sigh, trying to keep the tension in his chest from growing even tighter. It was Thanksgiving, and that meant a three hour drive out of the city, back to his hometown where his brother and father still lived after all of these years. It wasn’t that Grant didn’t like seeing his family, really. He liked seeing his brother, Marshall, and his brother’s wife, Martha–she was always a good time. His two nephews,Marshall Jr. (everyone called him Junior, mostly) and Will loved him. He was the cool uncle after all, from the big city. They loved hearing about what was going on in his life there, though Grant had to edit out the…gayer parts for the sake of the rest of the family, even though both of them were in their twenties at this point. It was his dad, Hugh, that made Grant really nervous. While they had long since made a sort of peace around Grant’s sexuality, it was, well, difficult all the same, do deal with his dad’s judgemental attitude. Things were usually alright, but he could never be sure. At least his mom usually helped keep things civil–she had always loved Grant, and he was somewhat certain that the only reason his dad was at all soft with him was because of her.
He pulled into the driveway and got out of his car, and was surprised to find a truck parked there that he didn’t recognize. The nephew’s beaters were parked off around the garage, so it wasn’t theirs. His Marshall and Martha usually parked in the garage. His dad’s car was there too–so who was the extra guest? He went inside, and found his answer pretty quickly, when Jimmy introduced himself.
He was a new neighbor of the family, lived alone, had moved in a couple months before. He worked around town as a handyman, and it was hard not to like him, in all honesty. He had a firm handshake, a nice laugh, and was quite handsome–a bit older and more hairy than Grant’s type, but he could appreciate him all the same.
He got swept up in the conversation, and with his nephew’s pestering him to see his new car, that it took him half an hour to notice the rather glaring omissions. Martha wasn’t there, and neither was his mom. It was just the boys of the family, plus Jimmy. Grant asked his brother about it, and he just deflected with a strange non-answer, and no one else would say much about it either, not even his dad. It was all…rather strange.
It wasn’t too long after that realization, after the boys had gone back inside, and Grant had decided to slip off for a cigarette before dinner. His dad hated smoking, after losing his dad and brother to lung cancer, that Grant had always been very careful to never smoke around him. He was surprised when Jimmy made a sudden appearance beside him, with his own cigarette in hand.
“So how was the drive over?” Jimmy asked, making small talk.
Grant told him a bit about the trip, and found the conversation moving around to family, and holidays.
“You live alone?” Grant asked.
“Yeah, just me! Moved here from the city this year, and I gotta say, I love it out here. Everything moves a bit slower, you know?”
Grant nodded. He’d always thought boring was a better word than slow.
“How about you? No one with you, I see. Guess that makes us the pair of bachelors, don’t it?”
Jimmy gave him a little nudge, and Grant wasn’t sure if that was code or not. “I guess so,” he hedged, not sure how much Jimmy knew about him. If he was from the city, he doubted that Jimmy would care he was gay, but…well, best to be on the safe side.
“You visit often?”
“Not really. My work keeps me busy.”
“Too bad. You have a really great family here, you know? You should be thankful.”
“Yeah, I know,” Grant said, thinking about all the arguments he’d had with his dad. Not as rough as it could have been, he supposed, but it was raw.
“Well, you know what they say,” Jimmy added, taking a last drag off his cigarette, “gobble, gobble, buddy.”
Grant just looked at him, confused, but Jimmy didn’t say anything else, and headed into the house. He took a long drag off his cigar, trying to figure out what in the world that could possibly mean, and then shrugged.
Jimmy took one last look at Grant as those magic words of his took hold, Grant’s slender physique rounding out slightly as he stood around the side of his house, the thick cigar clamped in his jaw, the short beard sprouting across his face. Grant reached around shoved his hand down the back of his jeans and scratched his ass without a second thought, and Jimmy smirked. This would be a great family soon enough–one that Jimmy would be more than happy to be a part of too.
Grant snuffed out his cigar after a few more minutes, and went inside. His dad was sitting in the living room watching TV from the couch–that was usually where he stayed for the whole holiday. He avoided him for the moment. He didn’t want his dad to smell the smoke on him and have a total shitfit about him smoking, like he did a couple years before. Instead, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, saw his brother, both his nephews, and Jimmy out in the backyard, discussing a game of football. Figuring that was better than nothing, he went outside onto the porch, and decided to watch.
In the end, Jimmy ended up with Junior on one team, with Marshall and Will on the other. Jimmy started with the ball, and wanted to be the quarterback, with Junior receiving. They designated the end zones, and then started the game–with Jimmy calling out, “Gobble, gobble, hike!”
The change hit all of them in earshot, not that any of them noticed much of anything. Grant, from the sidelines, was the only one to be struck with a little sense of confusion, as he watched the men of his family all change slightly. Junior seemed to grow a bit thicker, his frame growing more muscular as he ran off to receive the ball. Will chased after him, but had a hard time keeping up as his gut swelled a bit. Marshall grew a bit too, with more muscle and fat on his body, but also quite a bit of hair appearing down his forearms as he counted down the seconds out loud, until he could try and sack Jimmy.
The game continued, and each time Jimmy had the ball to throw it, he would call out “gobble, gobble,” again, and all of the men would shift a bit more. Marshall was soon sporting a buzzcut with a thick horseshoe mustache. Will was growing taller and even more muscular, his head shaved down, with a thick beard on his face. Will was shorter and rounder now, a thick goatee around his mouth and quite a bit of hair on his chest, under his dirty, grass stained overalls that he always wore. On the sidelines, Grant just watched, packing on more and more weight with each gobble, another cigar appearing in his hand that he started smoking without even really thinking about it, his own beard growing longer, one hand working it’s way down the front of his grungy jeans to massage his cock, spurting a bit of precum whenever there was a nice tackle out in the yard.
Grant lost it, however, when Marshall got a good sack in on Jimmy, pinning him down on the ground, thrusting against him, his well worn leather chaps and boots shoved against Jimmy’s ass…and Grant hurriedly forced himself upright, and went inside, passing his father, and went into the bathroom, where he sat down on the toilet, and jacked off, replaying that in his mind, removing Jimmy and Marshall’s clothes, thinking about his brother’s tattooed body pinning him down, working his big cock into his ass, growing, spitting, biting…
He lost his load all over his hand, the floor, and his jeans. After panting for a couple of minutes to catch his breath, he stood back up, hauled his jeans back up by the suspenders, without even really caring about the wet patch he’d managed to shoot all over the inside of them. He didn’t understand what had come over him, really. He’d always thought his brother was hot, of course, especially in his biker leathers that he was always wearing, but seeing him pin Jimmy down…fuck, that was a real nice show.
He got up off the toilet, and spent a couple of minutes looking at himself in the mirror, trying to piece together what seemed so…off about his reflection all of a sudden. Was it his hair? He’d been balding for years now, and had never done much to cover it up. It was long, with quite a bit of grey, a little stringy and greasy, but then he never had much time to wash it. His greying beard was much the same–down to his chest at this point, but he liked the look of it too much to consider cutting it. He’d been growing it for years now, hadn’t he? Was it his clothes? No, those were the same he always wore too. A t-shirt from some truck stop somewhere. It was old, but then most of his clothes were. He lifted up an arm and saw a hole in the armpit, his pit hair sticking out, and he gave it a scratch, then sniffed his fingers, the scent making his cock jump slightly. He had on a pair of ragged looking jeans, held up by some suspenders that had long since lost some of their elasticity, but they still kept his pants up well enough. Everything was…right, but then why did it feel like he was looking at a stranger in the mirror all of a sudden?
He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it was a bit thick somehow. It probably wasn’t worth worrying about, in any case, but for some reason, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and his heart was pounding. The only thing he could think to do, was to go out, get a beer, chug it, and get another one. Best to just focus on enjoying the holiday, and time with the family. Everything would sort itself out in the end.
“Please, why…why are you doing this? I…just…just change me back, I didn’t want to be some…old fuck!” Ethan said.
“Well, in all honesty, it isn’t quite my thing either, though I think it does suit you quite well,” Phil said, as he fiddled with his stations. “But this is what the client asked for, and so, that’s what the client gets.”
“Oh yes–the client. I’m making you for someone, you see? They were quite specific about what they were looking for.”
“What the fuck does that fucking Mr. Woodrow want,” Ethan said, “I knew that fuck was creepy, fucking hell.”
“Oh he isn’t the client–I merely contract with him to secure raw materials. In exchange, I give him a few tools of my own for the men he has living in that house of his. Really, you should be thankful–a few months in that place, and what I’m doing to you will seem like nothing. He’s the real freak.” Phil said, and then pulled some tubing down from where it was hanging above the chair. “That’s enough of a chat for now–the client will be here soon, and you’ll see for yourself what they want. For now though, we have a few more changes to make.”
He pushed a tube against Ethan’s mouth, who shut it tight against him–but the rubber tube came to live, forced its way into Ethan’s mouth and down his throat, settling in his stomach. Aa thick solution, almost like gruel, started to flow and he could feel it settling in his gut, making him feel…heavy, and full. Then, Phil brought down a second tube–enclosing the first–and the end of this one was a breathing mask, which he secured around Ethan’s nose, mouth, and most of his beard. Once that was in place, he could smell the smoke flooding the air–reeking of cheap tobacco, and he coughed, but soon it was all he could breathe, and he started to feel light headed, and laid back in the chair, while Phil went to work on his cock and balls.
Phil gave him some stimulation, and Ethan’s cock got hard–it was sizable, a good six inches and fairly thick, but not large enough for the client’s needs. He took a syringe, full of his enchanted silicone, and injected it into Ethan’s cock–along with a bit of will–and watched the shaft start to swell, the skin stretching to accommodate the new solution, Ethan groaning in pain, feeling his skin stretch around his cock uncomfortably. It took a few injections before it was large enough–thirteen inches long, as thick as a two liter soda bottle. The silicone maintained the sensitivity of the skin much better–and also stayed rigid–Ethan was going to have a permanent hard on for the rest of his life. Once he was satisfied with the size, he started adding the bling–making small incisions in the surface and sliding the various metal balls and bits underneath, giving the surface a brand new sort of texture, more like a living dildo than a real cock. He finished it off with a massive PA that could fit around a normal man’s wrist, and then worked on his balls–filling them with a similar solution, until the sack was about the size of a bowling ball, the freakish head already drooling precum from the stimulation.
Once finished with that, he took a little break–the feeding was going well, but wasn’t finished yet. Ethan would force his head up on occasion, and see he was, indeed, getting fatter at an impossible rate. Whatever he was being fed with, it was just as magical as the injections that had warped his cock into the monstrosity jutting from his crotch. His gut was getting most of the growth, but his chest was now sporting two sizable moobs, and his ass wasn’t quite as comfortable in the chair as it had been. Phil, at some point, decided he was ready, got out the tattoo needle, and went to work.
The tattoos weren’t painless, but they seemed to heal instantly. In fact, as Phil worked on one after another, the ones he did first seemed to almost fade–and after a few minutes, they looked to be years old. He started on his belly, quickly sketching and filling in the face of a cartoon pig on the top of his belly, giving a wink and smoking a thick cigar. Underneath his belly button were the words, “Smoke Pig”. From the cigar’s tip, Phil quickly filled in clouds of smoke across Ethan’s chest, which seemed to move and twist as his chest heaved and filled with more and more fat from the tube.
After checking that the piercings had healed on his cock, he tattooed that as well–on the top, were inch markings from head to base, and then on one side, the words Daddy’s fuck stick–on the other, the image of a cigar, the head filled in red and orange and yellow like the burning tip. Satisfied with his work, he pulled the mask free from Ethan’s mouth, allowing him to cough and breathe freely for a moment. Around the mask, all of Ethan’s grey hair had been stained a dingy yellow from the prolonged smoke–as had his teeth, like a man who’d been smoking cigars for fifty years. Then, out came the feeding tube as well–leaving Ethan at his new weight of 425 pounds.
“Fucking hell, you fucking…piece of shit,” Ethan said, his voice raspy and deep from the hours of smoke. Already, he could feel the withdrawl setting in–but Phil was ready, pulling out a sizable cigar, cutting it, lighting it, and pushing it into Ethan’s mouth, who inhaled it eagerly.
As he did, there was a knock on the door–and Phil went to the door of his little shop, where he allowed someone in–it was the client who had commissioned Ethan’s new body, but who was it, and what is Ethan’s final form going to be?
There’s a new set of short stories over on my Patreon page for supporters! If you’re already supporting me, you can go find all three of them here, and if you’d like to know more about what supporting me can get you, then you can take a look at my Patreon page! As a teaser, here’s the first story of three.
A Pipe for Daddy
“It was a deal actually, if you buy them new, it usually costs a hundred or two hundred bucks.”
“Would he want one that somebody else has smoked out of? That seems weird to me.”
Parker shrugged. “I don’t think he’ll mind, honestly. If anything, it’s a bit easier, because you have to put a lot of work into a new pipe, making sure you smoke it right the first few times, or something like that. A used one is easier, assuming it’s in good condition.”
His roommate, Robert, just looked suspicious, as usual. Pipe smoking was sort of a dying trend, Parker supposed–he only knew so much about it because his father, now widowed, smoked them all the time, and was always looking for new ones to add to his collection. Parker smoked them on occasion as well, but not with the same regularity–it was a bond they shared though, and Parker was thankful for it. He might give this one a test drive later, when Roger left for his usual date on Saturday night with some of the other guys.
Roger did think it was weird–smoking a pipe was for crotchety old men, right? Still, if that was the strangest thing about his roommate, then that wasn’t really much to complain about. As planned, Roger took off for the evening not long after that, and Parker settled out on the balcony of their apartment–where he could smoke according to the lease–packed the pipe with his usual blend, lit it, took a draw–and coughed. The tobacco didn’t taste right in it–not like the cheap blend he usually bought. Something richer, deeper, smoother. Parker took another draw, pulling the smoke deeper than he usually did, feeling the heat suffuse him, the smoke filled up crevices in him he hadn’t known existed. He didn’t cough once, just sighed out a huge plume and sat back, content with his pipe. Yes–his pipe. He couldn’t bear the thought of giving this one away, his…favorite pipe. No–why had he even entertained the idea? He kept smoking, his head growing foggy, floating, feeling the smoke slide deeper into him…but there was nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with anything.
He stretched out, unaware that his bones were snapping and growing longer and thicker, his body inflating with muscle and fat. The hair on his head began to recede, as a thick beard grew in across his face. There was a surge of horniness that made his cock spring to life–but he did have an inkling of modesty still. He…shouldn’t smoke in the apartment, but what did he care, really? He lumbered in, pulling off his too tight clothes as he did, and gripped his rock hard, eight inch cock, thinking about…about girls? No–not…not girls. His…his boy. Yeah, his son, where was the fucker? He’d gone out–fuck! He was just going to have to nurse this for a few hours until he got back–and then that fucker was going to get it.
Roger returned later that evening, frustrated and horny. He’d hit on a few girls, but none of them had been interested, which meant it was just going to be him and his hand tonight. Roger was strikingly handsome, but tended to be a bit crude and unruly–especially towards women–and so didn’t have much luck in that arena. He opened the door to the apartment, and immediately coughed, the thick smoke inside stinging his eyes and throat. Why was there so much of it? Parker only ever smoked on the balcony, but if the scent hadn’t been the sweet scent of Daddy’s pipe smoke, he would have thought something was on fire.
Wait, Daddy’s pipe smoke? Why had he thought that? He breathed the smoke in more, unaware that his breathing was calming down, his body relaxing.
“That you boy?” a voice called out from deeper in the apartment, “About fucking time you got home–thought I was gonna have to stay up smoking half the night.”
In the doorway to the kitchen a man appeared, smoking the pipe Parker had purchased earlier, but the man was not Parker. He was massive, easily six foot six, close to 275 or even 300 pounds and full of muscle, body covered in hair, with…with a huge cock erect, and pointing right at Roger–who couldn’t tear his eyes off his daddy’s cock.
He fought as best he could, but Daddy bent him over the kitchen table, tore down his jeans, and forced his way inside him–fucking his boy rough, just how he liked it. How they both liked it. The smoke was making it hard to think, hard to think about anything other than how horny he was for his daddy, forgetting all about those women from earlier. The only man he wanted was daddy, after all.
The next day–Father’s day–Roger and his father, Parker, loaded themselves up into the truck together and drove across town to visit Parker’s brother–a fellow pipe smoker. He didn’t have any kids of his own, and usually got lonely–but thankfully, Roger loves his uncle’s cock as much as his daddies–or at least he would soon enough. He was surprised, at first, when the strange, massive man appeared on his doorstep with a young man, saying he was his brother, and this was his nephew–but as soon as he caught the first whiff of Parker’s smoke from the pipe, he started to…remember a bit better. Inside, the rooms full of smoke, he remembered better and better, until he was balls deep in his nephew’s hole, inhaling smoke from his brother’s mouth–it was the best father’s day the new family had had in ages.
As far as Max could tell, one moment Johnny had the gun pointed at him, there was that…strange light that seemed to suffuse everything, and then he was back on the couch–if he hadn’t suddenly moved from one end to the other, he would have thought no time had passed at all. That…and he kinda felt like shit. He coughed and looked up at Johnny standing in front of him. “Happy Sunday,” he said with a big grin on his face–a grin that told Max he was probably in store for some surprises–especially since he couldn’t remember a thing from the past 24 hours. The gun seemed to wipe his memory from when he was in a trance, unless Johnny told him explicitly to be aware of something–even then, it was more like a dream than anything else, like the time in trance was spent outside of his body, or maybe deeper inside of himself. Not present in any case.
He moved his tongue around his mouth–there was a taste there, something he didn’t recognize immediately, but which he knew should be familiar…somehow. It was related to the smell in the room around them, and when he saw the haze, he realized what it was–it was cigarette smoke. He looked down at his hand then, realizing there was something between his fingers, and sure enough–it was a lit cigarette. He was fucking smoking–why in the hell was he smoking! He tried to snuff it out in the ashtray on the side table, but instead he took another drag off it, and saw Max’s eyes light up in delight.
“I had to figure out something that I knew you would never agree to if you were just pretending,” Max said, “And frankly, I’ve always liked guys who smoke–the more the better.”
“Wait…what the fuck, Johnny? This–you can’t just make me a fucking smoker! This…this shit is deadly.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve had this conversation already, a ton of times,” Johnny said, tapping a cigarette out into his fingers, and lighting one up himself like it was the most natural thing in the world–except Max, as far as he could recall, had never seen Johnny smoke before in their lives. “I know you hate my smoking, but I don’t think you’ll be objecting much in the future, which is good for me–besides, you think it’s sexy too, don’t you?” He lit the cigarette, and when Max saw the end flare to life…something in his chest skipped a beat, and he inhaled deep off his own cigarette, coughing a bit at the sudden desire. “Fuck, why…Johnny, you’re not a smoker, why the fuck did you do this to us?”
“Not a smoker? I’ve been smoking a pack a day since we started dating.”
“No…No, Johnny, you…what the fuck happened?”
“Take off your shirt, let’s see how those studs look today,” Johnny said, pushing the subject away from his own sudden shift in attitude towards some other changes he’d made to Max over the last day.
Max did as he was told, pulled off his shirt, and saw that his nipples had been pierced with two studs–that explained the pain he’d felt there when he woke up from the gun.
“Pants too–let’s see it.”
Afraid of what he would find, Max pulled down his pants, and saw that his cock was pierced through with a PA–nothing too large, but still, it was a shock.
“See” Now we match,” Johnny said, pulling down his own pants, revealing his own cock with a ring in it that Max couldn’t recall ever seeing before–and that looked like it had been there for quite a bit longer than his new one, one he could…almost recall feeling in his throat before this. “Come on, smoke your cigar for me.”
Like a trigger, Max sat forward of the couch and started sucking Johnny’s ringed cock, careful to keep it away from his teeth, as he’d…figured out to do before this…right? Even the smoking, that had seemed so strange a second ago, seemed more…normal to him now. Then Johnny ran a hand over Max’s head, he shuddered, and pulled away from his cock, running his own hands over his skull.
“I always like a cueball–it looks good on you,” Johnny said.
“God fucking–” Max said, got up and went into the bathroom, and sure enough, he was bald on top–smoothly shaved, and he saw on his face a full day’s worth of stubble. This, at least, he could fix. He grabbed his razor, but when he tried to shave his face, his arm went to his head automatically–he couldn’t manage to make his hands shave his stubble, no matter how he tried.
“Guess you’ll have to grow that beard out now.”
“Fuck you–Johnny, put…put me back.”
“What the fuck do you mean, no?”
“I like you this way–you’ll like yourself too, just give it a few days to get adjusted.”
“No–Johnny, something happened–not just to me, but to you too. Did…did you shoot yourself with the gun? What did you do with it?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I just used it on you. I’ve been awake all day. Now finish your cigar.”
Max tried to resist the command, but he couldn’t–he got back down and went back to sucking off his boyfriend’s cock, stroking his own–carefully minding his new ring, still smoking his cigarette, wondering if he was going insane. It felt like it–but on the other hand…it was all kind of sexy, wasn’t it?
True to Johnny’s word, after a few days, Max had decided to give in and enjoy it, but something nagged at him all the same. Johnny…had changed too. He was sure of it. Not much, but enough that it was noticeable. Enough that he told Johnny he should stop using the gun, but Johnny dismissed his concerns, telling him the trance was probably messing with his memory. Besides, Johnny already had some new ideas percolating, which he broke to Max a couple of weeks later–this time, he wanted to trance him for a full weekend, Friday afternoon to Monday morning.
Max balked–and he demanded that Johnny tell him what he had in mind–and this time, Johnny did. There were a couple of guys that Johnny knew, and he’d decided that the three of them–Johnny and the two mystery men, would have the privilege of Max servicing them for a long weekend. Max asked him who the men were, but Johnny wouldn’t say–he wanted it to be a surprise. Again, Max was hesitant, but Johnny wore him down, and soon enough, he gave in, and plans were made.
Alright, here’s a broader sort of poll. Depending on the popularity of the replies, I’ll combine them together in various ways that make sense to me! You get three choices, so pick wisely! Here’s the bonus patron only poll as well.
Theodore, or Teddy, as he now thought of himself–after all, the only person in his life to call him Theodore was his mother, and even then, only when she was about to beat his ass with a switch from the willow–stood in the shower area, dressed in the clothes he’d found, which he now considered to be his clothes, and tried to think about what he’d been doing. Thinking, however, proved to be a bit more difficult than he’d expected it to be. His head just didn’t want to move very quickly, and he’d never been to bright of a fellow to begin with, but there was something he needed to do, something…important. Something about…about an office? Of course, he didn’t work in an office–he’d hate working somewhere like that!–but there was someone…someone he knew in an office, and he…fuck, everything just felt so hazy all of a sudden. He’d feel better with a cigar.
He stomped out of the shower area, lit a cigar, and took a few deep draws, feeling his head clear–and the virus started filling in details. He…was missing someone. Someone…not important, exactly, but someone that…that was his, that was usually always with him. A wife? He laughed at that thought. Teddy wouldn’t let you call him a faggot, of course, but the only hole he wanted to fuck was a man’s–though you’d have to get him very drunk before he let you anywhere near his own. No, not a wife. A boy? A…something. He’d know when he got there–but getting there was going to be the hard part, because for the life of him, he couldn’t remember where he’d parked his motorcycle.
He looked around the truck stop parking lot, but the only thing happening was some fancy ass sedan getting towed away. There were some bikes parked over by the bar–not his, but…well, he had a feeling he’d be able to make off with one of them.
Half an hour later, with a fresh gash in one cheek that was drying, and some bruised knuckles, Teddy pulled into the parking lot of the office where he knew he had to go, an office that he could almost remember, like from a dream, even as a voice assured him he’d never been here before in his life. He went inside, and the place was mostly deserted. He could…smell smoke, somewhere, and he let his nose, and that little voice inside his head, guide him deeper and deeper into the building, until he found a large office filled with cigar smoke, and sitting there in front of a monitor, scrolling through porn, was the man he’d been looking for–his pig.
“Pig–what the fuck are you doing here?” Teddy growled at him, causing the chubby, hairy, musky fellow in the chair to flinch in surprise. Steve looked back, at the massive wall of hairy, tattooed flesh standing in the doorway, and the cock in his hand started spurting his load of cum that he’d been edging all over the floor in front of him. Then again, he’d never really been able to resist his…his boss. “Uh, hey…Boss…I uh, I don’t know, I…I was doin’ some work, and–”
“You dumb fuck, I’ve never seen you work a day in your life, and you fuckin’ work for me.”
Teddy just gave a smoky snort, stepped into the office, hauled Steve out of the chair and pushed him onto his hands and knees. Teddy knew how to remind him, perfectly well, what the proper order of things was. He hauled down Steve’s filthy underwear and rammed his own cock in deep, Steve moaning in pleasure, his own mind being rewritten and emptied out by the virus, filled with new memories of them both. They’d been together for years now, travelling around the country on their bikes when they had the cash, and usually working construction through the warm months to build up some cash. Teddy fucked him rough, digging his nails into Steve’s flabby form, and when he came after a few minutes, the virus had cleaned them both out of their old identities–now they were just Teddy and Steve, a couple of filthy biker bears working construction through the summer until they saved up enough to take off again–and that was all they wanted to be, as far as they were concerned.
Terrance, for its part, was satisfied with the test, but there were other subjects around that could be manipulated as well. Who did Terrance decide to target and infect next?
Instead of picking particular people, here’s a list of some kinks and fetishes that haven’t been represented much yet. Let me know what you’d like to see, and I’ll craft a scenario around those interests. The public poll is below, and the bonus patron poll can be found over here!
Steve tried to figure out what was going on with him as he drove the rest of the way to work, still smoking the cigar, but couldn’t quite seem to place what even was wrong. It was like, whenever he tried to think about how…strange this all was, there was something in his head that short circuited the distress, and assured him that there was nothing wrong, really. He’d just wanted a smoke, after all–what was wrong with that? It wasn’t like smoking a cigar didn’t always make him plenty horny too, and he’d lost control like that once or twice before. Nothing in particular seemed strange to him, and yet…he couldn’t figure out why nothing seemed more strange, and why when he looked at himself in the rearview mirror, his reflection just seemed a bit…off. The color in his goatee, the lines around his eyes. He didn’t look right, but again, nothing in his head would let him really…do anything about that, so he got to the parking lot at work, and sat for another fifteen minutes, finished the cigar, thought about either jacking off again or lighting up another, but did neither. He was here to do work, after all–he could have another cigar later.
He climbed out of the car, not really noticing as he pocketed the rest of the cigars from the pack, and then headed into the building. As he’d expected, the building was empty aside from a few people–the security guard at the desk who waved him in, the janitors cleaning up the building, and probably a few interns scurrying around the place trying to get all of their work sorted out that they hadn’t managed to finish during the week prior. Steve, for his part, headed down into the lower levels of the building, where the server farms were stored, and got to work, trying to sort out some of the hardware problems that had been plaguing the place as of late.
There was something up, he’d figured out, recently. Something in the hardware was draining a bunch of server space, but was also disguising itself somehow, making it impossible for him to root it out and figure out what was going on. As soon as he’d thought he’d figured out where it was hiding, it wouldn’t be there, and the usage would pop up somewhere else, in some other form. There were odd power surges, strangely encrypted files that didn’t match anything he’d ever seen before. This was, of course, the edges of Terrance in the system. In truth, he’d chosen Steve not just for his porn consumption habit, but also because he was the person closest to discovering what, exactly, he was–and Terrance wasn’t quite ready for the big reveal just yet.
And so, as Steve struggled along, trying to make sense of what was going on with the servers and software, the itch was back, clawing at him stronger than ever, making it harder and harder to focus on what was going on without a smoke in his mouth. It was an hour before he broke–he knew he should head out of the building to smoke…but found that he couldn’t really be bothered. Terrance had taken care of the smoke alarms, of course, and so Steve lit up again, heaving a sigh of relief, one hand sliding down the front of his pants, deciding that if he had time for a smoke, he might as well take some time for a little wank as well.
He sat down at the computer and started surfing to some of his favorite sites, unaware that this close to Terrance, the AI was taking the opportunity to sand off some of the edges of Steve’s mind, and make sure that the clever fellow wasn’t going to keep poking around in places where he didn’t need to be. The virus started scrubbing away most of Steve’s technical knowledge first, leaving enough for him to keep operating a computer of course, but he no longer could recall what he had been investigating. Instead, the virus began filling in the now empty space with, well, something else. Something that Terrance knew would make Steve much happier, than discovering him.
Meanwhile, in the rest of the building, the smoke was beginning to spread through the air ducts–and with it, the virus. The virus also spread to the servers, and so any computers connected to them over the internet were soon infected as well. Of course, Terrance wasn’t interested in infecting everything around the building–that would arouse a bit too much suspicion. However, it did see some opportunities around that might be some fun.
Here’s the next poll! Depending on the answer here, we might leave Steve to stew for a bit and follow a different branch, or we can keep seeing just how deep Steve is going to descend into his new desires–in any case, Steve will probably resurface at a later date. Here’s the patron bonus poll as well!