Arctos Monthly (Part 2)

Adjusting was…difficult. The smoking was the hardest–I’d never given much thought to something like that before, but if I went more than an hour without smoking a bowl of tobacco, my mouth would go dry and I’d start getting these jitters. I could sometimes get away with smoking in the dorm with the window open if Andy was out, but for the most part I was stuck outside on benches away from buildings–at least it was a warm April, if nothing else, but my mind was focused on wondering how long it would take Andy to get his package from Arctos…because I had to admit, I was itching for a fuck. Sure, there were a few gay guys on campus who were drooling over me, but I wasn’t really looking for the skinny college type–I needed a fucking bear. Unfortunately my age hadn’t changed at all, and I couldn’t very well get into a bar, and I was nervous about hooking up online. But once Andy got his first package, I had a feeling I wouldn’t have to worry about not getting enough sex soon enough.

It came about a week after I’d received mine. I was in the room working on some school work when he came in carrying a box the same size as mine had been, and my mouth went dry. It was so hard not giving away the game while he read the card out loud to me, laughing, and all I wanted to do was scream at him to put the damn clothes on! That was something I’d discovered too, with this new body–I think my behavior had shifted too. Just…a little but. Like I was more cocky? I took more risks, and I loved being in charge. It was hard to describe, because I was having a harder and harder time remembering that I’d been completely different just a week earlier. Still, I managed to play dumb, and he finally pulled the clothes out–some XXXL sleeveless shirts with the Arctos label, some huge jeans and overalls. Boots, socks, boxers and a set of suspenders. He ended up with cigars instead of a pipe, however. I’d been expecting him to get something like what I’d gotten, but it was an entirely different set–the clothes even smelled different than mine had: more musky, like a locker room.

Now I’d been pretty average size before my package, as best I could remember. Andy, however, was a big old beanpole. Probably six foot three and maybe 160 pounds–there was no way these clothes were going to fit him, and he didn’t even have any interest in trying them on…though something had him at least a little interested, as far as I could judge from the bulge growing in the front of his pants. I think he would have eventually tried them when I was out of the room, but I cajoled him into them, saying it was just for shits and giggles. He finally gave in, pulled on a pair of boxers, a shirt, the overalls because there was no way he could hold the jeans up, even with the suspenders on. He looked ridiculous, of course. The clothes were massive, but the overalls didn’t even reach his ankles, the legs were so short on him. He asked if this was enough…and I wondered why he wasn’t changing. Was it because I was there watching? I realized something was missing, unwrapped one of the cigars and told him to put it in his mouth too. He refused–he hated anything having to do with smoking…but I could see something in his eyes. The smell of the clothes was getting to him now–he wanted it, he just didn’t want to admit to me that he did, especially after all the complaining he’d been doing about the smell of my pipe smoke getting everywhere. So I gave him a push, and just stuck the cigar in his mouth anyway.

I had to pull my hand away immediately, as the end burst into flame, and an entirely different Andy was standing in front of me, looking confused and disoriented around himself at the room which was suddenly much…taller. He had, in an instant, shrunk down over a foot to a much shorter height of five foot two, the top of his head now not even reaching my bearded chin, and he’d exploded in size–and it sure as hell wasn’t muscle. When we weighed him in a bit later, using the scale in the bathroom, we found out he was now 385 pounds, but all I could think at the time was that he was…so fucking fat. He looked down at himself, confused, unable to take it in, panicking and sucking down smoke like he didn’t even know he needed it, and started ripping the clothes off of him–and I helped of course.

I hadn’t really…considered the fact that I might be attracted to bigger guys. Sure, more than a few of the chubby, bearish professors around campus had been catching my eye, but seeing Andy’s new rolls of flab covered with a thick coating of brown hair, his face and double chins covered by a bushy brown goatee, his hair grown out down past his shoulders–I had that cigar out of his mouth and my lips over his, sucking the smoke from his lungs so fast that he didn’t even know what was going on–but he needed me, and I wanted him bad. I threw him around and shoved him over the side of the bed, surprised at my own forcefulness, got down and started eating out his massive ass, and he was moaning and groaning, getting looser until I lined up my huge cock and slipped it right inside, like it had been made for me. Hell, maybe it had been, right? I knew he’d probably have questions, but he sure wasn’t saying no at the time, and I’m not sure I could have stopped myself even if the thought had crossed my mind. He…sure was pissed, though. He ruined the afterglow with his shouting and whining. He’s probably still is a bit pissed, probably, but he’s pretty happy with Mitch these days…heh. Mitch. Where do I even start with that fucker…

Christmas III: A Brand New Stanta Claus (Part 4)

“I don’t know, I feel…a bit ridiculous. Are you sure this is what I’m supposed to wear? I mean, it seems to me like Santa usually has on…a bit more than this, and that it would be a bit cold, right?”

“Don’t worry about the cold–Santa never gets cold. It’s one of the perks of the job. After all, it would be pretty hard to work and live at the North Pole if you got cold, right?”

“I suppose…I don’t even know if I…have this thing on right…”

“Well do your best, and I can help you fix it if need be.”

Stan came out of the bedroom, mostly dressed in the clothes Timmy had set out for him. The bright red boots, red jockstrap and red leather chaps had been the easy part–what was befuddling him was the harness, which he was trying to latch around himself, but it was upside down and backwards. Timmy had him get on his knees, and the elf helped him into it, securing the chest straps, but Stan saw one final strap running down his chest and past his belly. “I don’t get this thing–where’s that supposed to go?”

“Stand back up, and I’ll fix it for you,” Timmy said. Stand got back up, he slipped the leather strap under the waistband of the chaps, pulled down the jockstrap pouch, and quickly maneuvered the cockring around Stan’s cock. This, sadly, was the one area where Stan was a bit lacking–he’d had to swap out the ring to better fit his relatively small girth, and his cock was only two inches when hard. Still, Santa’s always had a surprising amount of control over their own body–how else could they fit down any chimney so easily? Timmy had a feeling that when he returned, Stan would be plenty well endowed. “There–perfect! You look great.”

Stan knew there was something wrong here, but he…he couldn’t figure out what. In fact, so much seemed off up here, and yet he nothing had fazed his usually prudish self. “A-Alright. If you say so.”

“Now, let’s go over the list again. In most cases, it’s a simple drop–get down, leave the present, and take off again. However, a good number of men around the world have been incredibly naughty this year, and so they’re going to need a more personal touch. They don’t get gifts at all–instead, you get to punish them as you see fit.”

“Those are the red names, right?”

“Yep.”

“Alright–any questions?”

“I…If I get into trouble, can I contact you?”

Timmy shook his head, “Not easily. But you can do this! The first round is always a bit rough, but if you stick to the list, you’ll be fine.”

“What if I don’t finish in time?”

“Santa always finishes on time, don’t worry about that. Now come on, we’re almost ready for launch–you need to get on your way, Santa Stan.”

They walked to the door of the house, but in the doorway, Stan suddenly froze. He…he couldn’t go out looking like this. He couldn’t do any of this. This was a terrible idea, what in the world had he been thinking? He backed up, shivering and shaking, and Timmy followed him. “Stan, it’s going to be fine.”

“How can you just say that?”

“Because we’ve been doing this for millennia. It’s going to be fine.” It obviously wasn’t helping, so Timmy started rustling around in the pockets of the leather vest he was wearing. “Look, I was going to give you this right before you left, as a present, but you could probably use it more now.” He pulled out a beautiful, freshly carved pipe, intricately detailed from wood to briar, as well as a sack of tobacco. “Here, I made this for you. The tobacco is a special blend–one that helps with courage and bravery,” Timmy said, trying not to smirk. “Go on and take a good puff–it’ll help, I promise.”

A pipe did sound good to Stan. He took it from Timmy’s hands, but his own were shaking too much to fill it. Timmy took it back, packed it for him expertly, and then handed it back, helping him get it lit. Stan took a deep breath of smoke, and it…it was a rush unlike anything he’d gotten from a smoke before. He felt warm all over, but…but especially in his groin. However, the shaking did stop, and he did feel better. More…confident, maybe? He took another deep breath, feeling his cock stir strangely, and then stood back up. “Thanks Timmy. Thanks for everything. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“You’re welcome, Santa. Now come on, your sleigh awaits!”

Stan strode out into the snow storm, still surprised by the fact that it didn’t feel cold to him at all, especially considering how little he was wearing. Still, he felt…good. Really good, all of a sudden. And…and a bit horny? That was odd–he didn’t get horny very often. He’d only had sex around ten times, just enough to get Emily pregnant three times, and that…that was all he’d been able to manage, to be honest. He shook his head. That was a strange thought, where in the hell had that come from? He took another drag off the pipe, calming his nerves, and climbed aboard the sleigh. His reindeer were all hitched, and the sacks of toys for naughty boys were all loaded in the back of the sleigh. It was finally time. The elves were all out on the runway, excited to see their new Santa off, and he gave a wave, and received a loud cheer.

It was now or never.

He gave the call, the reindeer pulled him down the runway, and off into the cloudy sky. Despite the fierce winds and heavy snow, it was the smoothest flight he’d ever been on, Rudolph’s cock showing the way, shining bright in the night, and he shifted course to the first stop of the night, the first of many, and tried not to think about the fact that his cock was so hard, and…eager.

Breaking Point (Part 5)

It was the end of August–the Friday night when, in his old life, Leon would have been finishing up all of his college packing, and getting ready for college orientation next week. Instead, after spending the week working on the site, finishing up friday completely coated with mud and filth–as usual–the guys on the site gathered around him for his weekly shower, pissing some of the muck away while he grunted and snorted, trying to deny the fact that he was enjoying this, sucking down cigar smoke as he did. But he was grinning for a different reason–I’d been hinting that I’d felt like he’d seen the light, that I’d be willing to give him back his life. When he was done with his shower, I went into my trailer, opened the safe, and pulled out the cigar that contained all of his old life, and slipped it into my pocket. He saw me, of course–he thought better than to ask when I’d let him smoke it, but the way he held his head high…he was certain everything was going to sort out right in the end. He’d have his old life back, the one he “deserved”–yeah right.

He expected us to drive straight home; instead, we drove into town. He probably thought we were going to a club–I’d started taking the pig out in public, to a few bathhouses and leather clubs, where I’d rent out his mouth and ass. I have to give him credit–as much as he hated his body, this life as my pig–he relished the attention. He’d found…a bit of a calling, in fact, in his new desires, not that he dared admit that to me.But tonight, we kept going, past the club district, down to a…less friendly part of the city, and I gave him a task–that the first thing he’d have to do, his first task to prove to me that he was ready–was he’d have to find a some poor homeless soul willing to let Leon suck his cock, and bring him back to the car so I could talk to them.

Finding guys off the street willing to get their cock sucked wasn’t difficult–but I had veto authority. Each one he brought back that I didn’t feel…fit the picture I had in my mind, I’d make Leon suck them off as promised, in the cab of my truck, and then send him off to find another. Finally, he returned with someone I felt was worthy. He looked like he’d been on the streets for quite a few years, hair and beard overgrown and ragged, but in the old man’s eyes–I could see…worth. It’s difficult to explain, perhaps it was just intuition. I told the man that I’d like him to come home with me for a thousand dollars up front, for a night, and a thousand dollars more if he helped me with my pig. He was wary, but he wasn’t willing to turn down an offer like that. He piled in–it was hard to decide who stank more–Leon or the derelict–Leon of course couldn’t figure out why this guy was returning home with us. This weekend, after all, was supposed to be about him. About his redemption. This fucker had nothing to do with him, so he thought.

Back at the house, I got the guy’s name–Ned–offered him a drink, and said I had to get my pig ready. He was happy enough to drink a straight from the whisky bottle, and I led Leon down into the dungeon in my cellar, where I told him the next part of his final punishment would take place. I got him bound standing, arms pulled high, legs spread wide, and gagged him quiet. Then I went back upstairs and invited Ned downstairs. I pulled a chair over in front of Leon, had Ned sit facing him, and he was obviously confused. I reassured him–and offered him a cigar. He tried to refuse, but I insisted, placing it between Ned’s bearded lips, and lighting it for him. He took an inhale, and it was clear he enjoyed it–then again, who wouldn’t enjoy the taste of youth and vitality when you’ve had neither in decades?

Ned slouched back in the chair a bit, breathing deeply off the cigar. Each time he exhaled, there wasn’t nearly enough smoke–he was absorbing almost everything he took in, just like I’d hoped would happen. Now that he was relaxed, I took some scissors and began cutting his clothes away from his body–it was a few minutes into that process that Leon, behind me, began to realize that something was amiss, and started struggling and snorting, hoping to get my attention. I made him squirm for a few minutes, until I made sure Ned was comfortable, and then walked over to where Leon was rattling his chains like a needy prince.

He couldn’t speak, but I knew what he wanted to ask, from his gestures and the desperation in his eyes. So I told him the truth, finally. That I didn’t think he’d earned his life back, but that I hadn’t wanted his opportunities to go to waste, languishing away in my safe. So I figured I might as well give them to someone else, who would probably get more out of them than Leon ever would.

He was sobbing, he was yanking on the chains hard enough to bruise his wrists, and all I could think about was how hard my cock was, watching him crumble–I walked behind him, and slipped my cock into his ass, fucking him slow while we watched Ned suck down Leon’s life in that cigar…and he broke. He broke…completely, into tiny pieces. He couldn’t even hold himself up–he just went limp in his chains, staring at Ned, tears streaming down his face, making paths through the mud crusted there, and dripping onto the concrete below. He was mine. I’d broken him, and that made him mine, and when I came, oh fuck, but I wasn’t done yet, oh fucking no, I wasn’t done yet–

Breaking Point (Part 4)

I told Leon that if he could prove to me that he deserved to have his life back, then he’d get it back at the end of the August and go off to college, just like he’d imagined. I don’t think he quite realized the power I had over him at that point, not right away. Up to that point, other people had always felt incidental to him–just figments of agents that he could ignore at will, who had no real impact on his desired course through the world. He’d always simply expected other people to move from his past. The collision with someone like me–who had not only the desire, but also the ability to oppose him, was incomprehensible in the immediate aftermath of this new body. Still, he began to understand I putt him through a few paces in the trailer, while the rest of the crew carried on working outside, finishing shortly before quitting time. That was when he realized he wouldn’t be going home to his parents–to his room, to his friends. Instead, I informed him he’d be staying with me for the time being–and that he’d best behave himself, or he could kiss that future of his goodbye.

I live in a small house a good ways out of town on a couple acres of property–enough to assure myself a good measure of privacy. I had several guest rooms (and a rather cozy dungeon in the cellar) but Leon wasn’t a guest, he was a pig–meaning he got to sleep on a dog bed out in the garage. Meaning he had to be naked in the house at all times. Meaning he had to be ready for me whenever I desired him, and willing to perform whatever sick tasks I might have in mind. I gave him a week to get adjusted to his living arrangements and new body, before I ramped up his training.

I taught him to take pain and enjoy it. I forced him into bondage for hours on end. I taught him to drink piss and eat out my nasty crack after a good, long shit. He obeyed me both because he had to, and because he was becoming increasingly desperate to have his old life back. Finally, that cold demeanor was beginning to crack, the reality of the fact that he could do nothing other than submit wearing him down slowly but surely. I hurried him along a bit, by forcing him to serve his co-workers as well, quickly graduating him to our communal urinal, toilet paper and cumdump at the worksite. He was forbidden to shower, wear anything other than my dirtiest laundry (which fit his obese frame rather poorly) or shave, and soon stank to high heaven of piss, sweat and cum. The loss of testosterone from his now puny balls gave him a thin, patchy beard that only made him look older and more grungy as it became crusted with filth.

Finally–finally! He broke.

It was the middle of August, on the weekend. The weekends were particularly grueling for him–on purpose of course. I generally kept him in bondage for long periods of time, and at this point I had also fit him into chastity–although finding a cage small enough for his now puny cock was a challenge in itself. It was time for dinner, and I released him from the cage I’d decided he’d spend the day caged in, and he seemed…more reserved, somehow. I made him crawl behind me into the kitchen, where he found I had brought in a trough–and I dumped a pot of cold slop into it, telling him to eat up.

He broke out in sobs. Massive, heaving sobs. It wasn’t the greatest humiliation he’d suffered by far, but it was somehow a sign of how far he’d fallen. He started pleading and begging with me, telling me he was sorry, that he didn’t know how he could make it up to me, that he just wanted it to stop, that he couldn’t take another day of this. I listened. I let him poor his heart out, but soon all I could feel was my rock hard cock. When he’d run out of words, I ordered him to eat–watching his eyes go wide in terror–but he couldn’t resist. I got down behind him and started fucking his loose hole, letting the rough fuck tell him what I had no interest in saying, no interest in his revelations. That I was as unfeeling towards his exhaustion and terror as he’d been towards everyone for his entire life. That tears wouldn’t move me. That his understanding of needing to be punished wouldn’t absolve him from his due punishment.

If he’d just suffered, I probably would have let him go, but later that night, he asked me about the end of August, when he might get his life back. His…arrogance, to even ask…I told him to wait a couple of weeks, but I was…so furious, at him even daring to ask, at his…perhaps that was the ultimate cruelty, letting him keep believing, but I couldn’t let that stand. Seeing him break, it only partially, only made me want to drive him even deeper. I wanted to see him suffer more than anything now, and I couldn’t…stop fantasizing, about this idea I’d had. I’d planned it, in case he didn’t give in…but I’d never done something like this, Then again, I’d never dealt with someone like Leon. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dealt with horrible young men as cruel as he is–a good number of them were still employed with me, to this day. But I’d never…something in him, in his cocky resistance, in his confidence that even now he’d eventually be free of me, of all of this, even though there was nothing–nothing–he could feasibly do…it was a high I couldn’t deny myself, and I wanted to see that little meek castle crumble to dust. Did he deserve it, really? Probably no one did–but Leon needed it. I needed it, and it would be…perfect.

Breaking Point (Part 3)

I toyed with him for a bit. Helped him explore his body, experience it a bit, kneading his fat, jiggling it, giving him a better idea of what had happened to him, lifting his head up and helping him see what had happened to him, but he went with denial. I had just drugged him, and he was hallucinating. None of this was possible, in his mind. That’s an understandable reaction, but his denial was rooted not in confusion–but instead from a place of utter narcissism. He simply couldn’t conceive something like this could possibly happen to him, he was so confident in his invulnerability. It was…so aggravating.

I admit, a good amount of the pleasure I get from this work is in seeing them break. The late breakers, I love them because the eventual disaster of their ego is so total, once it hits them, that it’s so much more satisfying. I’ve encountered this same narcissism before, of course, but the amount of work it takes, for these assholes like Leon, to really destroy them? It sometimes feels like more effort than it’s worth. I couldn’t very well slow down now, however. If I backed off, then he’d only grow ever more insufferable to everyone he ever encountered in the future, and I couldn’t do that to them. I was this far already, so I’d just have to keep going.

I had toyed with him long enough, now, that he had assumed that this would be the extent of his changes–so when I got back down in front of him and wrapped my lips around the cigar once more, he began demanding to know what I was doing. I toyed with the easy route for a moment–I could simply pull out his narcissism, his sense of victory, his confidence that the world would eventually always right itself in his favor, but what would that accomplish? It would still exist, in the cigar, ready to be inhaled by whoever smoked it. No, it would have to be extinguished in some other way. I inhaled deep, and pulled out his heterosexuality. Another inhale, I pulled away his dominant spirit and ability to disobey. And finally, with a massive breath, I tugged at his youth and began syphoning it away from him and storing it away in the expanding cigar.

But how much to take? How much would be enough? For someone like this fucker, it would have to be substantial. He had no real idea what was happening at first, it always starts as this sudden fatigue of the spirit, but the physical reality comes chasing on the heels. I could see his bush start lightening to a faded grey, the same with the light dusting of hair that remained on his massive belly. His face grew lined and creased, hair receding back until all that remained was a horseshoe cropped short. Jowls sagged onto multiple chins, and the rest of his fat lost it’s support, and also began to droop in folds around him where he sat, no longer firm.

That was enough, I figured–besides, I had almost nothing else to work with. The cigar had nearly overtaken his entire cock, leaving him with a one inch nub buried inside his gunt. His balls were so small that his sack could barely be distinguished from his fat. I pulled the cigar away and slid the band down to the middle, feeling it secure everything I had taken from Leon in place until I needed it later.

I showed him the cigar then, and told him what it was. Everything I had taken from him–it could be his again, all he had to do was smoke it. I could see him trying to make his hands work properly to grab for it, but I just laughed, went to the safe in my trailer and locked the cigar inside, telling him that if he was a good piggy he could have his old life back at the end of the summer, but for right now, his boss had other needs. The paralysis had began to wear off, and I told him to get over here and suck my cock. I didn’t help him—he tumbled from the chair, no longer able to resist a direct order from me (well, from anyone, in fact) and crawled weakly to where I was standing, fat dragging on the floor. I could see the disgust in his face–he hadn’t realized just how much I had taken from him. He…wanted to suck me off. He wanted to obey my orders. It felt good, all of a sudden, and that betrayal did more to unseat his confidence than anything. He was being betrayed by his own body–and seeing that happen right in front of my eyes, well, I didn’t last long, I can tell you that.

After he swallowed down my cum, I gave him a handful of normal cigars, telling him he’d be smoking them non-stop from now on. He immediately lit one up, trying to suck down too much smoke, and coughing it back up immediately. While he coughed, I told him that he wouldn’t be able to go back home, not looking how he was. His parents and friends wouldn’t even recognize him, if he tried to find them. As far as the world was concerned, his old self had never existed, but he would still need somewhere to stay. Thankfully, I had a solution. I knew Leon wouldn’t like it, of course, but what did that matter? To get him to the breaking point, he needed to be lowered further still, so when the full scope of his new life struck, well, it would be all the sweeter for me.

Breaking Point (Part 2)

For the next couple of weeks, I decided to just let Leon stew, and see what happened with his attitude. Of course, there was nothing he could do about his new mud obsession–every time it rained, he was stuck rolling around in the puddle the entire time, while the rest of the crew all looked on, chuckling, and the only way he could release himself was a fuck from yours truly.

Things usually go in one of two directions from this point–either they break, or the fight. Well, let me clarify. They either break early, or they break late. Early breakers–they can put up with the humiliation for about a week, before they finally beg me to let up on them. I’m generally an accommodating boss–besides, having one of my crew rolling around in mud all afternoon isn’t exactly productive, so we sit down, have a chat, and come to an…agreement. Or rather, I dictate a more permanent, but limited punishment, and they accept because they have no real choice in the matter, now do they?

But late breakers–they have pride. Or maybe not pride, exactly, but a certain masculine confidence. If given a choice between a forced humiliation, and a conscious surrender to me, they’ll take the former any day. Something in them doesn’t let them submit willingly–at least not right away. See, no one can last forever. They all think they can, but there’s always something that breaks their spirit eventually. I knew from the start that Leon would be a late breaker–but I waited a few weeks just to confirm. Every day, he fought the compulsion to get in the mud. Everyday he refused to ask for my cock, refused to be fucked in front of anyone else, even when it meant staying the night at the site in the mud, which he did a couple of times.

You might think I’d find this frustrating. In fact, I love late breakers–they’re so much more fun in the long run. They have no power, and yet they continue to delude themselves, allowing me to do whatever I’d like to them in the meantime. But what should I do to Leon? One evening as I fucked him, I listened to him reassure himself that none of this mattered–not really. That come fall, he’d be off at college and he’d be successful, and that nothing here would matter in the least. It would all just be history–that there was nothing I could do to him that would change that. I laughed, and knew exactly what to do next.

The next day, I invited him back into my trailer, telling him I wanted to have a chat about his attitude, and see if he was ready to improve himself or not. As expected, he had no interest in even admitting that anything he did was questionable or rude. Still, the smoke from my special ciagr was getting to him already, and I helped him into a chair–after stripping off his clothes. Unlike before, when he’d been in a daze, this time he was fully aware of what was going on, but he couldn’t move his body an inch–completely paralyzed and at my mercy. I picked up a cigar butt from my ashtray, stroked his cock hard–it was a sizable ten inch cock, and I knew he was proud of it–pushed the ash end to the cock head, and secured it in place with a cigar band. He, of course, had no idea what to make of this. I got down, put my lips to the tip of the butt, focused, and inhaled.

There’s something so…wonderful, about that taste. I heard him gasp, the sensation of something he couldn’t quite identify being drawn out of him, through his cock, and into the cigar. I crossed my eyes–the cigar butt was no longer a short butt–it had grown by about an inch, taking Leon’s cock down an inch in exchange.

“What…what are you doing…” Leon mumbled. He was trying to move his head to see what was going on, but he was still completely relaxed and frozen, unable even to lift up his head from where it lolled on the back of the chair.

“You know, something you were saying yesterday, in the mud, it really…resonated with me,” I said, “I realized that you still think that all of this, this is so far below you. That it’s not even happening to you, not really. You think that if you just hold out long enough, you’ll be able to escape to some magical college world, and leave this behind. But you don’t deserve that, and I’m not about to let you go just yet, not until I think you’ve learned your lesson properly.” I stood up and leaned over him, pushing my own gut against his chest, “See, I know your kind, Leon. You think I haven’t taken down men better than you? You’re nothing, you know. But I don’t think you see that yet. So I’m going to help you out. Just…keep a few of those things of yours, your life, that you love, that you lord over everyone, and I’m going to hold onto them for a bit–see if that changes your attitude a bit for the better.”

He tried to ask questions, he tried to object–I just got down and took a deeper draw off the end of the cigar, feeling more of Leon’s life pulled into the cigar, stored away within the leaf. I took his physical power–his muscles melting away, leaving him thin and a bit gaunt. I peeled away his energy and vitality, watching as his thin frame began to bulge and bloat. I sat back–the cigar was now about five inches long–about the same length as his now shorter cock–though only about four inches extended from his new fat pad. Leon was mumbling and crying in the chair. He couldn’t see the full extent of what had happened to him, but he could feel what had changed. Panic had set in–his hope of escape had suddenly disappeared, and he didn’t know what to do.

“You’re a monster,” he managed to say.

“Of course I am–but so are you. I’m just…well, is a someone who is monstrous to monsters really a monster?”

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 9)

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy? Daddy!”

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

“You ok?”

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

“Thought I might be stuck,” Doug said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 8)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too…too long daddy,” Doug sighed.

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

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 7)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 6)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just sucked yours, fucker.”

“I thought that was a pity suck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hell, take a shower if you want.”

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

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

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