Mick had given up trying to hold it back–to hold it in. He had enlisted his son’s help in cleaning out the rental house he owned–the last tenet had skipped out on the lease and left the place a complete sty–and everything had been going well, until the jockstrap. Mick had found it in the bedroom a few days prior, and just…hadn’t been able to throw it away. He’d stashed it, and whenever his son was out of the room, he’d take a sniff, or a lick, or a suck…

Ty had gone out for cleaning supplies, and Mick just hadn’t been able to resist any longer–and so he stripped down and pulled on the stiff jock…and then he hadn’t been able to stop. Now here he was, sitting in the living room, the old tenet’s clothes on–the filthiest ones he could dig out of the trash bags they’d filled already, waiting for his son to come back.

He took a deep drag off the half smoked cigar he’d found in an ashtray and ran his hands up his arms, amazed at how fast the dingy hair had spread. He even had a goatee now, and some of the most disgusting pit stench he’d ever smelled, but he loved it. With the groan, he let loose a blast of piss into the front of the jock, feeling it run off the seat of the chair and puddle on the floor, but that didn’t matter. He’d just have his son lick it up when he got back–after he finishes giving his dirty old Pa a bath.

Well, it’s important to remember that I didn’t lie to him–he’d come into my smoke shop, and he’d heard the rumors–guys like him always hear the rumors. That my smokes can…enhance people, make them more who they want to be. I get the wimpy, the small, the nerdy–and really all they want to be are men. Real men–and I am usually perfectly accommodating.

Usually.

I mean, they always end up closer to what they want, it’s just that some of them, well, they come in with this attitude. They think they deserve to be men, that they were somehow slighted by the universe when it decided to give them this weak, hairless body they have now. I can always tell, when they come in, if they’re going to be grateful or not, and if not…well…

Heh, I have a little room all set up for them. You see, it takes a week of pretty constant smoke to reach the full change, and what sort of man you become depends a lot on what you do. If you work out that week? You’ll be a sweaty muscle bear. Hike in the outdoors? You might come back looking like Paul Bunyan. And the grateful ones, they get it–they craft themselves, but the ungrateful ones, well, I craft them myself.

Each one is a little bit different, but this one, well, he’s got the mask on so he can have way more smoke than normal–he’s going to be hairy as fuck by the time this week’s up. And keeping him bound up and unmoving? Pair that with the massive feeding sessions and he’s going to waddle out of here one fat fucking bear. But why the chastity device? Well, the cigars have a tendency to encourage…rapid growth down there, shall we say. Locking them up though–the sexual energy breaks down their minds–and keeps their cock small. No, the only satisfaction this dumbfuck will be getting is a good ass reaming every night. Yep, just my kind of fat ass bear slut–I can’t wait.

My New Suspenders Part 3

It was all formal wear–and I settled finally on some pants and a shirt that didn’t seem too fogyish, and a tie…because it felt…right. I dressed myself, finding it more comfortable to pull the waist of my pants up over my gut, and then found some socks and shoes to wear, to complete the outfit. As I dressed myself, the voice gnawing at me to find something to smoke kept getting louder, and I was desperate. I didn’t care anymore what might happen when I was dressed, I just needed a pipe, or a cigar, or hell, even a cigarette–just something.

When I was fully dressed, the third set of suspenders I’d found hanging in the closet strapped on me, the door was unlocked, but no one outside the door. Still, I needed to smoke more than anything, so I went downstairs into the den, and there he was, the submissive I’d been chatting with online, and he was completely naked, aside from a leather collar and cuffs, and he said, “What would you like daddy? Pipe or cigar?”

“What are you doing to me? How are you doing this?” I asked, but he didn’t reply, just opened a humidor and pulled out a cigar, clipped the end, and walked over, slipping it into my mouth. I puffed it to life, and from the first breath I just felt…so relaxed. I let him pull me over and settle me in a large armchair.

“Don’t worry daddy, you still have to grow a little more, but I’m here to help,” he started rubbing my belly and I groaned, feeling him keep loosening my suspenders as my gut grew even larger, and then he had my fly open and had swallowed my cock, and I let out a deep groan, noticing that the hair I could see in my beard had turned nearly white.

***

“Fucking take daddy’s cock boy!” I heard myself say, and I realized I had blacked out again. I didn’t know where I was, but my boy was bent over in front of me, and I kept fucking him hard, feeling my fat gut ripple and bounce as I plowed him deep, smoke pouring from my nose and mouth as I did.

“Yeah daddy! Fuck your slave son, fuck me hard!”

“You’re gonna get it, how about I ram my fist up your ass after I breed your hole? Would you like that?”

“Oh yeah daddy, I want to feel you fist me so bad…”

I looked over, unable to stop myself, and saw a mirror in the wall. My eyes have adjusted to the dark now, and I see I’m in some dungeon–probably in the basement of the house, and I’m…huge. Just massively fat, white hair all over my body, a thick white beard covering my face, and nearly no hair left on my head. My suit is gone–instead, I’m decked out in a leather harness and shorts held up by leather suspenders–I’m still growing, I can feel it, and I stare at myself, locking eyes with myself, and feel the last bit of me slipping away. I tense up and cum deep in my son’s hole, yeah, my son, my real son…

***

I stretch in my bed, feeling the silk sheets against my old skin–and give my massive belly a rub down. Fuck, I’m huge…but I don’t know why that seems strange–I’ve been this fat for years now, after all. I heft myself up, feeling my gut sag down between my legs. What am I now–five hundred? Six hundred? Who cares, it felt wonderful. I can smell my son cooking in the kitchen, and I’m starving. I pull on some boxer shorts and some suspenders (after lighting my first cigar of the morning) and lumber downstairs, where I see him, naked as the day he was born, cooking my massive breakfast. I love him so much, I’m so lucky to have such an obedient sexy son as my slave. I may be old, but there’s still plenty of good fucks left in me–in fact, I think I’m going to need one right after breakfast.

Now, I don’t take a boy from every show I do, certainly not. I would have hundreds! What a burden. No, I’ve taken twenty-seven in total, though I don’t have them all still with me. Some I’ve released, with or without memory of the time spent under my control. A few I’ve been convinced to part with, usually for large sums of cash, but three at once? Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.

Oh, I know I’ll have my hands full, training three at the same time, but I never back down from a challenge. Still, I’m trying to settle on their specialties…Rick, in the middle, is the easiest–won’t he just be the cutest cub? I’ll have him hanging off my arm at all the bear runs for the next few years, at least until he gets a bit older and starts balding–I’ll train him for other duties then, maybe…a smoker. Yes, I think he’ll look dashing with pipes and cigars stuck in him at all times, don’t you?

That leaves Gary and Hugo. Hugo, on the right–tiny cock, hairless body. He’s going to be a sissy. Women’s panties, shaved head to toe, maybe I’ll even make him forget he has a cock–just a big pussy where his ass should be, I’ll rent him out like the little whore he’s meant to be! And Gary, goodness, maybe I’ll go somewhere radical–I think I’ll bulk him up. Natural, of course, no steroids, just good old fashioned hypnosis. It’ll be a long journey, but I bet I can make a pretty penny off him once he’s 250 pounds of pure muscle.

Source: shavedcocklover

He just said that he wanted to play a little game. Simon Says–I mean, how harmless does that sound? Well, it was fun at first–flexing when he flexed, jacking off as he jacked off…but then, well, I couldn’t stop. The smoking freaked me out, the cigars I had to buy when he went out, and we came home at the exact same time. I did my best to smoke them just like he did, and he taught me all about it. When I was bad–when I couldn’t copy him–that was the only time I was free…well, not really free. The only time I wasn’t copying him. Every punishment is different. Sometimes I just fuck myself with a dildo, or pump up my nipples and play with them until I cum. But I’ve gotten better, I haven’t been punished like that in weeks.

Now, we dress the same. We talk the same. We smoke the same. I…I think I’m even starting to think like him. To want what he wants, the same fetishes, the same turnons. The smoking, well, at first it was just a habit, but now…now it makes my dick as hard as a rock. Now, the dildo’s, fuck, I just want someone to fuck me so bad.

He tells me that I’ve almost won, that the game is almost over. How much longer is he going to keep playing with me? Days? Weeks? Probably no more than a month. I’m…I’m almost ready, after all. Almost ready to be his son, yeah, his hot, sexy, cigar smoking son. Gonna be just like my daddy, I love my daddy so much…

Source: 19999992

It had sounded like a good way to make some extra money, after all, the house had an extra room, and was big enough that neither Max nor Terry would run into the couch surfers all that often. For a few months, it actually worked out great–most of the people who came by were perfectly polite staying a day or two before paying for the space and taking off, but then came Rudy.

Max and Terry were uneasy about him from the beginning–the tattoos, the smoking, the lewd looks, the body odor, the violent outbursts. The guy was down right scary, but the two of them lightened up once they got a bit of Rudy’s second hand smoke in them.

Rudy’s been living there ever since, and he’s the one calling the shots. His two boys are now chain smokers, keep their heads shaved, and have started getting tattoos, just like their daddy. Still, after they stopped taking in couch surfers, since Rudy needed the extra bedroom converted into a dungeon, they needed another way to make some extra cash. Max and Terry were happy enough to rent out their holes to any dirty fucker off the streets though, and couldn’t be happier with their new roommate.

Bait and Switch (Part 2)

He was back in the ether again, facing Bruce bare across the strange space, and this time, he had no hesitations about approaching him. He wanted him–badly. However, this time, their cocks didn’t connect. In fact, their cocks passed right through one another, as though they were ghosts. The contact they did make was at the belly–or their belly button to be exact, the two holes coming together in perfect alignment, despite the fact that Bruce was several inches taller than Charles was. The shock passed through him as before, but didn’t throw him back immediately. If anything, he felt even more drawn towards Bruce…and as he watched, his roommate was starting to change. His chubby frame started pulling in, deflating and shrinking a bit, though the muscle grew more defined as it did. His face uncreased, skin looking younger as his hair turned from grey to light brown. But if Bruce was getting younger, than that meant–

Sure enough, Charles looked down and saw that he was changing as well, though in reverse, packing on fat in a generous belly as his muscular frame sagged with age. He did grow taller, feeling his bones lengthen and stretch while Bruce’s contracted, but when the two of them finally were flung back and away, Charles was no longer the young, muscular cub he’d been the day before–he was now a full fledged daddy bear. In the back of his mind, he knew he should be terrified and angry. In this space, he had a clearer memory of the earlier dream as well. Someone–something was doing this to him and Bruce and he had no idea why, and yet, looking down at his new body, he found himself loving it. He loved bears after all, why shouldn’t he want to look like one too? It was already starting to feel more natural, like this is who he was supposed to be, and the grey ether slowly dissolved away around him. Before disappearing however, he caught sight of someone else in the middle distance watching him. It wasn’t Bruce–at least, not the new Bruce, but he knew that there was no way he could reach the man before the dream faded, and even if he’d had time, the ether’s physics would have thwarted him anyway. Instead, he focused hard, trying to commit the image to memory as he fell back into his own sleep, dreams of sex with bears, all bearing the same half-formed shadow visage.

The next morning, while Charles couldn’t find anything immediately wrong with his new, older body, the rest of reality didn’t seem so accommodating. He started the day with a cigar out on the balcony, watching the staff of the bear convention set up for a pool party scheduled for later that afternoon. He found himself wishing he’d known about the other event so he could have signed himself up for that convention too–still, maybe he’d have a chance to sneak in if he was careful. The first troubles of the morning came when he tried to put on his suits–none of them–absolutely none of them fit. They seemed to have been made for someone the size of Bruce–a twink–not for a big bear like himself. Still, he had to wear something nice to the convention, so he squeezed his way into something and headed downstairs, eating a very large breakfast before heading to the convention.

He didn’t stick around for long. Between his discomfort in the suit, his raging cock, and his constant need to break for a cigar back up in his room, he wasn’t all that present anyway. He cut out early to give himself at least an hour for a hearty, greasy lunch. He knew he should eat healthier–in fact, it seemed like just yesterday that he’d been on a strict diet, but he did need to keep this belly fed. He couldn’t have it shriveling up and disappearing on him after all, he liked having one far too much..didn’t he? He spent most of the hour eyeing the various bears eating there as well, and was pleased to see he got as many appreciative glances as he was giving–and again he regretted the fact that he was here for work and not play. Still…what harm was there in taking a break? That pool party was today, why not enjoy himself a bit?

He headed back to his room, wondering what to do. He didn’t even have a swimsuit with him…or did he? He looked at the two sets of luggage on the ground, suddenly unsure of which was his. He’d surely come with a bunch of suits…but then why didn’t any of them fit? Suddenly, the bag of denim, flannel and leather was looking much more comfortable, and digging through Bruce’s (or was it his?) things, he found a pair of XXXL swim trunks, and he was thrilled, stripping out of his itchy, ill-fitting suit and pulling on the trunks, along with a tank showing off his fur, and a pair of sunglasses. He saw on the table a convention badge for the bear convention with Bruce’s name on it…and he grabbed it. He could pretend to be someone else for a bit–what was the harm? From the balcony he saw that the party was already well underway, and with his borrowed badge in hand, no one questioned whether he was supposed to be there, and he lit up another cigar in celebration.

He mingled for a little while, happy to chat, fondle and be fondled for the moment, though he was mostly interested in finding someone to fuck around with in earnest. It was then that the bear caught his eye. He knew him from somewhere, but he didn’t quite know where. He had a sense that he’d been seeing him…everywhere. Was he the guy he’d seen watching him when he stepped on the elevator? Who’d watched him on the balcony last night? The shadow from his dream? His gut told him that it was, but he had no way of knowing for sure. Still, the man certainly seemed interested in him–as soon as Charles had caught his eye, he’d grinned and started over.

“Hey there…Bruce,” the man said, reading the name off the badge with a grin. “Funny, you don’t seem much like a ‘Bruce’ to me.”

“Hell daddy, you can call me anything you want, and I’ll be happy?”

“Oh? Can I call you Carl? I’d like that.”

Confused, Charles just stared at him, not sure what to make of that response.

“Oh never mind,” the bear said, flashing a smile nice enough to make him not worry about it too much. “Still, it’s nice to see you again. You were looking pretty hot last night, though you’re looking hotter right now. Having you down here saves me the trip up to your room.”

“So that was you watching me. You liked what you saw then? You wanna…get a closer look? We…uh, could head up to my room anyway, if you want.”

“Sorry Carl, but we have to wait until after dark–those are the rules.”

Again, Charles was confused. “Why do you keep calling me Carl? And I don’t see why we need to wait, we could just head–”

Charles was stopped by the bear shoving him up against the fence around the pool and giving him a deep, sensual kiss which he happily returned, though the bear broke it off far too soon for Charles’ liking. “There’s a bar close by–most of the bears are heading to an afterparty at a bigger place, but I think we might need something a bit more intimate. Come after sundown–I’ll be waiting.” the bear said, slipping a card into Charles’ hand, “Oh, and one more thing–don’t play with anyone else before then–I want you all to myself, and virgin.”

Charles had many more questions, but the man had left before he could even get his name. He looked around at the bears surrounding him, still horny, but something about what the man had said–or how he’d said it–made the mere thought of sexing any of them up a bit…repulsive. He had to save himself for later after all, just like the bear had told him to…though he wasn’t sure why he was doing what the strange man said. Still, hanging here wasn’t going to be any fun now if he couldn’t play around, so he skulked back to his room, but found that Bruce had returned at some point while he was at the party–and was trying on one of the suits, staring down at it as though it were the strangest thing for him to be wearing in the world, and looking at the young twink, Charles felt a strange possessiveness take over. “Hey! Get out of that, those…those are mine…” The words didn’t feel right. They felt like a lie, but the confusion on both their faces did more to demonstrate the possessive grey area than anything else. In fact, Charles felt like it wasn’t the suits he was being possessive over, but his roommate’s body…but that made even less sense.

“Look…I was…I was just trying one on. Nothing else in here fits me, so I mean–if they fit me this good, why wouldn’t…why wouldn’t they be mine?” Bruce said, hesitantly, and Charles couldn’t deny the fact that he was probably right.

“You’re…you’re right, I think. I’m just…I haven’t been sleeping well, and everything has just been so weird these last couple days.”

“No kidding,” Bruce said, I’ve been having these crazy dreams, and you’re in them of all people.”

Charles just stared at him for a second. “Dreams…do they…are you in this weird grey place, and we’re both naked?”

“Yeah, and then we always come closer, and touch somehow, and things…change…don’t tell me–”

“I’ve been having them too.”

“That’s nuts.”

They were silent for a few moments, trying to figure out what was going on. It had to mean something, but what?

“Hey…have you–have you noticed a guy following you at all?” Charles finally asked, “There’s this guy, this bear, he’s been watching me, or I think, us. I just ran into him at the pool, and it was so weird. He’s tall, older, full beard with a shaved head?”

“You mean like half of you bears here? Sorry, I don’t swing that way, so I don’t notice you when I don’t have to.”

“You don’t have to be mean.”

“I’m sorry, It’s just some men have no business strutting around half naked in the light of day.” Charles rolled his eyes, and yet…something about the sentiment seemed familiar. Like it was something he’d have said, or had said before. Regardless, Bruce could sense that he’d crossed a line, and he stepped closer. “Look, it’s not really any of my business, who you like. I’m sorry. And…now that I think about it, I might have had a run in with someone like you describe. It was pretty weird too.”

“When was it?”

“Two nights ago, the night the first dream happened. I went out for a drink with some…some friends, and this guy came up and started chatting with me at the bar. He wanted to know where I was staying, and he seemed really curious about…well, about you. It was strange.”

The two of them pondered that for a moment, feeling more unnerved by the minute. “Look,” Charles finally said, “I think something really strange is going on. The guy wants to meet me at this bar near here after dark…and maybe we should both go, and try to get some answers from him. I think he knows something about whatever’s been happening here, and we should try to see what he knows.”

Bruce was obviously nervous, but he agreed. Tonight they would have a date with the mysterious bear, and get to the bottom of whatever was going on here once and for all.

Bait and Switch (Part 1)

Commissioned by Jiben2

“What do you mean you’re overbooked? I made this reservation ages ago!” Charles shouted.

“I’m very sorry sir, I don’t know how it happened,” the young woman behind the hotel desk said, “the hotel has two conventions going this weekend, and unfortunately we had too many reservations. We’ve been forced to give out rooms on a first come, first serve basis.”

“You mean to tell me these fuckers get rooms, but I don’t? Every hotel in the area is going to be booked by now! What am I supposed to do?”

“I…Look, let me get my manager, and we’ll try to work something out. One moment please.”

Charles fumed as the woman left, tapping his dress shoe in frustration and looking around the lobby at all the fat hairy men cloistered in groups. A bear convention–how disgusting. Charles might be gay, but he had standards. None of these men had any right to be this naked in public as far as he was concerned. What were the chances that they would book on the same weekend as the most important convention for him this year? He checked his tailored suit in the mirror, moving his gelled hair back into place and trying to calm down. He’d figure something out, he always did. He was tough–a survivor–a climber. It had difficult enough being a gay man in a straight man’s company, but he’d crawled this high. If this convention went well, he might even be looking at another promotion.

The woman returned a couple minutes later, trailing a middle aged manager who looked far too exhausted to deal with this. They rehashed the same discussion–Charles demanding a room, the staff saying there was nothing they could do without receiving a cancellation. He scoffed when they offered to give him makeshift quarters in the basement with the storage, but when he realized they were serious, he nearly exploded. It was soon after that when the man on the couch interrupted.

Charles had noticed him earlier for a moment, long enough to be disgusted by the fact that he had his boots up on the couch cushions like a common laborer–which he might well have been, given how he was dressed. “You know, he could stay in my room. The friend who was going to stay with me cancelled, so I have an extra bed.”

Charles was stunned at the mere suggestion of sleeping in the same quarters as a nasty man like that, so stunned that before he could get a word in to object, the manager, eager to resolve the situation, had agreed and was busy putting it into the system, and handed Charles a room key which he took begrudgingly. It was better than sleeping in a storage closet he told himself. Maybe not better by much–but he could handle anything for a couple of days–he hoped.

“Well, I guess we’re roomies then,” the man said, extending his hairy hand to the shorter, thinner businessman, “My names Bruce.”

“I’m, uh…Charles. Nice to meet you and thanks…I guess…”

“So, shall we head up to the room? I haven’t dropped my stuff off yet–I was just sayin’ hi to some old fuck—uh, old friends.”

“Right,” Charles said, “You know, I’m gay–you don’t have to pretend I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t think I’m at all interested.”

They walked into the elevator, and as the door closed, Charles thought he saw someone, one of the bears, looking at them, but he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, the stare he did catch was a bit…creepy. The ride was silent, though it was obvious Bruce didn’t want it to be this awkward. They divided up the hotel room, and then the bear pulled out a cigar and lit it up right in front of Charles. “Hey! You can’t smoke in here.”

“What do you mean? It’s the smoking floor–I can smoke here if I want to,” Bruce replied.

“Well, at least smoke it out on the balcony–those things are disgusting.”

“You know, you sure could lighten up a bit. I’m the one doing you a favor here, remember…” Bruce grumbled, but headed out onto the balcony to smoke, leaving Charles to set up his laptop and review some work for the convention tomorrow. When Bruce finished he came back in, stinking of smoke, and pulled on his coat. “I’m goin’ out. Don’t wait up, I’ll probably be late tonight.”

“Sure, whatever,” Charles replied, not caring in the least, though as it ended up, late was a bit of an understatement. Charles turned in around ten, sleeping nicely for a few hours until Bruce burst his way into the room loudly, stinking of alcohol and smoke, mumbling about some great guy he’d met in the bar, before collapsing down on his bed where he started snoring loudly. Charles knew he wasn’t going to be sleeping much for the rest of the night, though he did eventually, and when he did, it was fitful–and he dreamed a strange vision.

He was in some undefined space, some grey netherworld, and Bruce was there too, standing in front of him. The two of them started out clothed, but as they approached, the clothes suddenly vanished, and Charles saw Bruce’s cock pointing at him. He tried to stop, but some strange force pulled them closer and closer, their cocks erect, and the tips came together, a powerful magnetism holding them in place. At the same time, their faces came closer and closer, Charles smelling stench of smoke as their lips met, locking similarly, and a powerful shock coursed through him, and the force released them.

He could already feel the dream fading, but he looked down at himself, seeing something was wrong. He was…hairy, hairy like Bruce had been, and his cock wasn’t cut anymore, now hooded with a heavy foreskin, and a couple inches shorter than before. A hand went to his face and head, feeling hair around his mouth, his other hair shorn short, but then the vision was gone, and he slept deep for the rest of the night.

The next day though, was hell as far as Charles was concerned. Nothing seemed to be going right at his convention at all. He woke up late that morning with a raging headache–had he not been so certain that he’d spent the night alone in the room, he’d have thought he’d had one of the worst hangovers of his life. On top of that, his tongue and throat felt strange, and it was a bit difficult to breathe for some reason. He thought he might just be getting sick, but as the day went on, he found it only got worse–not better.

That was only the greatest of the inconveniences at hand though. He couldn’t feel the least bit comfortable in his suit–his hairy body was just so itchy! He’d imagined that he would have gotten used to having this much body hair by now, but for some reason it bugged the hell out of his all day. There was always this little voice, this little question in the back of his mind though, asking whether he should have that much body hair, but that was silly. Of course he was hairy–that’s how he’d always been, right? Though every time he saw his beard in the mirror, he couldn’t help but ask the same question. Something about it just didn’t seem…right.

And finally, he was horny. Not just any horny–really horny. Horny as fuck. And his cock was not pointing him in the right direction. Charles had been plenty gay before, but instead of the clean cut, handsome business types who’d attracted his eye before, now he was drawn to a different sort of man–the burly, hairy older suited gentlemen who were also in abundance at the convention, many with beards of their own which had Charles swooning a bit. Hell, walking through the lobby and seeing all of the bears there was almost too much for him to handle. He’d lost track of how many times he’d had to take a bathroom break just to relieve some tension. All of this seemed so unnatural, but if this wasn’t how he was supposed to act…then what was he supposed to do? Frustrated and confused, the convention and his work couldn’t have gotten finished fast enough, and after a bite to eat, he headed back to the room, eager for an early bedtime.

Back in the room though, sleep was impossible. The headache was simply too great now for him to ignore, and the hours passed fitfully. Charles eventually started pacing the room, hoping to just exhaust himself, when he caught a whiff of a…scent. Something he needed, and needed badly, something coming from Bruce’s side of the room. Not even caring about it being wrong, he started rummaging through the bear’s things, not even knowing what he was looking for, when he found the cello-wrapped cigars. “Yes!” his head screamed–he could barely get the wrapper off with his shaking hands, before cutting the cap (how did he even know to do that?) fumbling for a lighter and drawing in the smoke.

Relief! How he’d never thought he’d find it. How could he have forgotten that he was such a heavy smoker? How…had he even smoked anything before?

The question nagged at him, but not so much that he considered stopping now. Still, when had he smoked last? He honestly couldn’t remember, and this piled on with the rest of the insecurities from the day. His body hair, his beard, his uncut cock, his sudden bearish preferences. Something…something had changed, but what? What was going on? He walked into the bathroom, staring at his reflection, trying to piece it together. The dream from the night before had faded, but left a vague impression. Something…something had happened, something with Bruce…right? But what?

One thing he couldn’t deny was that the cigar smoke was turning him on big time, as much as staring at all the hot, chubby bears had earlier. He started stroking the short, thick shaft, still finding it uncomfortable in his hand, the sensation of his foreskin both familiar and alien at the same time. He was about to finish into the toilet when he heard the sound of the key in the door, and the cough of Bruce coming in.

“Fuck man, didn’t I tell you to smoke those on the balcony?” he said.

“Sorry, sorry,” Charles said, coming out of the bathroom after pulling on some underwear, “I forgot…” His voice trailed off when he say his roommate for the first time that day–his hot, sexy bear of a roommate–fuck! He hadn’t been that attractive before, had he? It was a shame the guy was so smooth and didn’t have a beard, but Charles was willing to fuck almost anything at the moment. “Look…how–how about I make it up to you? You want a blowjob?” he heard himself say faster than he could be embarrassed for himself.

“What, and have my cock stink like smoke for a week?” Bruce said, “Look, I like chasers, but smoking’s a no go. I’ll be back when the fucking air’s cleared. Sorry for interrupting.” He turned and left, Charles pissed that the bear was such a wimp. What was the harm in a little smoke? Grumbling a bit, he headed out onto the balcony to finish, and saw that across the courtyard he had a great view of two orgies which offered plenty to look at. He jacked off twice more, still smoking, though halfway through his second round, he looked over and saw that someone was watching him. He couldn’t make the man out very well, but the attention wasn’t unwelcome. He gave the man a bit of a show, but his cigar was burnt out, and exhaustion proper was setting in. Still, he was happy someone was interested, as he crawled into bed and fell asleep almost immediately, only to dream once more.

Giving Charge (Part 1)

Commissioned by rtrose

It was the night of the Midsummer Gala, the biggest fundraising benefit for the museum where Travis worked. This year, he had been put in charge of the event, and while he’d expected to enjoy the responsibility, the reality of taking charge was a lot less pleasant. The sheer amount of organization required–the invitations, the exhibits, the caterers, the party rental, the squabbling employees–Travis could barely manage a few smiles as the photographers drifted around the room, snapping photos of the attendees.

Still, he had a role to play, and if the museum didn’t bring in a decent amount of revenue tonight, it was his head on the line. He secretly hated events like this, the schmoozing and small talk. It was exhausting, and as the event organizer, he was obligated to interact with all of the big donors who had come tonight, and do his best to get them to open their wallets as wide as possible. He’d just finished an overly long discussion with Emmanuel Garrison, a wealthy rancher outside of town who had been heavily implying that he would be happy to donate more money if the “Garrison Family Legacy” were more heavily represented in the local history exhibit, and Travis didn’t know how much more of this he would be able to take. He just needed a breath of fresh air for a moment, a chance to catch his breath. Glancing around, he spotted an emergency exit door which opened into the back alley, and when he saw his boss looking away, he ducked out with a sigh of relief.

Outside, it really wasn’t much nicer than inside. Even though the sun had long since set, the air was still sweltering and thick with humidity–Travis felt himself start to sweat almost immediately. Still, as uncomfortable as it was, it still was a relief to be out from the crowded cocktail party inside. More than anything, it was a relief to be alone–or at least, he thought he was alone, until he heard a voice call out down the alley, “Evening, man. You out here for a smoke?”

Travis, a bit surprised, looked down the alley and saw a grimy, bearded man in a set of coveralls, leaning up against the brick wall of the museum, a cigarette burning in his hand. Travis felt a wave of disgust looking at the man, but he still couldn’t face going back in there, so he decided to just stay silent.

“Hey, you listening, boy? Or you just deaf?” The man, said, coming down the alley towards Travis.

“No–No, I don’t smoke,” Travis said, mostly sensing that the man wouldn’t let up until he responded, “I just needed a break from the party in there.”

“Oh, so that’s what all the ruckus is about. My name’s Larry.”

The man extended his oil stained hand and Travis accepted it gingerly, giving it a light shake. “I’m…uh, Travis. Nice to, uh, meet you.”

“So you work in there? That’s kind of a ridiculous suit–you a waiter or something?”

“No, I’m an employee of the museum. I’m in charge of outreach and funding…I put on the party going on in there.”

“That’s your party? Well why aren’t you in there enjoying yourself?”

Travis paused, not really wanting to say, but hell, what did it matter? It wasn’t like he would ever see this guy again in his life, once he went back inside. “Well, it’s just…exhausting, I guess. Putting the entire event together, hobnobbing with all the donors, making sure everyone’s having a good time–it’s exhausting. I guess, I just hate being in charge, you know? I can’t enjoy myself when I have all of this responsibility on my shoulders.”

“Oh, is that what’s going on with you? Well, I don’t know why they’d but a little twerp like you in charge–it’s pretty clear to me that you’re the kind of guy who should be taking orders, not giving them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Travis said, but he suddenly sensed that this conversation was heading in a direction he hadn’t anticipated, as Larry came in closer, his smoke and body odor invading his personal space. He tried to duck away but one of Larry’s arms shot out, blocking his way. When Travis swung back around, he came into direct contact with Larry’s cloudy grey eyes…and he felt something being pulled from him, and into Larry. He tried to break the eye contact, but there was nothing he could do. The gaze probably only lasted for a few seconds, but in his mind, it felt like hours. Finally, Larry blinked, and Travis felt control return to him, or, some control. Something felt different–wrong, but he didn’t know what.

Larry, on the other hand, seemed happy as could be, and let out a chuckle, then pushed his cigarette up against Travis’ lips, and said, “Inhale, boy.”

Travis was already breathing in before his head could think about refusing, and the acrid smoke in his lungs made him start coughing uncontrollably. Why had he just done that? He hated smokers and smoking–he’d lost track of how many times he’d promised to himself that he’d never be a smoker–and now he’d taken a massive breath of a cancer stick because some roughneck had told him to? “What–What did you just do to me?” Travis gasped, trying to speak through his smoky throat.

“Why, I’m taking charge, boy–and you’re giving it. Now if I’m not mistaken, we have a party to get back to, isn’t that right?”

“We? But…I mean, you–you–” Travis was trying to refuse, trying to deny him entrance, but the words wouldn’t form. Of course Larry didn’t belong there, but as soon as he’d said it, Travis found it impossible to disagree, or disobey. “I mean–if you go in there looking like that, they’ll–they’ll throw you–us, they’ll throw us out.”

“Hmm…” Larry said, “You may be a twerp, but you have a point. I suppose I can’t go in there in these dirty coveralls, can I?” he smirked, “Now, if I were wearing a fancy suit like yours–then I could get in there no problem. So strip.”

“What?”

“Strip, boy! I hate giving orders twice. Get out of those clothes and give them to me.”

There were so many things wrong with this and so many reasons he shouldn’t be cooperating, Travis had plenty of time to try and get them out of his mouth as he undressed himself in the alley, before handing Larry his clothes, who stripped off his coveralls, “Now boy, dress me up–I haven’t worn a suit in a long time–I forgot how to put one on.”

Trying to swallow his disgust, Travis, naked, began sliding his own clothes onto Larry’s chubby, hairy body. None of the clothes fit very well–Larry was a good three inches taller and probably fifty pounds heavier–but the suit had been a bit big on Travis, which allowed him to find some way to cram Larry into it. “Damn boy, you’re more of a little twerp than I’d thought–we’re gonna have to do something about that later tonight.”

“Look, please stop this,” Travis begged, “I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re doing this, but I’m sorry. Please, just give me back my clothes, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Larry laughed, “Forget about this? Hell no, I love breaking in boys like you–now, you sit tight while I duck in there and scope out the situation. Don’t even think about going anywhere.”

“But I’m naked! What if someone sees me?”

“You got some clothes there–put them on–and smoke another cigarette too–I like a boy with tobacco on his breath,” Larry said, pointing to his discarded coveralls and boots, and again, Travis couldn’t resist pulling on the filthy, oily clothes and lighting up another cigarette while Larry ducked back into the gala. He was gone for fifteen, long, minutes–leaving Travis there, shaking and terrified (though he had to admit, the cigarette did help calm his nerves). He was just starting to think that Larry had abandoned him when he stormed back through the door to the museum with food splattered up and down the front of his suit.

“Dang boy, they have quite the spread in there! I haven’t eaten like that in a long time. Here, I brought you something from the bar so we can have a party of our own back here.”

Larry handed Travis the bottle of whisky he’d taken from the catering company, but he pushed it away, “Please–please hasn’t this gone far enough? Just give me back my clothes–please. I don’t know how you’re doing this, but I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what? That you hate being in charge? Of course you meant it–twerps like you hate being in positions of authority–the only thing you’re good for is doing what you’re told–you’re here to be dominated and controlled and ordered around. It’s what you live for, boy–and you’re gonna love me because following my orders feels so damn good…Now drink up.” He shoved the bottle mouth against Travis’ lips and he drank, the alcohol burning his throat and resting uneasily on his empty stomach, and something else. He did…sort of like it. He did like having this big man telling him what to do. It was so much easier, really, and when he felt Larry’s rough hand slip down the front of the coveralls and start stroking his cock, he felt even more of his resistance drop away. “See that’s a good boy. Drink some more while you and I have a nice chat about how things are going to work from now on.”

Travis listened, and drank. He listened to Larry tell him about how he was going to be obeying his every command from now on. How he was going to serve him, clean his dirty body, drink his cum, beg for his master’s cock up his ass every night and every morning. All of his money, his property would belong to Larry, and Travis was happy about that. He was happy about all of it. Larry would occasionally take a moment to duck back into the party, bringing out plates of food for Travis to eat, and more liquor for him to drink. It was starting to feel natural–and this scared Travis more than anything else. It was starting to feel right.

When Larry told him to get back into his suit, he was confused. He’d grown to like wearing his master’s clothes–the stench which had bothered him so much before was now comforting. His shirt didn’t fit well around his full belly and he was very unsteady on his feet, but he weaved his way back into the gala, still not sure what he was doing. He was…doing what his Master wanted him to do. He walked up to his boss, who was in a deep discussion with Emmanuel Garrison, still discussing the Local History exhibit, and he got down between the two of them, making both men stop in mid sentence.

“Please Sir,” he shouted over the din of the party, looking up at his boss, “Fuck me with your big cock, sir. I’m just a little twerp with an ass aching for a big cock–please fuck me sir, please.” Even he had to admit that he sounded ridiculous, and he heard the rest of the party come to a complete silence around him, his face burning, and without any sort of control, his bladder released, piss streaming into his suit pants. Mr. Garrison smelled it first, and the look of horror on his face as he retreated away from Travis was surpassed only by the look of pure fury on the face of Travis’ boss.

“Travis–what in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Please sir, fuck me sir–I deserve it sir, I’m just a pretty boy twerp who needs his ass fucked so bad–please,” he said, then got down on his hands and knees and pushed down his pants, presenting his ass to his boss and listening to the gasps and shrieks from all the donors in the room.

“Get out!–Get out, and don’t ever come in this building again!” his boss screamed, and that was enough to send Travis fleeing, hauling up his sopping wet pants and he ran out the back door to where Larry was waiting, smoking another cigarette.

“So, did he do it, boy?”

“No sir, he wouldn’t fuck my ass,” Travis said.

“Seem he doesn’t know how to treat a little twerp like you at all. Still, he’s not your real boss, is he? Now me on the other hand,” he said, shoving Travis up against the wall and yanking down his pants, “I know exactly how to deal with a bitch like you.”

The satisfaction of his master’s cock being shoved up his ass did more to seal the deal for Travis than anything else Larry had told him or done to him that evening, and Travis was unable to stop himself from cumming all over the brick wall in front of him, and happily got down on his knees to lick it up after his Master had shot his own load deep up his ass. When he finished, Larry threw another set of coveralls at him. “Put those on twerp–they’re my spares. I don’t think you’ll need that nasty suit anymore.”

Travis did as he was told, throwing his old clothes in a dumpster and pulling on the dingy coveralls. “What…what happens now, Sir?” he asked.

“Now?” Larry laughed, “Now we need to do something about you being such a twerp–let’s head home and see what we can do about that.” He walked off towards a truck parked on the side of the street, Travis following, feeling his stomach begin to churn uncomfortably–though whether it was from fear, eager anticipation, or the load of cum swimming in his guts–he didn’t know, but he climbed into the truck anyway, and into an uncertain future.

Yeah, I’m a computer geek, I work in IT, so what? I enjoy what I do. Sure, I’m not the most attractive guy, I’m pudgy, maybe don’t have the best hygiene, but I get enough action, trust me. I just call it one of my on the job perks.

See, I have access to every computer in the office complex, and I’ve spent years developing my subliminal desktop application. See, there are these tiny flickers on every screen–no one really notices them unless they know what to look for, and I might plant a few suggestions for my fellow employees to follow. Take Rick for example. He’s been working out, and I love his new work clothes–those fatigues really look great. And damn, do I love cigar smokers, they get me hard as a rock in no time…Hey, don’t get me wrong, I love pipes like yours too–and it really looks good with that beard you’re growing for me, trust me.

So yeah, maybe I am a geek–but I have the whole office wrapped around my finger–including you. Now suck my dick, I haven’t got all day.

Source: suxitnnyc