Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 7)

He tied him up and beat him–flogging him at first, but working up to a proper lash, leaving long red welts in his father’s back, working himself up into a froth, his cock…throbbing with excitement, but he knew not to cum too soon. If he came, his father wouldn’t let him live it down for weeks, for a disappointing session with him. He…hated how much he cared about what his father thought of him. That was it, wasn’t it, in a way? He had always cared about what his father thought of him, and now, that strange desire had twisted around into something awful. He wanted his father to like him, and if his father wanted him to be some twisted, abusive top…then that was what Carter would become, for him, at least. It wasn’t what he wanted, he knew that…but then, how did he know that? He didn’t know what he wanted, after all.

The smoke from them both built up, and Carter could stop thinking about it, in the haze, focus on his strikes, and then, once his father was begging him to stop–and meaning it–he released him, bent him over, and fisted him, pummeling his father’s hole until he came all over the concrete floor, and only then, did Carter shove his cock into the now loose hole, working it for a while until he came in deep, his father thanking him, and praising him, and…loving him. Afterwards, they cuddled for a while, Ash whispering the sweetest things into Carter’s ear, telling him what a good son he was, taking care of his daddy like this…and he felt that first spark of terrible pride in him start to blossom, and he tried to crush it before he could even recognize it. He would not like this. He would not stay like this, he would not.

When they emerged hours later, they were both starving. Ash cooked them some dinner, and Carter sat alone in his room–a room he could barely remember sleeping in, now, and thought about what he had just done, and who he was becoming. Who his father wanted him to be, and how it curdled his stomach just as badly as his father’s dreams of yesterday had–even though they were very different. It was like he had fallen through some strange, warped mirror–all the feelings were there, all the frustration, but the context was all scrambled. Mentally, and physically, exhausted after his day, he went down, ate his dinner in relative silence and shame, and went to bed early.

Ashford stayed up a bit later, trying to grapple with what he’d just done, what Pigtown had done to him…but as hard as he tried to muster substantial guilt, there simply wasn’t any. This was what he wanted, in the end, and he was too satisfied with the result to feel particularly bad about it. He…loved his son, and he knew that Carter loved him too, or else he wouldn’t still be here. His rebellion at the moment was just a phase–he’d get over it soon enough, and just enjoy it. After all, Ash knew what was best for them both, he told himself. Upstairs, he thought about pestering his son for another fuck…but decided against it. Best to let him be for a few days, maybe. Another couple of visits to Pigtown next weekend would be what they needed to help set things straight for them both.

And perhaps it would have. After all, by Wednesday, Carter had half-convinced himself that this was, perhaps, for the best in some non-specific way. After all, the sex was hot, and while he’d never really imagined himself as a top, he was already surprising himself at how decent he was at it. It felt…natural, and his dad, while a brat, was a good sub too, and plenty eager of course–that didn’t hurt. Perhaps, come the weekend, after a couple of nights in the pits of Pigtown, with some more distance, Carter could have forgotten about his doubts, and given it a shot. Instead, what happened, was he got put in a group for one of his classes at college with a young, husky fellow by the name of Justin, and things got…more complicated.

The group didn’t have too much time to work in class, but Carter and Justin hit it off as friends right away. Carter had to admit that he’d spent quite a bit of the class already keeping an eye on the handsome cub a few seats over, but had assumed he was straight. In the hall after class, a wink, and brush of his cock with Justin’s hand, and an invitation to lunch suggested otherwise. Lunch was short–the afternoon in Justin’s dorm room went on for significantly longer.

Afterwards, sitting at the dorm window, smoking a cigar into the early evening, Carter told himself this had to be a one time thing. If his father found out he’d fucked someone else…well, he wouldn’t mind, really…but Carter was feeling something else, suddenly, looking over at Justin, who was just giving him baby doll eyes from the covers, telling him that he thought his cigars were pretty sexy…

It wasn’t love, not really. Love couldn’t be this easy. But is wasn’t his father. It didn’t make him feel sick to his stomach, lying in bed with Justin. He suggested that Carter stick around for the night, but Carter made an excuse of some kind that he had to get home. He didn’t remember the lie, later, but he had to tell him something. Still, he promised him he’d be back the next day to work on their project–Justin suggested he bring an extra cigar, because he’d like to give one a try.

Carter’s heart leapt, and ke could barely croak a goodbye, he was so turned on at the thought of fucking Justin, both of them smelling of smoke…

He got home late, and his dad pestered him why–but what could he say, really? He was falling in love with someone else? Ash felt it, felt Carter pulling away suddenly, all over again, and bossed his son into another session, but while Caster performed well…Ash knew something was wrong. Carter wanted something, really wanted something, for the first time in his life, and lying awake in bed that night, he wondered if he had the guts to actually grab hold and take it, his father, and Pigtown, be damned.

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 6)

Carter tried to deny it, but Ashford was certain it had been him. He was the last person he remembered, the person he had gone home with, or who he felt he had gone home with. He’d…begged him, he’d wanted to be his slave, forever, and the man had laughed, but he’d taken him…hadn’t he?

For Carter, the idea was ridiculous. Sure, he couldn’t remember much of the night before, or anything past his first couple of drinks, which was admittedly less than usual, but he’d never done anything like that before. He’d never wanted to do anything like that before. Perhaps…he could imagine someone doing it to him, but he…wasn’t looking for that. He wasn’t there looking for anyone at all, really. He was just there looking to become the person he’d always thought he should be–the man he couldn’t wait to grow into. But who was that, anyway?

That was the question, he supposed. The question he didn’t know how to answer, the question he asked himself as he walked to the bar each night, wondering who he was going to become, excited to find out, but also wondering if any of them would…stick. Afraid that something might stick. The potential was so vast, and men there were so…wild, and he was so new still, and how could he ever know what he wanted, really? How could anyone really know what they want in the world?

“This is my fault,” his father said into the silence.

Carter shook his head, “No, I should have been honest about what was going on, I–”

“I asked for this. I wanted…it wasn’t that I just wanted to know where you were going, Carter!” Ashford said, “I…you were pulling away. Pulling away from me. I didn’t want to lose you, and…and in the bar, all I wanted to do was to find you, wherever you were. It was like…like it knew, and this guy, big guy, he pointed you out, he helped me find you, and…I was happy. I don’t want to be away from you ever again, Carter, I’ll do anything. I’m…your father, but all I want is you now, you’re the only guy I can think about, so…so please don’t leave me.”

“Dad, think about what you’re fucking saying! We can’t–we have to go back, tonight. We have to go back, and…and Rod will be able to do something, but we can’t stay like this. I’m not–I’m not your master, and I don’t want to be, alright? This is fucked up! You know this is fucked, I know you know, in there. You have to push back, alright?”

“That’s…what you said at first, yeah, but not…not what you said last night, son…Sir…”

The word send a shot of excitement right to his cock, and Carter tried not to let on how flustered he was. His dad…had always been able to get under his skin, and into his head like that. He’d been…so apprehensive, those first times he’d had sex with his dad–that, and fall down drunk. It hadn’t really occurred to him then that his father was taking advantage of him, or using him…but soon enough, it didn’t really matter, because…because had started to like it, eventually. How submissive his dad was, how eager he was. They’d started watching porn together, almost always some kind of BDSM, and afterwards, his father would egg him on to try new things–piss play, fisting, CBT, bondage–always with his father as the sub.

“Dad, this isn’t us, this is just what that place does to people! Can’t you see how fucked this is?”

“Well why don’t you do something about it, Sir? There’s all those gags in the basement, and I know how you like to punish me when I’m a naughty daddy…”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Carter roared at him, surprising even himself with the sudden outburst, and his dad sat back, face flushed with excitement. Carter…knew what the fucking pig needed, knew that there was only one way to get him to shut up about it, to quit taunting him like this, but he…he didn’t want to give in. “Fuck, get in the fucking basement.”

“Yes sir!” Ash said, and hurried out of his chair and to the stairs in the hall. Carter just sat there, shaking, unable to believe he was really doing this. He kept thinking otherwise, working his way out of it, but his mouth, and his cock, were betraying him. In the end, as always, the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could go back to trying to pretend he was just a normal guy going to college, not some…unwilling master for his perverse slut of a father, unable to escape this nightmare of a relationship. He got up, and lit himself a fresh cigar–this was going to be a long session, he could already tell. Downstairs, his father was already naked, and dressed in his favorite gear, on his knees, collar in hand, waiting for Carter to come down and put it on him. Carter made him wait, taking his time getting into some leather gear of his own, drawing it out as best he could, but his father enjoyed that too, the suspense. Why not…just leave? He didn’t have to be here, he didn’t have to do this, did he? But he took the collar from Ash, buckled it around his old neck, and fed him some of his ash…and then, things went blurry, almost like they were still in the bar, or like they had brought a bit of the bar home with them, together.

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 3)

The man in his bed pulled his head back up and looked at him–and he saw it now. He’d changed, like everyone did, but it was him. The cheeks were rounder, he had tattoos on both shoulders, and he was much, much hairier than he’d been before, but it was him. It was his own fucking dad. He tried to piece together the night before, tried to remember anything about how this could have happened, but it…wasn’t there. That wasn’t uncommon, really. Usually he half-recalled what happened the night before, while he was in the bar, but the more he changed inside, the less he became himself, the less he remembered the next day. After all, the person who’d done it didn’t exist anymore, except in the bar, he supposed. The only night he remembered was that first one. Everyone remembered the first one, forever. He’d have dreams sometimes, when he hadn’t been to Pigtown for a while. It would be like he was back there again, and when he woke up from them, sheets soaked in cum…he knew he wouldn’t sleep right until he went back again.

“No–that couldn’t have been you, it…he was so big, and…and fuck, his cock…smelled so good, feeding me his ash…” Ashford was rocking gently now, lost in the memory of the night before–the night he’d never be able to forget, and a night Carter would never be able to remember. Carter didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, so he did what he would have wanted, what he hadn’t had anyone to do for him, the morning after that first time. He climbed into the bed with him, and pulled him close, into a hug. Ashford tried to pull away for a moment, but then he shuddered, and started sobbing into Carter’s chest.

It was not the sort of position he was expecting. He had never seen his father cry, not even at the funeral for Carter’s grandmother. He held him awkwardly for a while, waiting for him to collect himself. He calmed down slowly, sobbing less, and sighed. “You…smell like him still. You smell good.”

Carter pushed him away then, not at all comfortable with his father saying something like that to him. “Dad, what the fuck were you doing there last night?” he asked, getting off the bed, “How the fuck did you even find Pigtown?”

“I fucking followed you is how!” he said, “I’ve been worried sick about you. You think I couldn’t tell something was wrong with you?” He shook his head, and then said, “What…was that place?”

“It’s…Pigtown.”

“I know the fucking name of the place! What the fuck…what the fuck did it do to me?”

Carter didn’t really have a good answer to that one. His dad was the first person he’d met who had gotten in without…wanting to get in.

“What…the fuck did it do to you?” his dad asked, looking over at him, “You were…huge. And…”

Carter was happy his dad didn’t finish the thought. He had zero interest in hearing about how he had fucked with his father the night before, and who he’d been when he’d done it.

“Look, you’ll feel better when you get some food in you, alright? Then…then we can talk about it,” Carter said, and headed for the door, “and…I’m sorry. You were never supposed to know about any of this.”

Carter had left the room and was out of earshot, and so he didn’t catch his dad’s soft reply, “Don’t be sorry…I…I wanted it.” Ashford hugged his legs to his chest, and fought the urge to start crying again. Why could he remember it all so well? He’d been so drunk, and yet, so clear headed at the same time. He’d wanted everything, all of it. He’d begged for it. He reached around and felt his back, certain he’d feel welts there, but there weren’t any. Checked his shoulder, where he could still feel the sting of that bear’s cigar burning into him, but nothing. He was untouched, mostly. At least, all the pain he could remember–there wasn’t a literal scratch on him. Maybe…it had been a dream, or partly a dream, because this was real. He threw his legs out of the bed and stood up. Even without a mirror, he could see he was different–not as different as he had been in the bar, after those three leather bears had dragged him inside and forced him to drink and smoke all that stuff with them, before he’d ended up in the backroom with him, with Carter–or at least, with the brute Carter had been.

As unfamiliar as this was though…it felt right. He could remember how he’d been before this, but he could remember this new body better. He went into the bathroom, feeling like he was going to puke again, but didn’t–he would have felt better if he had, he thought. He wanted it out of him, all of this, he didn’t want to remember that, he didn’t want to be in this body, he didn’t…want to keep thinking about how fucking sexy his son was, and contriving ideas to get him to fuck him again, maybe while he was smoking a cigar. Maybe he’d even feed him his ash, if he asked nicely…

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 2)

Carter woke up in bed. His bed–the same bed he was always in, the bed in his father’s house where he’d been sleeping since he was a kid. He…held out hope, every time, that it might be somewhere else–that…he might be someone else, but apparently not yet. That’s what a lot of people didn’t understand about the place, he supposed–or what they wouldn’t understand about it. What people like his dad wouldn’t be able to understand. Normal people. People who were happy–or even those who weren’t happy. Maybe just at least content. Content with the world as it was. But for Carter…this world was terrible. He didn’t fit into it, no matter how hard he’d tried, no matter how well he could pretend…he knew there had to be something else out there. And then, he’d found Pigtown.

That, or Pigtown had found him. Online first, in chat rooms, on old websites. No one knew exactly where it was–unless you knew where to find it. You had to want it, or maybe you had to want something that was there, or maybe it was the place that wanted you first. All the stories said that if you found it, and you went long enough, eventually you wouldn’t be the same person who entered…but Carter was finding out the reality was a bit more complicated than the myth. Sure, the first time…the first time was a rush. You never left the first time the same as you went in. He’d been this skinny little twig of a kid, nervous as hell, standing around in the dim light with all these hulking men smoking cigars and wearing leather, and after that first drink shoved into his hand, the first kiss, the first fuck in the dark–he’d woken up the next day, back in his bed, and he’d been different. Thicker, hairier, with a constant insatiable need to smoke. Not a bear exactly, something more like a muscle cub, but the most important thing, was that it was difference. Progress, according to a certain scale.

But he’d still been here. Here in the same life, going to college, living with his dad–but now, somehow, he was more miserable. He had to hide so much more from everyone. If anything, he felt even worse than he had been before going–and the only place he ever felt better, was there, at Pigtown. He’d started to wonder if it was a grift–if the bar didn’t want things to get better, if it just wanted to eat him alive. He knew it could, he’d seen some of them in there, the ones who didn’t leave anymore, or couldn’t leave. They weren’t…anyone anymore. They were whoever you wanted them to be, whoever the bar wanted them to be. He didn’t want to lose himself though–he wouldn’t let that happen.

Changing after that first time wasn’t impossible–there were other guys at the bar who’d experienced it, and unless they were all lying…he’d get there eventually. He’d become who he wanted to be one day, even without Pigtown, though it would make it easier. It was then, as he lay in bed, thinking about this, that there was a sudden snore beside him. He looked over, and realized, with a bit of horror, that he wasn’t alone in his bed–beside him, rolled away under the covers, was the back of…well, someone else, still sleeping.

“Fuck,” he said, quietly, wondering what in the hell he was going to do. His dad was home, and he always got up before Carter, especially on the weekends. Now he had a stranger, from Pigtown, and he had to try and sneak him out of the house before his dad asked any horrible questions, or did something even more awkward, like invite him to eat breakfast with them. He got up, and threw on some boxers–hoped that the man would stay sleeping for a bit longer–and went out to scout the house, and see where his father was. With luck, he might be reading the paper in the backyard, and give him a longshot chance to sneak this guy out without being seen.

The house, however, was empty. His dad was probably running errands or something, thank goodness. He ran back upstairs, but stopped himself before shaking the man awake. He…knew that face, didn’t he? Was it someone he’d fucked around with before, in the bar? Someone he’d woken up with? This wasn’t, after all, the first awkward morning-after he’d had, but it was the first time anyone had come home with him. He couldn’t worry about this–it didn’t matter who it was, all that mattered was that he got this fucker out of his house as quickly as he could, before his dad got back from wherever he was.

“Hey, Hey!” he said, giving the man a shake, “Get up–you gotta go.”

The man gave a grumble, and rubbed his eyes, before blinking them open. “W-Where…what the fuck…”

“Yo, get up, get your clothes on. My…housemate can’t see you here.”

The man didn’t seem to be listening. He was just…kind of shaking, looking around the room, trying to understand what had happened. “I…I don’t…I didn’t want…” before he could get anything else out, he leaned over the side of the bed, and puked his guts up onto the carpet beside the bed. It was…grey. The guy must have been eating ash–Carter had puked shit up like that before himself, in the mornings after he got a little extra carried away. He sighed, touched the guy’s shoulder, and he flinched away from him, and scooted back away from him, wiping his bearded lips. The man looked at him again, his eyes focusing a bit better on him, and they went wide with shock. “C-Carter?”

Fuck, they did know each other, but from where? “Look, we can catch up later, you have my number, but you have to get out.”

“What the fuck–was that…was that you?” he said, “You…they…you fucked me, you…fucked me, and–and I wanted it, and…” He rolled over to the other side of the bed and tried to puke again, but his guts were already mostly empty, so he just heaved a few times.

Carter was mostly confused. This was the first time someone had reacted so badly after waking up–with him at least. He’d been pretty freaked out like this the first time–had it been this guy’s first time last night? But then how had they known each other? Gears clicked and whirred, and the realization came to him. He tried to deny it. It couldn’t be him. He’d been working late, and he’d left before he’d gotten home. Had he followed him? How had he even found it in the first place? Wasn’t…wasn’t his dad straight, anyway?

No, it couldn’t be his dad, it couldn’t be him…right?

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 1)

All Ashford wanted was for his son to talk to him again. It felt like it had been ages since they’d last sat down together–over a meal, or playing a game, or just out on the back porch–and really talked to one another. When Carter had been younger, he’d never had a problem telling him anything, and Ashford loved listening to him, and learning from him. There was something about how a child saw the world that made you look at things differently, sometimes like you were seeing them for the first time ever, and Carter, too, had always seen his dad as some amazing repository of knowledge. Everyone had to grow up sometime, though, and Ashford could have accepted that, or at least, he’d told himself that he’d need to accept it at some point.

For a time, he’d been able to pass the distance growing between them off as as just that–his son just growing up, and while he was never quite the buoyant, precocious little twerp he’d been before, he still was, well, normal. Normal interests, like a normal boy. But things had started to shift at some point–Ashford had never really been able to pinpoint where exactly, but things certainly hadn’t been easy, after his son had told him he was gay. While Ashford did his best to be supportive, he knew almost nothing about it. It wasn’t that though, but it was something else like that. He started keeping secrets from him, outright lying to him on occasion. Ashford was too afraid to put his foot down, worried he’d just drive him further and further away, but he just kept drifting all the same. Still, when Carter graduated from high school, he could still recognize him. It was sometime during Carter’s sophomore year at college that…something struck him, hard.

Carter had gone to the state school in the city, close enough that he could live at home, and take the lightrail to campus each day. Ashford gave him the space he felt he needed, but did his best to enforce some boundaries too–making him get a job and buy his own groceries and pay for his own transportation. He had a habit of staying out late with his friends, and Ashford didn’t pry into where he was going, or who he was seeing, figuring Carter would bring someone home when he was comfortable doing so. Then, from one day to the next, one Carter left to go to school in the morning, and the next day, a…different young man left his son’s room, came down, and ate breakfast with him at the table. His head…told him he was his son, and he had no trouble recognizing him…but how had he grown a beard overnight? And why did he smell like cigars?

Carter grew more and more distant after that. His grades were suffering too, and the friends he’d been hanging around with before had been replaced with others, older men mostly, scruffier, and not the sort of type Ashford wanted him associating with. On one hand, he was his own person, but didn’t he have some duty as a father to make sure he wasn’t in trouble? Frustrated that Carter wouldn’t talk to him about what was going on with him, wouldn’t explain why he kept wearing all that leather, and who those old men commenting on his facebook selfies were with all that…inappropriate innuendo. In the end, he did it not for Carter’s sake, but for his own peace of mind. He just had to know that he was alright, that he wasn’t in any real trouble. So here he was, on a Saturday night downtown, following his son down a lonely sidewalk, watching the cloud of cigar smoke drifting up as he strode in his leather pants and jacket, looking lonelier than Ashford had ever seen him in his life.

He just wanted to rush up to him and hug him, tell him everything was going to be alright, tell him that no matter what it was that was going on with him, whatever trouble he’d gotten himself into, that he’d help him if he could. He didn’t though. He hung back most of a block behind him, waiting as Carter chatted with a few guys he passed along the way, laughing and chuckling, more than one sharing a kiss with them, and the occasional grope. He’d never imagined Carter doing something like that…maybe he’d never known him as well as he’d thought. He followed him deeper into the city’s gay district, away from the well travelled streets and down into the alleys, where he stopped at an unmarked door–aside from a sign hanging above it with the face of a cartoon pig winking on it, and rang the buzzer. After a moment, the door opened, Carter slipped inside, and then he was gone.

Was that it? What was behind that door? A club of some sort, probably. But what was wrong with that, exactly? He hadn’t been buying drugs. He wasn’t working the street as a prostitute…probably. But none of his questions were answered by this…but maybe, if he went in…and then what? Maybe he should just accept that his son had grown up and away, that there was nothing he could do to fix the distance between them. He was, most of all, tired–and wanted to go to bed. He turned around, when three burly guys turned the corner in the alley and started coming towards him. He froze. The space was a bit too narrow to pass them easily, and he didn’t really want to get into trouble with anyone.

One of them whistled. It took him a moment to realize it was directed at him–that all three of them were staring right at him, coming closer, the one in the back openly groping his crotch. “Now what’s a cute little business bear like you doing in a scummy little alley like this?” one of them said, closing the distance between them, the others circling and pinning him to the brick wall in a semicircle.

“I was just…leaving, actually, if you wouldn’t mind,” Ashford said, and tried to push his way out of the three of them, but when he tried, one of the bears just spun him around, pushed him back to the brick and leaned into him–where he could feel the man’s hard cock pressed against his ass through both of their pants.

“Leaving? But the night’s just getting started. You weren’t gonna leave without going inside, were you? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you around here before, buddy.”

“Get off me, you fucking homo!” Ashford said, and shoved back from the wall, making the bear come away from him laughing. The other bears were chuckling too. He tried to get back out of the mouth of the alley, but before he got very far, two of the bears grabbed him, and the third, who he’d shouted at, stepped very close to his face.

“Homo, eh? And what does that make you?”

“You don’t…I was looking for my son.”

One of the bears whistled, and the bear put on a mocking grin, “Oh daddy, don’t worry about your little boy, I’m sure he can find someone better than you in there. Hell, he probably already has. But I’ll tell you what–why don’t you let the boys and I give you a tour? See if we can find him for you. Or who knows, maybe you’ll find something a little better–us homos have a way of knowing what men are looking for,” he reached out and started rubbing Ashford’s cock through his pants, and with the other hand, grabbed him around the back of the neck and pulled him into a kiss, Ashford trying to pull away from the man’s breath that mostly smelled of cigars, until he pulled away. “Come on guys, let’s help the daddy find a boy–or something better. After all, you never know what you might find in Pigtown, right?”

New You Resolutions (Part 2) [Interactive]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tricks and Treats [Flash Commission]

There were plenty of rumors about Old Man Sanders. Some people said he was dead, and that the house was actually abandoned. Others said he was a shut in. Others claimed he was a wizard. But always, in every rumor, he was known for his extraordinary gifts–though it was never clear what he was giving, or to who. Oliver and Martin, two guys going to college in town, had a drunken dare, a couple of nights before Halloween, and they decided they should head up the hill to the house, and see which, if any, of the rumors were true. They had already decided to go out on Halloween–a lot of the students did, and the neighborhoods humored them, giving them candy for fun. The big night came, and Oliver and Martin got dressed in their costumes–Oliver just put on his football uniform (he’d never been one for creativity) while Martin was wearing a simple robe and scream mask he’d bought at a store. They broke off from their friends around nine, and headed up the lonely hill towards Sanders mansion at the top.

No one was up there with him–most of the candy was to be found close to campus, where the residents were a bit more patient with their older trick-or-treaters. As far as they were concerned, that meant more candy for them. At last, they came to the mansion–it did look abandoned, aside from a spare few lights on in the windows. They let themselves in through the gate, and knocked on the door. To their surprise, a bent old man with a long white beard answered, and they both hollered, “Trick or treat!”

Old Man Sanders did not look amused. He peered at them, through the helmet and the mask…and both young men got the distinct sense that he could…see them, through the garments. “Aren’t you two a bit too old for silliness like this?”

“It’s…just for fun. If you don’t have anything, it’s cool,” Oliver said.

“We just wanted to see if the rumors were true!” Martin blurted out, and Sanders’ eyes narrowed further.

“Oh? Which rumors?”

Neither of them were sure what to say, to that. “Your…gifts,” Martin muttered.

Oliver tried to step away, eager to be gone, but found that his feet were glued to the doormat somehow.

“Gifts, eh? Well, I think I can scrounge up a couple of tricks and treats for boys like you–why don’t you come on in.”

Each of them found themselves shuffling inside the house, and Sanders shut the door behind them. “Now, both of you strip out of those childish costumes, and I’ll give you two something a bit more…grown up to wear.”

Again, neither of them could resist his commands, and they began stripping their way out of their costumes in the mansion’s entryway–and then beyond their costumes, even taking off their underwear. Sanders left, and returned a couple of minutes later with a bundle of clothes, and two pairs of shabby boots hanging from one hand. “Here you go boys, let’s see if you can fill these shoes.”

They did as they were told, and put on the clothes as Sanders handed the garments to each of them. They weren’t the least bit clean, and the clothes weren’t in their sizes at all. Oliver receiver a sleeveless muscle shirt covered with dirt–two sizes too big for him, even though he wore an XXL–and a set of overalls that hung off his large frame and pooled around his feet. Martin, on the other hand, got a heavily stained wifebeater–also much too large for him–and some jeans and suspenders. The jeans were too large at the waist and too short in the legs–the suspenders were too tight for him as well, pulling them up even higher. Lastly, they received the boots–also much too large for them both. They slid their feet into them…and once they were on, the laced tied themselves, and their bodies began to warp, over a matter of moments, until the clothes they were wearing fit perfectly–their bodies had changed to match.

Oliver was now nearly seven feet tall, and packed with muscle from head to toe, nearly bursting from the muscle shirt, the overalls struggling to contain his thick chest and massive thighs. Martin on the other hand, and shrunk–he was five foot two, and had a huge gut pushing out the jeans and suspenders until they were tight–almost too tight. They looked at each other and screamed, while Sanders looked on, enjoying the spectacle. “I suppose I am known for my gifts,” he said.

“Please–please change us back, we’re sorry, we didn’t mean to bother you!” Martin said.

“Aww…but don’t you two want your treats? Come now, let’s all relax a bit, and you can…enjoy yourselves.”

In the next room, Sanders sat both boys down in an armchair across from one another, and then left for a moment, returning with a cigar in one hand, and a six pack of beer in the other. “Here daddy,” he said to Martin, “Drink up–you’re very thirsty, aren’t you?”

He set the beers down, and Martin scrambled for one, popping the tab and chugging the brew down, before letting off a long belch–and as he did, his eyes sagged slightly. In fact, all of him sagged slightly, wrinkles appearing on his face as he aged up into his thirties, grabbed another beer, and chugged that one too.

While he drank, Sanders took the cigar over to Oliver, “Here boy, a special treat for you too–breathe deep now, you need it, don’t you?”

He shoved the end of the cigar into Oliver’s mouth, and it sprang to life. He breathed deep, trying to cough, but he couldn’t–and he felt power rush into him, hair sprouting all over his body, and he moaned around the cigar, eyes crossing a bit as his mind slowed down.

The two men enjoyed their treats for a while, and Sanders’…discussed their lives with them–their new lives. They would both remember being young men–but neither would be able to speak about it to anyone else. They were much happier now anyway. They both loved their gifts, after all. They loved living in the rundown trailer in the trailer park. Marty loved being Ollie’s daddy, lounging about the trailer all day, farting, belching, jacking off, waiting for his son to come home from work–his dumb, massive brute of a son, always chuffing on a cigar–and then Ollie would service his daddy from head to toe. He loved pleasing his daddy, after all, and once a week, they’d both make the trek up the hill, and help take care of Old Man Sanders’ needs too, right? After all, these were some expensive gifts, he’d given them, and they’d both be paying him back for the rest of their roughneck lives.

House of Marvels – Episode 1 (Part 12)

They made their way to the basement, Raury going down first, carefully down the stairs, since he couldn’t quite see them anymore, and he wasn’t even at the bottom of the steps before Eric was there, throwing his arms around him, kissing him, pulling him closer, telling him how glad he was that he was safe, that he was never going to let Raury out of his sight ever again, that he was going to keep him safe here, with him, right where he belonged.

Raury knew that Eric should…terrify him. He’d changed even more since he’d been gone. The rough skin was breaking apart and peeling away, revealing something…else beneath it. A rough red skin that, when it touched his soft flesh, was rough and…hot. In fact, all of Eric was hot. Just standing near him was making Raury sweat. His face was misshapen more and more, his nose pressing flatter against his face, even as his mouth was beginning to push out into a short snout. He…should have been terrified, but instead, looking at him, he was…so sexy. So much sexier than Hunter was, even, and he’d loved his few hours with Hunter earlier.

“I’m so…sorry Master, I’m sorry I ran, I’m just a stupid pig, I didn’t know better, but I’m back, I’ll never leave again, I promise.”

“Hush now, everything is going to be fine now,” Eric said, “You’re back where you belong–go sit on the couch and wait for me–we still need to finish what we started earlier, right?”

Raury nodded, and waddled over to the couch in the middle of the room. Hunter had come down the steps while Eric and Raury had embraced, and now Eric turned to him. “My Hunter, my clever, strong, beautiful Hunter…thank you for bringing him back to me.”

“Of course Master, I’ll never fail you again, I swear it.”

“You never will, I know that–but you deserve a reward for your service. You…you should be more than just…another. You’re my first, you will be…more…” he took a long, thoughtful draw from his pipe, stepped close, and fed his thrall the smoke, and like before, Hunter felt…power and energy flow into him. He grew taller still, until he was seven feet tall–a few inches shorter than Eric was now. Muscle packed on his frame, stark silver hair all over his body, his skull entirely bare, a thick grey beard around his mouth…but he also felt the smoke in his mind, unlocking it, quickening it.

The truth was, ever since Master had first fed him the smoke, he had felt…dull, like his mind was running a few gears lower than it usually did. Now, however, he found it running faster than it had before, insight and thought speeding through at light speed. “A cunning Hunter is the most dangerous of all,” Eric said, when he pulled away, “and I need you at your most cunning for what comes next.”

“Thank you Master, you know I will serve you, do whatever I can for you.”

“I know–go, I hunger, and this one is hungry too, I am certain. Prepare us all a feast while I tend to this one, and teach him his proper place here with me.”

Hunter slipped away, the wooden stairs groaning under his new weight, and he nearly hit his head on the doorway at the top, but caught himself in time. Eric turned and went to the couch where Raury was sitting and joined him, running his sharp nails over his tight clothes, cutting them away while Eric panted, his cock aching for his Master. “You…you wanted to play a game, before?” he muttered.

“Games,” Eric laughed, “No–I’m done with games.”

“Then–”

Before he could say anything else, Eric took a deep breath from his pipe, leaned in, and pushed the smoke into Raury’s throat. He was well practiced now, and he inhaled it deep…but it was different than it had been with Hunter earlier. The smoke was hot and fresh, drilling deeper into him, suffusing him, changing him. He felt it, he felt his body…relax. He didn’t grow like before–it was more like the fat on his body lost it’s structure. His somewhat firm gut sagged lower, as did the fat around his arms and legs, his triple chin under his long beard, his jowls. His face aged, growing wrinkled, with thick crows feet around his eyes. His slightly receding hairline pushed back further still, leaving only a thin horseshoe fringe, and his beard lengthened and turned a stark white–as did the rest of the hair on his body. But as old as he felt, he didn’t ache or hurt–he just felt so, impossibly heavy. So heavy he didn’t want to stand, or walk, or even move. Instead he sagged into his Master, allowing him to support him as the color drained from his eyes until they were an empty white void. His mind was empty too–there were only…needs. Hunger. A thirst for Master’s smoke. An aching horniness and desire to be fucked. That eternal inertia of his own mass.

“Such a handsome daddy you make,” Eric said, “But what should I call you?”

“Anything,” he said, his voice raspy and dry, almost too quiet to hear across the room, “Anything Master. I’ll be anything for you.”

I’m going to call you Tubb.”

Tubb nodded. It meant little to him, but he no longer had any other name, and receiving anything from his Master was enough to make his small, shriveled cock throb underneath his fat.

“Tubb, yes–so much of you here. You were very bad Tubb, for running away. I’m going to have to punish you, you know…but you like that, don’t you?” Eric said, running his claws across Tubb’s soft fat, hard enough to scratch, a bit of blood welling up behind them. He flinched, his entire body jiggled, but he did…enjoy it. Master licked the wounds, tasting his blood, and the skin sealed up again, good as new as soon as the smoke from his breath touched them. Then, Eric played harder, biting and clawing–sometimes shallow, sometimes deep, always healing him quickly, and Tubbs just laid there, enthralled to the sensation of his Master’s punishment, unable to believe that any real torture could drive him to such delirious heights of arousal–at least, until Hunter came back down with the feast.

It was massive–Hunter had cooked nearly everything he’d kept squirrelled away in the fridge and cabinets, because he could sense that this was something special. Eric ate first–he was still ravenous from his growing frame–and all Tubbs could do was watch his Master gorge himself, stuffing the rare, and nearly raw meat down his fanged gullet, and he wanted it. He wanted…to get bigger. So big, he couldn’t move. It felt like everything else had disappeared from his mind, except for that one singular desire–and when Eric finally slid over and started feeding him, Tubbs ate with all the gusto he could manage, hoping to impress his master with his suddenly bottomless hunger. Hunter just watched, until Eric told him to walk around behind Tubbs and fuck him while he ate–which he did happily, glad that he wasn’t being punished for his earlier…indiscretions with Tubbs back on campus. When he finished, Eric made him trade places, feeding Tubbs while Eric had his pleasure in his newest daddy’s hole, and the sensation of his Master’s cock filling his fat ass, making the rolls of fat on his now old body shake to and fro…it was all Tubb’s ever wanted from life. All he could possibly want, in his dull, empty mind, concerned only with pleasing his Master.

The feast lasted for hours, and after, while Hunter inhaled the scraps left behind by his Master and Tubbs, Eric relaxed against his blubbery daddy, pleased with how warm he was, inhaling more smoke from his pipe…surprised by how exhausted he was, suddenly. Changing Tubbs like that…it hadn’t been like Mr. Fields. It had cost him…something. Some energy he hadn’t even known he had, and he could already sense he wouldn’t be able to do it to someone else for quite a while…still, he craved more. He’d thought that one more would have been…if not enough, at least a number where he could rest. Instead, it had only lit is greed further on fire. He wanted more daddies, he needed more daddies. So many that he lost count, so many he’d never have to worry about losing a single one…all of them in the entire world, even. He took a deep breath from his pipe, sucking his smoke deep inside him, and felt…something spark there, in his chest, like he’d sucked down a cinder or a spark. While it should have concerned him…it didn’t feel bad. It felt…rather nice, actually, like it belonged there, and he beckoned Hunter over to his side with one clawed finger.

Eric…knew of other daddies. Daddies he coveted. Men from the school, professors and administrators mostly he’d encountered and harboured…fantasies over for longer than he cared to admit. He no longer needed to covet though–no, now was a time to take. They were his, he’d claimed them with his lust, and he would own them as sure as he owned Hunter and Tubbs. They would be happy here, serving their proper Master as good daddies should, and Hunter would fetch them for him. He would need to be careful, and he would have to be cunning. They couldn’t disappear all at once, for that would raise suspicion, and there needed to be no evidence leading anyone here–not until Eric was strong enough to defend his horde properly. Once he was…finished, once he was everything he needed to be, then they could show the world what he was, but for now…Hunter would have to be careful. Hunter was happy for the challenge. While being outside had been…terrifying in some ways, knowing that if he was away from master for too long he would perish, it had also been…exhilarating. The hunt, the capture…he wanted to taste that joy again, more than anything. And so, the next evening he emerged again, lungs full of smoke and a list of names in the pocket of his sweats. He headed for campus, ready to bring his Master the daddies he craved–knowing that with each one he brought, Master would reward him handsomely as well.

House of Marvels – Episode 1 (Part 11)

“M-Mr. Fields?” Raury muttered, seeing hints of the older man in the stranger’s face, but so much was different as well.

“Don’t worry–we have a little while. You have a room here, don’t you? Is there anyone there?”

Raury shook his head no.

“Good. Take me up there, with you, and we can talk about what a bad thing you did, and how you can make it up to Master.”

Raury knew he should run, but it was so much better to…obey. He had to do what the smoke said, after all…didn’t he? He turned around and unlocked the door to the dorm while Hunter gathered up the bags of food, and followed him inside. Raury’s room was down in the basement, and thankfully they didn’t pass anyone along the way. Raury opened up his room, and Hunter pushed him inside, immediately letting loose a long exhale, smoke pouring from his nose and mouth into the air of the small room, and he breathed a little easier. Once it was dark, they would return to Master together, which gave him plenty of time to punish him properly.

“Did…did Eric do this to you?” Raury said to Hunter, fondling himself without even realizing he was doing it. “What…what did he do to us?”

“Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing with that mouth of yours?” Hunter said, pulling a wrapped hamburger from one of the bags. He took off the paper, walked to where Raury was standing, and pushed it to his mouth. Raury devoured it, and somehow it tasted…better than it had back in the dining hall. Something about the smoke in the air, something about the smoke the stranger had fed him, he ate it in five or six bites, and felt his stomach growl in need…and swell slightly larger.

He shook his head, “No…I don’t…don’t make me bigger, please…”

“No? Then why did you have all of this with you? What were you going to do with it then?”

He fed him more before Raury could find words to speak, and after that, Raury didn’t seem to be able to find anything to say at all. He just…ate, and ate, and ate, whatever the man gave him, did whatever he told him to do, his mind slowing to a crawl, the man telling him he was stupid. So stupid for leaving, so dumb for forsaking their master. Just an animal–too stupid to talk, too stupid to run anymore, too stupid to think for himself–from now on, the only thoughts he was going to have were the thoughts Master allowed him to have. Hunter told him how handsome he was becoming, how much Master was going to enjoy him, all of him, how proud he should be of himself and his gluttony.

Before too much longer, the clothes he was trying to wear were ripped away from him, and Raury found himself shoved over the side of the bed, and then Hunter was inside him, raping him, fucking him–what did it matter? He was stupid, dumb, couldn’t be trusted to think for himself. It was good Hunter had come to get him, after all, he didn’t even know what was good for him. Didn’t understand how much Master loved him, didn’t understand how much he needed him. He felt…terrible, remembering what he did back at the house, running away like that. He’d never run again, no–no, he didn’t want to run again, he just wanted to go back.

Hunter came deep inside Raury’s ass, and then Hunter pulled his clothes on and took Raury’s keycard and phone, before pushing a bit more smoke out into the air of the room. “Stay here–I’ll be back in half an hour or so. Don’t make me hunt you down again–you know how much that will upset Master.”

Raury nodded from the bed, and then Hunter slipped out, leaving him alone again…and he thought. Or rather, he tried to think. He tried to make his mind do…anything, but he couldn’t seem to do much of anything at all. He rolled up, forcing himself up to a sitting position, and couldn’t believe how…huge he was now, even larger than he’d been back at the dining hall, but it didn’t terrify him anymore. This…was how he was supposed to look. How a stupid pig like him should look…though he still didn’t look quite right. He was too…young still, but Master would fix that, probably. Master could do anything, after all. Master was so smart, and handsome, and the most important being in the entire world. He found some cold food still in the bags and ate it, feeling his body swell a bit larger still, and it wasn’t long before Hunter returned with a shopping bag of clothing–some for him, and something much larger for Raury. It was dark out at this point, so they got dressed–Raury struggled, both with how slow his mind was running, and how big he had become, and so Hunter had to help him out, but when they were dressed, they left.

Around midnight, they arrived back at the house, and once inside, Hunter breathed a great sigh of relief, the remaining smoke pouring out of him into the already hazy air. He’d made it. He’d made it, and he’d…succeeded. Raury, too, felt better being back here. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he’d even left in the first place. He still hadn’t learned what game it was that Master wanted to play with him–and while he wasn’t sure he was smart enough to play it, he would try, for him. He’d do anything for him, after all–Hunter told him he had to, after all, and whatever Hunter told him to think…he’d think.

House of Marvels (Part 10)

“Raury would you get a fucking hold of yourself?” Sam shouted at him, “I just watched you pack on…I don’t fucking know how many pounds, and the only thing you can say is that it feels good? What the fuck happened in there? What did he do to you?”

“He didn’t…I mean, he…” Raury said, trying to focus, and trying to pull his hands away from himself, but it just felt so…good. “I don’t really remember. He…kissed me, and blew all this smoke into me from that pipe, and I ran. I haven’t felt right since, but…but I do feel a lot better now, than when I was coming here.”

“Are you kidding me? Fucking look at what just happened to you!”

“I don’t know, alright! I don’t…I can’t explain it, and I’m still hungry, and…and horny too…” Raury was groping himself more now, one hand still on his gut, while the other had moved beneath it, fishing around for his cock. It was a bit harder to find, buried as it was with all of this new fat, but that, too, sent a little thrill through him, and only made him hornier still. “You, uh, wanna go fill up another tray for me?” he asked Sam.

“You need help, Raury, we need to get you to a doctor, and figure out what the hell happened to you, and we need to get Eric help too. That wasn’t normal, what was happening down there. I’ve never seen Eric smoke a pipe before–do you know where he got it?”

“I…I think Jamie mentioned…something…fuck, if…if I had some more food, I could think better, I’m already hungry again…”

“Come on, get up. Let’s at least get you to the clinic.”

“No, I’m…I’m ok, honest, I think it’ll go away on its own.”

“How in the hell could you possibly know that?” Sam said, “This–this is insane, you realize that, right?”

“Just…just leave me alone, alright? I don’t know what’s happening, and you’re not fucking helping.”

“Raury, come on, let me take you to a hospital.”

“No, just…just…I just need some space, and I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, when I feel better, alright? We’ll…we’ll figure out what to do then.” Raury coughed again, a deep hacking cough this time, and again, a tiny wisp of smoke escaped him, slid through the air, and into Sam’s mouth. The taste was slight, barely even noticeable, but Sam felt a sudden sense of ease wash over him, the same as he’d felt down in that basement, but far fainter. He didn’t know why he was arguing with his friend, really–Raury would probably be fine the next day. If he wanted to be left alone…then he’d do that.

“Alright, but tomorrow, ok? Meet me for breakfast at nine, and if you aren’t…smaller, I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“Ok, ok,” Raury said, “But it’s going to be fine, I…I promise.”

He didn’t sound particularly confident about that, but Sam was already turning to leave. Raury didn’t really understand his friend’s sudden change of attitude, but it was a relief. He…had needs, and he didn’t really want Sam to witness them–or anyone to witness them. He got up and went to the dining hall again, made a second round through, getting just as much food, but taking it all to go this time, and then left, heading for his dorm room. He’d gotten lucky this year, and managed to snag a single for himself, and the privacy was amazing. He hurried as quickly as he could, breathing heavily, thighs rubbing, horribly aware of just how ill fitting his clothes were now, but that all could wait. He needed to eat, and he needed to jack off–after that, he could worry about the rest.

He was so preoccupied, that he didn’t notice Hunter behind him on the path, steely eyed, a bit of smoke escaping his mouth every time he exhaled. Hunter had found him easily, but hadn’t wanted to risk confronting him in the dining hall, especially with the other one there. He would have to be taken care of at some point, of course, but he wasn’t his target just yet. Thankfully the other one had left, and now Raury was alone–and once Hunter got his hands on him, he knew he would have no trouble convincing the big man to come back to their Master’s lair, and stay there for a good, long while. Of course, he needed to be punished for his escape, and Hunter could take care of that as well. He felt his cock swelling in the front of his tight sweatpants, a couple of students staring at it as he passed, but Hunter didn’t notice. All of his attention was on his prey.

Raury had to set his food down to find his keycard for the dorm. Hunter checked for an witnesses, saw none, and he swept in, shoving Raury against the brick and pressing his mouth to his before he could scream, pushing the smoke master had given him into his mouth. Raury tried to cough, but Hunter was too forceful–Raury felt the flood of pleasure, moaned into Hunter’s smoky mouth and began kissing him back, the smoke taking all of his other fears and concerns away.

“Found you–you didn’t think you’d be able to get away, did you?” Hunter said.