Caption: Truer Words #4 – Cuck

“The new neighbor? Lucas? No I wasn’t gonna invite him, I know a cuck when I meet one. Told me not to use the word bitch when I talk about my wife, I’ll fucking call my wife whatever I want! These young millennials don’t have the fuckin’ balls anymore, just letting women walk all over them. Well I know what my wife likes, right?” Ryan laughed, and the rest of the guys from the neighborhood around the poker table laughed too. Only Ryan thought he heard someone say something in response, which was:

“Truer words were never spoken.”

Ryan got home from work the next day, tired and horny. He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted a fuck before dinner or after, but when he walked into the kitchen where his wife, Martha, was usually cooking his dinner, there was nothing. Not a pot on the stove, nothing at all. Confused, he went through the house, then upstairs, where he found her in the bathroom in a dress and putting makeup on, like she was planning on going out somewhere.

Before he could yell about there not being any dinner for him, he felt like something had kneaded him in the nuts, and he bent over in pain for a few moments. When it had passed, he opened up his slacks, looked down, and saw, to his horror, that a chastity cage had appeared around his cock and balls.

“I’m going out tonight,” Martha said to him, “Been needing a real dick lately, and I’m just tired of looking at your ugly mug everytime I’m home.”

“Yes dear,” Ryan heard himself say, and the words sounded so…weak. His voice a bit higher, with a little lisp he’d never had before.

“I’ll use the credit card on the hotel too. There’s dinner in the freezer, and I already went ahead and called the boys for you. I know how you like company when I go out for the night.”

Martha made him zip up her dress, hand her the keys to his mustang (he had been the only one who could drive it, but now it felt natural that she should have the keys, of course) and watched her go into town. He, meanwhile, went and found a frozen dinner to eat, and when he’d finished, he heard the doorbell. He opened it up, and there was Lucas, his new neighbor, with a leer plastered on his face. “There’s the cuck–come on, I wanted to be early, while you’re still a little tight. What the fuck are you doing still in your fucking clothes, you fucking loser?”

Ryan apologized, stripped as fast as he could, and followed Lucas upstairs into the guest bedroom–only Martha could have a guest in her bed, after all. Ryan was humiliated, showing off his caged cock to his new neighbor, who bent him over and fucked him right there on the bed–and he heard the sound of the front door opening regularly, as all of his neighborhood friends arrived for a turn at one of the cuck’s holes while his mistress was away, getting satisfied by a strange man in a hotel room on her cuck husband’s dime.

TPC – Chapter 2.10

Chapter 10 – Emptied Out

Richard found himself dragged down some concrete steps into the basement of the house where Barry had driven them. It was not his house–where in the hell was he? He tried to focus on what was going on around him, but it was difficult. He never drank that much, but Barry had just kept filling his glass from all those pitchers, and he was such a good guy, he hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. Now he was here, in some strange basement, with two guys cutting his clothes off before strapping him down to a table.

“Good evening Richard, my name’s Ian, how are you tonight?” one of the other men said, looming over him.

“I don’t, what are you doing to me? I didn’t want to come here.”

“It’s going to be ok Richard, trust me, alright?” Barry said, coming around to the other side of the table. “You know I would never steer you wrong.”

“I…but what am I doing here?”

“You’re helping me out, Richard. You like being a helpful guy, and you’re helping my friend here out too. It’s just a little test is all, everything will be just fine. All you have to do is trust me.”

Richard nodded, but that didn’t do much to alleviate his fear.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve brought me then,” Ian said, and placed his hands on the side of Richard’s head.

What happened after that was difficult to explain. He felt something push into him, into his mind, and start pulling on strings, poking around into various nooks and crannies. It wasn’t a physical sensation, but it was pleasurable. Richard let out a moan, and when the man pulled his hands away, he was embarrassed to realize that his cock had gotten fully erect right in front of them both.

“Well damn, this is some good stock you’ve brought along. I didn’t think it would be quite this good.”

“So it’s worth something?” Barry asked.

“Oh, I can find a buyer for a lot of this, for sure. You’ll get your cut too, of course. Finder’s fee. Your promotion, and I’ll throw in a little extra too, since it looks like you got a taste of a little bit of what else I can do tonight.”

“Fuck, you can make this…permanent?”

“It won’t be quite as intense, but it’ll be there. What ends up as waste material is the more…intense stuff. I’d explain it if I could, but this is all new, cutting edge shit.”

“No kidding, how…how is any of this possible?”

“Ask Pigtown,” Ian said. “It’s been a wild couple of years.”

“I don’t–did I do ok? On the test?” Richard asked, “Why did that feel so good?”

“You did great,” Ian said, “But this next part is more important, alright? So just relax. It’ll all be over before you know it. If you thought it felt good before, just you wait, bud.”

Richard lifted his head up, and watched as Ian took a strange tube from the cart beside him, and attached it to his cock. It was a flexible silicone sleeve with a tube coming out the top, but the bottom sealed around the base like a vacuum. “Alright, let’s start off with the finder’s fee,” Ian said, flipped a switch, and Richard gasped as the milker on his cock started sucking at it, making him shudder and buck.

Ian came around behind his head, put his hands on Richard’s temples again, and the same sensation happened as before, but more focused. Ian wasn’t looking through everything all at once this time, instead, he focused on Richard’s work at the office. Not just his work, exactly. His promotion. He saw himself in Evan’s office, getting his softball interview, already knowing he was a shoe in for the position. The team congratulating him. It was more than just that though–it was his charisma. His confidence. His trust. All of it was being bundled up and pushed lower. Down into his neck and then his chest, deeper and deeper until he felt all of those memories and emotions and sensations down in his balls, which were churning more and more as the milker tugged on his cock. The pleasure grew more intense then, and Richard couldn’t stop it as he came–and when he did, he felt all of the memories and thoughts he’d had pushed down there forced out as well, and by the time he realized he was losing them, he no longer could remember what he’d even lost.

“And there it is,” Ian said, holding up a vial that he disconnected from the end of the milker. It looked like a load of cum, but it was shimmering in a way that Richard had never seen before. He knew that what he’d lost was in there, but couldn’t articulate what, exactly, it was. “Usually I’d dehydrate it, but it’s just as potent now. Go home, drink it up, and go to sleep. You’ll feel everything in the morning. If you have an issue, contact me.”

“What…what’s gonna happen to him?”

“I already have a buyer lined up, don’t worry.”

“Like…” Barry was thinking slavery, but he didn’t really want to know. “Look, thanks, really.”

“No, thank you–you enjoy that,” Ian said, “You earned it.”

Richard watched as Barry took the vial from Ian, and left up the stairs without so much as saying goodbye to him. “Wait, he’s…he’s my ride,” he gasped out, still riding the wave of that massive orgasm.

“Oh don’t worry about that, I’ll make sure you get home safe and sound,” Ian said, “But we still have more to get out of you first.”

“What?” Richard asked, but before he could get another word out, Ian turned the milker back on, and he shuddered. “Wait, it hurts, I…”

“Hush now, it’s going to feel so good, just trust me. Now, what next?” Ian said. He placed his hands on his head again. “I know a few closet cases that would love a good beard.”

This time, Richard felt a different set of memories being pulled to the front of his mind. His wife. His two kids. His family. The house where they all lived together, everything he could remember about all of them, their likes and dislikes, family vacations together. This he clawed at, trying to keep it in his head, trying to keep it from sliding down, but the pressure was immense, and the milker on his cock was relentless. He begged and pleaded with him to stop, but Ian just cooed back at him, talking to him like he was a child, telling him everything would be just fine soon enough. Again he came, and he tried as hard as he could to hold onto some of it, any of it, but it was gone, and he was left shuddering on the table, tears in his eyes, trying to remember what he felt so sad about. Ian watched as the wedding ring disappeared from Ian’s finger, all of his marriage now held in a second vial. He detached that one, and put on another.

“No, please, not again.”

“Don’t worry Richard, don’t you want to feel good? This feels so good.”

Ian continued the process for the next hour or so, filling vial after vial with everything in Richard’s head he could turn a profit on. He pulled out his education, and bottled it. He pulled out his upper class background, and bottled that. He started working on his body next. He bottled two decades of youth from him, watching Richard go from 25 to 45 in a matter of minutes. He stole his quick metabolism, and his body expanded, packing on close to fifty pounds of fat in a matter of moments. He stole his brow, jawline, a few inches of his height, and whatever charm he’d had left after giving most of it to Barry, and lastly, he milked away half his six inch cock and balls, leaving him with a modest package buried in a new fat pad. Richard had long since passed out at this point, and barely stirred as Ian pulled the milker off his now thick, short cock, and gave his new chubbier body a feel. Hugh had watched all of this in silence, always amazed at what Ian could do, and feeling a little jealous of the skill that had developed in his friend over the last few year and change. He’d get a commission from this one too, at least, and the job wasn’t quite finished yet anyway.

“Alright Richard, time to wake up, you did great,” Ian said, cracking open some smelling salts and waving them under his nose, making him sputter awake.

“I…what happened, where…where am I, I–” Richard said, his voice deeper and slower now, more ponderous.

“Everything is fine, Richard. You’re dehydrated. Go ahead and drink this up,” Ian said, and handed him a little glass of water. It shimmered a bit–he’d put in a little bit of a mix–some muscle, some construction knowledge, a good dose of submission and homosexuality of course. Pigtown would take care of filling in the rest soon enough, but that would get him ready for his new role come morning. After all, plenty of folks in Pigtown needed bodies for work, and Richard would be doing plenty of that from now on.

He took the glass and drank it down in a few gulps, his eyes sparkled, and then dimmed again as he collapsed back on the table, shaking a bit, and then settling down. Ian pulled out his phone and made a call, “I got your goods, ready for pickup,” he said. Twenty minutes later, they were helping the now much heavier Richard out of the basement, and into the back of a pickup truck, which drove off with him into the early morning.

“Looks like a good haul,” Hugh said.

“Fuck, I haven’t had a guy like that in ages. We don’t get fellows like that around here anymore.”

“Well you sucked most of them dry.”

“Shut up. I have a feeling that Barry could be a very good contact for us in the future. Remind me, next week, to touch base and see if he’d be interested in helping us out with acquisitions.”

“Hunting, you mean.”

Ian glowered at him, “What’s with you, Hugh? You’ll get your cut, and more waste to sell once I process everything.”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Hugh said, “I’m just tired is all. Gonna head home and get some sleep.”

Ian waved goodbye, and went back down into the basement. This was the harder part, really–refining the product. He’d given Richard the raw stuff, and it worked just fine, but it could cause some messy situations if you weren’t careful. For a little shift like that though, it wouldn’t be a problem, he was sure.

Want more Pigtown Chronicles? Support me over on my Patreon, and you can get early access to new chapters, along with loads of other content!

(Caption) Another Flubbed Spell

October Caption Challenge (6/31)

Derek never found out for certain why, exactly, his father and uncle had fallen out. It had happened when he was ten or so, around the time his uncle had divorced Derek’s aunt. His mother thought it was ridiculous, but whatever the reason, it was embarrassing enough that his father refused to talk about it. Derek had always liked his uncle, and despite the fact that he knew it upset his dad, he still went over to work on his Uncle’s farm during the summer, and the two had gotten rather close. He was close to twenty now, and had even asked his uncle about it, but he’d been as tight lipped as his dad was about it. So, when Derek had found the ancient book of spells in the library, he’d decided that a decent test would be if the book could help resolve the difficulties between his dad and uncle.

The language was difficult, and Derek had only barely graduated high school, but he found a spell that might do the trick. Something about helping people understand each other better, bringing their fates into realignment. He didn’t quite know what it meant, exactly, but he cast it one night–and when he woke up, he and his mom discovered that his father was nowhere to be found. When Derek suggested he might be at his Uncle’s place, she shook her head–and finally told the truth. Derek’s uncle had come out as gay, and divorced his wife. Derek’s dad had never been able to forgive him for it, both for the divorce, and for lying to him for all of those years. Derek, however, was certain that his spell had done something. He got in his truck and drove out to his uncle’s farm, where sure enough, he found his dad’s truck parked as well.

He used his key to get into the farmhouse, and promptly dropped his keys on the ground, when he saw the two men in front of him.

They were his dad and his uncle…mostly. But something was wrong–their clothes, their facial hair, the fact that the air reeked of sex and both of them were kissing heavily. “What the fuck are you doing?” Derek said.

But when his uncle looked at him, Derek felt something take hold–the spell, it turned out, was still hungry.

“Don’t be upset nephew, just relax,” his uncle said, beckoned him over, and Derek found his feet shuffling forward. “Take off those clothes of yours, no need to be so nervous and buttoned up–you understand, don’t you? Just like your Daddy does?”

Derek moaned, stripping off his clothes, and before he could really process it, he was on his knees between them, worshiping one cock and then another, feeling the leather gear wrap its way around him, the collar last, locking around his neck, signalling to everyone that he was enslaved to the passions of his father and his uncle.

That evening, he tried to disentangle himself from the sex, caught a look at himself, and was horrified at the hairy, butch fuckpig looking back at him, cum drooling down the inside of his thighs as he stood there. But he needed to get to the book, didn’t he? Figure out how to fix this? But they weren’t on his uncle’s farm anymore–the small town hadn’t taken well to their incestuous triangle, but the city had suited them all just fine anyway. The book ended up back in a library eventually, awaiting the next victim to approach.

(Caption) Method Roleplay 2

October Caption Challenge 3/31

Warning: Contains some gay to straight content, and heavy humiliation

Intensify your sex life! Make your wildest fantasies your own reality! Anything is possible with method roleplay!

Anthony and Sam had always liked a little bit of roleplay in their sex, just to keep things exciting, but neither of them had ever felt like it was all that…immersive. They just had a hard time taking each other seriously for some reason, and half the time would end up in giggles by the end of it. When Anthony showed Sam the ad he’d seen on a porn site, he thought it would be good for a chuckle–besides, the file was free to listen to, what was the harm?

They listened, and while neither of them could really recall much of what it had said, when it was done, they were sure it was a joke–but Anthony had a scene he’d been wanting to try for a while, but he was a little afraid that Sam might think it’s too silly. “I want you to pretend you’re a married man, and I’m just a little whore you like you use when she won’t put out,” he finally confessed, and as he’d expected Sam laughed at him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t intrigued by the idea. So Anthony dug through their closets to dress him up for the part, settling on a western shirt, some old jeans, cowboy boots, camo suspenders from an old halloween party at some bar, and as a joke, he stuck a toy cigar in the breast pocket as well.

“Alright, go down and get in your car, sike yourself up a bit. Door’s unlocked, I’ll be in the bedroom, like usual Daddy…”

Sam did as he was told, a little self conscious in his outfit, hoping the neighbors didn’t notice. He went down and got into his car, a little sedan–not very Daddy, but oh well–got in, and began talking himself up a bit.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” he started, “Go to work at the fuckin’ factory all damn day, and when I come home she has…has the fuckin’ nerve to tell me she’s too damn tired. Like hell she’s too damn tired, spends all fuckin’ day on that phone a hers, that I have to pay for, can’t even clean up the fuckin’ house.”

He groped the front of his jeans, not really noticing the grease stains that had appeared on them, or on his shirt, or the beard that had spread across his face.

“Oh well, at least the faggot knows better than to tell me no. Hole’s tighter too–even though I damn well know he’s had every fucker’s cock in it within fifty miles,” Sam said, sneered a bit, and got out of the car. He felt…confident. Horny. Ready to fuck for sure. He pulled his cigar out of his pocket, clipped it with the scissors he kept on his keychain, and lit it with his lighter as he climbed the stairs to the faggot’s apartment. The door was unlocked like usual. Inside, he slipped the suspenders down long enough to take off his shirt, and then pulled them back up. Faggot always liked having Daddy a little dressed up in the bedroom. He unzipped his fly and pulled his cock out the front, before heading down the hall to the faggot’s bedroom.

It was dark inside. From the light of the hallway, he could see him there, lying face down on the bed, ass up, ready to get bred. Much to his surprise, the sight turned his stomach a bit, which almost threw Sam out of it. Why was the sight of him…of…Anthony, of his husband, suddenly turning him off so much? The thought answered him easily, with a natural logic. Because he was straight of course. Because what man, in their right mind, would let another guy violate his hole? You had to be real fucked up to do something like that. He wasn’t like that–he’d never let another guy use him like this. That was the difference between them. That’s why it was ok. He wasn’t a man, not really. Just a faggot, just a hole.

Without saying a word, he walked up and ran his fingers along the faggot’s crack. It was clean and already lubed. Sam closed his eyes, at a loss of what to focus on for a moment. He needed some inspiration to get it up, after all. He ended up thinking about Tammy, down at the strip club, with those big fuckin’ knockers in that little bikini, thinking about running his cock up and down between them while he ran it up and down the faggot’s crack.

“Oh fuck Daddy, yeah, fuck me…”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m not here tah listen tah ya faggot!” Sam barked at him, the intensity even surprising himself, and he shoved his cock into the faggot’s ass before he lost his hardon. Anthony gasped at the sudden thrust–Sam was usually much more gentle, but when he tried to crawl away, Sam grabbed hold of his hips, hard enough to hurt, and dragged him back down onto his cock. “Fuck, it’s too big, wait…”

“Hell yeah it’s big, that’s why you like it, right faggot?” Sam said, leering at him, chuffing cigar smoke around him as he worked his throbbing, growing cock in up to the root.

“Oh fuck!” Anthony cried. And tried to relax. What had gotten into Sam? He’d never taken a scene so earnestly before–had that site really worked? And why did he smell smoke? Whatever, it was hot, just roll with it. “Fuck Daddy, yeah, fuck my ass with that big fucking cock, I bet your wife never moans like I do for you…”

“Faggot, I said shut the fuck up!” he said, and pushed the faggot’s face into the mattress. “Yer as bad as a bitch, always wanting tah talk. You should count yourself lucky I’m willing to waste this prime Daddy load on an ugly fuckin’ worthless faggot pig like you. Ya think I don’t hear about you from the guys at the factory? About the fuckin’ whoremouth down at the fuckin’ truckstop, takin’anything from any guy? Ya make me fuckin’ sick, but a hole’s a fuckin’ hole!”

With that, Sam came deep in Anthony’s hole. Grunting and rutting for another couple of moments before pulling free. Anthony rolled over and looked at the burly middle aged roughneck pulling on a shirt, still smoking his cigar, and was…confused. Where did Sam go? But he also wasn’t quite sure who Sam was anymore. Sam headed for the door, and it took all of his courage for Anthony to say, “Wait, where are you going?”

“Where the fuck do you think I’m going? I’m going home.”

“But…But Sam, you live here…”

He laughed, “Why the fuck would I live with a fitlhy faggot like you?”

“But…but I love you.”

“No faggot, you love my cock. You love cock more than anything, that’s why we don’t run your old perverted ass out of town. Stick to what you’re good at–suckin’ cock and gettin’ fucked. Leave love to the real men like me.”

Sam left, and Anthony looked around, the apartment reforming into a filthy trailer, full of dirty laudry he’d stolen from truckers, used condoms, all sorts of filth. It wasn’t right. It…It wasn’t right. Sure, he was an old cocksucker, but he knew Sam loved him. Why else would he keep coming back? One day–Anthony would have that big, fat daddy cock all to himself, no matter what. But first, he was still horny. He’d go down to the truck stop for a bit, see if any of the guys hanging around needed to drop a load. But he’d always be thinking of that cock. That perfect Daddy cock, and how he could make it his forever.

It was a few weeks before Sam was desperate enough to go visit Anthony again. Whatever had happened the last time he was there, with the faggot trying to talk about how he loved him, it had grossed him out enough that when he got home, he’d sworn off that ass forever. From now on, he’d stick to pussy–either the one he was married to, or the strippers off the highway, or whoever else. But no more ass, no way no how.

For a while his resolve had worked. He was nice enough to his bitchy wife to get back in her pussy a few times the first week, but he couldn’t keep that up. He lost his patience, she started screaming again, and so that option disappeared. Bitches were just too fuckin’ tempermental! The best thing about that faggot was that no matter how Sam showed up, Anthony didn’t care–he just wanted Sam’s cock in his hole, nothing else mattered. The faggot had been messaging him off and on for the last week, asking about him, asking how his big daddy cock was doing, asking when he was going to come back by and fuck his ass again. Sam thought about blocking the number, but didn’t. He needed the ego boost, and he swore when he read the messages, his cock did feel a bit larger each time.

So Sam turned to strippers instead, but that was a dead end as well. None of the bitches could take him, they kept complaining about how he was too big. He thought that having a big dick was a good thing, but no! They just whined about how he kept going to fast, and needed more lube, and just let them give him a blow job. But Anthony was right, Sam hated blow jobs. He wanted to fuck, and fuck rough. Bitches couldn’t take it because he was too much of a man for them. And so, after a few days of nothing, with his balls ready to burst, he finally gave in and drove back to Anthony’s trailer. One more time, he told himself. One last time, and then he’d block his number and get his head on straight again.

The trailer was filthier than he’d remembered it from last time (or had it been an apartment? It was hard to remember all of a sudden) and there was too much dirty underwear around for it all to belong to Anthony, and he saw a little trove of used condoms on the table, some of them still with cum swilling in them–probably a snack for later. Sam’s stomach turned in disgust, but better to just get on with it. The sooner he planted his load, the sooner he’d be out of here. The lights were out in the tiny bedroom like before, the old faggot in his filthy clothes up on his hands nad knees on the bed. Sam pushed the head of his cock in, and it slid in so easily, he nearly moaned. He’d missed this. Had he really fucking missed this?

He started fucking, the faggot moaning, and he kept turning around to look at him over his shoulder, his eyes…hungry. It unnerved Sam, and he said, “Turn the fuck around, stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me.”

“Don’t like having people look at you when you fuck Daddy?”

“Shut up.”

“I know some people probably think you’re ugly, with the missing teeth, that busted nose, how fat you are. I don’t care though. You got the hottest cock in town, and that’s all I need. I don’t give a fuck how much of an ugly son of a bitch ya are.”

“Yeah, well, the only fuckin’ reason I’m here is cause yer the only hole in town that can take this cock without wining about it, so stop fuckin’ whinin’! If I want someone whinin’ at me, I’ll go home tah my wife,” Sam said, but the words came out a bit odd, due to the teeth missing in the front of his mouth all of a sudden.

“Ya still gonna play that game Daddy?”

“What the fuck you talkin’ about?”

“One of yer mates from the factory blabbed about you, after we were done fuckin’ the other day. Didn’t know you’d gotten a divorce last year.”

“Shut up, that ain’t true.”

“Found herself a real prince charming, didn’t she? Didn’t have to spend another day with a fat old ugly loser with a freakish dick anymore. Ain’t that what she said?”

Sam was feeling confused again. It wasn’t true, was it? It…It didn’t feel wrong, but it was so hard to focus.

“That’s ok Daddy. You don’t need her. You don’t need women at all. Sure, you might think they’re hot, but none of them can handle a man like you, and you know it. There’s only one ass in town that can take you, and you love it. The more you fuck it, the more you need it. The more you need it, the more you love it. Sure, it’s attached to a fat, perverted faggot like me, but that’s alright. You’ll take what you can get, won’t you?”

Sam was bucking faster, all twelve inches of his fat cock sliding in and out of Anthony’s hole now. With a few grunts, he slammed in deep and unloaded, filling the faggot’s hole with a massive load of cum.

“Fuck yeah Daddy! That’s it. You fucking love this ass, I want to hear you say it.”

“I…I fuckin’ love this ass…” Sam muttered, almost in a stupor as the orgasm washed over him, “I love this fuckin’ ass so fuckin’ much.”

“You worship this ass. It’s the only thing you’re attracted to from now on. You’re obsessed with it.”

“No…No, fuck, what the fuck are ya doin’ tah me?” he said, hauling his cock free. It slapped across his flabby thigh, thicker than it should have been, and he looked down at his hairy gut covered in white hair. That wasn’t right, none of this was right. “Ya…what the fuckin’ hell, ya fuckin’ faggot?”

“Come on Daddy, ya ain’t done,” Sam said, shaking his ass, swaying it, and Sam felt his eyes lock onto it, his cock tingling at the sight of that lovely, loose hole. “Come eat Daddy–you gotta clean it up now. It’s your favorite.”

Sam, whimpering a bit, got down on his knees and started licking Anthony’s crack, and the faggot pushed down, feeding his own massive load back to him from his ass, and Sam licked it all down, Sam urging him on, telling him how hungry he was, how he was addicted to cum from this hole, how he’d eat anything from it, that he craved it more than anything. When there was nothing left, and the crack was licked clean, Sam fell back on his ass, horrified, but hornier than he’d been in his life. Anthony got up, and came back in with the pile of used condoms. “Here Daddy, you’re still hungry aren’t you?”

Sam looked up at him, horrified, but he was…hungry. He sucked the cum out of the condoms, and licked the outside, tasting his favorite hole all over them, moaning and grunting and hard again already. Anthony laid him down on his back while he kept eating, and fucked himself on the old pig’s cock again, draining another load from his balls, squatted over his face and fed that to him as well, cementing Sam’s new life here with him, for good. He didn’t leave the trailer park much after that. Anthony would go out, fill up his ass with cum from strangers and more than a few condoms too, come home, and feed his Daddy his favorite meal before they fucked all night long. It wasn’t much of a life he supposed, but for an ass loving, ugly redneck Daddy like him, with a freakish cock–what could he really hope for, in the end?

Arctos: Second Life Thrift (Part 2)

Tim had heard of empty nest syndrome, that parents could have a rough time when their kids go off to college, but after spending half of winter break with his dad, he couldn’t stomach anymore of this ‘new leaf’ as Brian called it. The house was filthy, all his dad wore anymore was filthy biker gear, he stuffed himself silly, drank from the time he woke up to the time he passed out, and he’d be gone for these long stretches–sometimes overnight, and he’d come back reeking of sex. Tim tried to sit him down and talk about the changes he’d seen, but his dad didn’t want to hear it. Instead…well, Tim had gotten the sense that his father was wanting him to drop out and move back home–and that, well, his father wanted to have sex with him. That was made quite clear on the last night he’d stayed there, when his drunken father had burst into his room in the night, buck ass naked, backed up to the bed and asked his son to fuck him. Tim had left that morning, and planned on not coming back–ever if he could help it–or at least until his father sorted his shit out.

Thankfully, he’d moved off campus into a little house he rented with a few friends instead of the dorms, which were still closed, so at least he had somewhere to go. He hadn’t been there for a few days, before he got a package in the mail from some company called Arctos, paid for by his father, from something called Second Life Thrift. He opened it up, mostly out of morbid curiosity, and found that there were a bunch of clothes inside, all of it absolutely filthy–just as nasty as his dad’s new clothes were, if not worse. He sealed the box back up, intending to throw them out, but instead, the box ended up pushed into the back of the closet, where Tim forgot about it rather quickly, as the next semester got rolling. He got the occasional call from his dad those first few weeks he was back at school, but he ignored them, listening to the occasional voicemail, which wanted to know if he was enjoying the gift he’d sent, wanting to know why he wouldn’t talk to him, wanting to know why he didn’t want to fuck him. It was disgusting. Finally, he blocked the number, and started making arrangements to stay at school for the summer–because one thing was certain, there was no way he was going to be living with his dad ever again.

Back home, Brian couldn’t figure out where he’d gone wrong. He had been certain that once his son got a good look at his new persona, he’d jump at the chance to ditch school and be a biker slut like him, but Tim hadn’t seemed the least bit interested. That night when he’d tried to force himself on Tim in his room had been a gamble, and one that hadn’t paid off at all. He’d gone back to the Arctos site, scrolling through some of the lots, wondering what he could send to his son that might give him a little bit of a boost, make him more amenable to the life his dad was offering him, when he’d stumbled on a familiar face–or at least, a face that was familiar to the ghost that had merged with him.

It was Jerry–a trucker that the ghost had been with, off and on, for close to thirty years. Occasionally, their lives would bring them close for a while, and the ghost had always loved getting fucked by Jerry’s massive ten inch cock, even if the trucker hadn’t had much in the way of Brian’s. He spent his time, when he wasn’t driving, focused on his weight lifting, and even when he was nearing sixty years old, he’d been a massive muscle beast, covered with hair–fuck, Brian could almost smell him now, even after all of this time. So why not send his son a gift, and give his old fuck buddy a new chance at life? It was too good an opportunity to be true.

So Brian waited, figuring his son wouldn’t be able to resist the allure of the clothes for too long. After all, it had only taken him a few days to fall almost entirely under the sway of his own ghost, back when he’d gotten his first box. He called his son, but got no answer–over and over again. Why wasn’t he picking up? Surely something must have happened by now, right? In the end, he took an extended trip on his hog to the college, and snooped around, only to discover that his son was…well, completely normal! Nothing about him seemed to have changed at all. How in the world could that even be possible? He snuck around the house for a bit, and eventually spotted the ghost of his old friend, hanging out in Tim’s room, looking a bit lost. He motioned Jerry outside, though it took him a little while to convince him that he could, in fact, see him, and asked Jerry what was going on–why wasn’t he trying to get Terry to wear his clothes?

Jerry told him that he’d been trying, but nothing seemed to work–he just couldn’t get inside the kids head. It had taken all of his energy just to keep him from throwing everything out, and sending Jerry to the dump with the rest of the garbage. It didn’t help that, even as a ghost, Jerry wasn’t the most clever of apparitions. Once brute force had failed, he’d mostly just settled into the room, vaguely haunting the place, waiting for something to happen, growing hornier and hornier, since he couldn’t seem to get any release as a spectre.

Apparently, Brian realized, his son was going to be a harder nut to crack than he’d expected. Then again, he shouldn’t be that surprised, right? After all, Jerry and Tim couldn’t be more opposed if he’d tried–which was one reason he’d chosen him, but the lack of common ground meant there was nothing for the ghost to tempt him with. Brian went back to the dingy motel room he was renting, and thought about what to do next–and eventually ended up back on the Arctos website, where he saw that their product offerings were much more robust than just some second hand clothes. In fact, as he scrolled through the various pages of products, he realized that all he’d need were a few little things to give his son a push in the right direction, and his buddy’s ghost would be able to take care of the rest.

Tim was feeling rundown. School was ramping up, and he was feeling a bit lost in his Freshman year, and that weird visit with his dad hadn’t helped things much at all. He was…worried about him, but what could he do? His dad was an only child so there wasn’t much in the way of family to contact to try and intervene. He didn’t have much in the way of friends. He was at a loss, and having a hard enough time juggling his own school work to try and solve his father’s problems for him. He turned off the sidewalk and climbed the steps to the front door of the house he shared with two friends, Eric and Max, who were both pre-med students like him. There, beside the door, was a package with his name on the label, but he couldn’t recall ordering anything recently. It probably wasn’t anything exciting. He went inside, set down his bag, then went back out and brought in the small package, which was surprisingly heavy, and sounded like there were a few metal…somethings clanking inside. Max was in the kitchen eating a sandwich–and Tim eyed the disaster area with a scowl. He supposed he was just as guilty, but none of them had really had time to clean the place up much since school had gotten so busy for them, but not having a kitchen was bugging him. He was so tired of takeout!

He knifed open the tape, and found a collection of small drink cans inside, with a note folded on top. He opened it up and read:

Greetings!
You’ve been selected by a previous Arctos customer to try one of our sample products! Arctos is a lifestyle brand for men who aren’t afraid to embrace their manliness, and enjoy the company and taste of men like them. The fellow who sent this to you has great taste, and we’re certain that when you get a taste of our products, you’ll understand just what kind of quality and craftsmanship goes into all of our products–you too, will be an Arctos customer for life!

Tim pulled one of the cans out of the box, and found that it was a protein shake, or a meal replacement shake, or both? It wasn’t quite clear from the label. The only thing it promised was that he’d have more energy (something he could use for sure), build more mass (something he couldn’t care less about), and unleash the jock within (dumb marketing bullshit, more like). He had a seven day supply, one set of shakes for breakfasts, and one set of shakes for dinner in the evening.

He looked at the kitchen again, and then back at the can. Well, what did he really have to lose? It was just a shake after all. He hadn’t had any dinner plans anyway, and if he didn’t have to eat anything else, it was kind of convenient. He popped open one of the night shakes, took a sip–it wasn’t too bad–and carried the box back to his room, where he stashed them in the little fridge he usually used to hold his soda, but was empty at the moment.

He finished the shake, tossed the can in the trash, and sat down to get started on his homework, but after half an hour or so, the shake just felt like it was settling in his gut like lead, making him sleepy. He tried to concentrate on the chapter he needed to read before tomorrow, but it was no use, he was just reading the same paragraph over and over, making no real progress. He’d been up until three in the morning the last few days, and up again at eight to get to his nine o’clock lecture–his exhaustion was just catching up with him, and he was using the shake as an excuse. He struggled along for a few more hours, finding a bit of a rhythm and finishing half the chapter. He got ready for bed, figuring he’d just read the rest in the morning before class, setting his alarm for seven.

He woke up starving, stumbled over to the fridge, pulled out one of the morning cans, and knocked it back, following it up with a satisfied belch–something he usually would have never done in his life, but at least it stopped the ache in his gut. Tim tried to recall what he’d been dreaming about, but whatever it was, it must have been sexy–he’d just had his first wet dream in ages over it. Pushing that aside, he tried to finish the chapter–but now he had the opposite problem. The can was right–he did have energy, so much that he could barely stay in his seat. He got to class without finishing the reading, and sitting still through the hour and a half lecture was torturous, even though he usually loved this class. All of his classes were like that though, and finally he just skipped his last one, mostly because he was hungry. He went to the dining hall, piled a tray high with food, ate all of it somehow, and then went back to his house, but the jitters didn’t stop. He ended up just walking around the neighborhood for a while, faster and faster, even jogging at times, because that was the only time his head seemed to calm down. He swore he wouldn’t have another shake, but even after a big dinner, he was…starving, he couldn’t settle down. He relented, drank down one of the night shakes, and in less than an hour he was sleeping, snoring heaving, cock tenting his sheets.

On the third day, Tim relented and went to the gym in the morning, just planning on running on a treadmill for half an hour, to burn off some steam. The next time he checked the clock, it was one in the afternoon, his body was screaming, and he realized he’d put himself through a massive workout, despite having never lifted a weight in his life. This…didn’t concern him, somehow. He ate a big lunch–he needed plenty of fuel for his growing body, after all–and went for a jog in the afternoon, returning home in the evening, and realizing he hadn’t gone to a single class all day, and he hadn’t done any of his reading since first drinking the shakes. But something just…told him not to worry about it. He tried to read, but got bored, and ended up just jacking off instead, looking at himself in the mirror in his room, how much…bigger he’d gotten, after his day in the gym, thinking about how much larger he could get.

By the fifth day, Tim would have outgrown all of his clothes–if any of his old clothes had remained in his room. He burst out of his room after his morning shake, wearing a tank top stretched tight across his pecs, a pair of mesh shorts, and headed to the gym for his morning workout–and didn’t really bat an eye when he ended up at rugby practice that evening. The fact that he’d missed his classes didn’t faze him or his coaches. After all, a jock like him just had to worry about an easy fine arts major–he was there for sports, not to study. He went out to a bar with some of his friends, getting in with a fake ID, brought one home with him, and fucked his ass in his room before drinking his night shake and passing out again.

On the seventh day, there was a knock on the door, and Tim was surprised to find his father standing on the step, his motorcycle parked on the lawn next to the driveway. “Hey son! I was on a long ride, and thought I’d stop by and give my favorite boy a visit,” he said, pulled Tim in for a hug–and while Tim knew he should be furious for his dad for what happened over winter break, when he smelled him, there was something about him that was suddenly…alluring. Sure, he reeked like he always did now, of booze and cigar smoke and rank musk, but there was something…else in the mix that Tim couldn’t identify. “Come on Tim, you’re happy to see me, aren’t you?” Brian said–it was less a question, and more of an order.

“Of…of course dad, come on in…” Tim said, and let Brian into the house. His two housemates were at one of their classes, so they had the house to themselves for the next few hours. Brian took a moment to look his new and improved son over in the living room, and had to say he was quite impressed with the results from those protein shakes he’d had sent to him. Gone was the scrawny, short bookish boy that had gone off to college–Tim was now a bit over six feet, and close to 240 pounds of solid mass, thick pecs, a solid muscle gut beneath them, and from the bulge in the front of the shorts he was wearing, he seemed to be packing a bit more down there as well–but that could wait for a bit. First things first, was to help Tim and Jerry get acquainted at last.

“Dang son, nice little pad ya got here,” Brian said, and started looking through the place, “Where’s your room at?”

“Oh, uh, upstairs, first door on the left.”

Brian heaved his big body up to the next floor, and Tim followed him, still trying to get close enough to figure out why he smelled so nice. “So…uh, dad, any other reason you wanted to come by? I…I mean, I wasn’t expecting you at all.”

“What, a dad can’t come spend some time with his strapping, hot-as-fuck son?”

Tim blushed at the rather…sexual compliment, recalled the last time, how his dad had tried to get him to fuck him back home, and wondered why he hadn’t. Things had gotten so fuzzy lately though, and he didn’t always do things that made sense, he supposed. The last week in particular had been really weird, and now his dad just shows up out of the blue? Brian entered Tim’s room, went right for the closet, dug around and hauled out the package Tim had received earlier, which he’d mostly forgotten about. Then again, over the last few nights, he’d been having these…dreams, and now, looking at the box, it was almost…deja vu.

“What, ya never even opened it?” Brian asked.

“I…I don’t even remember what’s in there,” Tim said.

“Some clothes I bought for ya, off the internet. I thought ya’d love em. Go on son, take a look.”

So Tim starting digging around in the box, and pulling out the contents, laying it out around him. There were a bunch of tanktops, or t-shirts with the sleeves hacked off, some trucker hats, some jockstraps, cut-off jean shorts, thick wool socks, some steel toe boots, and a few cans of dip. All of the clothes were heavily stained and looked like they hadn’t been washed in ages–that, and they reeked of sweat and musk, grease and exhaust too. But looking around at them, he found that he wasn’t…that disgusted by the gear, less so than he would have expected. Little did he know, thought Brian could see behind him, that the ghost of Jerry had his fingers shoved into Tim’s head, tongue sticking out, working on manipulating the young man as best he could.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, Tim,” Brian said, got down beside him, and pulled his son into his pit, where he’d sprayed the special deodorant from Arctos, one designed to make men much more agreeable to his demands, We’re gonna dress you up in this gear, and then you’re gonna fuck your dad’s hole, real good. Then, I think I’m gonna crash on your couch for a while–you’d like to spend some quality time with your dad, wouldn’t you?”

Tim nodded in a stupor, between the ghost working him over and the compelling musk of his father, and together, they got him dressed up in some of Jerry’s best gear, and then he fucked his father’s dirty hole for half an hour, certain, somehow, that he’d done this all before. When Eric and Max got back a few hours later, they found Brian and Tim on the couch watching TV, Tim still dressed in the gear from the box, but with the addition of a lip of chewing tobacco shoved in his mouth, spitting into an empty protein shake can. The two clean, nerdy housemates were put off at first, but Brian was able to smooth things over with them both–by evening, they were all happy to let Brian crash on the couch for a while, especially Tim, who found himself thinking more and more about how hot it had been to fuck his dad’s hole. He couldn’t resist, in fact–he dragged his dad back into his room after dinner, and fucked him again, loud and rough, while the two roommates tried to focus on their school work–but as far as Brian was concerned, the two of them wouldn’t have to worry about things like that for much longer.

Brian had arrived in late February, and both March and April passed in a blur for Tim. The protein shakes kept arriving from Arctos, and he kept drinking them. His routine was much easier now. It didn’t take much urging from his dad to convince him to drop out in March–they both knew well enough that Tim wasn’t smart enough to keep up with college, even the easy courses for stupid jocks like him. He got a membership at a little gym near the house, and started spending most of his time there. He’d wake up in the morning, down a shake from Arctos, and then jog to the gym for his daily workout, which usually lasted four or five hours. Then he’d jog home, and spend the rest of the afternoon with his dad. Sometimes they’d go for a ride–Brian had surprised him with a bike of his own (one that Brian had “convinced” a rather rude biker to give him) and go fuck off in the woods for a while. Other times they’d stay home, and fuck around there instead.

While Tim was out each morning, Brian would find other ways to occupy himself. For the first few weeks, he turned Eric and Max into his own personal projects, testing out a few other arctos products on them both. Before too long, they had dropped out of school as well, a pair of grungy, chubby, stupid pigs with tiny dicks, hungry for Tim’s cock as much as Brian was. After all, he couldn’t afford to give Tim a chance to really think about what was going on, and Jerry’s ghost needed the stimulation. His stamina had always been off the charts, and Brian wanted to make sure the ghost of his friend always had a hole available where he could drop a load. The landlord was another issue, after he came around and saw that the house was turning into a literal sty. With a little manipulation, they came to a new agreement. He’d keep paying the mortgage and utilities, but wouldn’t expect rent in cash anymore–instead, he’d get to enjoy full access to all the cameras he was going to install in the house to catch all the pigs in action, and then spend the rest of his time jacking off, watching them all go at it, day and night.

Somehow, Arctos just knew when to send the second collection of items from Jerry’s lot, and this second load was the final set. He’d lived his life on the road, in his truck, and so hadn’t had much in the way of earthly attachments. In any case, he figured it was time to introduce Jerry and Tim properly. He sent Eric and Max off to spend some time with the landlord–he’d recently gotten divorced, and he was thrilled to have the two pigs in his house, where he could watch them rut in real time. That gave him a few days with Tim, alone, to help him get acquainted with his ghost. He didn’t think he’d run into much trouble, but he had a few surprises up his sleeve, just in case.

Tim was still sleeping off their bender from the night before–in addition to his new dip habit, which had grown more and more severe over the last few months, he’d also taken to hard liquor as well, the cheaper and stronger the better, which had added to his hard gut, even as the rest of him swelled with muscle. Brian went in and gave his son a shake, and then a kiss, and told him he had a surprise for him, when he was up. Tim roused himself, stumbled into the bathroom to take care of business, then into the kitchen for his morning shake. Once he had that in him, and a lip full of dip, he went out to the living room where his dad had a couple more boxes like the one he’d sent him before. He opened up the boxes, and found them full of more clothes–more work gear, really. Some flannel shirts, all well worn and stained with dip spit, grungy hi-vis vests and jackets, more hats, some overalls and coveralls coated with engine oil and grease. Tim was happy with them–though he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do with all of it, or why all of it seemed so…familiar to him. He looked up at his dad, beaming, and shot up from the couch when he saw someone else standing there too.

“Now son, don’t be alarmed, this is Jerry–he’s a friend of mine. He’s been helping you out for the last few months, and now it’s time the two of you got properly acquainted,” Brian said, motioning to the ghost standing beside him, “Jerry died a few years back, you see–a bad accident, but now he gets a second chance, thanks to you.”

“You…what the fuck are you talking about?” Tim asked, backing away. The pale figure was massive–easily six and a half feet tall, packed with muscle, head shaved and with a beard reaching down to his waist. He was naked, and his cock–fuck, it had to be nearly a foot long, and it was mostly soft. “Why the fuck can…ghosts aren’t real, dad!”

“I woulda said the same thing a few months ago, but trust me, this is gonna be great for us both, I promise.”

“You…you did this, all of this, didn’t you?” Tim said, “You…sent those shakes, and…and the clothes! What the fuck did you do to me?”

“Look, I just needed to loosen you up a bit, so you’d understand, that’s all!”

He looked at the ghost, who hadn’t said anything yet, and then back at his dad. “So…so what now?”

“Now, well, now you and Jerry just gotta merge, is all.”

“No fucking way. I’m not letting that fucking thing in me.”

“Aww, come on, I ain’t that bad,” Jerry said, looking a bit sheepish, “I got a big dick, ‘n I fuck real good.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, dad, we’re fucking done–for real this time,” Tim said, stripping out of his clothes, and throwing everything into the boxes, “and you can take all of this shit with you!”

“Sorry son, but you don’t get a say in this,” Brian said, and gave Jerry a nod. The massive ghost stomped over, and while Tim expected him to pass right through him, the apparition grabbed hold of him, and wrestled him to the ground. “I was gonna save this for after the two of you were together, but I’m not surprised you need a little more tenderizing,” Brian said, and pulled out a sizable dildo from a bag he’d had on the coffee table. “I’ve heard these asslickers are fucking amazing, and I ordered this one custom, just for you.”

“Keep that fuckin’ thing away from me! I’m no fuckin’ bottom,” Tim shouted at his dad.

“”Sorry son, but I promise you this, this is the last cock you’ll ever take–don’t worry about that,” Brian said, and lubed up the dildo. He pressed the head to Tim’s tight hole, and watched as it slid right in, despite Tim’s cursing and resistance. The dildo had looked like a candy, almost, and when it slipped inside, he was surprised to taste…sugar on his tongue for a moment, until the outer layer dissolved away, and the first magical layer of the dildo was revealed. The sugary taste turned bitter, and then rank, the outside of the dildo now colored a rather vile mix of green and brown, something between camo and a shit stain. It tasted like someone had shoved a months worn jock into his mouth, and then he smelled something–and realized it was him.

Now, Tim hadn’t really been the cleanest fellow over the last few months, but he usually showered once a day, before putting his filthy clothes back on. It was one habit his dirtier father hadn’t been able to break him of, but he had a feeling this would take care of it. He watched as the layers of grime on the asslicker were worn off, and appeared on his son’s body, dirt and sweat and salt and grease and dipspit. “Aww fuck yeah son, now you’re smelling better, don’t you think?”

Tim tried to disagree, but let off a little moan instead, as the dildo pulsed inside him, and he found the smell wasn’t quite as bad as he’d thought. He…kind of liked it, actually. The ghost relaxed a bit, now that Tim wasn’t fighting him, and slid his fingers into the young man’s mind, warping him further, pushing his excitement to the extremes. “Fuck yeah man, we’re gonna be so fucking filthy together, just you fucking wait,” Jerry said to him, and Tim…saw things, memories, maybe, disgusting scenes from Jerry’s life, with and without Brian, and all of them were thrilling.

He didn’t notice the next layer appear on the dildo, which was now quite a bit smaller. This one was silvery, and as it was absorbed by Tim’s body, he started to get older, the hair on his head receding, while everything that remained turned grey. His gut sagged a bit, his muscles shrank slightly, but after a few minutes, he looked to be about the same age as his dad, and then, by the time the layer was gone, he was even older–pushing sixty, about the same age Jerry had been when he died.

The dildo was smaller now, just a plug really, and Brian felt it wiggle out of his hand and disappear up Tim’s hole. He gasped, feeling it squirm up his body, growing smaller, until it reached his skull, giving him a massive headache as it drilled into his brain, mashing it up, Tim drooling dipspit on the carpet as he grew dumber and dumber, feeling his cock swelling larger and larger until it exploded underneath him, expelling most of his intellect and sense with it, leaving him with a cock twice the size, and a brain not really capable of much at all. “Fuck, I…what the fuck happened tah my head?” he slurred.

Jerry could tell this was his opportunity, climbed on top of the older, filthy Tim, and shoved his massive cock into his now well loosened hole. But where Brian had merged with his ghost rather gracefully, after two thrusts Jerry was simply sucked inside Tim’s ass, and he began to writhe on the floor, Brian standing over him, watching as the final changes swept over his son, and now lover. He grew more, another few inches, until he matched Jerry’s ghost in height, and every bit of muscle he’d lost growing older he put back, with interest. A thick pelt of silvery white hair grew all over his chest, down over his belly, shoulders and arms, and tattoos began to swim up to the service of his skin, the same sleazy, redneck ink that had always turned Brian on before. A massive beard sprouted from Tim’s face, wiry and stained brown from the spit that usually drooled into it, and then Tim shuddered, his own mashed mind melding with Jerry, mixed all up together, and when he looked up and saw Brian looming over him, he couldn’t for the life of him remember if it was his dad, or…or someone he’d known long ago.

Brian helped him up and showed him his new body in the mirror, and Tim growled in excitement, seeing his old, muscular frame, filthy, clothes stretched tight over his muscle, fresh dark spit coating his lips, and he started stroking his cock, both of them watching it grow to the full fourteen inches it was now–even longer than it had been when he’d been Jerry, before. “Fuck Pa, can I fuck that nasty hole a yers already?” Tim asked.

“Pretty sure yer the daddy now,” Brian said, and bent over the counter, “Go on man, I’ve missed that cock a yers so much, fuck yer biker son’s hole already.”

First things first, Tim got down behind him, and ate him out, tasting Brian’s rank crack for a few minutes, until his cock was aching and throbbing with excitement, and then he rammed it in. It was so large, even the well practiced Brian moaned in pain as it slid into him, but Tim only fucked at one speed–as brutally as he could. Not many bottoms could handle him, which is why he’d kept coming back to Brian, after all. Well now, they were together again, for another couple of lifetimes. He came deep, holding him close, thrilled to have a second chance with his lover from a past life–and now, with Arctos, they could have a life unlike anything they’d ever imagined before.

Interactive: Frat Daddy (Part 2)

“Come on boys, time to get those asses up. We have a lot to discuss today, because we’re going to be making a few changes around here.”

The young men of Phi Beta Alpha all moaned a bit, still struggling with their hangovers and their recollections of their first wild party under their new Frat Daddy. Tyler sat up on the couch where he must have collapsed, looked at their frat’s Daddy sitting in a high backed chair in front of the fireplace, a mug of coffee steaming on the small table beside him, and a cigar burning in his other hand, and tried to remember the man from the night before.

He’d been older, but rather unassuming. Average build. He could almost recall glasses, but he wasn’t sure. A beard, but a rather thin one. Not unattractive, but not particularly striking either. He’d been wearing khakis, a button down shirt, no tie. The man sitting in the chair before them, however, only vaguely resembled the man from his memory. It was hard to take in anything other than the clothes at first, the leather boots shining in the light of the morning sun through the window, chaps stretched tight across Daddy’s thick thighs and calves, his monstrous cock and balls exposed, lying against the side of his thigh. He had on no shirt, just a leather vest and an armband with the insignia of PBA made from steel studs. The same insignia was on the leather muir cap he was wearing.

Under the gear, the man was simply massive. It was difficult to tell because he was sitting, but he had to be over six feet tall, perhaps by several inches. His shoulders were broad, chest and torso shaped like a barrel, packed with muscle and a tight muscle gut underneath. There was hair everywhere, across his belly and chest, on top of his shoulders and down his arms. He had a thick full beard with a touch of silver, trimmed neatly to about an inch long. He picked up the mug in his massive hands, took a sip, and set it back down. “Come on boys,” Ethan said, his voice deeper, with a bit of a western twang, “Hurry up and gather around Daddy’s boots, we have a lot to cover today, and you don’t want to waste Daddy’s time.”

The fratboys gathered around, skipping the chairs and the couches and instead sitting on the floor around Daddy, where boys were supposed to be, looking up at him. The more they stared, the less out of sorts he seemed to be, and Ethan smiled. When he’d woken up this morning, he’d felt like he’d needed a bit of a makeover, and the amulet had helped give him the body of his fantasies. Now it was time for his boys to help make a few more come true. He looked down at their anxious faces, none of them knowing what to expect, and his cock got a little harder, leaking a little bit of precum onto his chaps.

“Now, as your new Frat Daddy, my first impression of you boys here is that you lack discipline. For far too long, you’ve had Daddies who let you do whatever you like, who don’t best know how to help young men like yourselves grow up and mature into proper PBA men. Well all of that is going to change starting now. You might find me to be a taskmaster. You will consider my methods too harsh, at first. But these are the rules my frat daddy had for me when I was a PBA boy, and so they will be the rules you must abide by as well.”

He allowed a pause, but none of the boys spoke up. A few looked confused, their heads trying to catch up to reality as best they could. The amulet glinted in the sunlight–it would sort things out in any case.

“First things first, will be the establishment of a proper uniform for all of you boys, while you are under my care. While in the house, the only thing you will be permitted to wear are the items I am about to show you now. Outside the house, when you attend classes, you will be allowed to wear civilian clothes over it, but you may not remove the uniform unless given explicit permission, is that clear?”

Silence again.

“When I ask a question boys, the proper response is ‘Yes Daddy,’ is it not? Or do all of you lack even that basic understanding of your role here?”

“Yes Daddy,” the fratboys said, but it was a mutter. Displeased, Ethan stood up from the chair, rising to his full height of six foot five, grabbed one of the boys in front by the wrist, and dragged him forward so he was on his belly, and then Ethan straddled his back, pinning the boy to the ground, head towards the fireplace, with his ass before the rest of the young men. Ethan picked him because he hadn’t said anything either time, and he groped the young man’s tight ass in his rough hands. He brought one hand down, hard, on the young man’s ass, and made him holler.

“All of you will need to learn quickly that I do not tolerate lax discipline among my boys,” Ethan said, and brought down a hand on the other cheek, bringing out another yelp of pain. “You will not question me, and you will obey my commands with enthusiasm. You are members of this fraternity, this brotherhood,” he said, and smacked the ass before him again, hearing the young man sob slightly, “because you all wish to become proper PBA men. But I know full well that the only way to become a man is to be a boy first. Obedient, eager, and submissive.” Another smack, and the young man was shuddering now. “Do you all understand?”

A resounding cry of “Yes, Daddy” came from the fratboys, along with one whimpered cry behind him, and Ethan got off the boy’s back, rolled him over, and pulled him into his arms. The sudden embrace surprised the boy, and he tried to flinch away for a moment, but Daddy’s arms were too tight, and after a moment, he relented, and pressed his face into Daddy’s chest. “I will be hard on you. You will resent me at times. I do these things because I believe you boys are capable of withstanding them, and growing stronger. Some of you will not rise to the challenge I give you. Some of you will break, and will be expelled. But trust me when I say, that if you embrace me, my rules, my dominance, my order, you will understand in time that it was all worth it.

The young man in Daddy’s arms, named Jamie, was caught between too many different feelings in that moment, and much to his surprise, began to cry, though he didn’t quite know why. The other boys looked uncomfortable, but Daddy stroked his head, held him close, his musk washing over him. “Daddy has you boy, you did well, thank you for serving me,” Ethan said, only loud enough for Jamie to hear, and much to his continued confusion, Jamie felt his cock throb. When he’d regained most of his composure after a minute or two, Ethan stood up and returned to his chair, but kept Jamie with him, sitting on the ground between his legs, both hands on his shoulders, squeezing him gently, reminding him of his power, and also of his care.

“First, on matters of personal grooming,” Daddy said, “All boys will have their heads shaven each day, when you wake up. You will rise at six each morning, gather in the communal bathroom, and shave one another’s heads clean. No one is permitted to shave their facial hair without my explicit approval, and the same goes for all other hair on your bodies. Shaving your heads is a sign of discipline, and your status–growing your hair shows that you desire to become men, true proper, PBA men. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, after you shave, you will be permitted your weekly, communal shower, and you all must soap and wash one another, never yourselves. Your soap will be unscented, and deodorant and any other scented product is forbidden. If you want to become men, you will have to smell like one soon enough.” He stood up from his chair, finished his coffee, and picked up his cigar. “Come on then, we might as well take care of that much. Then we will discuss the house uniform in more detail.

The boys discovered that all of the separate bathrooms in the house had disappeared, and one massive open bathroom had replaced them. Along one wall were several sinks and mirrors, along the other were toilets with no partitions. The third wall had a line of shower heads and soap dispensers between them. Daddy told the boys to pair up, take a stool from where they were stacked in a corner, collect a set of shaving gear, and begin–scissors first, if the hair was long, and then a razor–no electric equipment. Any boy who cut another would receive a spank from Daddy, for disrespecting their brother’s trust.

One boy, however, held back. Carter had been growing his hair out since he was little, and it was stunning–thick golden blond waves falling down to the middle of his back, which he usually had pulled up into a bun or kept in a ponytail. He was eyeing the scissors as someone would eye a noose, and Ethan went over to him, pulled him close, and guided him to a stool, telling him he would take care of him personally.

Carter sat on the stool, shaking a bit, obviously trying not to cry, while Daddy got out the scissors and ran his hands through his long hair, and at last, he begged, “Please Daddy, please don’t cut it, I’ve worked so long on it, please, anything else but not this…”

“Boy, that’s why I have to cut it,” Ethan said in his ear, “This hair is your pride, and no boy can become a man without being humbled. This is a gift for me. Offer this to me. I will not cut it until you ask it of me, because I have to know that you want what I can give you more than you want your precious hair.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this to us!”

“Because you need it. Because all of you need it, even if you don’t realize it yet. You think this is enough,” Ethan said, wrapping one hand in Carter’s hair and pulling it tight, “But what happens when you lose it? You think this hair makes you a man. You think this hair makes you who you are, but look in the mirror, go on, look,” Ethan said, and turned him towards a mirror, and Carter gasped.

It was…him in the mirror, but…older. Probably in his fifties, but what Carter couldn’t look away from was his head. His hair was gone–no, not gone, but the ensuing thirty years had not been kind. He only had a ring of hair left, brittle and greying and thin, but still long–but he could see in his older eyes how empty he was. How hard he had fought to keep that hair, where he’d stored so much of himself for so long, and now that it was gone, what was left? He wasn’t looking at a man, he was looking at a shell.

“Keep your hair if you so desire. Leave. I can expel you, but know that this is what waits for you if you do so, if you turn your back on your brothers now. If you turn your back on me.”

“If…If you cut it, what do I look like then?”

“I do not know–that is up to you, boy, and the work you do here for me.”

Carter ground his teeth for a moment, before whispering, “Cut it.”

“What was that boy?”

Carter realized that the entire bathroom had gone silent, and everyone was staring at him. “I said cut it, Daddy. Cut it off.”

“Thank you boy,” Ethan said, gathered his hair up in a fist, took the scissors and sheered it off. Carter let out a sob despite trying to remain strong, and then went quiet as Daddy cut away what remained, lathered his scalp, and shaved him smooth. Carter looked at himself in the mirror again, and didn’t recognize the face looking back at him. That…older version, he had known that was him somehow, even with all those years between them. But this new head, hairless and pale, he didn’t know who this was at all, and that terrified him more. But it was done. Daddy administered the required spankings for the boy’s whose blades had nicked one another, and after a shower observed by Daddy, the boys dried off and went upstairs, where their two room dorm rooms had been converted into one communal living area. The boys personal effects were gathered either in a small chest between the bunks or at the floor of the bed, or at the desks lining the other side of the room. On each bed was a small pile of gear.

Ethan led Carter over to his bunk, and used him to demonstrate the uniform. First, a bulldog leather harness on their chest, second, a leather jockstrap, and lastly, a buttplug. The plug, Daddy said, was especially important. Any boy found without a plug in their hole at any time would be subjected to substantial punishment. The plugs he’d provided them to start with were small–he saw the boys eyes go a bit wide when he said that. Apparently, they didn’t have the same understanding of ‘small’ that he did. Ethan helped the boys into their new uniforms, often having to work the plug in himself, since they were a bit too shy. Much to his surprise, one of the only boys to do everything himself was Jamie, the boy he had spanked downstairs. Without so much as a whisper of disobedience, he put on the harness as Daddy had demonstrated, sat down, and worked the plug into his hole with a grimace, but succeeded with less tears than others. Daddy made sure to put a hand on his shoulder, reach down and give his cock a little grope through the jock, showing him that he was pleased. When all the boys were dressed, they lined up for the final piece of their uniform–their collar. One by one, they kneeled down before Daddy as he went down the line, put the leather collar around their neck and padlocked them closed, and had each boy kiss the head of his cock and thank him for accepting them into the PBA brotherhood. He had them all stand again, and he looked down the line, head’s shaven, strapped into their new leather gear, all of their faces coated with a layer of fine scruff, and Ethan had to resist the urge to order them all to bend over so he could fuck them on a line. Later though.

Daddy brought the boys back downstairs and into the kitchen–where they found that most of the cooking equipment was gone, with a sizable machine against the wall. “From now on, you boys will be kept on a strict diet–a minimum of 5000 calories a day. This machine will dispense meals for you, and also keep track of your consumption, so I can monitor your progress. You are, of course, welcome to consume more if you so choose.”

The boys murmured a bit, and one of them spoke up, “Daddy…that’s…a lot.”

“Do you boys want to grow into men or not?”

“But what if we get fat?”

“Luckily, you have access to a newly installed house gym in the basement. The food here is more than willing to convert to fat or muscle. Whichever you would prefer is up to you and your discipline.”

No one was sure how to reply to that, and were a bit scared of upsetting Daddy, and so they stayed quiet. “In addition to your new diet, all of you will be expected to smoke at least two cigars a day,” Daddy said, leading the boys to the sizable humidor that had been installed near the kitchen. “Why don’t we get started, since I know some of you have never smoked one before. Take a cigar boys.”

Ethan walked the boys through the process of lighting a cigar. He used his lighter–a privilege, he emphasized. The boys used long cigar matches, cutting the end, turning the cigar for an even light, several of them taking in too much and coughing.

“That’s good boys, nothing will get you going and feeling horny like smoking a cigar,” he said, feeling the amulet heat up slightly against his hairy chest. Sure enough, some of the boys reached down and started groping their cocks, only for Daddy to walk over and slap their hands away. “No masturbation! Men don’t need to masturbate–men need to fuck. If you want to nut, you’re going to have to use a hole. One of your brothers’ holes.”

The boys looked around at one another nervously.

You can, if you so choose, offer your hole to a brother willingly. But, any boy who subdues and forcefully removes the plug of another brother gains the right to that hole then and there, regardless of who it is–you will submit, and submit gladly.

It didn’t take long for the first gasp to come up from the crowd of boys. They all turned, and saw that Jamie had reached out and tugged Tyler’s plug out with a pop, making him double over in pain from the sudden removal. Jamie, who had been hard and horny since receiving his public spanking from Daddy earlier, bent him over the back of a couch in the living room, lined up his cock, and drove inside, gently, but eager. Half the boys watched in shock, while the others all backed up against various walls and looked at each other suspiciously, their own bulges pushing out as they continued smoking.

“It’s up to you all, how you will negotiate this. I know many of you consider yourselves straight, though I have my doubts. One thing you are all, for certain, is brothers, and in my years as a frat daddy, one thing I can say with certainty is that you will only get through this together. You will need to learn to trust and appreciate and service one another as you service me.

Against the wall, two boys, Jameson and another, looked at each other, reached down, and pulled the plugs free from each other’s holes. Jameson was still loose from getting fucked by Daddy the night before, and part of him…missed it. He turned around against the wall, cigar gripped in his teeth, and allowed his brother to plunge into his hole and start rutting. Other groups of boys were wrestling each other to the ground, to discover who would come out on top. Daddy watched it all unfold before his eyes, his own cock growing to its substantial nine inch length, and growled in approval. A boy named Steve pinned Carter to the ground, pulled his plug free, and replaced it with his own cock in a moment, and Daddy stomped over, gripped the plug in Steve’s hole, tugged it free, and pressed his own cock to the boy’s hole. Steve tried to squirm away, but Daddy gripped him, shoving his own cock deep into the boy’s guts, and driving his own cock deeper into Carter below them, smashed beneath them both. Daddy provided all the momentum. With each drive into Steven’s hole, Steven would find himself fucking Carter, who would let out another groan of pain or pleasure, or something between the two. Steve came first, but Daddy didn’t relent. Steve ended up unloading a second time with Daddy holding him close, the heat of his cigar next to his ear, Daddy growling sweet little nothings into his ear before spilling his own load into the boy’s guts. He pulled free, and shoved the plug back in before any of Daddy’s seed could spill back out. He pulled Steve and Carter close to him on either side, sitting on the floor, sharing smoky kisses and paying extra attention to Carter’s smooth head, feeling the boy shudder each time Daddy rubbed his hand over his scalp.

Yeah, Ethan was going to enjoy this, he thought to himself, he was going to turn the fratboys into real men–the men he wanted them to be, and he was going to love every moment of it.

Here’s the next survey! Again, two questions are available for everyone, while two are reserved for patrons only. If you’re a patron, you can find that bonus poll over here! Otherwise, answer the questions below, and we’ll see where the story takes us next. As before, click and drag the answers to rank them from top to bottom.

Interactive: Frat Daddy (Part 1)

Ethan went strolling down the sidewalk, fondling the amulet around his neck. It still seemed too good to be true–an amulet that would allow him to warp people’s minds to his own desires, an amulet that could change bodies and even warp reality around him. He’d tested it on a few small things, but now, it was time for the real show. He came to a stop in front of a large victorian style house in a nice neighborhood beside a college campus, and looked up at the house. “I wish this was my house, that I owned it, and that no one will ever take it away from me, no matter what happens.”

He watched as the car parked outside on the driveway disappeared, the various decorations in the yard vanished–whoever had lived here before no longer did–where they had gone was not Ethan’s problem, they had merely been in the way. He strode up the walkway and found the key to the house on his keychain. Inside, he found all of the furniture from his apartment across town inside–it wasn’t nearly enough to fill the large house, but that could wait. It was his. His house. But more important, was the fact that he now lived next door to Phi Beta Alpha–one of the hottest fraternities on campus, and a constant obsession of Ethan’s.

Ethan was a pervert. He had a perfectly normal life, or he had had one before the amulet had made such a thing unnecessary. Working in an office as a manager, nothing particularly impressive about him, aging more or less gracefully into his forties with a bit of a pot belly, and more hair on his body than on his head. Ethan was gay, but had never really found much success in relationships. What he’d always wanted was in the realm of fantasy, in any case. He’d always loved jocks. Back in college, he’d…gotten in a bit of trouble for spying on a fraternity then, as well, thinking about all the naughty things he wanted to do to those young men. The desires had only intensified for him as he’d grown older, imagining more and more perversities to visit on their youthful bodies, minds, and souls. And now, with the amulet in hand, he could finally make his fantasies reality.

He’d spied on this frat often enough to know the major players. The term had just started not too long ago, and the new Freshmen pledges had been inducted and were getting settled. He’d chosen today, of course, because Phi Beta Alpha was throwing their first major post-rush party. It was the perfect time to introduce all of the young men to their new Frat Daddy, who would be living next door, and taking control of their organization from now on. His cock was rock hard in his khakis at the thought, a dark spot growing where he was leaking. He wanted to jack off, but he could wait–it would be better, so much better, to wait, now that he was so close. Instead, he walked through his new home, filling in the rooms here and there, giving extra care to the extensive dungeon in the basement. Before he knew, it was night, and he could hear the party next door picking up plenty of steam. It was time for the new frat daddy to make his first appearance.

“I wish that I had the new title of frat daddy, for Phi Beta Alpha. As frat daddy, I can dictate all of the rules of the frat, and all members of the frat, as well as anyone in the frat house, is compelled to obey me without question. The members of the frat do not know any of this yet, but when they learn of it, they will all accept it without question.”

With that, the amulet glowed a bit, as it did for the larger wishes, and then fell dark again. Satisfied, Ethan left his new home, went next door, and let himself into the frat house. No one noticed him at first, between the loud music, the conversation, and all of the beer being drunk. The first young man to notice him as a fish out of water was Tyler, a sophomore, who was sitting with his girlfriend Natasha on the couch. “Hey! Who the fuck are you?” he said as Ethan looked around the living room.

“I’m your frat daddy, Tyler,” Ethan said, knowing everyone about the young man as soon as he saw him. It was natural, after all, for the frat daddy to know everything about his subjects. “You know that, don’t you?”

Tyler blinked, confused for a moment, and then nodded slowly, while Natasha just looked at him, wondering what was going on. “Of course Sir, sorry, I…didn’t recognize you, I guess.”

“That’s good boy, but who is this now?”

“This…this is Natasha. My girlfriend.”

“Now Tyler, you know it’s forbidden for members of PBA to fraternize with women. You’ll have to break up with her immediately.”

“But…but we…”

“Who makes the rules of the frat, Tyler?”

“You do, Daddy,” Tyler said, and turned to Natasha, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry babe, we gotta break up.”

Natasha was dumbstruck, and waited for someone to tell her it was a joke. It never came. “You…you can’t just break up with me! What the fuck?”

“Natasha, leave his house. When you step outside, you will forget you were ever in a relationship with Tyler, and you will never return here. Now go.”

Natasha looked like she wanted to bite his head off, but instead she grabbed her things and left, without looking back.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” Tyler said, “I forgot that was a rule, I guess.”

“That’s alright Tyler,” Ethan said, sitting down on the couch next to the hot jock, “Now give Daddy a kiss.”

Tyler balked, but couldn’t refuse. He tried to lean in for a little peck, only for Ethan to wrap one hairy forearm around his neck, pull him in, and force his tongue into Tyler’s mouth in the middle of the party, kissing him for most of a minute before pulling away. Tyler was horrified, and tried to get up from the couch, but Ethan pulled him back down. “Say thank you.”

“T-Thank you Daddy, for the kiss…”

“Good. Now take that shirt off, and dance for me.”

Tyler did as Daddy asked, and started gyrating to the techno playing around them, shaking his ass for Ethan while he groped himself, telling Tyler what a good boy he was, until several other members of the frat noticed what was going on, and music stopped. Tyler stopped as well, and retreated away before Daddy could say anything else to him.

“What the fuck are you doing Tyler? Who’s the pervert?”

“It’s…he’s the frat daddy! He asked me to dance for him…”

Ethan watched as the looks of confusion all turned to realization in a matter of moments. Ethan stood up and looked around the now quiet room. “I see too many women here–you boys know women are forbidden from the grounds. All of you girls leave, forget you were ever here, and do not return.”

The girlfriends and dates of the frat brothers all swarmed out of the house, leaving just the brothers and their new frat daddy in the living room. The fraternity president, Jameson, stepped forward then, and cleared his throat. “Daddy, I don’t think that most of the guys here appreciate you sending the girls away.”

“But it’s time for the ceremony, Jameson. After rush, at the first big party, the fraternity president bends over right here, and gets fucked by the frat daddy while the rest of your brother’s watch. You recall that, don’t you?”

“I…I mean, of course, but…”

“But what?”

“But I’m…straight, Daddy.”

“Why should that matter to me? Bend the fuck over. Daddy’s horny as fuckin’ hell.”

Jameson gulped, and bent over the back of the couch. Ethan pulled down his athletic shorts and boxers, pushed the head of his rock hard cock against his hole, and said, “Beg.”

“What Daddy?”

“Beg me to fuck you. You’re straight as an arrow, but you want me inside you more than anything else in the whole world. You want all of your brothers to watch me fuck you. You want them all to feel jealous that I fucked you first, that you earned that right as president. You know it will hurt, but you don’t care, you want me inside you more. Now beg.”

“Please Daddy! Please fuck my ass, make it hurt, please, fuck me, your fucking hot jock boy, I’ve worked on my ass so much for you, I want you to enjoy it, I want to be so tight for you, I want you to ruin my hole, Daddy, I want you to rape me, please, fuck me!” The words spilled out of Jameson’s mouth faster than he could really process them, and at the end of it, Daddy did as he’d asked, and pushed the head of his sizable cock into his hole, making Jameson hollar in pain, but he pushed back, eager to feel the whole thing inside him, hungry for it, aching for it.

The rest of the boys watched, unable to look away, as Ethan started fucking Jameson in earnest. “All of you,” Ethan said as he fucked, “Strip, and start jacking off. You’re all going to fantasize about how much you wish it was you over this couch, getting fucked by the frat daddy. You’re all going to cum into your hands, and you will feed your loads to Jameson, who will thank you for each and every one of them, and lick your hands clean afterward.”

One by one, the jocks all came in their hands, thinking about how much they too desired Daddy’s cock. They walked forward and fed their loads to Jameson, who thanked them and licked their hands clean afterward. Ethan watched in glee, fucking hard, completely in control of his orgasm thanks to an earlier wish. When all of the boys had fed Jameson their cum, he came as well, pushing in deep, and pumping a massive load into Jameson’s ass.

No one really remembered what happened after that. It was a flurry of sex and deabuchery, with plenty of beer helping to lube up the boys’ inhibitions. They woke the next morning in a pile of bodies, aching and sore, humiliated and shamed at what they had done. The only person who wasn’t was Ethan, fully dressed again, with a mug of coffee in his hand, sitting on a chair in front of the fireplace.

“Come on boys, time to wake up. We have some new house rules to discuss. Take your seats and listen closely–you will all be expected to obey all of these rules to the letter from now on.”

Hey everyone! I’m going to be trying something a little different with this interactive. There will probably be just one, maybe two entries a week, but they will be a bit more substantial than usual. The polls are also going to be different! I’m trying a different program here, which allows for the ranked choice voting I prefer, and also allows me to ask multiple questions! There are four questions below. Everyone will be able to provide answers to two of them, but for the other two, those will only be available for patrons. Patrons can find their extended survey over here. Everyone else, you can answer the questions below! Just click and drag the possible answers around, and rank them from top to bottom.

Interactive: Time Travel Takeover (Part 2)

After a few necessary precautions, Edwin fired up the machine again, and took control of Josh not too long after their first encounter on the day he moved in. He had one month, then, to set Josh on a more interesting, and in his mind, fulfilling path, than what Josh had in mind for himself.

He spent the first couple of days getting acclimated to his host. While his level of direct control was substantial, he noticed that Josh’s mind tended to push back on anything he did directly. It was more efficient, then, to work behind the scenes–send lots of little thoughts that would grow into big ones, until Josh made the desired decision all on his own–or at least, he thought he did. Edwin decided to start with a big one, just to measure the scope of his power–he was going to get Josh to drop out of school.

It ended up being easier than he’d expected. Josh wasn’t particularly good at school, and he didn’t exactly enjoy it. He mostly did it so he could play sports, so Edwin worked on that against him. It wasn’t easy. Josh had been playing baseball all of his life–it was about as close to a cornerstone of his identity as he could get. Of course, that meant that when it crumbled, every thing that came after would be much, much easier. It took a week. The greatest tool that Edwin had was doubt. He got Josh to start questioning his ability as a student easily, and after that, his skill as an athlete. With a solid dose of imposter syndrome brewing, all it took was a few hard pushes, and Josh went to the dean’s office and dropped out after one week of classes.

Of course, that wasn’t all Edwin had been up to in the course of the week. He’d already decided what sort of person he was going to turn Josh into, if he could. Josh liked his porn, mostly women, but with a few pushes, and some direct control, he had Edwin discovering an interest in a different kind of person entirely–fat men, the more obese the better. After a week, almost all of Edwin’s fantasies were about being an encourager. Feeding fat men, making them larger and larger, servicing them, worshiping them, every part of their bodies. It helped that Edwin himself wasn’t exactly small–he had Josh finding all sorts of excuses to get with Edwin–and during that first week, he discovered something groundbreaking–he could leap from person to person, in the past.

He could convince Edwin to start sucking his cock, and then leap to his own body, and make Josh worship his gut, cherish it, tell him that he loves fat old men like him, that they know how to make him happy. Then, he’d jump back to Josh when they were finished, and cement all of that praise in his ego. It was amazing, knowing that he’d mindfucked his hot, muscular tenant so easily–but they had another task before them, and now that he knew he could hop between people easily enough, that made the next task rather easy. See, Josh needed to find a new job, and it just so happened that not too far from the house was a fast food joint. Josh took an application in, and with a little hop over to the manager’s mind, he was hired on the spot.

Josh loved his new job much more than he’d expected to–mostly, he loved waiting on all of the obese men who came through. He got hard every time he got to upgrade their meals, thinking about how much fatter they were going to get with him feeding them here. He would take regular breaks to the bathroom at work to jack off, fantasizing about his favorite customers, wondering how many of them wouldn’t mind a personal feeding sometime. Edwin took the opportunity to plant the suggestion in quite a few of them, and it wasn’t long before Josh would take the leftover goods at the end of the night on a round of deliveries, stopping by at all of his regulars houses, stuffing them full all over again, and sucking down their cum as a reward.

Of course, Josh didn’t quite look the part of greasy fry cook yet, so Edwin made thoughts of hygiene start slipping from his mind. He had to keep his face shaved, but he would let the stubble grow in over the weekend. His hair grew out, sticky with grease from the grill and deep fryers. His skin started breaking out, and towards the end of the month, his manager actually had to pull him aside to talk about his BO–but Edwin made a little round of his coworker’s minds, and made sure that concern wouldn’t be an issue anymore for them. Towards the end of the month, Edwin’s work was done–where there had been a hotshot jock, there was now a greasy, hairy fry cook, obsessed with feeding fat men, spending all of his free time either delivering meals to his favorite customers, or sitting in his room at his computer, jacking off, and thinking about how much larger he was going to make them all. It was enough to make a pervert proud. With that, Edwin killed the stream and returned to the present, eager to see how the rest of the year had treated his tenant.

The headache was much more severe this time, and Edwin actually had to make his way to the bathroom to vomit. He’d spent all night in the basement and it was now mid-morning. Once he was sure his head wasn’t going to explode from the sudden onslaught, he got up, saw himself in the mirror, and grinned a bit. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he supposed, but Edwin had apparently become one of Josh’s favorite customers himself. He didn’t have a scale to weigh himself, but he had to be at least fifty pounds heavier than he remembered. He didn’t mind it, in all honesty–after all, it meant that everything had worked exactly as he’d hoped. He went upstairs and peeked into Josh’s room, where his tenant was sitting in front of his computer, masturbating as usual–and fuck, all of the fast food and feeding had rubbed off on him as well. He wasn’t the lean muscled man Edwin could half recall–he was easily 250 pounds, sitting in a pair of grungy, cumsoaked briefs, panting and grunting at a massive pig on the screen, totally absorbed in his fetish.

“If you want a real pig to worship, why not me,” Edwin said, and Josh spun around in his chair, leered at his landlord, and dragged him onto his bed, where Josh happily licked every inch of Edwin’s larger body clean, snorting and grunting the whole time like a pig himself. He drank down Edwin’s load at the end of it, and then had to throw on his unwashed uniform and get to work, leaving Edwin alone in the house, amazed at what he’d managed to accomplish with a month of control. Now that he’d gotten a taste of it, all Edwin wanted now, was more.

But who next? Edwin wasn’t close to many people, so he wasn’t quite sure. One option stood out to him though–his neighbor Jerry. A nice enough fellow, forty years old, married, no kids. Boring as dirt though. He and his wife were both teachers at the local high school, but didn’t do much beyond that. They had been married for twenty years though–Edwin recalled Jerry telling him they’d gotten married when they were twenty. He knew, now, what a year could do–but twenty years? Why not go back to the day before their wedding, break it off, and send Jerry on a life changing bender that would warp him for the rest of his days? Fuck, just thinking about it had Edwin hard as a rock…but he needed a rest. He’d take a few days to come up with a plan, and maybe get spy on Jerry’s life a bit–then he’d take a ride through Jerry’s past and wreak havoc.

Here’s the next poll! Same deal as before. Everyone can pick two options in the public poll below. Patrons have their bonus poll as well, and they get to choose four of the options. The bonus poll can be found over here.

Interactive: Time Travel Takeover (Part 1)

Had he really done it?

Edwin looked at the monitor in his basement lab, looking at the stream of data passing by. It looked…right. He moved over and examined the tachyon laser, not that there was much to see. Tachyons moved faster than the speed of light, and that meant, well, they moved faster than time itself. And moving faster than time, with the right sort of setup, also meant going back in time. He’d really done it. He put in a command in the console, and then went to the corner of the basement. Where there had been an untouched corner a moment ago, there was now a small burn in the brick wall. He touched it, it was still warm. Sure enough, the beam had done that ten minutes ago, in the past, while he was still setting it up. Not just time travel then–could he really change things?

It was complicated, of course. You can’t send physical matter back in time, after all–just tachyons. But that had been his first breakthrough, really, that he could use a tachyon beam to communicate data–a massive amount of data. Say, the consciousness of a person in the future, beamed into the past. It worked in the same room too–he’d tested it with a subject or two early on. He’d been able to beam his own conscious experience into their mind with a shot from the beam. He’d made them forget, of course, but now, if the beam could go back in time and move through space, well…

He could be anyone, really, at any point in history. Almost giddy with excitement, he set up his equipment, put on the transmitting helmet, and connected into his new setup. He already had a target in mind, in fact–he was going to shoot the beam at the young man currently resting the upstairs room from him. His name was Josh, and he was a nice enough kid. Went to the local college, played on the baseball team, liked to go out and party a lot, as young guys did he supposed. He had been one of Edwin’s earlier test subjects, and the momentary experience of being young again…it had been a rush. It didn’t hurt that Josh was attractive, and that Edwin was a bit of a pervert.

He loaded up the security cameras in the house, and found the exact moment and coordinates from the day that Josh had moved in a year ago. Then, he crossed his fingers, started the program, and the beam started to power up. One moment he was sitting there in his basement, and the next–he wasn’t. He was seeing through Josh’s eyes, one year ago. He could see the calendar on the wall and everything!

The sensation was the same–Josh was still in control, but the beam was broadcasting Edwin’s mental states on top of his. A passenger really, and Josh didn’t seem to have any idea it was happening, as he stood in the kitchen with Edwin a year ago, discussing the various rules of the house. Edwin was looking at himself–that was strange as well. He’d remembered what he’d been thinking about at this moment, actually, that what he’d really wanted was this hot young jock to get down and start sucking him off.

He felt the mind he was in lurch oddly around him. Had Josh…heard that? He had–it must have felt like an intrusive thought, or something like that. Could…no, he couldn’t make him do something like that, could he? For the next several minutes, he started forcing more and more thoughts into Josh’s mind, subtler, about how he found his new landlord attractive, how he could get a little discount on the rent, in exchange for, well, you know. He couldn’t believe it when he heard the words come out of Josh’s mouth, and knowing himself, Edwin was more than happy to oblige the young man. Josh sucked him off right there in the kitchen, and Edwin did everything he could to reward him, make his mind feel good, tell him how much he enjoyed this. When Josh was finished, and swallowing down the load of cum, Edwin killed the stream back in the present–and when he found himself back in his own mind, he had a sudden headache.

He could…remember it. Remember Josh sucking him off that day–and sucking him off once a week ever since. Sure, it had meant a fifty percent discount on the rent, but the boy’s mouth was so nice, and he was so eager for it, Edwin didn’t mind losing a bit of income. He still knew he’d changed it–but all of those memories were…harder to pull forward, and made the headache worse. He went upstairs for some water, and pondered for a moment.

How long had he been there? He’d expected a one to one conversion rate, but was surprised to find that his hour spent in the past had only been one minute in the present. That meant, he could spend an uninterrupted month in the past, and only lose around twelve hours in the present.

One month. Fuck, if he’d been able to turn Josh into a cocksucker in one hour, what could he do if he lived in the young man’s head for a month? Who could he turn him into? He’d had so many fantasies–make the jock ruin his fit, muscular body and turn him into an obese pig. Make him his subservient butler. Convert him into a rubber gimp, maybe even as a urinal. Hell, he could warp his entire personality, drop out of school, a disgusting gooner. He went back downstairs, and started powering up the beam, hundreds of ideas circling through his head. He would go back there, and spend a month, he’d decided. See what sort of control he had over people in the past, and have some good, naughty fun while he was at it.

Alright, I thought it was time for another interactive, and I’d had this idea bouncing around for a bit in various ways, and figured it would make a decent one. We’ll probably have Edwin make some modifications to a few different people, starting with his roommate Josh. These polls will have a lot of options–I’ll mix and match the most popular ones into a result that uses several. Patrons get their own bonus poll of course! While you can only choose two options in the public poll, patrons can choose their four favorites on the bonus poll. I’ll probably do an alternate chapter or two for patrons as well, depending on how things go. The public poll is below, and the patron only bonus poll is over here.

Caption: Bathhouse Music

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Did they have to have that music on all the time? It seemed like, no matter when Lance went to the gym these days, the bass from that damn place next door leaked through the walls. Even when he had his headphones in, it was like he could still feel it in his bones.

That place, was the bathhouse that had somehow managed to open up right next door. No one had expected it. It had been under construction for a few months, and no one had any idea what it was going to be, and then, when it opened, the guys at the gym were disgusted to discover that they were going to be sharing their parking lot with a bunch of fags going in to get their rocks off. They’d tried complaining, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it, so they settled into a bit of a truce. The only thing breaking that line between them was the music coming from the bathhouse.

It could be worse though, right? Lance pulled off his shirt, dropped his gym shorts, and admired himself in the mirror, pleased with his progress lately. He snapped a photo, and then put his phone back in his bag, and kept admiring himself.

The nipple piercings he’d gotten a few weeks ago were still a bit tender, but fuck, they were hot as hell. He’d never really thought about it before–if anything, he might have thought getting his tits pierced was a little…well, gay. It felt so good though, and it definitely made him look hotter in his opinion. Hell, just looking at himself, he was getting a bit hard already.

He groped his cock and balls through his grungy jock, and noticed it was wet again. He kept leaking at the gym lately, usually enough to soak his jock and stain the front of his shorts. It…was embarrassing, but also kind of hot for some reason, but it was hard to explain why. He was about to stroke off, when he realized he wasn’t alone–an older, chubby fellow was on a bench not twenty feet away, dripping dry with a towel over his shoulder. He must have been in the shower while Lance was checking himself out.

The older man leered at Lance, pulled the towel away, and revealed his own cock, rock hard, and he started stroking it while Lance stared at it.

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Ten minutes later, Lance left the door, not even aware of the load of cum plastered across his bearded face. As he headed for his truck, he saw a familiar car pull up with some guys who worked out at the gym, but instead of going in there, they all went right into the bathhouse instead. Lance was a bit…unnerved by it, and wondered how he’d never realized any of them were fags this whole time. He certainly would never be going in there, of course. No…never. Sure, he had that one dream once, and…but no. Not even if he was curious. He wouldn’t cross that line.