Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 1)

“So like I said, we had a nice family living here for a while, but…well, I don’t really have the details,” Mr. Woodrow said, with a look that implied he did, in fact, have them, “but let’s just say that they ended up getting divorced, and neither of them could afford the rent on their own, so they found new places for themselves. It’s been vacant for a while, but I took the time to fix it up a bit, add some more furnishings, you know…”

Taylor was still so agog at the place that he was only half listening, as the landlord kept going on and on about the house during the tour. It was beautiful–big kitchen, spacious living areas, five bedrooms, a pool in the backyard, a little exercise room in the basement–it was unbelievable really, especially at the price Mr. Woodrow was offering–enough that Taylor and his four friends could actually afford it while they were going to school next year.

“Now, I do need a year lease. You said you wanted to rent it with your friends? That doesn’t bother me really, as long as all of your names are on it. Do you think you’d all be interested?”

“Hell yeah we are,” Taylor said, “I mean, I’ll check with them about it, but this…I mean, it’s a great place man, it really is.”

Mr. Woodrow beamed, “I put a lot of work into it, but I know around here, you students just need places to live. I like to know that I’m helping out some young men when I can.”

Taylor sent the listing to his friends, and all of them agreed that it looked like an amazing find. Taylor was the only one who was going to live there the whole summer, while he was doing a research project on campus. His other friends would join him closer to the school year starting in August and September–though Aaron said that for a place this nice, he might show up early. The lease could be signed electronically, and with a deposit–helpfully supplied by Taylor’s father, they were all set to go–they had the perfect fucking place, at a great bargain, and it didn’t look like there was a single catch anywhere.

At least, until Taylor was leaving the house, whistling in excitement and ready to start moving in, when someone came out from behind some bushes and hustled towards him. He was an older man, and he looked like he meant some sort of business. “Hey, kid! What were you doing in there?” he shouted at him.

Taylor just looked at him, confused, but assumed it was a neighbor. “Oh, uh, me and my friends are going to be renting it for the next year. You live around here?”

The guy’s face went a bit pale, and he came closer to him. “Don’t. Rip it up–don’t sign a lease with him. That place…it’s fucked man, you don’t want to be anywhere near it.”

“What? Why?”

The man hesitated, and then blurted out, “I lived there, and it made me gay.”

Taylor just stared at him, and then started laughing.

“I’m fucking serious! I was married, I had a kid. We started living there a year ago, and…and fuck, I don’t know how that fucker did it, some spell, or a curse, or who the fuck knows, but now…now I fucking love cock kid. I love cock more than fucking anything, and it’s fucking destroyed me. Killed my marriage, I lost my fucking job! Don’t…don’t do it, don’t move in there, you’ll fucking regret it.”

The guy moved closer to him, but Taylor swatted his hand away. “Whatever pervert–fuck off! It’s just a fucking house man, get a grip on yourself. If you wanna suck dicks, whatever, I don’t care, but I’m straight.”

He pushed past the stranger and got in his car, and the man just stared after him as he drove off, and shook his head. He wouldn’t be straight for long–not in that place.


It was a couple weeks later now, and TayLor finally felt like he had all of his stuff in the house, at least. Most of it was still in boxes, that that was a small problem now, after moving his stuff out of the dorm and across town in his small car. His friends had all seen the place by now and were thrilled with his luck–and a bit jealous that he was going to enjoy it by himself all summer long, since his rich father was willing to pay for the three months himself, before the rest of them moved in.

So, here he was–it was his, finally. So Taylor decided to take a break from unpacking, and decided to poke around a little. The pool in particular was enticing, especially since the weather was finally starting to heat up, but Mr. Woodrow told him it hadn’t been turned on yet, so he had to wait. Instead, he poked around the house itself, checking out the other rooms, peeking in the closets, up in the attic, and down in the basement–but something in particular caught his undivided attention for a while, but what was it?


My plan for this one is a bit more of a slow burn. We might have a few parts with just Taylor, and then add in the rest of his housemates to be corrupted as well, in turn. We’ll see how it goes! The first poll is below, and the bonus Patreon poll is over here too. You can make two selections each in the polls!


Porno Virus (Part 4) [Interactive]

Mr. Theodore Drake was having a pleasantly slow morning that Saturday, happy to be away from the office with his family. He was an older fellow, sliding into his mid fifties more or less gracefully. He exercised, but not as much as he could, he supposed, and while he enjoyed golfing a few times each week, it wasn’t enough to remove his paunch entirely. His balding had advanced in the last few years enough that he had decided to embrace it grudgingly, keeping it trimmed up in a neat horseshoe of grey, and a tight mustache accenting his lip below. He was a conservative fellow, with a conservative family–a loving wife, and a somewhat struggling son living at home while going to college, but he had hope his boy would find his way eventually.

He woke around eight, got up, took the dog for a walk, and when he got back, his wife was preparing breakfast for the three of them. He read the paper and enjoyed his family’s company, and then did a bit of yard work outside that his wife had been pestering him about for a week or so. His tee time with the fellows at the club wasn’t until the early afternoon, which gave him plenty of time to mow the lawn and fix one of the sprinklers that had been acting up lately–and which also worked up a bit of a sweat. While he was in the yard that morning, Steve–one of Mr. Drake’s subordinates at work–was arriving at the office, smoking a cigar, the virus inside him running rampant through the servers of the company. Steve…could sense that something was wrong, and so he did his best, as the urge to smoke overwhelmed him, to try and tell his boss that something was wrong at the company, with the servers. Of course, Terrance couldn’t allow something like that to escape its net.

And so, in transit, the email was corrupted by the same virus that was twisting and corrupting Steve, and the email ended up in Mr. Drake’s inbox, his phone alerting him to the email while he was in the bathroom, stripping out of his muddy clothes and getting ready to shower before going to the golf club for the afternoon. As a general rule, Theodore didn’t deal with work problems over the weekend if he could help it–but this was marked urgent, and Steve had mentioned more than once that something about the servers had seemed…strange. Theodore found some of Steve’s personal proclivities…distasteful, but he couldn’t deny that the man was good at his job, and as long as the gay could keep his hands to himself, Theodore could handle it for the most part. So he sat down on the toilet, opened up the email, and the virus embedded in the file entered Mr. Drake’s phone, and with a spark, jumped into Mr. Drake himself.

The virus trawled through Mr. Drake’s phone, looking for relevant pornography it could use against him, and found nothing–Theodore thought porn was incredibly distasteful, and while he had slowed down considerably over the last few years, he still had a very active sex life with his wife. So, finding nothing, it relied on what it did have–the porn it had taken from Steve’s sizable archive and varied tastes. Theodore saw his screen glitch and go dark for a second, and then a slideshow started, a rapid one, showing a cascade of naked men–almost all of them smoking, many of them chubby, and lots of them with…decidedly more lax hygiene than Mr. Drake did himself. At first he was disgusted, but he couldn’t do anything, as his hand gripped his cock and started stroking, masturbating and watching, helplessly, as the virus went to work, attacking his defenses, drilling deeper into his body, slowly taking over, until Theodore released a massive load of cum all over the floor of the bathroom, his phone returned to normal–the email now missing entirely–and Mr. Drake blinked back to himself, unsure of what had just happened.

He’d been planning to shower and shave, but he got up from the toilet, and did neither of those things–he didn’t even pay attention to the load of cum drying on the tile floor. He…didn’t want to be late for his golf game after all, and there was something else bugging him, all of a sudden. He went over to his small humidor that he kept stocked for the occasional cigar he enjoyed on the golf course or during a poker game, and pulled out five, putting them in his pocket after he got dressed. He…didn’t know why he needed one so bad, but he did, and feeling like he was ready, he went down to his car and climbed inside–forgetting to put his golf clubs in the trunk, but lighting up a cigar as soon as he was out and driving down the driveway.

The virus jumped from his phone, into the navigation system on the car and scrambled it. Theodore wasn’t paying attention to where he was going though, smoking one of his cigars just felt so good, it was hard keeping two hands on the wheel, and whenever he stopped at a light, he would reach down with one hand and grope himself, feeling the precum getting the crotch of his khakis a bit damp. He drove for a while, and pulled in somewhere, parked, and continued smoking his cigar,  now jacking off eagerly, confused as to why he was so horny all of a sudden, but not disappointed by any means. He came again, and then looked around at where he was–but it wasn’t the golf club. Instead, the virus had led him somewhere else entirely–but where?


Here’s the public poll, and if you’re a patron, you can access the patron bonus poll over here as well!

Rumors at School (Caption)

“You know Mikey, there’s a rumor goin’ around school these days.”

Mikey looked over at Jay and Ken, his two friends in the senior class at their high school. It was a small town, and not a big class, so if there was a rumor going around, chances were that everyone was going to know about it in a day or two.

“Oh, what’s it this time?”

Jay and Ken exchanged a look, and then Jay said, “Rumor is that yer a faggot.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

Ken just shrugged his shoulders, “That’s what Becky told me last night when we went out.”

“I heard the same thing from Alison, and Marshall.”

“Well it’s not fucking true, I can tell you that much, and I know who fucking started it too, that little fucking shit Marcus I bet. I roughed him up a couple of days ago, and he was gettin’ all pissy with me, saying I’d be sorry or something, but this is just stupid. You know I’ve fucked bitches.”

“Yeah, I know they say that they fuck you.”

“Bro, what the fuck? Do you not fucking believe me? You’re gonna take the word of a bunch of fuckers at school over me?”

They cut through a construction site on the way home, deserted at this point, since the funding to finish the project dried up. Before Mikey could do anything, Jay shoved him against the side of a car parked there, out of sight of the road. “Quit fucking with us, Mikey–is it fucking true?”

“What, that I’m a faggot? Of course not!”

“I heard the only reason you hang out with us is because you want our cocks,” Ken said.

“That’s–what the fuck has gotten into you two?”

“There’s pictures, Mikey, of some…big fucker plowing your ass.”

Jay pulled out his phone, and showed Mikey the photo–and sure enough…it was him, getting fucked by a huge cock, in the middle of a moan, and as soon as Mikey saw it…he could remember it. Remember how he’d begged for it, how good it had felt…

“He’s got a fuckin’ hard on, Jay!”

“I fuckin’ d-do not!”

“Fuckin’ faggot, all this fuckin’ time–well you want this cock? I’ll fucking give it to you, ain’t that right Ken? We both will–take turns with your ass…yeah, fuck…”

The video was everywhere the next day, Mikey up on the hood of the car, Jay behind him, fucking him, while Ken jacked off, watching. Nobody was as smug as Marcus though–because Mikey couldn’t turn anyone down, not anymore–and he begged Marcus for his cock in the bathroom, hating himself, but even he knew the truth now. He was just a faggot–and that was all he was ever going to be from now on.

How Lucky (Sketch)

I’m currently open for flash commissions like this one! For more details, check out this post, or send me a message!


“You’d be so fucking lucky if you were straight, you know that?”

Evan looked over at Raymond, his dormmate. They were in their room, homework done (or done enough, at least) and were taking a break to play some video games together. Evan was gay, and Raymond was straight, but he’d never made a offputting comment like that before. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, if you were straight, girls would throw themselves at you. You got everything–looks, muscles…I don’t have shit.”

Raymond didn’t have…much, in those categories. Evan would have called him a twink, and a cute one at that, if you were into that sort of thing, but Raymond hated his short, petite frame. He must have gotten shot down again–he always got a bit petty and morose when a girl turned him down. He was a nice guy, but in Raymond’s opinion, the self-pity was exhausting. “I don’t have trouble getting guys either, so I guess I’m lucky anyway.”

“You don’t have to rub it in, you know.”

Evan shrugged.

They were silent for a moment, and then Raymond mumbled something quietly, but loud enough that Evan could hear it. “I wish I was bigger–then I wouldn’t have any problems.”

Evan tried to suppress a smirk–maybe it was time for Raymond to learn a lesson or two. Evan happened to come from a very long line of witches, and was quite powerful himself, though he prefered to keep a low profile. Raymond had exhausted his patience, though, plus Evan was horny, and maybe a little drunk from his secret stash of booze in the closet. He turned to Raymond, and said something in an odd tongue, something so complicated that Raymond couldn’t even begin to parse it into words, much less understand it. It felt…odd too, hearing it, like the words were doing something to him…but as soon as Evan finished speaking, he forgot the oddity, and went back to playing the game.

An hour later, when they finished, Raymond also didn’t notice that when he stood up, he was a bit taller, with a bit more muscle on his frame, and a five o’ clock shadow that hadn’t been there before. He went down the hall to the bathroom to take a shower and brush his teeth, and while he felt a bit…off, he couldn’t really pin down why. When he got back to the room, Evan was in his bed, reading one of those old tomes of his he’d brought to school with him. He looked at him…and felt a twinge of attraction, along with the usual jealousy, and made another comment about how lucky Evan was–but all Evan did was say the same strange phrase again, but it was just as difficult to understand as before, and when Raymond climbed into bed, his feet stretched to the end of the extra long twin beds they had in their room.

He also couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about Evan, in the bed next to him–not just about how good he looked, but how…sexy he was. Raymond’s cock was rock hard, and after half an hour of tossing about, he had to get up and go down the hall to the bathroom to jack off, thinking about Evan as he did. It felt…normal to think of him, but shouldn’t he be thinking of girls instead? He felt better with a load out of him, and went back to bed, mostly oblivious, although Evan had also jacked off when Raymond had left the room a second ago–and left his cum rag under Evan’s pillow. He found it after a moment, and got so horny immediately, he jacked off again, right in the bed there in front of his gay roommate, and then fell asleep with the crusty rag pressed to his nose.

The next few days were…strange. Raymond, or rather, Ray, as he was being called by most everyone, found his life becoming rather…unrecognizable. He woke up early and went to the gym to work out, and ended up sucking off one of the football linebackers in the shower afterward. He tried to keep focused on girls, but it was men he wanted–the burlier and hairier the better. It was a couple of days before he made another complaint about his life to Evan, and again, he said the same phrase as before, just as confounding…but it seemed stronger than before, somehow. Evan had to study at the library for a while, and so Ray ended up back in their room alone–where their beds were pushed together, for some reason. He stripped down to just his musky jockstrap, not even aware of the tattoos that had formed all over his thicker, hairier frame, nor the piercings in his ears, nipples, and the head of his cock. He did some school work, but had to take regular breaks to jack off, usually while sniffing Ray’s current cumrag, until his boyfriend got back from the library, and fucked Ray’s ass on their bed, just like always…right?

Evan imagined that Ray had probably had enough for now, but after a couple of days, he was bemoaning something else, how uptight the guys on the football team were about him sucking them off in the shower. It wasn’t a big deal, right? Evan just replied with the same phrase, and Ray bristled. Now seven feet tall, and packed with muscle, musk rolling off him, he was the center of attention no matter where he was–not just because of how big he was, but often because of what, and how little, he was usually wearing. Since the weather was nice, he was wearing only his custom leather harness, and a pair of tattered jean shorts tight against his wide ass, almost tight enough to see the end of the plug he always kept up his ass.

He looked down at himself, trying to take all of him in, and at last, Evan saw his face relax into contentment, and he looked over at his shorter, but still beefy boyfriend with a sigh. “Fuck, what the hell am I even complaining for? My life is pretty damn good, right?”

Evan just chuckled, nodded, and then pulled the big slut off to their room for an afternoon fuck. In the afterglow, Ray asked Evan what that thing he’d been saying lately meant. After considering for a moment, Evan said, “It’s hard to translate, but I suppose you could say it kind of means, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’”

Room for a Houseboy (Pics)

“Trust me man, you’re gonna love it here! It’s a great place,” Travis said.

“Yeah man, sounds good,” Robbie said, following his friend into the house.

Robbie had recently found out he was going to be getting kicked out of the room where he had been staying, because the guy who owned the place was going to have his girlfriend moving in with him. It had sucked, but thankfully, Travis–a guy he’d gotten to know at the gym recently–had suggested he move into the same house where he lived. The landlord had a few rooms in a sizable house, and one of them had just come free. Robbie was a little…hesitant, because something about Travis had always seemed a bit odd, but a room was a room, right?

“That you, boy?” a voice called out from a room or two away.

“Yes sir, Mr. Porter! I have someone I want you to meet!”

Travis signaled Robbie to follow him, and there in the living room was a sizable man–Mr. Porter, Robbie assumed. “This is my friend! I know that after Mr. Everett moved out last month, that we had a room free, and so I thought Robbie might be, well, a good fit.”

Mr. Porter hadn’t looked away from Robbie once since he’d stepped into the room, and the young man was feeling increasingly uncomfortable under his glare. He was right–Travis was a fag of some sort. Was this some weird fag thing? “Look–it’s all good. I have some friends I can crash with, actually,” Robbie said, and tried back away and get out of the door, but Travis grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

“See, Mr. Porter…I was thinking, it’s just…a lot of work for one boy, you know? It’s not that I don’t enjoy it, you know that, but think of how good it would be to have two!”

Mr. Porter heaved himself up and walked closer to the two of them. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off of Robbie since he’d entered, and…and Robbie realized he didn’t have his shirt on. When had he even taken it off? “He is a very handsome boy, I must say,” Mr. Porter said, and ran his hands over Robbie’s muscled frame. He expected to feel disgusted…but instead it felt…amazing. He moaned, his cock tenting out his gym shorts, and Mr. Porter started groping him, his mind…hazy and distant all of a sudden.

“I knew you would like him! This is so good!”

“Yes, he is…very nice, I must say. And so very…eager. BUt still, I don’t know if he’d be such a good fit for Mr. Everett’s old room. It would just be such a waste.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

Mr. Porter looked at Travis, considered for a moment, and then stepped back from Robbie. “Boy,” he said to Robbie, “Why don’t you be good and wait here for a bit, until I call you? Travis and I need to…discuss something.”

Robbie was more than happy to wait, and so Mr. Porter took Travis upstairs, and into Mr. Everett’s old room. Travis had liked him–a big burly bear, a hard worker, with a magnificent cock. He’d always helped him loosen up after a day at the office, like a good boy should. “Travis, I’ve had my suspicions, but I just don’t know if you’re cut out to be the house boy.”

The words cut to Travis’ heart like a knife. “What…what are you talking about?”

“You just don’t have the drive. We’ve all noticed it, sadly. You’re a good boy, don’t get me wrong. I had such…high hopes for you when you applied, but it just isn’t quite working out. I think Robbie down there–he’s going to be a much better boy that you ever were.”

“You…are you kicking me out?”

“I’m afraid so, Travis.”

He shook his head, “No! No, please…I’ll do better! I’ll do anything! Please let me stay, please!” he fell to his knees.

“Well, I do have this room open, as you know, but the rent isn’t free, like it is for boys. It’s 4000 dollars a month.”

Travis looked around him, and then back at Mr. Porter. “I…I don’t even have a job, though.”

“I know Travis, but I…can help, if you’d like me to. I’ve been able to help men find their footing in this house before. It won’t be easy, I promise you that–but the room could be yours, if you want it. Or else, you’ll have to leave tonight.”

Travis looked from Mr. Porter to the door, and back. “I…I’ll take it sir.”

“That’s good to hear. Now, let’s get started.”


A month later, Mr. Travis Evers pulled up and parked in the driveway, finally done with work. He was exhausted, but glad to be home, if nothing else. He got out of the car and loosened his tie, grabbed his briefcase and went up the steps to the door, and went inside. Mr. Porter and Mr. Raymond were in the kitchen–the house boy, Robbie, was in a jockstrap serving dinner, and his eyes brightened when he saw Travis enter. “Mr. Evers! He bounded over and gave him a kiss, “You must have had a late day at the office–let me help you.”

A couple hours later, after a nice dinner, he was sitting with a beer and a cigar in his room,  in just his underwear, while Robbie lovingly worshiped and massaged his feet, happy to help the men of the house unwind and relax. Travis remembered doing something…similar for Mr. Everett, in another life, but he wasn’t a young boy anymore, not by a long shot. No, he was a man now, and being a man meant having…responsibilities. It was stressful–rent was high, and he needed to work long hours to make ends meet, but living here, with a lovely, hot, dedicated houseboy, made it all worth it.

August Suggested Stories Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Hey all! If you’re a patron, you can download the three short stories I wrote this month based off suggestions and requests a couple weeks ago. Below, I have one from last month for everyone to read.


Midlife Crisis

Is this what a midlife crisis is? Les had always imagined them to be something…else. In TV shows, the men in crisis are always so…exuberant. Buying new cars, divorcing wives and dating younger women, but for him it just felt like a crippling depression and a growing confidence that everything he had done in his life had been for nothing. He didn’t want a car, or a boat, or some young thing–he didn’t know what he wanted, but after turning fifty this year it seemed like it had just now dawned on him how…miserable he is.

He should be happier, right? He’d been married to his wife for over twenty years, he had a beautiful daughter who had just gotten married the year before after what felt like an endless courtship, his career was right on track, but there was a hole in his chest all the same. It was a hole he’d always felt his entire life, and it had started aching over the last few months and it refused to stop. But this–he had to stop doing this. He couldn’t keep crying like this.

He wiped his eyes in the restaurant bathroom, hoping they didn’t seem too bloodshot. He and his wife were currently driving to go see their daughter, Kate, and his son-in-law, Gabe, and had stopped to get some food, but he’d…god, why was he crying like this so often now? Everything just felt like too much for him to handle, but there was no one he could talk to about any of it.

“Bad life, eh?”

Les gave a start, and in the mirror he saw a trucker had entered the bathroom without him noticing. “Just, uh, tabasco in my eye.”

“You can’t lie to me man, I’ve been there. I can see it,” the man pulled something out of his pocket, a golden coin, walked over and pressed it into Les’s palm. “This will help. It helped me, it’s helped lots of people before me too. Just pass it on once you have what you need.”

***

He didn’t know why he kept it. No, Les knew why he kept it–it was because he couldn’t get rid of it. He’d tried to junk the worthless coin, only for it to keep showing up in his pocket every time. He done his best to forget his strange encounter, and instead focused on enjoying time with his daughter…but when they arrived, both he and his wife could sense something was wrong. It was a few days later, on the back patio alone with Kate, that she finally told Les what was wrong.

“I think Gabe is cheating on me,” she said, choking back tears, “I…think it’s been going on for a while, before we were even married.”

Les just listened, stunned, as she recounted all of the clues and hints that had led her to this conclusion, and how things only seemed to be getting worse, how he was almost more…open about it, like he was daring her to try and do something about it. She was at a loss, and Les was too. He’d never gotten the feeling that Gabe was the sort of man who would do that, and his first instinct was to disbelieve it. Still, it was clear that something was upsetting Kate, and that tugged at his heart and only complicated the feelings he was wrestling with himself. In the end, he had nothing to offer in the way of help, but she seemed to appreciate him listening if nothing else.

It had to be wrong–he…liked Gabe. He liked Gabe more than any of the other young men Kate had dated before this, and he…well, he doubted Gabe felt the same way, but he considered him to be the son he’d never had. The feelings were complicated, though, and mixed in with the rest of the mess he was in. He covered it all up with a smile through the rest of the evening, finding himself looking over at Gabe, at his wife, at Kate, one hand slipping into his pocket and fiddling with the coin. It was hot, hotter than it should be, and he found himself getting…angry. Angry at Gabe, angry that he’d cheat on his family with…who knew who. He was going to cry again, wasn’t he? He excused himself before it hit and went to the bathroom, locking himself inside, tears falling, coin gripped in his hand.

It was even hotter now, hot enough to feel like it might burn him, but he couldn’t release his fist as hard as he tried. He just…wanted everything to work out. He wanted what he could never have, what he’d wanted for his daughter, what he’d only realized he’d wanted once it was too late. Everything shuddered, or maybe it was just him. The tears subsided again after a few minutes, and he went back out to rejoin the dinner, pretending everything was normal, like they all were.

“Would you join me for a cigar after dinner, sir?” Gabe asked him, catching Les off guard.

“I didn’t know you smoked, Gabe.”

The young man looked at him a bit oddly, “Well, I didn’t, until you showed me, sir.”

Many people had addressed him as “sir” in his years, but never had it sounded like it did when it came from Gabe. He agreed, and while Kate and her mother washed up, the two men went into the garage. It felt natural, letting Gabe light his cigar for him, watching him kneel down in front of him, hands shaking as he unzipped the fly of Les’s slacks, pulled out his hard cock, and started sucking on it, blowing his own smoke over it. Les was terrified, and yet…and yet he wanted this, didn’t he? No–this was…kind of what he wanted, but not really. The coin–had it done this?

But he didn’t want to hurt Kate…and somehow, she knew. Knew that her father and her husband were fucking behind her back, but he didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want to hurt anyone. But this–Gabe, he was so handsome, such a good young man, and he would be a much better man for his daughter if he was under Les’s control. So he could become a better husband, and a better father as well…a man more like him. The coin was hot again against his leg, and once more the world shuddered.

The door to the garage opened, and his wife entered, unsurprised by the sight of Gabe sucking her husband’s cock over cigars, and set down a couple glasses of whisky. “Thanks, Evelyn,” Les said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“I know what you and your boy need, honey.”

“You always have.”

“You two going out tonight?”

“What do you think boy, think you’ve earned a night out with daddy at the leather bar? I’d like to see your…technique. Make sure you’re pleasing my little girl. No cumming though–you save your seed for her, understand? I need an heir.”

“Yes sir, of course sir,” Gabe said, cock leaking in the chastity device he wore for his master and wife’s sake, sucking a bit harder now, eager for a night out on the town with his father-in-law.

August Suggested Stories Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Use It or Lose It (Part 3)

He jacked off when he woke up the next morning, later than he would have ever before, in that old life. It was so distant now, that he could barely recall any of it–not even the names of his wife and daughters. No–in this life, he’d lived as a perpetual bachelor. He’d been in a few relationships over the years, but he’d never found them particularly satisfying, and few women had been able to put up with his rather brutish behavior. The church had receded from his life–he no longer attended with any regularity–but the misogyny had remained unhindered. If anything, it had intensified.

Still, as the day progressed, with no company beyond his thoughts and his hand, there was restlessness, and there was shame. What was he doing with himself, on a Saturday, just sitting in his apartment, jacking off over and over again? He needed to get out, he decided. It had been a while since he’d last fucked a broad–some company would be a nice change, he supposed. Through the afternoon he resisted the urge to keep jacking off and felt better for doing so, for demonstrating he still had some willpower, at least. By seven he was good and horned up, he got in his car and headed for a nearby bar where he had a bit of a reputation as a regular.

The drinking was new, but he hadn’t noticed the shift. Before, he’d never been much of a drinker, considering it to be a sign of weakness to rely on alcohol. On the weekends, he might have the occasional glass of whiskey, but nothing beyond that. Now, however, he bellied up to the bar and started hammering back beers. He told himself he wouldn’t drink too much–just enough to help him loosen up around the women. Still, as soon as he started striking out with every woman he chatted up, three drinks became six, and he was lost. He was so fucking horny, that he thought about slipping off to the bathroom to jack off quickly, but that would amount to admitting defeat. No–he might not be able to get a woman to want to sleep with him, but he could at least pay someone, right? There were a couple…regular woman he slept with on occasion, who were willing to tolerate him for slightly inflated rates. He got back in his car and drove home, went inside and placed a call–the sensual woman on the other end promised to be there in half an hour, but that seemed like forever, suddenly.

His cock was raging like the day before, and the intensity was only increasing. He started stroking, telling himself he was just going to edge himself for a moment, to make sure he could stay hard for the bitch who’d be arriving soon, but the heat of it was too much. Still, he was sweating and panting by the time he finally managed to push himself over the edge, the world lurching around him as his cock exploded, coating his belly and chest with a massive load of cum, leaving him panting and heaving in the mess, head spinning, and feeling like an idiot. How was he supposed to perform now? The whore would be here any minute, and he’d just shot his wad!

There was a knock at the door–heavier than he would have expected from a woman’s hand. Shit–should he just tell her to forget it? He’d probably still have to give her some fucking money, or she’d throw a fit. Not bothering to clean himself up–forgetting, in fact, that he was coated in his own cum–he went and answered the door, but his mouth went agape when he saw the older man on the other side of the door. He was so shocked, first, because he hadn’t expected a man, and second, because the man was so…damn sexy, and he’d never once thought that of a man before in his life.

Or had he? At the sight, he suddenly couldn’t remember being with many women before this. Or…any women, really. “Hey daddy–looks like someone got a bit too excited already.”

Randal blushed, “I…yeah, I don’t think I’ll…be needing anything tonight, actually.”

“Oh, but daddy–we both know what you need more than that, don’t we?” he said, stepping inside, pulling Randal into him, squeezing his ass and making him moan, “Yeah–it’s my cock you need, right daddy?”

Randal tried to object, but his body was like putty in the man’s hand. They ended up in the bedroom, Randal bent over the side of the bed while the man slid his cock up and down his crack. He should say no. He didn’t want this, did he? It didn’t matter–as soon as the whore was inside him, the pleasure of it wiped away all doubts he might have felt, and he was begging for it, shoving back, demanding the young hunk seed daddy’s dirty hole. The whore was more than willing, and fifteen minutes later he was on his way, two hundred dollars richer, and Randal was feeling the cum leak from his ass while he stroked his cock off again, unable to believe what he’d just done–but he’d needed it, right? He needed to get fucked, almost as much as he needed to jack off. He tried to convince himself it was a lie, that he’d called a woman, that he’d been married before all of this, but none of that even seemed possible anymore. No–he was a faggot. A faggot who loved to get fucked. A faggot willing to pay to get fucked by a nice, massive cock.

A cock like he’d had, once. He could remember that better, his ten inch tool–but now it was just seven. He wasn’t imagining it, it really was getting smaller–still larger than average, but for how much longer? Was it because he was jacking off too much? It had to be. He’d stop–he’d get help. He’d go to church tomorrow, and talk to someone. They would have to remember him, right?

Use It or Lose It (Part 1 & 2)

Sorry for the missed post yesterday! Today’s will be a double to make up for it.


“You told my son that masturbation will make his penis shrink, and you’re accusing me of being immature?” she said, resisting the urge to shriek, but losing to her anger at Mr. Randal Gray, the health teacher and wrestling coach sitting across from her. “I thought your job is to educate our children, not flat out lie to them!”

“Ms. Eleway,” he said, emphasizing the fact that the mother had no weding ring, and without a man, no real standing in his eyes, “The bible is clear that masturbation, and lust, are sins. Sex and ejaculation are for procreation, not recreation! A little fib here and there is worth the preservation of innocence, in my eyes. Besides, it’s motivation! The only men who need to masturbate are worthless lazy slob who are too ugly to get any action–is that who you want your son to be?”

“This is a public school–it’s facts that matter, not your fucking beliefs!” she seethed, “I’ll fucking report you to the school board.”

Mr. Gray scoffed, and leaned back, flexing slightly against the polo he wore. “Well before you do, maybe sit on a nice thick cock, you fucking cunt,” he said, groping himself, “because that’s obviously what you need to sort your issues out.”

She glared at him, and stalked off. She was bluffing–they almost always were bluffing. And if they did call the school board? Well, half of them attended the same massive chruch he did–things would get swept under the rug as usual. God always wins in the end. It was improper of him to use such coarse language at a woman, but she had cursed at him first, and more importantly, she fucking deserved it.

Thankfully, the rest of the teachers’ communal office space was empty, aside from a few stragglers, so there had been no witnesses. Randal packed up his gear and headed towards the gym–the bitch had made him late for practice on top of everything else, and he believed in setting a good example for the youth. After all, masturbation didn’t actually shrink your cock, but abstinance was still best–goodness, he jacked off one a year at most–and that was plenty. Of course, his wife put out every night like a good christian slut should, so it wasn’t like he was lacking in action. He ran the young men a bit harder than usual, to make up for his tardiness, and then went home. He felt an odd shiver up his spine after dinner, while playing with one of his daughter’s, but forgot about it by the time he and his wife went to bed. He fucked her slower than usual, making her moan properly around his ten inch cock–thinking about that bitch from earlier while he did. He came in deep, and then pulled out. She rolled away, not expecting Randal to do anymore for her, and he fell asleep quickly–only to wake up again a few hours later with a raging hardon.

Still, that was no problem–he had a cunt to fuck after all. He tried to rouse her, but she was deep asleep, and the way she was curled up didn’t allow for…easy use. He rolled back over, determined to just ignore it, but the desire only grew. He reached down, and found himself fondling it, wondering how long it had been since he’d last jacked off. Months, at least, if not a year. What was the harm, really, in a little self pleasure? Still, heaven forbid his wife should hear him–he slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind him, and on the toilet he stoked himself. It took longer than he’d expected it to, but it felt wonderful–better than the sex he’d been having lately. She’d taken to being a dead fish, uninterested in him, just…letting him do his business. But his hand…knew him, somehow. Stifling a groan, he exploded. He wasn’t prepared for the size of it, as it shot across the small room and splattered on the wall opposite the toilet. He felt…good. Sleepy as well, and a bit exhausted, sure, and a little…wore out? It was hard to describe, exactly.

He got off the toilet and cleaned up his mess with some wads of toilet paper, and flushed away the evidence, before going to the sink to wash his hands. In the mirror…something seemed off about his reflection. As a gym teacher, he’d always kept his body in solid form, even as he’d gotten older. He’d crossed fifty a few years back, and had only resolved to work harder…but it seemed like some of his gains had disappeared. His gut was bigger, and looked to be more of a potbelly. His arms lacked definition as well, and his chest was flabby. His smooth face looked unshaven, and his hairline had receded more than he recalled. He dried his hands and stared at himself, certain he’d looked better earlier. Still, he’d get himself back into shape–he’d done it before. That, or maybe age was just finally catching up to him. He went back to bed, and the worries didn’t stop him from sleeping–he awoke the next day, and while his appearance hadn’t improved in the night, it at least seemed more…normal to him. What wasn’t normal, was that he was horny again.

Of course, being horny wasn’t an issue itself–Randal was horny often. But what he wanted…was to jack off again. In the shower, he tried to resist, but couldn’t stop himself. The load wasn’t as powerful as the one before, in the night, but it also didn’t leave him feeling tired like that one had either. He was a bit worried, when he got out, that he’d…be different again, but nothing had changed–though he did notice one more thing. Stroking himself in the shower, his cock had seemed…off, and sure enough, when he measured it, it was shorter than before–nine inches, instead of ten. Still, he could worry about that later–he was running late. He got his clothes on, surprised how well they fit despite his body being so off his usual form, and headed to school for another day.

He got to his desk and set down his things, but found an odd note on the desk, written in careful script on a blank piece of parchment:

One inch down. Keep up your new habit, or what you teach will keep coming true.

Randal looked around, but none of the other teachers were looking at him. He asked a few, if they’d seen someone leave anything on his desk, but the early arrivers hadn’t seen anyone come or go since they’d gotten in. What could the note mean? It was probably just some weird prank by some of the kids at school. He threw the note in the trash, and got ready for the day. Still, he found himself…getting hornier throughout the day, and once at lunch, and again after school, before practice, he slipped into the bathroom and jacked off again. He was starting to become a bit…worried, actually. This wasn’t healthy–he didn’t need to jack off, he had a wife to fuck, right? Still, he couldn’t resist the urge, once more in the evening, and when he and his wife climbed into bed–it was the first time in months that they didn’t have sex. He just…didn’t feel like it, and from the way she’d been looking at him, so disinterested, it was clear that she had no interest either.

It kept him up at night, all the same. It was his Christian duty, wasn’t it? Best to nip this habit right in the bud–no more jacking off. It had been a mistake to give into temptation the night before, but he was strong. His cock wasn’t going to control him! He did manage to fall asleep again, and slept soundly through the night, but when he woke up, his cock was erect…and plenty eager. He tried to suggest a morning round of sex with his wife, but she insisted that she had to be at work early. He chastized her for refusing him, but she just blew him off–the reaction stunned him. No one treated him like that, especially not his own wife! They fought that morning, and he insisted she was going to fuck him that evening, or else. She left, he moped–thought about jacking off, but resisted the urge. He was going to save it for the bitch later, he told himself.

It was Friday, and Randal was as distracted as his students–though for different reasons. He’d managed fairly well through the morning, but by lunchtime, his horniness had grown…insistant. He’d tried to find ways to stand in front of the class to disguise his tent, but he’d heard a couple of snickers–after an uncomfortable lunch, he taught the afternoon classes from his desk, to avoid further embarrassment. There was no practice that afternoon, at least, but after packing his things at his desk, he’d decided he couldn’t stand it any longer. One quick shot wasn’t going to do any harm, certainly. In the bathroom, he wrapped his hand around his cock, and once again…the experience was different than usual. It was like that first time, the day before last in the middle of the night. His cock wasn’t simply eager–it was almost aflame with desire. As quiet as he was trying to be, he couldn’t help but release a few moans into the air, but as quick as he tried to make the session, it dragged on. His cock seemed to rest on the edge forever, but finally he managed to push himself over the edge, a load even larger than that first one spilling out of him, onto the stall door, onto the tile floor. He was left sitting, shaking, feeling like an earthquake had passed through him.

Still–he’d needed that, apparently more than he’d realized. Cleaning up as best he could with the single ply the school provided, he left the stall…afraid to look at himself in the mirror when he washed his hands, but nothing seemed to have changed. His stubble was a bit thicker, perhaps, but beyond that, everything looked…normal to him. Happy, he gathered up his things, got in his car and drove off, but as he did, he found himself growing more and more confused. His hands, and his memories–they weren’t taking him where he was supposed to be going, or at least not to the home he could recall with his wife and three daughters. Instead they drove him to a rundown apartment complex in a much cheaper part of town, and parked in a covered spot, like he belonged here.

But he didn’t belong here, right? He got out with his things, still not completely in control of himself, but unable to explain how he knew that, and walked up to one of the buildings, to the second floor, and there, on one of the doors, was a parchment note, similar to the one he’d received the day before:

“Two inches gone–and quite a bit more this time. If you keep resisting, things will only get worse. Don’t worry, your wife and daughters will have a much happier life without you, and you only need your hand now, right?”

He fumbled with his keys–the house key he’d had was gone, replaced by another, which opened the door in front of him. Inside, he found…his apartment. An apartment he could suddenly recall perfectly, as those other memories of a house and a family began to dissolve like a dream. The air was stale, and there was another smell too, that he knew he should be able to recall, but couldn’t. Still, it couldn’t be real–what was happening to him? He looked for the note on the door, but it had disappeared, and his terror was relaxing as well. He was home, right? Shouldn’t he feel…comfortable?

He shut the door, and stripped off his clothes–down to his underwear. That was better–he liked being alone after all–no one to worry about impressing. Plus he could jack off whenever he wanted! That had to be a plus, right? In fact, he was pretty horny right now. He sat down in his recliner and pulled out his cock, to stroke it. This was wrong–he knew this was wrong. The shame was there, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from shooting a load all over his gut. He wiped it off…and noticed something else, as his cock started to soften. It was shorter–again. Eight inches now, when he measured it later. Still, it seemed normal enough that perhaps he was mistaken. He jacked off another couple of times, and then fell asleep in his bed, alone.

Fantasy Feedback Loop (1 of 2)


I’d had no idea where it had come from, it was just there on the porch when I’d gotten home from community college. I was still living with my parents, getting some credits under my belt before transferring to a state school to finish a bachelor’s degree. Regardless, I saw this box on the step, with no one’s name on it, so I took it inside and up to my room. Now, usually I got home first from class, then my dad would get home, and then my stepmom later, so everything was quiet. I liked living with my dad…well, I’ll be honest, I’d had the hots for me father for as long as I could remember.

I was still in the closet–I didn’t dare tell him, after listening to him rant about “those faggots” my entire youth, but he was a walking wet dream for a bear chaser like me. Nice full beard, heady musk (I had a…collection of his dirty underwear and socks stashed away for personal use), and a muscular body from manual labor with a nice, healthy gut. If he wasn’t so fucking straight, right? I’d messaged a few a few guys and chatted on some sites, but I hadn’t actually had the chance to get my cherry popped yet–I think part of me was still holding out for my dad, as sick as that might sound. I opened up the package, and found a small statue inside–well, statue is a bit misleading. It looked high tech–a thick pillar of metal mounted on a wide base with a few buttons, including an on/off toggle, so it had to do something, right? There was a thick manual beneath it, and apparently, the thing was something called…a fantasy generator.

It had to be fake, I told myself. Some stupid prank or something. The book claimed that if you turned it on, and let it charge, it would gather the desires of people around it, and when it was fully primed, unleash those desires, and make them come true. It would literally change reality. That had to be impossible right? Then again…maybe it was at least worth a shot…

My dad would be home in about an hour. I plugged in the machine, saw it had power, and turned it on…and as soon as I did, it’s like…some force just overwhelmed me, and I lost control of myself, got on my bed, and started jacking off with my dad’s dirty underwear, thinking about him, about how much I needed him. I could…feel the energy building up around me, until the room was thrumming with it, and when I heard the sound of his truck pull up, and he walked into the house, and came within the reach of the field…there was a pulse, and everything went white, for a moment. When I could see again, my dad was in the doorway of my bedroom, a hungry look on his face–he walked right over and started sucking my cock–his son’s cock! I nearly shot from that alone…but this…this was normal now, wasn’t it? We’d…been fucking for years at this point, since I was sixteen or so. I was in heaven–so thrilled, that I barely noticed that the machine was warming up again…and when another flash came a half an hour later, I realized I probably should have read the whole book first.

A Family’s Legacy (2 of 2)


That summer, the father noticed an improvement in his son’s temperament and commitment to the family legacy. He worked out less, took a greater interest in his father’s business, and that summer, accepted an unpaid internship at his father’s suggestion. Of course, he still worked out quite regularly, but he accepted some of his father’s other advice–taming that hair of his and making it a more conservative style. Pruning back the wild beard he wore, though he insisted on keeping at least a small goatee. But a week before he was set to leave for college, his father discovered something…disturbing on his son’s computer–a very large stash of porn. Gay porn.

No–no, this would not stand. A great family required an heir, after all. He resolved to demand answers from his son, to send him for counseling if he needed it, but the time never felt…right. His son went off to college, only to return for Thanksgiving with a young woman on his arm–and assurances from both of them that his son was very much interested in her, both romantically and sexually. He thought his fears unfounded, and after he’d returned to school, he realized he’d kept the folder of porn on his own computer. He went to delete it…but instead, found himself…looking through it, curious. The photos were all of rather chubby, hairy men–ages ranging from their young twenties to early fifties. James found himself unable to comprehend how his son could have found anyone like this attractive–and found himself equally unable to explain why he, now, was masturbating to the images and videos every night.

His son excelled in college, and with each success, James seemed to suffer setbacks and distractions. The spring of his son’s freshman year, James could no longer resist his new desires–he began going out at night incognito, cruising bars and parks, sucking off men, letting them fuck him–the fatter the better. He found himself disgusting. He could barely look at himself in the mirror, he was so aghast at the state of his soul–and at the state of his body. He’d let himself go to pot, over the years, he realized. His singular focus on work and family had left him middle aged and closing in on 300 pounds. No–that he wouldn’t let happen.

So that summer, while his son toiled away at two unpaid internships, saving an hour a week to date his girlfriend, his father found himself toiling away in the gym. He’d hoped it would prove to be a distraction from his new obsession with sucking cock, but working out only seemed to make him…hornier. He began collecting pictures and videos of his own, expanding his son’s collection, finding his tastes drifting in a certain…grungier direction. Unkempt beards, musk, armpits, big cocks, dirty asses. He was down to 250, and was looking beefy. He’d decided to grow out a beard, but hadn’t kept it well trimmed. His hair had gone wild as well, but something about it–he liked it.

Then, someone caught him. The tabloids made his life hell, and the board removed him immediately. His severance was…substantial, but without work, James–or Jimmy, as he was calling himself these days, when he introduced himself to the big men he thought about constantly–found he only had two things left he wanted to do: have sex, and work out. His son came home that next summer, and announced his engagement. Jimmy was happy for him, but all he could think about was…how handsome, his son had become, in just two years. He’d packed on a good amount of weight, and he seemed so…powerful. Confident. James was all too happy to let his faggot father beg for his cock, of course. He’d have to keep his failure of a father well under control, if the family was going to survive his massive fuckups. Still, James the Third had no doubt he’d be able to rise to the challenge. The Wilheim line would ascend–just like his father had always wanted.