Dream Camp (Part 11)

***Warning*** Here’s where things start getting really strange. You might just want to stop here if watersports, scat, anal vore, or snuff freak you out–which just to clarify, they probably should freak you out. Still, these are horror stories! You’ve been warned!!!

“Silly, silly little boy. Playing at being a grownup this whole time, but I remember you, oh fuck, do I remember you now,” Kyle said, as he stalked closer to him, “Weak, fat, terrified. My son was right to beat you up, you little shit!”

Spittle flew, smacking Barry in the face. He kept trying to move, trying to run, but his feet were glued to the ground, stuck in the mud, and he felt…shorter. Smaller and weaker than before, this monster bearing down on him, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing–he was…was weak. He was just…just a pig, just a boy, not a man at all…

His body was changing, and he was aware that it was his own loss of confidence causing it, but there was no stopping it, nothing he could do, because Kyle was right. ScoutMaster Hoffson was right, had been right about everything. He could feel his muscles diminishing as his fat spread all around him in every direction, rooting him into the ground even more, sinking into the mud which had begun bubbling around him. It…it would feel so…so good, to just stop. To stop fighting, to just…embrace this. He was too heavy to do anything, too heavy to fight anymore. His legs began to wobble, and finally collapsed beneath him, mud splattering out and up, sinking into his folds, cold against his balls and cock, and he could feel them shrivelling up, growing smaller and smaller, tucking themselves away into his fat where he’d never be able to reach them, where no one would be able to reach them, where they should just stay. He didn’t need them, he didn’t even want them.

Master Hoffson walked over, pushed him backwards into the mud and climbed on him, pinning him in the muck, his huge cock pushing itself into his soft gut, “Not even a pig–fuck no, just a hog. Worthless as a fucking man, no fucking balls at all–all you’re good for is eating and abusing, isn’t that right? That’s what you want, isn’t it? To eat? To drink? To serve? To be abused?”

Barry knew, in his head, that everything he was saying was a lie, that he didn’t–that he shouldn’t–want these things, but feeling his balls shrivel further and finally disappear, feeling his snout start drooling, he was…starving. Every hole of his was starving. Master stood up again, leaving him in the muck, walked around to his head and squatted down over Barry’s now porcine face, his hairy ass right over him, and Barry knew, what he needed. Knew what would satisfy his hunger, and he began licking at his Master’s pucker, feeling it loosen, and the shit start pouring over him, and he swallowed down as much of it as he could, the filth choking out any shame that remained in him, the desire for filth overwhelming him, dominating every last chunk of his small mind, feeling his own bladder release, piss cascading from his gunt and out over his fat thighs, shit spilling out into the mud beneath him, warm muck between his cheeks. Master Hoffson finished his load and allowed his pig to lick his crack clean, and then washed off his face with a blast of musky piss, marking him now, demonstrating to them both that this was not just any hog–but his hog. His toilet. His cumdump. And Barry no longer could conceive of wanting to be anything else.

He looked up and saw his Master had changed–no longer simply a beast, he had reclaimed his some of his humanity, even as Barry had lost his own. His cock was still slimy and inhuman, but his face had lost its snout, now merely angular and hyper-masculine, with a grin full of sharp, pointed teeth, a body coated with hair, bulging with muscle without a single trace of fat anywhere. To Barry, he was simply a god, everything he wasn’t. Everything he could never be. The only life he could imagine was one serving this god, of providing the only services he could now–as a hole. As a dump.

“Max, get the fuck up–you’re fine. No son of mine is going to let a pig control him, right?” Barry could barely lift up his head to see Max, where he’d been lying on the ground, hole wrecked, begin forcing himself up at his father’s command. “No, you’re a real man, a true beast, like me. Show this pig what he deserves–I want to see you destroy him.”

The feral anger in the bully’s eyes no longer filled Barry with fear–only with a crude desire. He wanted this beast to abuse and wreck him, wanted it more than anything. Max forced him to roll over, his body expanding with bulk, his mind filling with cruelty as his father filled him up, and he hammered his cock into Barry’s disgusting hole, and Barry squealed with pleasure, his cock forever soft, but his new ass now incredibly loose and sensitive to even the smallest probing, his fatty folds shaking and shivering with pleasure, but Max didn’t last long–after a minute and a half, he finally spasmed and exploded deep inside the pig’s filthy bowels, and tried to pull out, but Barry wasn’t satisfied. Barry wanted…more, and with a sudden motion, he clamped down his ass on Max’s cock, locking him in, even as Max, in a bit of a panic, started yanking at it, clawing at the pig’s ass, but Barry wasn’t done yet–Barry needed…more. He needed everything Max could give him, and he was going to take it, whether he wanted to give it to him or not.

Dream Camp (Part 3)

The disorientation and terror lasted for only a couple of minutes. It might have lasted longer, but the euphoria supplied by Alex’s milk made sure that neither Christian nor Barry were thinking of much for the next hour, while they drained his tits dry, both of them cumming several times over the course of their meal. Finally, however, they felt sated and sat back–both of their guts sloshing with milk, unable to believe how much they’d just consumed. Alex, too, looked a bit exhausted–he had cum several times as well, his milk production ramping up suddenly and pumping itself into both of them–that was the only way he could cum, after all, since neither of the Mendel’s had cocks, anymore. They didn’t have anything aside from a piss hole, in fact, not that they needed anything like that–their nipples gave them all the pleasure either one of them could need, after all. In fact, now that Barry was able to focus past his hunger, he saw that Alex’s nipples weren’t really nipples, but short, meaty cocks. His father’s were larger–each of the four were probably about five inches long, flaccid for the moment, but Barry knew that, at a moment’s notice, they could go hard and start leaking. He’d…tasted Eric’s milk a few times, in small doses. Too much, and he’d be an addict for the rest of his life. Alex could drink his father’s milk without worry–in fact, that was all he ate, now that Barry thought about it. Alex was still maturing–his milk not fully potent yet, hell, his second set of tits hadn’t developed to their full size, which wouldn’t happen until he was around eighteen. How Barry knew all of this, he didn’t know. How any of this was even possible, he didn’t know that either.

He looked over at Christian, who, after his momentary confusion at Alex packing on two hundred extra pounds of fat onto his body in an instant, had settled into this without further incident, like nothing strange was happening at all. Needless to say, Barry was vigilant for the rest of the ride, not daring to fall asleep again, out of fear more than anything else. After another half hour, they arrived at the campsite, and all the boys in the troop started unpacking their gear from the back of the cars. This trip was really just car camping–they were staying at a national park, though it was mostly deserted at this time of year–something Barry was thankful for, since he didn’t want this amulet affecting too many people, especially after what had just happened.

Thankfully no one was at all disturbed by the Mendels’ new appearance. In fact, most everyone treated them both normally, like they’d had plenty of time to adjust to their odd physiology. In fact, several of the scouts all took some time to suck at Alex’s tits, all of them cumming spontaneously as they did, and the other adult leaders seemed…focused on Eric: licking their lips, rubbing their gurgling guts, thinking about their own next meal. The only people who were different were The Hoffsons and the older scouts. In fact, Mr. Hoffson seemed outright hostile towards Eric, actively avoiding him, glowering at him–but Eric didn’t seem to mind, if he even noticed.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully–setting up camp, a few hours of free time for the scouts, which Barry and Christian spent playing cards and sucking more milk out of Alex, then it was time for dinner, some time spent around the campfire, and then bedtime. Barry and Christian were bunking together in one of Mr. Mendel’s very nice tents he’d bought for the patrol, and Barry finally found an opportunity to ask Christian what was wrong. His friend had spent the entire day in a funk, but he hadn’t seemed particularly willing to open up around anyone. Barry didn’t want to force him to talk about it, but he couldn’t help being worried.

“My…Dad left,” Christian said after a moment of silence.

“What do you mean?”

“My mom…well, the court has been siding with her, and my dad, he just left. No one knows where. I mean, it’s just…”

“You liked him better.”

“That’s not really fair, I know, but…yeah.”

“He didn’t tell you where he was going? At all?”

Christian shook his head, his eyes tearing up, “I thought, I mean, I guess I just thought that, if he was going to leave, he’d…like, tell me. Or take me…I mean, he couldn’t just take me, I couldn’t just leave with him, but he didn’t…tell me anything. One day he’s going to pick me up on Wednesday like usual, and then he doesn’t even show up, and he’s just gone. I…I thought he cared more about me than that.”

“I’m sure he cares about you, Christian,” Barry said, but it was clear from his friend’s eyes that his words were no real comfort.

Christian didn’t reply, he just climbed into his sleeping bag and turned out his flashlight, but neither of them slept for a while. Christian was sobbing as quietly as he could, and Barry was pretending not to hear him. He didn’t notice the amulet warming up again, against his chest, pulling him down into another slumber, and into another dream.

Dream Camp (Part 2)

After the pack check and more ribbing from some of the older scouts about his size, the troop split themselves up into small groups paired with the adult leaders, so they could all carpool to the campground. The older boys all climbed into Mr. Hoffson’s SUV. Barry ended up in a car with two other scouts–Alex Mendel and Christian Brooke–driven by Alex’s father, Eric Mendel. The three of them were all in the same patrol, but while Barry was good friends with Christian, Alex was rather cool towards him. Then again, Alex and his dad were cool towards everyone. The Mendel’s were one of the wealthier families in the troop–Eric worked at a tech start-up that was raking in capital, but he loved the outdoors as only a tech guy could, always buying the latest and fanciest gear for him and his son, and even financed new equipment for the rest of the troop as well. Alex thought the money made his farts not stink, but at least he wasn’t cruel. Christian was overweight himself, and his parents weren’t very involved in scouts. Well, his parents weren’t involved in much–they spent most of their energy tussling in divorce court. Christian liked camping because it was at least a few days away from his parents without having to stress about money, custody, or anything else a teenager shouldn’t have to deal with.

Alex was in the passenger seat, leaving Christian and Barry in the back. It was clear from the dour look on Christian’s face that it had been a bad week with his mom or dad, and didn’t feel like talking. The Mendels were engaged in their own conversation, and Barry realized he’d left his snacks in his pack, and so he was left to stare out the window at the passing scenery, one hand gripping the amulet around his neck…and he realized it felt…warm. Warmer than it should be, from just being close to him. Even though he knew that should concern him, for some reason it just felt…comforting. The amulet had felt warm like that before, on those nights before he’d had those dreams, but that had been in the evening, but right now it was the middle of the morning. Part of him unburied the worries that he’d been having all week about the necklace–mostly the fact that he really had no idea how the thing worked. He knew that it made his dreams come true…loosely. The dreams had, so far, always involved him and the people around him nearby. He’d been pleased with the results, but it wasn’t like the dreams were things he’d…planned. Like the night before last, when out of nowhere he’d dreamed his mom had a cock and was fucking his dad, and woken up to discover she’d become a…well, a hermaphrodite. Not…Not that there was anything wrong with that, he told himself. Hell, his dad loved it, but…it had been unexpected.

He gripped his necklace tighter in his hand, feeling the warmth permeate his fist and spread into his body, making his eyes droop. Was he still sleepy from the morning, or…was the amulet making him tired? At least he wasn’t thinking as much about how hungry he was. Mid-morning naps had never really been his thing, but he was definitely tired. It was about a two and a half hour drive to the campground, so he had plenty of time for a little rest, right? He should stop worrying so much. Everything…everything was going to be…just fine…

A rumble in his guts. He was…somewhere. Indoors. Featureless, dark walls. Not much light. Doorways, but no doors. No hallways between rooms. He’s looking…looking for food, but he also knows the place is empty. Barren. He sees someone leave a room as he enters it, he chases them. Gets a better glimpse–Alex Mendel, but he’s different. Fatter. A gut, but a huge chest, full moobs jiggling. Naked, naked and running, and he…he has food, somehow Barry knows. Smell, he can smell it. Chasing him, but can’t quite keep up, he won’t slow down. Barry gives up, exhausted, so hungry now, but he can still smell the food. Looks up and there, there is Mr. Mendel. Taller, obese–with tits. Two pairs, hanging down, swollen nipples, something running down…down his fat front, something sweet smelling, he’s gesturing him closer. Barry is salivating, latches onto a nipple and starts sucking, pulling out the sweet delicious milk, something tasting between cream and cum, eyes rolling back in pleasure, Mr. Mendel stroking his head, telling him to drink as much as he’d like. Other’s now, more coming, latching onto the tits, fighting for position, he feels buried, full, eager, hungry–

Barry woke with a start, flailing for space in the car, before realizing where he was, and where he’d fallen asleep, his heart racing. What in the hell was that? These dreams had only been getting stranger, but that one lingered with him, especially that smell. Sickly sweet and yet musky–it had him drooling. He looked up, and saw Alex leaning across the middle of the front seat, his mouth wrapped around one of his father’s nipples, sucking, milk leaking out the corner of his mouth, Barry’s jaw dropped. Ripped from his dream, Eric Mendel was easily five hundred pounds, nearly all of it concentrated in his chest of four, leaking tits. Barry could smell it, and he…he wanted it. Drool leaking out of his mouth, but his throat was too dry to speak. He saw Alex glance back at him, sensing his desire, and he pulled away from his father’s nipple.

“Somebody woke up hungry,” Alex said, and pulled his own shirt off, revealing a fat body. Like his father, Alex saw four nipples, but only two breasts had filled in. Still, Barry unbuckled his seatbelt and lunged forward, wrapping his lips around Alex’s nipple. His milk was sweeter, not nearly as musky as his father’s, but Barry had no interest in objecting, his cock swelling, his hands helplessly reaching into his uniform pants to stroke his big cock off, pleasure overwhelming him, the amulet still hot against his skin.

How about you, Christian?” Alex said, one hand under his other breast, “Want some, big boy?”

Barry glanced to the side as best he could and saw Christian now drooling as well, his eyes filled with confusion but his mouth already pulling him closer, and he took Alex’s other nipple, both of them sucking, Alex groaning and moaning with pleasure, his father egging him on, Christian and Barry helplessly jacking off as they fed. A more interesting camping trip indeed, Barry thought as he spasmed, blowing a massive wad of cum across the center console, and wondering what in the hell he’d gotten himself into.

Warning: This one’s…strange.

“Now, why don’t we see just how close you two partners can get,” the artist said.

Officers Frosen and Garnet started to struggle against the bonds and rubber suits they were encased in, as they felt the pump connecting their cocks come to life, both of them slightly dizzy from the tube connecting their mouths, restricting them both to the same air supply–or rather, their smoke supply, since the only thing they could seem to breathe in was cigar smoke. The last thing they remembered really was gassing up their squad car and taking a smoke break out back, and then nothing, and now…this. Whatever this was.

They each felt the electricity start to run through the wires running underneath the rubber suits they wore, their cocks pumped larger and larger in the shared tube, until the heads met in the middle, and then began to press together. Before too long, it was nearly impossible to tell where one man’s cock ended and the other’s began, like they had been pressed together into one single shaft. The smoke which had choked them out before now felt as sweet as fresh air, and they inhaled it greedily, desperate for more from the source…and from each other. They could taste each other’s breath as well, through the tube, and…and they wanted to be closer…so much closer.

The process could have lasted minutes–it could have lasted days or weeks–they couldn’t tell. Finally, however, the suits were removed, and the two officers say that they had been rendered identical, their genetic code mashed together until they had found equilibrium. Even stranger, when the vaccuum tube was cut away, their cocks refused to separate–they had, in fact, fused together. Still, they both enjoyed that, stroking their cock together, hastily lighting their first cigars, taking deep inhales before locking lips and sharing the smoke for ages.

“Ah, perfect!” the artist cried when he saw them, “I will call it, Smoke! It’s perfect for the twin series–I’ve been needing another siamese. I must get this into the new exhibition next week, New York will simply fall head over heels in love with it!”

The two officers weren’t listening though, they were lost in each other’s eyes, cum dripping from the shaft to the floor, the two twins locked in the embrace they would now share for the rest of their lives, in the artist’s gallery.