Breaking Point (Part 4)

I told Leon that if he could prove to me that he deserved to have his life back, then he’d get it back at the end of the August and go off to college, just like he’d imagined. I don’t think he quite realized the power I had over him at that point, not right away. Up to that point, other people had always felt incidental to him–just figments of agents that he could ignore at will, who had no real impact on his desired course through the world. He’d always simply expected other people to move from his past. The collision with someone like me–who had not only the desire, but also the ability to oppose him, was incomprehensible in the immediate aftermath of this new body. Still, he began to understand I putt him through a few paces in the trailer, while the rest of the crew carried on working outside, finishing shortly before quitting time. That was when he realized he wouldn’t be going home to his parents–to his room, to his friends. Instead, I informed him he’d be staying with me for the time being–and that he’d best behave himself, or he could kiss that future of his goodbye.

I live in a small house a good ways out of town on a couple acres of property–enough to assure myself a good measure of privacy. I had several guest rooms (and a rather cozy dungeon in the cellar) but Leon wasn’t a guest, he was a pig–meaning he got to sleep on a dog bed out in the garage. Meaning he had to be naked in the house at all times. Meaning he had to be ready for me whenever I desired him, and willing to perform whatever sick tasks I might have in mind. I gave him a week to get adjusted to his living arrangements and new body, before I ramped up his training.

I taught him to take pain and enjoy it. I forced him into bondage for hours on end. I taught him to drink piss and eat out my nasty crack after a good, long shit. He obeyed me both because he had to, and because he was becoming increasingly desperate to have his old life back. Finally, that cold demeanor was beginning to crack, the reality of the fact that he could do nothing other than submit wearing him down slowly but surely. I hurried him along a bit, by forcing him to serve his co-workers as well, quickly graduating him to our communal urinal, toilet paper and cumdump at the worksite. He was forbidden to shower, wear anything other than my dirtiest laundry (which fit his obese frame rather poorly) or shave, and soon stank to high heaven of piss, sweat and cum. The loss of testosterone from his now puny balls gave him a thin, patchy beard that only made him look older and more grungy as it became crusted with filth.

Finally–finally! He broke.

It was the middle of August, on the weekend. The weekends were particularly grueling for him–on purpose of course. I generally kept him in bondage for long periods of time, and at this point I had also fit him into chastity–although finding a cage small enough for his now puny cock was a challenge in itself. It was time for dinner, and I released him from the cage I’d decided he’d spend the day caged in, and he seemed…more reserved, somehow. I made him crawl behind me into the kitchen, where he found I had brought in a trough–and I dumped a pot of cold slop into it, telling him to eat up.

He broke out in sobs. Massive, heaving sobs. It wasn’t the greatest humiliation he’d suffered by far, but it was somehow a sign of how far he’d fallen. He started pleading and begging with me, telling me he was sorry, that he didn’t know how he could make it up to me, that he just wanted it to stop, that he couldn’t take another day of this. I listened. I let him poor his heart out, but soon all I could feel was my rock hard cock. When he’d run out of words, I ordered him to eat–watching his eyes go wide in terror–but he couldn’t resist. I got down behind him and started fucking his loose hole, letting the rough fuck tell him what I had no interest in saying, no interest in his revelations. That I was as unfeeling towards his exhaustion and terror as he’d been towards everyone for his entire life. That tears wouldn’t move me. That his understanding of needing to be punished wouldn’t absolve him from his due punishment.

If he’d just suffered, I probably would have let him go, but later that night, he asked me about the end of August, when he might get his life back. His…arrogance, to even ask…I told him to wait a couple of weeks, but I was…so furious, at him even daring to ask, at his…perhaps that was the ultimate cruelty, letting him keep believing, but I couldn’t let that stand. Seeing him break, it only partially, only made me want to drive him even deeper. I wanted to see him suffer more than anything now, and I couldn’t…stop fantasizing, about this idea I’d had. I’d planned it, in case he didn’t give in…but I’d never done something like this, Then again, I’d never dealt with someone like Leon. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dealt with horrible young men as cruel as he is–a good number of them were still employed with me, to this day. But I’d never…something in him, in his cocky resistance, in his confidence that even now he’d eventually be free of me, of all of this, even though there was nothing–nothing–he could feasibly do…it was a high I couldn’t deny myself, and I wanted to see that little meek castle crumble to dust. Did he deserve it, really? Probably no one did–but Leon needed it. I needed it, and it would be…perfect.

Grandpa’s lil’ Boys (Part 2)

The light dimmed slowly away from his vision, and Blake felt…strange. He certainly didn’t feel…right. Grandpa was standing in front of him, and that made him feel better…or did it? Something, something told him he needed to get away from him, that he needed to run, but…but why would he run from his Grandpa?

“Come on boy, give me a big hug,” the old man said, and after a moment of hesitation, Blake walked to him and let Grandpa pull him close, smelling the old man, feeling his cock hardening in his diaper.

Wait…diaper? Hadn’t he been wearing jeans a minute ago? But why would he be wearing jeans? He…he only wears diapers. That’s Grandpa’s rule. Little boys who can’t control themselves have to wear diapers, like him and his…brother…

He looked over his shoulder at Natey behind him, still on the floor sucking on his binky, rubbing himself through his diaper. He…he wanted to do that too, fuck. Yeah, it feels kind of good, grinding his soft crotch into Grandpa. Blake looked up and found Grandpa looking down at him…but he hadn’t been that tall, had he? It seemed like he’d shrunk by about a foot, and his rugged, muscular body was so much softer, and smooth. In fact, he didn’t seem to have hair anywhere other than his hair, where it was thin, soft and strawberry blonde. Grandpa’s calloused hands on his soft skin made him shiver, and when he bent down to kiss him, he couldn’t resist, allowing Grandpa to rape his mouth with his tongue, as a blast of piss erupted from his cock, soaking the front of the diaper, feeling it grow heavy around his waist, the stench melding with Grandpa’s filthy musk and scent of tobacco smoke.

“Yeah, that’s a good boy, a very good boy,” Grandpa said, “Now why don’t you get down there and suck Grandpa’s pacifier?”

Blake knew something was wrong, but…this couldn’t be it. He loved Grandpa’s pacifier. He got down on his knees, finding himself faced with Grandpa’s thick, cheesy cock head, and he sucked on the head, getting it good and wet, two hands on the front of his diaper rubbing his cock as hard as he could through the soggy fabric.

“Hey Natey!” Grandpa said, “Get over here and give your new brother a hand–or a mouth.”

The cock plug binky fell from Nate’s mouth, and he crawled over next to Blake and began giving Grandpa’s balls a tongue bath. Somehow, he had changed too–he had seemed normal before, but now, like Blake, he was shorter and chubbier as well.

“Fuck, two boys is definitely better than one. Nate here, he was never really your friend, you know–I sent him out just to find another boy to bring back here with him. It took him a while, but I gotta say I couldn’t be happier, and the two of you are gonna be such good, loving brothers, right? Taking care of Grandpa and each other? Fuck, here comes your first taste of Granddaddy’s juice boy!”

Grandpa wrapped his hands around Blake’s head and pumped his cum right down his gullet, and Blake, still unable to believe what was happening, drank it all down. Grandpa pulled his cock free from his mouth, and Nate licked his way up Blake’s fat mouth and started kissing him, sucking the last bits of cum from his mouth, and Blake, still knowing this was wrong, couldn’t help but kiss back, pushing their wet diapers together.

“Such good boys,” Grandpa sighed, “Anyway, ya’ll interrupted my nap, so I’m gonna go back to bed. I’m sure the two of you can play together for a bit, right?” he chuckled, and tromped back to the trailer’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him–and as soon as he was out of the room, Blake felt his mind clear a bit more, and Nate pulled away–a bit reluctantly.

“What…what happened, Nate? I don’t…”

“I told you to leave, Blake, I told you…I didn’t want this, I liked you, but you–”

Blake just stared at him, unable to believe what had happened to him–to them. “You…you were my friend, just to…bring me here?”

“No!” Nate said, “No, that’s what he wanted me to do, but the further I get from that necklace, the better I can resist him. I made a friend like he wanted, but I was never going to bring you here–but then you just showed up anyway!”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know? I just thought you didn’t want me to see where you lived…”

“Well it’s too late now…”

Blake looked at the shut bedroom door. He could already hear his Grandpa snoring behind it. “It’s that necklace, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“So…let’s just get it off him.”

“He never takes it off. It’s hopeless. If you just…just let it happen, it’s a lot easier,” Nate said, and started rubbing the front of Blake’s diaper, making his shiver, “It’s…kind of fun, even, sometimes. And I don’t have to be alone now, we can do it together, we can…survive,” Nate leaned in and kissed him, and Blake gave in, pushing their fat guts together, feeling their diapers rustle–until his bowels suddenly loosened and he filled the back of his diaper with a huge load of shit, and he pulled away in shame.

“Fuck, I just shit myself!”

“You’ll get used to it, trust me.”

“No! I don’t want to get used to this. This is so…wrong!” Blake heaved himself up, feeling his messed diaper sagging around his waist under his flabby body, “I’m getting that necklace and I’m getting out of here. I want to go home!”

Nate just watched him, as Blake creaked the door open as quietly as he could, and slipped inside. He should stop him, but maybe…no, it would be better for him to learn for himself. He’d tried everything already, but there was no way out of Grandpa’s clutches. The sooner Blake learned that for himself, the better off they’d all be.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 9)

“Let’s get you in the sling,” Ralph said, but that was easier said than done, however, since Doug had started growing fatter and shorter throughout all of this. Now, he was just barely five foot two, and it took both of them to get him up into the leather seat, Ralph securing his boy’s ankles to the industrial chains, giving him easy access to his loose hole, and then chained Doug’s wrists as well, giving him complete control over his body.

He teased him for a few minutes, admiring the changes that had spread across him like wildfire, changes he was having a hard time even recalling. Everything about him just seemed so…normal. He sucked and chewed on one of his boy’s thick nipples before digging through one of his drawers, pulling out two snake bite suckers and attaching them, and then he tugged on his boy’s balls, feeling them swell and drop in his hand, Doug unable to suppress in groans, nor the precum which had begun flowing from the head of his huge cock. He was…beautiful, looking at him like this. Fat, filthy, nasty, covered with tattoos, everything he fucking wanted in a man, but…but that was because Ralph had made him this way…right?

He could remember now, dimly, how he’d taken the boy under his wing, fed him fatter, taught him the ways of filth and sex, covered him with the tattoos of his choosing, forced him to smoke constantly until he needed smoke and ash all day long, forbid him from cutting his hair of shaving any part of his body. As these memories flooded him, he felt like his own past was fading away. College–who the fuck was he kidding? He’d never gone to college, hell, he’d never wanted to go to college, he’d dropped out a high school years ago. Yeah…years…ago. His beard was beginning to grey, long streaks mixing with the brown–the same with his hair. Face growing cragged and wrinkled, scars to match his oft broken nose from fights and rough fucks, and this sweet young boy, fuck. His boy. He’d always wanted one, and now he had one.

He stepped away from the sling and pulled on a thick, industrial rubber glove, coating it with a thick layer of crisco from a half used tub on the dresser, and then walked back, pushing two fingers into Doug’s ass, his weak hole accepting them willingly, listening to the boy moan, swinging his body onto the intruding hand. Three fingers, four, and then his fist popped inside him, Doug letting off something between a sigh and moan as his daddy’s fist invaded his ass. It was…so familiar to him. Ralph twisted his wrist, applied a bit of pressure, and his boy’s dick started spraying piss all over the both of them, Ralph licking it from his beard and mustache as he grinned, watching his boy loose complete control, pressing harder until it was completely empty, and then he switched again, and started prodding his prostate.

He never touched his boy’s cock–he didn’t need to. Doug’s groans and moans only grew louder from the stimulation, his cock flooding precum from his massive balls, until his daddy finally milked a massive orgasm from him, making him shout and groan and cry, sucking down smoke from the cigar still in his mouth, and Ralph yanked out his hand and replaced it with his cock, fucking the loose hole raw until he too was cumming, feeling a bit…light headed. His boy’s collar…it was glinting, shimmering. It seemed so bright, all of a sudden, and everything else was so dark. Doug seemed to have passed out in the sling, and Ralph struggled against the darkness. He didn’t want to go under again, he didn’t want to loose himself again, no more, no…more…

“Daddy? Daddy!”

Ralph gave a snort on the filthy, piss soaked floor where he’d collapsed, rolled up onto his ass, rubbing the side of his head. Fuck..what the hell was that?

“You ok?”

“Fine…I think…” Ralph said, grabbed onto the chains of the sling and hauled himself back up, Doug swinging to and fro from his weight, the ceiling groaning where the chains were anchored.

“Thought I might be stuck,” Doug said.

“Heh, ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that,” Ralph said, leaned over his boy and gave him a deep, smoky kiss, “Just got…too excited, is all. Still, how ‘bout we get ya down?”

He undid the shackles holding Doug’s arms and legs, and helped his short boy down from the sling, holding his filthy body tight to him. He was still horny, and before Doug could get dressed, he bent his boy over and ate out his nasty loose hole, tasting the grease and his own cum from earlier all over his boy’s crack, sucking down his farts in between drags off his cigar, and Doug looked around the room.

It wasn’t much, their little studio, but neither of them made much money. Well, he was the one who worked to support them, really, with construction work during the day and offering up his ass all night. Daddy worked…sometimes. He had a hard time getting hired, and he usually lost his temper whenever anyone tried to tell him what to do. Still, it worked out, and he did what he could. He had his daddy to think of, after all. Some little voice in his head was screaming though, that this was wrong, but it was getting quieter. He gripped his chain collar and felt it diminish more, until he couldn’t hear the words, just feel an odd unease.

Ralph finally came up for air, licking his lips, “Let’s go for a ride, boy. A long one, a few weeks–nah, fuck that. Even longer I gotta feel the wind for a while, too fuckin’ cooped up here.”

“I gotta work in the morning, daddy. We ain’t got nothin’ for rent.”

“Fuck that,” Ralph said, grabbing hold of his chain, “We’ve lived on the road before. Only thing you gotta do is keep daddy happy, and daddy ain’t happy here. Now come on, let’s pack our shit, just what we need. We can meet up with some old buddies a mine; they got a nice clubhouse where we can stay as long as we want. Don’t need rent–they’ll just want our holes. They’re sick fucks, but nothin’ we don’t love anyway.”

Doug couldn’t say no, and so they suited up in their filthy leathers, hoped on their bikes, and rode off into the night, their old lives just glimmers in the back of their minds. Eddie, however, had been keeping an eye on them. Another great buy–he looked at the two collections of preppy clothes and college supplies he’d recently acquired–and knew he’d be making someone happy next weekend at his next special sale.

The End

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 8)

Thankfully he didn’t pass anyone on the way to the dorm, though it was difficult getting out his key so he could swipe it at the entrance to the building. Their room was on the second floor, and he must be getting tired faster than usual, because it seemed like with each step up Doug grew heavier, dragging him down a bit more. He stumbled to their door, fiddled with his keys, pushed his way in and unslung his roommate off his shoulder and onto his bed. He was still out–is this how long he’d been out, when it had happened to him before? It hadn’t felt like it had taken this long, but he wasn’t sure. One thing he did know, was that something strange was happening to Doug.

The sensation of him growing heavier hadn’t been an illusion. He’d started off as very lithe, probably one hundred forty pounds on a six foot two frame, but here in the room, he seemed to have lost a bit of height…and he was packing on weight. He already had sprouted a gut, and as Ralph watched, it was only getting bigger…in fact, he couldn’t…look away. Fuck, just seeing his boy like that, he was getting horny. The small clothes were starting to cut into him; Ralph grabbed hold and ripped them off, licking his bearded lips as he did, and fuck, he pushed up one of Doug’s arms, got down on his knees and shoved his nose and mouth in the pit, snorting and licking, feeling a bush of hair sprouting as he did–nearly as thick as his own…and the more he licked, the thicker–and ranker, the armpit became.

No, no! He yanked himself back, unable to understand the feelings washing over him. He couldn’t do this, the guy wasn’t…wasn’t even awake…but the need, the desire was overwhelming him. He passed over the stinking pit and started sucking his nipples, biting and pulling on them until they were thick, inch masses, studded with piercings, and then worked lower to his cock. It was hardening from the attention, and he swallowed it down, sucking it, feeling it grow and expand as he did until it started pushing its way down his throat and was so thick his jaw ached. Then he rolled his boy over, kneading his ass with both hands, feeling it inflate as he did, before spreading them apart and diving in, licking the crack with broad sweeps of his tongue, his spit sprouting thick ass hair as he did, and then started tunnelling into his hole, feeling it loosen at his will. He took deep inhales of smoke and blew it into his ass, and it was blown back into his face as ripe, pungent farts–but Doug didn’t wake up until Ralph shoved his cock inside him. He screamed, and tried to claw away his way off Ralph’s cock, but he grabbed a handful of Doug’s hair, feeling it lengthen so he could get a better grip, yanking back, bucking deep, sinking his teeth and sucking at his boy’s neck, feeling his terror ease into pleasure, until he was pushing back, eager to feel his daddy’s dick inside him. Ralph’s teeth left a strange mark on his skin, it began to discolor in odd shades, and then began to spread out as wild, whirling tattoos around his neck, down his entire back, around onto his chest, and down his arms past his wrists. Ralph’s breathing was turning ragged and quick; he was close. With a low growl he came deep inside Doug’s loose ass, but this was wrong, fuck, what the fuck had he just done? He pulled out early, spurting cum all over Doug’s filthy crack and stumbled back and away towards his side of the room, staring at his roommate, his…boy.

Doug was still moaning and groaning on the bed, but it wasn’t clear whether it was from pleasure or pain, or some strange combination. Now that he no longer had Ralph’s heavy body keeping him down, he could roll over and sit up, cum leaking from his hole onto his sheets, and he looked down at himself, at his fat body still growing fatter, the tattoos coating him, and he looked up at Ralph across the room. He wanted to be angry–he knew he should be angry, but all he felt was hunger, and this strange desire to…to serve. It was overwhelming, his daddy…he had to serve his daddy, and he got off the bed, falling to his hands and knees and crawled towards him.

“Don’t…don’t come over here, I don’t know what’ll happen if you do,” Ralph said, “I can’t stop this, I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

“F-Fuck you…” was all Doug could manage in reply, before pressing his face to Ralph’s filthy boots running his tongue over them, coating it in the filth there, eating it down. He kept…trying to grab his cock, but for some reason it was hard for him to grasp. It certainly wasn’t an issue with it being small–rather it was this…strange idea in his head that he shouldn’t touch it. That he wasn’t allowed to touch it.

Ralph was quivering, looking down at Doug licking his boots clean, feeling these desires rising in him, strange, perverse fantasies. He sucked a deep draw off his cigar, a large cinder falling from the end and hitting the floor–without even needing to be told, Doug scooped it up in his mouth and chewed it down, before returning to his daddy’s boots. He couldn’t stop himself. He aimed his cock and started pissing all over him, watching the stinking yellow run over his head, soaking his long hair and coating his body in filth, Doug shuddering beneath him and licking up as much as he could from the floor, but Ralph reached down after he finished, grabbed his boy by the chain collar, feeling that same odd heat pulse through him, and hauled him to his feet, shoving his tongue in his mouth. After eating his boots, ash and piss it was none too clean, teeth chipped and rotting, yellow with smoke, black with ash, but it tasted…it tasted wonderful. They pulled apart and took a hit off their cigars–though Doug couldn’t remember when he’d actually lit one, and then shared another smoky kiss, grinding their filthy bellies together, Ralph’s hands twisting and yanking on his boy’s nipples, and then one dropped down and started stroking his cock, feeling him spasm and groan.

“How long has it been, boy, since I gave you a good milking?”

“Too…too long daddy,” Doug sighed.

“Well how about we do somethin’ about that, eh?”

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 7)

Doug had heard tales of wild roommates in college, that the “matchmaking” attempts by colleges generally resulting in horrible Freshman combinations, but it was past Labor Day, and he was already wondering how in the hell he could get rid of this fucker. Everything had been fine for orientation, hell, Ralph had actually seemed like a normal, decent guy, but this fucking weekend, what in the hell had happened to the guy from before? He didn’t have a problem with someone being a bit of a slob–hell, he wasn’t exactly the cleanest guy either–but this…mess.

Ralph’s “side” of the room looked like a bomb had hit it, and smelled like it had been a bomb filled with piss. Filthy clothes were strewn everywhere, across the floor, the chair, all of it muddy and messy. His computer had disappeared, replaced by a tool box, his posters of indie bands suddenly biker memorabilia, but how had he even had time to redecorate, when it seemed like he’d spent all weekend out getting drunk and smoking. Hell, it smelled like he’d even been smoking in the room, while he was gone. He’d already tried talking to the RA, but he’d said that unless he did it in front of him, there wasn’t anything he could do, which meant Doug was on his own. He’d tried to just stay away from the room as long as he could, but maybe he just needed to have a fight with the guy, see if he could sort some this shit out before it got even more out of control…but when he returned to the room that evening, Ralph wasn’t there–thankfully–but the room had somehow grown even more disgusting. It was littered with sex toys, leather gear and who knew what else. Disturbed at what might have been happening, he fled the building and walked around the side, when a nearly familiar voice shouted out his name behind him.

Doug looked over his shoulder–the fattest, filthiest man he’d ever seen was panting after him, beard grown down past his waist, hair nearly as long grown down his back. He had a cigar shoved in the corner of his mouth, and was wearing chaps and a vest over some of the most disgusting clothing he’d ever laid eyes on in his life, and the guy looked like he’d gotten in a fight earlier, from the swollen nose on his face. He didn’t know how he knew it, but it was Ralph–his roommate. Part of his head knew it couldn’t possibly be, but it was, and that uncertainty drove him to walk faster, and then break into a jog.

“Wait! Fucker, I just…come on!” the man behind him shouted. Doug knew he could outrun him. He ccould outrun nearly everyone–hell, his performance in track had helped get him into this school with a scholarship, but what was he doing? He’d been planning on confronting this guy, they needed to hash this shit out before the semester got going, if they were going to live together…right? But why…why was someone like Ralph going to…college? He looked much too old for one thing, from the streaks of grey in his hair and beard, which Doug could see better once he turned around, stopped, and let the fat biker catch up to him.

Ralph reached where he was standing, and then doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

“Be easier if you didn’t smoke that shit.”

“Fuck…Fuck you…” he gasped, “I really don’t need that shit right now, it’s been…a really strange weekend.”

“No fucking shit!” Doug said, “What the fuck are you even doing? Our room’s a fucking sty, and I know you’ve been smoking and drinking in there. What the hell is wrong with you? Classes start tomorrow.”

“I…I know that…” Ralph stood up and bent back, but when he did something slipped from the pocket of his vest and hit the ground in front of Doug’s feet. It was a small box, and when it hit the sidewalk it came apart, a shiny chain landing on the ground, with a lock. Doug…couldn’t look away from it, and he bent down to grab it. Ralph tried to warn him halfheartedly, but didn’t move to stop him. His roommate grabbed it and picked it up, feeling a bit woozy and hot suddenly, his heart racing.

“Fuck, I feel…kind of weird…” Doug said, and Ralph, realizing what was about to happen, guided his collapsing roommate into his arms as he fainted–and he looked around. It would be easiest to get him back to their room–so he hefted his limp, unconscious roommate over his shoulder and started for the dorm, not noticing that somehow the chain had gone from being in Doug’s fist, to being around his neck, with the padlock closed, securing it tight, like a necklace…or perhaps a collar.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 6)

“I can’t believe it fuckin’ happened again,” Ralph said, and peeled the wad of paper towels away from his nose, “How does it look?”

“Broken,” Eddie said, “But here, I know how to help that.”

Before Ralph could tell him no, Eddie grabbed the broken nose in his fingers and twisted it back into place, making Ralph howl in pain, eyes watering, nose gushing blood all over again. “Fuck! That fucking hurt, you fucker!”

“Well, at least it’s straight…er,” Eddie said, “I’ll go get you some ice.”

He’d woken on the garage floor in a pool of blood, Eddie slapping his face and trying to get him to respond. His nose hurt like hell; Eddie had tried to catch him when he’d fallen forward, but Ralph had been too heavy for him. He’d helped him up and brought him inside, where they were trying to get the bleeding under control, and Ralph was trying to figure out what had happened. He’d fainted again, he could remember that…but the events leading up to it were just…blank. He was mostly pissed he’d gotten blood on his leather vest–sure, it wasn’t the first time he’d gotten blood on it, but still. Eddie returned with a bag of ice that Ralph gingerly pressed to his nose, and sighed.

“You know, usually the best thing for an injury is something to distract you,” Eddie said. Ralph wanted to ask what he had in mind, but he felt the hand unzipping the fly of the filth crusted jeans he had on under his leather chaps, and decided he could use a little pleasure after all this…even if this wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind, when he’d come here, planning on getting into Eddie’s pants. That…is what he’d been planning, right? Eddie pulled his cock free of the filthy jock he had on, and started sucking it clean. Ralph moaned, and the pain in his nose did ease up a little bit, and he started rocking forward and back, the dildo lodged in his ass under his jeans grinding against his prostate. He didn’t last particularly long, and Eddie seemed happy to swallow down the full load of biker cum, and then some. He stood back up, and dropped his own pants, letting his own cock loose in Ralph’s face.

“Man, I ain’t suckin’ your cock with a broken nose.”

“I just sucked yours, fucker.”

“I thought that was a pity suck!”

They fought, and Ralph eventually relented to a compromise, bent over the side of the couch, and let Eddie pull the six inch dildo from his hole and give him a good fucking, which did help with the pain too, Ralph decided, though he didn’t admit it out loud. Eddie eventually came, and then slipped the dildo back in.

“Not quite how I thought this afternoon was going to go,” he admitted, getting his jeans and chaps sorted out around his fat ass again.

“Heh, well, I did have something else I wanted to give you…or rather, I thought you might want to give it to someone else,” Eddie said. “I mean, if you like it, go ahead and wear it, but I think that would be a bit of a waste.”

Ralph gave him a confused look; Eddie refused to elaborate, but handed him a small box. He opened the lid, and found a thick chain inside and a padlock, long enough to turn into a necklace–although why that was the first thing he thought of, he couldn’t say. Still…he was wary of touching it, and put the lid back on the box. “I don’t understand…”

“Hey, it’s almost done, and you’ve done so well Ralph, really.”

“I…I never told you my name. How do you know that, anyway?”

Eddie winked. “Look, I hate to cut this short, but I really need to get myself packed up, you know? How’s the bleeding? You good to ride?”

“I’ve ridden with worse,” Ralph said, and with a hand from Eddie he got up from the couch, and handed him the ice pack, “Can I at least rinse the blood from my beard?”

“Hell, take a shower if you want.”

Ralph laughed, “I don’t fuckin’ take showers.”

Eddie showed him to the sink, Ralph carefully rinsed the clotted blood from his beard, and then left through the front door, box in hand, but when he got to the sidewalk, next to his Harley, he looked back, and his jaw dropped. The house…the house was gone. Well, not gone, but…abandoned. It looked like it had been foreclosed on years earlier, and no one had moved in since…but then…how had…

It was like he was grasping at straws. He could remember Eddie, but everything else, it was a blur, including his life. He had a bike, but where was he supposed to go? He didn’t have a home, he didn’t…didn’t have anything, really. Just a box with a chain inside. It was hard to remember, but hadn’t he been…a student? Yeah, he could kind of remember a dorm room, or something like that. It was, he decided, better than nothing at all. He climbed on his bike, revved it up, and drove off towards campus, hoping he might find an answer there.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 4)

He woke up the next morning, later than even the day before, face down and snoring on his side of the room. He…didn’t quite remember what had happened the night before, very clearly. He was still dressed in his overalls, but they were…damp. Or at least the crotch was…and one leg all the way down to his socks. He only had one boot on. Next to the bed were two bottles of cheap whisky, one empty, the other nearly, which did a lot to explain his raging headache…but where in the hell had he even gotten the booze to begin with? He’d gone to eat dinner and stuffed himself for a couple hours, but when he’d finished and gone back outside to smoke…he’d felt kind of antsy, almost jittery…and walked a little ways off campus to a convenience store where he’d bought the whiskey…he thought. Yeah…he bought it all the time. Sure, he wasn’t twenty-one, but nobody fucking carded him, not with the beard and his hair and his clothes. He yawned, and felt something hard clink against his front teeth, and he covered his mouth with one grimy hand, before sticking out his tongue and feeling the piercing in the middle of it. Where in the fucking hell had that come from? Had he gone out last night? All he could remember was coming back to his room, getting drunk, yelling at his roommate when the guy came home and complained about the booze and smoke, and then nothing else.

He pushed himself up in bed, and he could smell the piss soaked into the bed. In his mind, he knew it should disgust him…and yet, his cock was getting hard in the cold, wet crotch of his overalls, and he rubbed it, unable to help himself. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, at the piercings studded all over his face–eyebrows, septum, lips, ears…nipples…cock–and the tattoos covering his arms and chest, and that was all he needed–he freed his cock through the fly and jacked off quickly into the palm of his hand, tugging on the thick gauge PA lodged in the head, licking the cum up afterward, and then lit a cigar, feeling the hangover easing off–finishing off the last bottle of whiskey helped too…and so did whipping out his cock, leaning back on his bed…and pissing up all over himself, feeling it soak into his shirt and coat his belly, running down into the creases of his fat, stinking body…and…and what the hell was he doing?

Seriously, what was he doing?

His body continued, but his mind felt like it had derailed. This wasn’t him, this wasn’t anyone. No one behaved like this, especially not in college. Was…was he even going to college? He had to be right, or else why was he in a dorm room? Classes started tomorrow, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall one piece of the schedule he’d signed up for during orientation the week before. This was wrong, how had any of this even happened?

Eddie. Fuck, just…just thinking of him now, he couldn’t stop himself from jacking his cock again, disturbed at his own behavior, at the volume of his moans, at the delight he was taking it rolling around in the now twice soaked bed, feeling it creak and groan beneath his massive heft. But everything had started with…with that first time he’d fainted. Maybe…Maybe Eddie knew something. Maybe he could tell him something about that, the first time, something that could help him understand what was happening to him. Yeah, he needed to see Eddie, if he could just…just talk…talk to him, he could…could…

He groaned, shooting a massive load all over the front of his overalls, his fat hands grinding it into the fabric along with his piss and sweat. He didn’t…didn’t have any time to waste, before this just got worse. Who knew when he might faint again, and what might happen to him if he does? He…he certainly didn’t have time to change clothes or anything, certainly not. He sat back up, slipped on his one lost boot, and then waddled his way out of the room without even thinking of changing his clothes, down the stairs and out onto campus, reeking of piss and cum and smoke. But Eddie…Eddie would help him. Eddie would help him sort all of this out, he was sure of it.

The Fetish Gun (Part 9)

Ray tried to pry himself away from the nipple in his mouth, and Jeff watched him struggle for a few moments, smiling the whole time. A few times he took a wild swing or two at the gun, but Jeff had crouched well out of reach, where he could watch him struggle. Eventually, he gave up, and asked, “You wanna make me a cow? Fine, get it fucking over with then.”

“Be a little patient, I’m still trying to decide on what kind of cow to make you, you know? Still, why don’t we start with this,” Jeff said, pointed the gun, and pulled the trigger, holding it down for close to fifteen seconds, before releasing the button, revealing a very different Ray when the light dimmed away.

He was no longer kneeling–in fact, he was even shorter than Wade, making him the perfect height to keep sucking at his tit. However, instead of Wade’s muscle, Ray’s body had ballooned with fat. He still had on a complete leather uniform, however the leather now looked comical on his round figure, the leather pulled tight over his rolls and apron, the seat of his pants massively wide to accommodate his much fatter ass. Ray could feel an odd wetness around his heavy moobs as his nipples started to spontaneously pump cum out, but with nowhere to go, it ran down inside his shirt, making him feel clammy and uncomfortable. A second burst of the gun eliminated the uniform entirely, leaving him naked up top aside from a wide strap leather harness cutting into his fat, his own massive set of balls flopping out of some crotchless leather shorts, rubbing against Wade’s, both of them soaking each other in their cum.

“What do you think, Ray? You enjoying yourself? It sure looks like you are. This fucking cow sure does love it. Look at him, completely mindless, ruled by instinct–what do you think Ray? Is that what you’d like? You want me to empty out that head of yours? You want to be drooling, just a fucking sack of milk for men to drink all day, every day? Or is that too easy for someone like you? Maybe you should just rot away in there, your head dulling a bit more, day by day, feeling your sense of self drain away until you finally give in and there’s nothing left to lose?”

Ray tried to talk, but the only thing that emerged was a series of moos and grunts. No matter how hard he tried to form them, he couldn’t seem to make an intelligible word.

“Oh stop trying, Ray–cows don’t get to talk, you know that. Cows don’t get to make decisions. Cows don’t get to beg. Pup–do me a favor and plow this cow’s ass pussy for a while. I want him to take a moment to think about what might be coming for it in the future.”

“Yes sir!” Ben said, and happily came around behind Ray, got on his knees, and drove his cock in between the fat cheeks of his ass. The cock slid in smoothly, and Ray let out a long, deep moo of pleasure, cum spewing helplessly from his tiny nipplecock. By now, the two cows had a full-fledged puddle of cum and milk between them, and every eye in the place was glued to them–letting Ray turn the dial on the gun to setting E. But instead of shooting it at any one person–he instead pointed it up at the ceiling of the bar, and pulled the trigger, focusing on the image in his mind like he’d seen Ray do the night before, when they’d turned that shitty breeder sport’s bar into this fine leather establishment, but this time he had a different idea in mind. The gun’s light flew out in a shower, up to the ceiling and then cascaded down around onto the entire bar and everyone in it, the light throbbing and pulsing, absorbing all of them aside from Jeff, who kept still in the middle of the maelstrom until the gun’s power finally drained away, it’s battery exhausted for the night, leaving him in a place much different from what it had been.

Now it was the filthy bathhouse of his dreams, and he was the sole proprietor. He wasn’t standing in a bar–rather it was a dimply lit locker room, and his pup was fucking one of their in house milk cows over a bench. Ben had changed quite a bit–gaining a substantial amount of muscle, but that was important, since he was the primary bouncer and enforcer. He finished with a few loud grunts and slid his cock free, before dragging the cow back to its cage, shoving it inside, hooking up the milker and turning it on, Ray’s attempts at resistance melting away into moans of pleasure as the pumps sucked away at him. Wade was in the cage beside him, hooked up to his own machines. The two of them stored the milk and sold it on tap–each of their milks was highly sought after in the bulking and gaining communities–Wade’s for building muscle, and Ray’s for packing on fat.

“What do you think, pup? Think we’ll be happy here?” Jeff asked.

He gave him a confused look, unsure of what his Master meant. Hadn’t they always owned the bathhouse?

Jeff rolled his eyes and ordered his pup down to suck his cock, deciding it was best not to worry. He was happy–and if he ever wasn’t happy, he was confident the gun could take care of any nuisance that might crop up in the future.

The End (Of this storyline at least)

The Fetish Gun (Part 7)

Jeff held down the trigger for a few moments, before releasing it; the light dying away and revealing Ben once again. He was essentially the same, but with a few very important differences, the most obvious being the thick chain necklace he now wore, with an industrial padlock holding it together Jeff had no idea where the key was–he’d lost it ages ago, but that didn’t matter. As far as either of them was concerned, Ben would never be taking it off for the rest of his life. Jef stepped closer to him, their combined musk overwhelming them both, wrapped one hand around the back of his pup’s neck, feeling the lank, greasy hair in his grimy fingers, and thrust his tongue into Ben’s eager mouth, tasting him for the first time, and for the thousandth.

This wasn’t the first time Jeff had been subjected to setting C. When his friend had found the gun, that was the setting he’d used to turn him into his duplicate uniform master. What he hadn’t expected was for the changes to flow in both directions this time. Granted, the first time he’d been perfectly neutral, so perhaps that explained why his former half hadn’t changed at all. Still, that was something to figure out later–he pushed down on Ben’s shoulders, and his pups knees immediately buckled, hauling out his master’s pungent cock just in time to catch a facefull of piss blasted across his face.

“What…happened? Why I so…fuck…*moooooaaann*…”

Jeff looked over to where the now incredibly freakish cow on the other side of the couch. He chuckled to himself as he pissed down his pup’s throat, and pointed the gun at Wade, who was still helplessly twisting his massive, leaking nipples.

“Nooooo…” he groaned, trying to back away, but there was nowhere for him to go.

“Don’t you worry–I’m just going to help you become the cow you were always meant to be–the cow you want to be, I’m sure,” Jeff said, and pulled the trigger. After a few seconds, he released it, and Wade stood there, all intelligence drained from his eyes. He was no longer even capable of speaking–just grunting, moaning, and mooing of course. His body was relatively unchanged, aside from the fact that he was covered in a tattoo pattern of brown spots and the word “COW” etched across his forehead, a heavy steel door knocker pierced through his septum hanging lower than his lips, and a chain collar similar to Ben’s, but this one hooked to a cow bell resting on Wade’s massive chest.

He’d finished pissing, and his pup had moved onto his usual blow job, happily sucking at Jeff’s cock, desperate to be of service to his master. With his two targets relatively neutralized, Jeff finally had a chance to inspect the damage which had been done to him, when Wade had shot him earlier, and he inspected himself, and his mind, getting to know his new self. Physically he was similar–aside from some of his musculature being traded for a layer of fat–but that helped him and his pup stay warm in the winters as they travelled on their bikes. A couple of filthy, nasty derelict bikers, that was them–a gang of two, bathing in piss, drinking cum, going from city to city, robbing and raping as they went, taking what they needed before taking off again.

Part of him was disgusted–but he was used to that at this point. That bit of him, that old quivering Jeff that he could barely remember anymore, he didn’t fucking matter. Still, should he change himself back? Give himself back his pristine uniform? His perfect body? He thought about it, watching Ben suck his cock, and decided against it. He didn’t want that anymore. Maybe he wouldn’t have wanted this before, but he wanted this now, and that was more than enough for him. Still, there was the matter of revenge on his former half, and how to deal with him.

Ray had been the one who’d found the gun–he’d started all of this. The two of them had split up tonight to try and find the guy who’d stolen it from them–but it had never really been them, now had it? Ray had always called all the shots, made all the decisions, but now he was going to be in charge–and looking at his new cow, he realized he had the perfect idea of what to do with him, when he got back to the bar for their rendezvous. Fuck, just thinking about it, he was gonna explode, and he shot his load down Ben’s throat, his pup drinking it down eagerly into his belly, before standing back up with a grin on his face. “You look like you have something dirty planned, boss,” he said.

“Heh, you know me too well, boy,” Jeff said, “Come on, I have some business to take care of tonight.” Jeff picked up a leash he usually used for his pup, but instead he attached it to the thick ring in his cow’s nose. “You too–you’re gonna love this cow–just you fuckin’ wait.”

The Fetish Gun (Part 4)

Wade waited until night to emerge from his apartment. Part of him knew he should try and keep from looking too conspicuous, but that proved easier said than done, with his limited wardrobe. He ended up stuffing his balls into some bulging rubber shorts and paired them with thigh high rubber waders. He couldn’t find anything that would cover up his leaking nipples–everything was either a harness, or had holes cut for them to pop free through, and the more tops he tried on, the more he enjoyed the look. He ended up picking out a rubber tank cut so narrow that his nipples were revealed through the wide cut arm holes, and last he grabbed a rubber hood. If those two uniformed guys he’d stolen the gun from were still looking for him, at least they wouldn’t be able to get a good look at him.

He hit the streets, and immediately regretted emerging this early in the evening. It was a Saturday night, and while seeing people in strange fetish garb wasn’t that odd in this neighborhood, it was clear from the stares that if his goal was to avoid attention he was going to have to give up on that. He had the gun in a small backpack he had over his shoulder, and even though he didn’t know what the settings did (and even though he liked his body) he also couldn’t deny the temptation to duck into an alley and try and become something more normal. Of course, the other question was whether the gun was even capable of making someone normal again–for some reason, he kind of doubted that it even could. Still, he’d find out soon enough–if he was going to figure this thing out, he’d have to find someone to experiment on.

It was pretty clear at this point that the settings didn’t have anything to do with their literal letters–but that just made things even harder to figure out. Setting D, he was pretty sure, had simply amplified his existing fetishes, making them stronger and warping his life around them further. The only other setting he’d seen was B–but he hadn’t seen enough to know for certain what it’s rules might be. So he wandered the streets for a half an hour, looking around for someone he might be able to use as a test subject. He needed someone alone, away from large groups of people. Finally, he caught sight of someone he might be able to use–a young, somewhat drunk guy slipping into an alley, no one else with him, and Wade slipped after him, pulling the gun from the backpack. The question, then, was what setting to use–might as well try something new, he figured, and rotated the dial to setting A, crept closer to where the guy was pissing against the side of a dumpster, and fired.

The light from the gun was…prismatic. It struck the young man, coating him for a few minutes, and becoming opaque–when it dissipated a moment later, the guy was still there, but…well, instead of the casual straight cug chic he’d been wearing, he was clad head to toe in well worn denim gear. Instead of pissing on the dumpster like before, now he was pissing into a plastic cup, licking his lips, and while Wade watched, he took the full cup and drank the entire thing down in a few gulps, stroking his hardening cock as he did, before looking over his shoulder and seeing Wade standing there. He looked surprised, sure, but he also looked, eager. “What, you got a load for me?”

The young man turned around, and Wade could see that his gear was soaked down the front–it even looked like he’d pissed himself at some point, a patch of wet running down one leg of his jeans. Had the gun sensed the guy pissing and turned him into a piss freak? He hadn’t been thinking about piss…beyond thinking about the guy pissing. Had it taken it’s cue from his own thoughts? Any one of those ideas seemed reasonable, but it was hard to know with any certainty from a single example. Still…he did need to take a piss. And the guy did look hopeful and more than a little eager.

The young man got on his knees and Wade walked over, pulling his tiny, yet engorged cock from his rubber shorts and unloading his bladder across the man’s face. More had changed about him that just the clothes and the piss fetish–he didn’t look older exactly, but he did look…nastier. Like he’d spent less time in bars and more time in alleys like this, getting pissed on. No, if anything, he looked like the alley suited him. Like he belonged here, like he had changed to match the place, more than anything else. If he was asleep here, Wade doubted he would have even noticed him, the grey denim disguising itself against the concrete. He finished pissing, and the guy licked the piss from his mustache. “I’ll suck that cock too–twenty five bucks.”

Wade didn’t have any cash, and he told him that. The guy seemed disappointed, but whether it was because he wouldn’t be getting any money, or because he was also thirsty for cum and was sad he wouldn’t get any without undermining his own business, Wade didn’t know for sure. Either way, it was obvious that their interaction had completed, and Wade started retreating to the opening of the alley–his target didn’t move, just stayed witting against the dumpster, making no effort to leave, like he belonged there. This didn’t seem…good. Maybe Wade couldn’t make things normal again with the gun, but he could try to make them different. Someone more helpful, someone he could bring home with him, to keep testing the gun on, but what setting? He went with his gut, twisted the knob on the gun to setting B, and fired at the young man one more time.