TPC – Chapter 1.10

Chapter 10 – Visions of Flesh

As Samuel crossed the club floor, he found himself blinking a bit too much, his eyes still watering and stinging after that odd moment in the VIP lounge upstairs, where his eyes had met Rod’s. The club was dark, but each time a spotlight swung around him he would freeze, like it might reveal something other than the other horny men around him. Something monstrous, but once he processed it again, he saw that it was just men engaged in the usual sort of acts that Depot inspired. But the sense that something was wrong with him continued to plague him as he found his way to the bathrooms. Had there been something in the drink? He hadn’t really seen the bartender mix it, and Rod had seemed rather…familiar with him, verging on obsessed, even. He stumbled down the hallway into the bathroom, and found a continuation of the scene he’d watched unfolding on the small TV set upstairs. 

Patrick had a twink up on the bar between the two sinks, legs up on his shoulders, dick deep in the young man’s hole. Samuel found himself feeling a little jealous at first–Patrick hadn’t been that hard during one of their fucks in a very long time. The smell of musk and cum and sweat hung heavy in the air all around them, and while it had seemed…rougher on that silent screen, it was clear from his moaning that the twink was rather enjoying himself, and that Patrick was getting close to orgasm.

But something else was off too. The two of them weren’t alone in the bathroom, there was a small collection of men all around Patrick’s feet, rubbing and groping him, all of them moaning and pleading, and from the cum drooling out of their holes, it seemed easy to conclude that Patrick had fucked all of them in turn–and all of them were aching for more. Samuel felt his head start to throb, his head pounding in time with the music–no, not his whole head, his eyes, what the fuck was wrong with his eyes? He gripped them in pain, and fell back against the wall, groaning, and when he opened them again, he swore that he had torn his eyelids apart–but it wasn’t that. His body wasn’t ripping, it was everything around him, some giant tear across the room, cutting across Patrick, across the twink, across the men fawning at his feet, and it was growing larger, it was consuming everything, and all Samuel could do was look.

Were they still in the bathroom? It hardly mattered where they were. It was Patrick that had changed the most. The tear opened wide, and revealed a massive figure where Patrick was standing, easily a foot taller, head close to the ceiling that couldn’t really be seen through the tear. The twink was groaning, coated in a sheen of sweat, and swelling. As Patrick fucked him, or the thing behind Patrick, the thing inside him and beside him, the twink was swelling, belly expanding, filling with cum, perhaps. It was difficult to know what it was, but it was inflating him, pumping him full, his face turning fat and pudgy, letting off a long moan of delight as his own cock was swallowed up inside his growing body, and with a massive thrust, Patrick…split the young man open, his skin shredding like a popped balloon in slow motion, pulling away and shrinking away, and underneath, coated in some sort of mucus, was another man, the same man, something born from that moment. Slick with gunk, soft and turgid, with a mouth that seemed too fluid, a body that didn’t have quite enough bones, both skinny and flabby at the same time, the moans and groans coming from it curdling in the air. The beast that was Patrick fucked harder and came at last, pumping a massive load into the thing’s hole, and when he had finished, he pulled his massive cock free, and the thing slumped off the counter and onto the floor, where the others had all pooled similarly, a tangled, throbbing mass of flabby things, mouths sucking at their god, crawling and sliming over one another, hungry for more, no longer hungry for anything else.

Patrick, or the beast beside him, turned to look at Samuel, smiling. It beckoned him. Samuel didn’t know how to get there, didn’t know how to cross the void between them. Black was enveloping him, clouding his vision. He thought at first it was another tear, another break, and terrified, he thrashed about in the dark until he flung over and found himself in his own bed, Patrick splayed out on top of the covers beside him, naked, snoring heavily himself. Samuel heaved himself out of bed, squinting, made it to the bathroom in time to get most of the vomit into the bowl of the toilet, and when he was sure his guts were empty, or at least no longer threatening revolt, he turned around and sat on the floor of the bathroom, against the cabinets, catching his breath and trying to push that image in his mind further away, but it was there. Impossibly close, burned into him, somehow. He rubbed his eyes, feeling them aching still. He had to have been drugged, what other possibility could it have been? He must have freaked out in the bathroom, maybe Patrick managed to get him home somehow.

He had made enough noise that he could hear Patrick rousing himself in the bed, and after a moment, he stumbled in, stepping over Samuel on the floor, so he could take a long piss into the toilet beside him. “Fuck, rough night, huh?”

“I…Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

“I don’t remember shit man, fuck,” Patrick said, “Hugh gave me a sample of a new steroid he’s selling, that shit is…fucking hell, it’s wild…You…you must have gotten me home last night, I guess?”

“Uh…I figured you’d gotten me home, I don’t remember.”

“Huh…”

Samuel thought about trying to explain what he’d seen the night before in the bathroom, but where would he even start? Besides, it wasn’t like Patrick to really empathize with the inner life of someone else–that was labor he usually left for Samuel to pick up.

“I’m gonna hit the gym, I’m still feeling fucking pumped, you know?” Patrick said, stepping back over Samuel on the floor without offering to help him up.

After another couple minutes, Samuel flipped around and used the counter to pull himself up. In any case, that fucker Rod could take his offer and shove it. If his idea of patronage was drugging someone without even giving them a heads up, there was no way he was going to have any further dealing with the guy, no matter how much money it meant. But while his resolve started out that way, three things happened that made him waver again.

The first was his eyes in the mirror when he pulled himself up. His eyes had always been green, but in the mirror, they weren’t…entirely green anymore. The color was darker, and leaning in to look closer, he saw that there were swirls of the same cloudy grey that Rod’s had been. He couldn’t be sure that they hadn’t always had that coloring, and yet, he had never noticed it before in his life. Looking closer, he also was certain he could see the colors swirling about slightly, but that, he knew, was ridiculous.

The second, was when he dug his phone out of his pocket, he had a message from an unknown contact, that said, “What did you see?” He found the card Rod had handed him, and the number matched. He thought about replying and telling him off, but every time he tried to start the message it fell flat. Too angry, or too apologetic, or too many questions. He pictured Rod up in the VIP lounge, watching him freak out in the bathroom, and he felt like a fool, but the question was still there. He wanted to know. He knew that Samuel had seen something, and that it was important to him. If he had drugged him, it was because he wanted this from him. That made Samuel madder, of course, but it also made him feel important, and special, and he had a weakness for flattery.

The third, was that for the rest of the morning, he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling from his bones that what he’d seen hadn’t just been a wild trip–it had been real. Beyond real. Something and somewhere else. He just couldn’t stop seeing it, no matter how hard he tried to push it away, it was always just there, a heaving, pulsating image; a horror. He ate a little, but felt the gorge rise again, and instead left the apartment, for a constitutional that he hoped would clear his mind a bit. His feet took him past the gallery where he’d started his night, and he looked at his work. Work he’d been so proud of, it all felt so empty now. He had seen something true, and before this, he’d been painting around the edges of another world, another existence, and this was a vision right into the heart of it, he was somehow certain of this. He resisted the urge to pull it all down and tear it up–instead, he went to the studio and tried to paint it, tried, desperately, to force it out of him, to sketch it, to mold it, to paint it, to pin it down as something outside of himself at last.

Every hour or so, he would stare at that text again, and ponder it. The art wasn’t coming, but he had to know more, he wanted to know what he’d seen. 

“Can we meet again?” he texted back.

They arranged another meeting in a few days, and Samuel sat back in his chair, rearranged patterns on the ceiling, thought of the tear, thought of stepping through it, of what he might find. ‘Flesh’, his mind replied without prompting. Flesh–he would find true flesh.


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The Family Portrait

This is…technically an older story that I never got around to finishing at the time, and at the urging of a patron, I returned to it, revised it a bit, and gave it a conclusion. Hope you all enjoy it! Also, the new series I mentioned, “Pigtown Chronicles”, is in early access over on Patreon, and I’ll be posting it publicly next week! If you missed the first three chapters, you can go check them out there, or wait and read them here. If you’re still over on tumblr, I created a new blog for this series–that way it won’t be stuck behind the nightmare that is NSFW tumblr, and have a searchable, accessible archive. If you want to follow it there, you can go ahead and follow it here. I’ll also be reposting all of them to my old tumblr as well.


It was…quiet. It was never quiet, not around here. Keith breathed a sigh in his empty house–as happy as he was at the family he’d made for himself, between Tara and his three sons, that also didn’t leave him very much time at all for himself. The place had been getting quitter, however. With his two oldest sons in their second and third years of college–at the state school a few hours away at least, and his youngest son, a senior in high school, out with Tara running errands on a fall Saturday for a few hours, he had the house to himself. He had it to himself, and he had absolutely no idea what he should be doing with his chance. It was funny, really. He so often wished for more private time, and now when the chance came, he had no clue how to spend it. He sighed–not really a bad problem to have, he supposed. 

He was interrupted by a loud, heavy knocking on the front door. Curious who it might be, he walked to the door and opened it, finding a strange man on the porch he had never seen before in his life. He was none too clean, dressed in a pair of stained camo cargo shorts and a wifebeater, with a thick overgrown beard. He was carrying a large…something under his arm, wrapped in paper. Something rectangular and flat–but he had no idea what. “Hey! What’s up? I’m your new neighbor down the road there, just moved in a few days ago. Name’s Marty.”

“Oh, uh…hi. I’m Keith…Keith Ireland. Nice…to meet you,” he replied, not taking the man’s hand when he extended it out to shake. How someone who looked like this could possibly afford a house in a neighborhood where Keith lived…something seemed a bit odd about this, and he wasn’t about to let him inside his house. “Where…which house did you move into? I wasn’t aware anyone was moving.”

“Oh, just a few houses down.”

“I didn’t see any moving trucks or anything though.”

“Really?”

Keith just raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Well look, I just wanted to say…hi. My wife, she’s an artist, and we always have too many things of hers, so we like to give our new neighbors some of her artwork. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to keep it or anything–her stuff isn’t for everyone, but it’s nice, right?” He held out the paper wrapped picture to him, and as strange as this was, Keith didn’t want to seem mean, especially if the guy really was his neighbor. He could always take a look, and then give it right back. He tore open the paper and flipped the picture so it was facing him. It was a sizable canvas, probably at least three feet wide, landscape, but there wasn’t much at all in the picture itself. In fact, it wasn’t even a painting–it was a photo. It looked like one of those cheap portraits you might get a Sears or something, but the only person in the picture was Marty, centered but small. Like it was supposed to be a family portrait but he was the only one who showed up. He looked closer, trying to figure out who could possibly see this as valuable, and discovered that the background of the photo…it was moving. The backdrop pattern…it was alive, twisting and ebbing back and forth–he couldn’t look away even if he’d wanted to. It felt like the pattern was growing in his field of vision, almost giving the illusion of falling into the photo, his mind emptying. 

Marty watched his “neighbor’s” eyes grow dull and his jaw go slack, and he walked around him, stepping inside the threshold of the home, looking at the family portrait. The photo was indeed shifting and twisting, in one particular place–a figure coming clear standing beside Marty–quite blurry, and yet if you squinted you could see that it was Keith appearing in the image. The focus became a bit sharper, but never came fully clear, Marty taking a moment to inspect Keith, see how he’d changed all these years.

Keith obviously hadn’t recognized him, but they’d both been very different back in high school together. They even, at one time, were friends–with a few benefits. Keith was bi–and he’d let Marty suck his cock on a few occasions, but when they’d gotten caught, he pinned the whole thing on Marty–claiming he’d been “corrupting” him. Or rather, his dad Gary, a conservative city councilman who couldn’t afford to have a gay son in the news, made his say it, and Keith went along with it. Marty had had no one after that–he’d gotten expelled from school, and kicked out by his family. But now, well, Marty had a little revenge planned for his old friend. He’d gotten by as best he could, but Marty had made a few new, strange friends along the way…including a warlock who specialized in revenge spells. He’d made the portrait Keith was currently staring at–and which was absorbing his image. It was Keith’s fault that he’d lost his entire family after all. As far as Marty was concerned, that meant Keith could provide him with a new one—a better one. One Marty was going to design just for himself. 

It had been long enough now–the rest was up to him. He landed a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder, making him start and jump, his mind snapping back to awareness, eyes blinking, trying to understand what had just happened to him. “What do you think bro?” Marty asked, “Ain’t that a good picture of us?”

Keith’s eyes moved from the portrait in his hands, and looked beside him, at his…his brother. His brother Marty. Something was still wrong with his mind–it felt like part of him was…missing. His eyes slowly traced back to the picture, at the blurry image of himself in there. It looked like…like he was screaming in there. Marty pulled him back by the arm and shut the door, plucking the picture from Keith’s hands and pressing it to a nearby wall, where it adhered immediately. “Come on bro, the game’s almost on–I know you hate missing a game, right?”

Keith found himself nodding, even though he’d never in his life enjoyed watching football, and stumbled sleepily after his brother into the den, finding the portrait looming over him on a new wall in the den–it had moved somehow, haunting him–as Marty pushed him down onto the couch in front of the TV, grinning wide. 


Another touchdown! Both Keith and Marty threw their arms up, shouting with excitement. Their team was doing great, and Keith couldn’t be happier if he’d tried, sitting here with his favorite person, his brother, watching the game with him. He grinned over at him, grabbed another handful of potato chips and shoved the whole wad into his mouth, chewing loudly with his mouth open, washing it all down with his seventh can of beer, a huge belch rumbling out of his fat belly. He gave it a pat, feeling it jiggle and wiggle around him. It felt…damn good, actually. Like Marty had told him, he’d always been a fat ass–he couldn’t stop eating if he fucking tried, he loved it so much–drinking too–and it showed, nearly six hundred pounds of flab, but he didn’t care. Like Marty said, he found it…kind of hot, actually.

He still wasn’t feeling quite like himself though. Ever since he’d sat down and started watching the game, he’d felt…almost like he was in a dream. Marty was there for him though, reminding him to get the snacks and beer, talking with him while they waited through replays, about all sorts of things. Like…like his lucky jersey. He’d worn in for years, ever since their team had won the superbowl, and he wore it for every game, religiously. He never washed it, so it stank to high hell, and was easily three sizes too small at this point, but it just didn’t feel right not wearing it, right? In fact, Marty had been doing most–or rather, all of the talking. Keith had focused on cheering during the game–with how hard it was to think, he didn’t feel capable of keeping up a conversation at the moment. Besides, it was more important for him to listen to Marty. Marty was the smart one, the clever one…but his eyes kept going to the clock next to their family portrait, and Marty noticed.

“Worried about the time, bro?” Marty asked him.

“Just…wondering when…Tara and the boys…” he said, but couldn’t complete the thought through the haze in his head.

Marty smacked his head and scowled at himself. Fuck, he’d forgotten–that would have made a mess of things for sure. “Why in the hell would that bitch be coming here? She hates your guts. The two of you haven’t laid eyes on each other since that last time she dragged you to court over missing your alimony payments. You’re lucky you didn’t lose partial custody over that shit.”

Keith looked at his brother, confused…but he…he was right. Tara hated him, and she kind of had good reason to. “Yeah…don’t know…why I’d thought…”

“Don’t worry about it bro, you hate women anyway. They fucking disgust you. The only people you want to spend time around is family. Especially me, your best friend. Your best big brother in the whole world. You love me more than anyone, right?”

Keith nodded and grinned at him, letting off another belch.

“Yeah, you’re just a fuckin’ deadbeat dad, really. Can’t hold down a job–doesn’t help that you dropped out of school, still, considering how stupid you are, that ain’t surprising. Luckily we could move in together–I support you, but that’s ok. There’s nothing you’d rather do, aside from lounging around the house, naked all the time, stuffing your face, drinking beer, watching TV, and loving me.”

This time, even Marty could feel it, the changes sweeping through them. The house around them began rotting–there was no way either of them could live in a neighborhood like that, after all. Still, served the fucker right, Marty thought. They ended up in a double wide trailer in some rundown park–still nicer than pretty much anywhere Marty had lived before, and it felt like home, his brother splayed out on the couch next to him, completely naked aside from his lucky jersey, eyes glued to the TV.

“Oh, and smoking cigars, of course. You couldn’t live without those.”

The air grew dank and smoky all of a sudden, and Keith sucked deep off his cheap cigar. Smiling, amazed at how well the portrait was working, Marty leaned forward and lit a cigar for himself, sighing smoke out, groping his cock through his filthy shorts, wondering how much further he could push this before getting down to business. Hell, why not now? He could remember how big Keith’s cock had been when they were teenagers, and it had only gotten bigger–but no fucking way did he deserve a tool like that, not after what he did.

“The smoking, the food, the beer–it makes you fucking horny too, right bro? So fucking horny all the time. Too bad you can’t find your inch long cock in all that flab of yours. Just makes you sex crazed all the time, leaking cum everywhere, desperate for release.” He watched Keith start panting, heaving smoke, sweating, crotch damp with precum, “Luckily you have a big brother to take care you, right? Help you out?” He reached over and dug around in keith’s new gunt, finding his miniscule cock, stroking it, watching his obese brother spasm with pleasure. “And luckily you’ll do anything your perverse big brother wants you to do, right? You love satisfying all of my sick, disgusting fantasies. At heart, you’re all bottom. A sex crazed pig, aching to have all of your holes stuffed at all hours. That’s the only way you can cum, with a big cock in your ass or buried in your throat, while you grunt and snort like a pig.”

Keith didn’t make it to halftime, before he tore into his brother’s shorts and started sucking on his cock. He ended up bent over the couch, his brother balls deep in his sloppy hole, dull mind desperate for sex, cock leaking like a faucet onto the already well stained couch. His eyes–he felt them pulled up, to the portrait on the wall. The background, it was swirling again, but his image–it was becoming clearer now–no longer blurry. His massive frame barely contained by his favorite jersey, wearing a pair of massive sweats. His shaven head and face looking even larger, three chins drooping under his thick handlebar mustache, a stupid grin on his face, leaning on his brother, his big brother, the best big brother in the world. With a snap, the portrait froze in place, and it was like all of him came alive again. With a holler, his tiny cock spurted a load into his fatty folds, and Marty shot deep in his filthy brother’s hole, and looked up at the photo. A good start, for sure–but there was still so much room in the portrait. Luckily, he had a few ideas for other people he could add to their family–starting with his new nephews. He knew that they would be so much happier away from their bitch mother for good and living with their dad and uncle, where they really belonged.


When reality snapped back to order, the effects were seen far beyond the run-down house where Keith now lived with his older brother–his now ex-wife and sons were forced into new realities as well. The two older sons, David and Terrance, were living out on their own, working and renting an apartment together while they attended the local community college, trying to make the leap to a four year college when they could afford it, and both of them avoided their father like the plague. His youngest son, Bobby, split his time between his mother’s house and his father’s house, but only because he was still seventeen for a few more months. In all honesty, he hated every second he had to spend with his filthy uncle and father–he was ashamed to even be related to them. His mother understood, but there was nothing she could do, until he reached eighteen and could legally decide for himself. And so, Marty decided that the next easiest target would be Bobby, when he arrived to stay with his dad and uncle the next week.

That gave him plenty of time to get adjusted to life with his new stupid, lazy younger brother, and he loved every second of it. While he couldn’t make any massive changes to him, now that the picture had become static again, just like his wizard friend had said, he could continue making small changes and suggestions for another few days, all of which Keith was more than happy to obey, and by the end of the week, he reeked of cum and sweat, he hadn’t had a shower in months, and he spent all day and night drunk, passing out on the couch with the TV on every night, when he wasn’t busy in his brother’s bed, servicing his every sexual desire. Still, they both knew that as soon as Bobby arrived for his week of custody they would have to control themselves…for a little while. Marty didn’t think Bobby would be returning to his mother’s house anytime soon, that was for sure. All he’d have to do is get the young man relaxed and focused on the portrait, and everything would be perfect.

However, from the day Bobby arrived, it became clear it wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as Marty had thought. The boy had some…problems with authority, especially parental authority. He spent almost all of his time in his room, giving his uncle no real chances to exert much influence on him in any way. Marty thought he had him the second night, when he managed to successfully enchant Booby with the portrait, causing a third blurry figure to appear beside the images of his father and uncle, but when he tried to influence the boy, and turn him into a chubby, submissive cub for them both to use, nothing seemed to work–Bobby fought his suggestions, and after an hour, the image of him had faded from the picture entirely.

Angry and frustrated, Marty called his wizard friend, demanding to know what was wrong–the wizard was a bit flummoxed, but said that the reason for Bobby’s resistance probably had to do with his perceived relationship to his family–that is, he didn’t want to perceive himself as Keith’s son, but he didn’t have an easy solution for him. Marty’s mood stayed sour for a few days, until he overheard a fight between Bobby and his father one night. Bobby told him that Keith had never been his father, that Bobby was the only person in the room who could act like an adult–and that gave Marty an idea: if Marty thought he was the adult in the room…well, why not make him one?

The fight ended, Bobby stormed off to his room. Marty waited for half an hour, and then knocked on the door, letting himself in–the portrait had appeared on the wall of Bobby’s room, looming over him. “Bobby, I know you aren’t a fan of us, but you need to accept the fact that we’re your family, and there isn’t anything that can change that,” he said, and pointed at the picture, “Look at us up there, wasn’t that a good day?” Bobby looked at the swirling paint, his eyes drawn in immediately, a fleshy blob appearing in the picture, but Marty could see him fight, see him resist his placement between them, where a son belonged. So Marty tried something different, “But you’re a man now, you know? And you know, we don’t treat you like that enough. You aren’t a boy anymore, Bobby–no, not Bobby–Bob. You’ve grown into a fine young man, haven’t you?”

Bobby resisted for a moment more, but then visibly relaxed where he was sitting on the side of the bed. Marty could see his body changing, hair growing up his forearms, thick like theirs, his body bulking, as he grew older, into his mid 20’s. Finally, finally he had him, and Marty knew exactly what this young prick needed–if he wanted to be an adult, then fine, let him. 

“You know Bob, I’ve always admired you. I’ve never seen you as a nephew, not really. I’ve always thought of you as a real brother to me. And I know Keith gets on your nerves, but he’s, well, he’s younger than us, right? He’s always going to be a bit immature.”

Bob kept growing older, his face growing a bit more lined, hair receding back past the crown of his head, becoming flecked with gray, and he chuckled, “He acts like a fucking child,” Bob said, “I wish…I wish…grandpa had been sterner or…or something, he…why does my head hurt all of a sudden?” Bobby said, rubbing his temples, “I…I feel like I’m forgetting something…”

“You mean dad, don’t you?” Marty said. “You wish dad had been stricter.”

“I…I guess.”

“Look, you’re not one to run away from Keith when he gets on your nerves. You know what he needs–you’ve always known what we both need, as the oldest.”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right Marty–you always have a way of…of making so much sense, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, now come on. I think you should go have another word with Keith, don’t you?”

Bob nodded, and turned to leave the room. Marty checked the portrait, and sure enough, there was Bob level with them both–but Marty wasn’t really interested in having another brother. Since Bob wanted to be an adult so badly, why not go a little further? He smiled, and joined the rest of the family in the den.

The now middle aged Bob went and stood in front of Keith on the couch. He looked up at him, confused for a moment, before the magic helped him along. Bobby his son didn’t exist for him now–he was looking up at his big brother Bob. 

“Yer blocking the game Bob, get out of the way,” Keith said, craning around him as best he could.

“Yeah? That so? What’s a fat fucking piece of shit like you gonna do about it?” Bob asked.

Keith glowered at him, and hefted himself to one side, but Bob just shifted along with him.

Marty stepped up, and saw that the family portrait had followed them, and was now hanging above the fireplace. “Come on now Bob, you know what Keith needs, don’t you? Ever since he was a kid, you knew exactly what kind of worthless piece of shit he was going to be, and you never hesitated to put him in his place.”

Bob’s gaze grew a bit harder, and he undid the belt around his waist, pulling it free of the loops with one pull. Keith’s eyes went wide, but he couldn’t move before Bob’s hand was around his neck, gripping tight enough to make him gasp for breath. “Apparently someone has forgotten who the boss is around here,” he said, “get up, knees on the sofa boy, I think you need a good reminder.”

Keith tried to mumble something, maybe an apology, but Bob’s grip tightened enough that he only managed a squeak. He released him, and Keith did as he was told, hauling his fat body up and onto the couch, letting Bob tug the back of his grimy underwear down, and pushing his body over the back of the couch, so his ass was high. The first smack made Keith holler, and that was enough to shake Bob as well, and he looked at the belt–almost like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

“Don’t worry about the screams, Bob–we all know that just makes that big dick of yours even harder. All those years working construction put a whole lot of muscle on you, and you love using it on the pig–even more than the pig likes the abuse. Go on, see how much that fat pig’s puny cock is leaking.”

Bob ran a hand between Keith’s legs, and sure enough, it came back coated with precum that he wiped across both cheeks. Leering now, he brought the belt down again and again on Keith’s ass, stopping only to pop open the buttons on his jeans, letting his own sizable cock free. Unable to resist anymore, He tossed the belt down and drove the cock into Keith’s loose hole, making them both cry out in delight.

“That’s it Daddy,” Marty said, coming close and stroking Bob’s body as he fucked the pig’s hole. “You’re such a good daddy to us boys, aren’t you?”

Bob was too eager to fuck to even muster much of a resistance, as the portrait began to shimmer again, Bob’s image migrating behind Keith and Marty, where the patriarch would be. 

“Retired now, sure. Past your prime, maybe. But you trained the pig well, didn’t you? You knew before he could walk that he wasn’t going to amount to shit, and no amount of discipline would stick, because the pig just wanted more. More punishment, more humiliation, more, more, more. But that’s ok, isn’t it? You do love him, you want to give him what he wants. It just so happens its exactly what you want to, right Daddy?”

Bob swelled larger, body filling out with more fat and muscle as his hair all turned a stark white, beard down to the top of his gut, snorting and grunting in time with his son as he thrust harder and harder, until he came finally with something like a roar. He pulled free, and his cum drooled out Keith’s hole, who was coming down from his own orgasm, having soaked the couch cushion below him. 

“Fuck Daddy–you’re so fucking hot. Take care of me now, come on. I’ve always been the favorite. Your oldest, I could never do anything wrong. You want to make me happy all the time, don’t you Daddy? You can’t resist anything that I say,” Marty said, grabbed his burly father by the shoulder and shoved him down to his knees, Marty’s own cock out. “Come on Daddy, suck your boy off, you love the taste of my fuckin’ cum, you fuckin’ need it.”

Bob swallowed Marty to the hilt in one practiced motion, and he didn’t last more than a couple of thrusts, before exploding in his Dad’s mouth. He could feel the magic tightening around them all as the portrait turned solid again. It wasn’t quite what he’d planned, Marty thought as he pulled free, watching his new father lick his lips and thank his favorite boy for his load, before getting up, grabbing a beer and a cigar, and sitting down next to the still panting and huffing Keith to finish the game. Marty could make this work, though. He’d pay a visit to Keith’s sons soon, once he was sure these two were well under his thumb, and his new family would be nearly complete.


It had been a bigger change than Marty had planned on for Bobby, and he was a bit concerned that he might try and push back against the magic, but for the rest of the weekend, everything progressed smoothly. If anything, Bobby was revelling in his new found authority and power over his new son, humiliating and abusing him all day long, cementing Keith’s new role as the family loser more and more. But much to Marty’s surprise, the change to Bobby was having an impact on him as well.

Apparently, by making him his dad’s favorite son, that changed some of his own past in the process. Over the rest of the weekend, as his dad showed him his new found affection, pleasing his favorite boy as much as he could, while he did everything he could to punish Keith, Marty found he was losing weight, and putting on muscle. New memories came to him of playing football in high school at his father’s urging–it clashed uncomfortably with his other, older memories of being kicked out of school at Keith’s father’s behest. Needless to say, Marty was thrilled that he could be affected as well, and once he realized the effect it was having, he pushed his dad, and himself, to be more manly, more masculine, both of them sprouting thick beards and bigger cocks, ending Sunday night with a family spit roast in their leather gear–father and his favorite son skewering the family pig at both ends, while they both smoked their favorite cigars, before dragging him down into the basement dungeon, where they took turns flogging him until the pig’s puny cock exploded in delight against the wall.

Marty had spent a bit of time trying to work out how to get the rest of the family under the portraits influence as well. Talking to his friend, the portrait was bound to the house–it would only affect people while they were here. That meant he had to figure out some way to get Keith’s other two sons, Jack and Eric, over here–but neither of his older sons wanted anything to do with him. In the end, the situation with Bobby, now Bob, created a solution to the problem. When Bobby didn’t return to his mother’s house on Sunday night, and with no word from Keith, and after a call to the police turned up no record of her son at all, she asked Jack and Eric to check up on Bobby and make sure he was alright, and to bring him home.

And so, Monday evening there was a pounding on the door. Bob and Keith were downstairs taking care of some discipline, and so it was Marty who opened the door, and found both of his nephews standing on the doorstep, looking rather angry. “Marty,” Jack said, “Is Bobby here?”

“Bobby?” Marty asked, a bit confused. He’d almost forgotten that his father downstairs had been a teenager a couple days before this. 

“Stupid fucking freaks, where the hell is he?” Eric said, shoving his way inside and looking for Bobby in the living room and kitchen. Jack followed after him, and Marty shut the door, smiling that his next two targets had entered the web so willingly.

“Boys, I think you’re confused. Who’s Bobby?”

“Our brother, you know who.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think I had any boys other than you two,” Marty said, looking up at the portrait up above the fireplace, watching the image of both young men materialize in front of Keith for a moment, but Marty had a better idea. Keith was a loser pig, and these boys didn’t deserve that. No–he had a better idea for both of them, that he’d been mulling over for the past couple of days, and with some focus, he watched the images of them scooch over, and take their place in front of him instead. These were going to be his son’s now, and he would raise them just right.

He saw that slight daze come over both of them as the portrait took hold of them, and smiled. “Come on boys, I know you’ve had a long day at work on the site. Crack open a beer and let’s have some family time, while Grandpa’s taking care of your uncle downstairs.”

“What…no, we….we came here for…for Bobby,” Jack said, trying to push through.

“No, you’ve been working on the construction site all day, like usual. Now you’re home, where you belong, with your family. You’re thinking of Bob, your grandpa. You two aren’t too bright, I know you can get confused easily.”

Marty was a bit worried that they’d put up as big a fight as Bobby had, but he watched as Eric’s clothes shifted to some grungy workwear and boots covered in dust and dirt, and seeing it happen to his brother, Jack changed quickly after that. Apparently, the two of them had a good affinity for each other–Marty could work with that too. The two of them followed Marty over to the sofa and sat down together, while he got the remote, fiddled with it, and found an old boxing match to put on. “There we go, that’s what you boys like, isn’t it? A good bout, right?”

Jack and Eric watched the fight go on, while Marty kept talking.

“Yeah, the two of you have always been fighting each other, ever since you were kids. I was always hollering at you two to cut it out, but that just seemed to encourage you. But you’re both sadists, just like me and your grandpa–it shouldn’t have surprised me, I suppose, all the roughhousing. You two were always so easily matched though–identical twins, and damn, did both of you grow big and strong, just like the real men of the family.”

Jack gave a groan, and was the first to pull his cock free of his pants, with Eric following along soon after. The two of them were swelling larger now, packing on a substantial layer of beef across their chest, arms and legs as they grew larger, topping six and a half feet. Their features were melding together–Jack’s hair lightened to the color Eric’s shaggy brown mop, while Eric’s eyes grew more sucken and his brow grew in to match Jack’s own forehead. 

“Fucking inseparable, the two of you. Always have been. Only way I can tell you apart at this point is that Jack, you lost both of your front teeth to a game of backyard football when you were fourteen, and Eric, you pissed Jack off so much a year later he pummelled your face and flattened that nose of yours to your face. But you love each other, deeply. Been catching the two of your fucking around with one another for years now, and I swear you know what the other is thinking half the time. Of course, both of you are such dimwits that it makes sense the two of you would only have one brain between the two of you.”

At the same time, their hands moved and took hold of each other’s cocks, and the two boys moaned simultaneously. One eye each still on the screen, taking in the blows of the bout, obviously excited at the bloodsport, they leaned in and started kissing each other, pressing closer, Eric wheezing through his busted nose, his tongue sliding through the familiar gap in the middle of Jack’s teeth.

“That’s it you two. Fuck, I couldn’t be more pround of my two handsome, dirty, sadistic boys. Hardly ever showering you, pretty much always have a thick cloud of musk and cigar smoke clinging to you, covered in dirt, but not so much that we can’t all see the riot of matching tattoos the two of you have gotten over the years together, all over your arms, your chest, even your cocks have twin snakes down the length of them,” Marty said, came around the front of the couch, and climbed up, one foot between each boy’s legs, his cock thrust between their faces, his twins slobbering all over their new father’s cock as the portrait swirled, coming more and more into focus, the old Jack and Eric fading away, and replaced by the two massive twin bruisers parked on either side of their massive father. “But most of all, you two boys love your Daddy, don’t you? You’ll both do anything for me, without a moment’s hesitation–and your Grandpa too. We’re the only guys who ever fuck you–aside from each other. But that’s what guys in a family do for each other, right? Besides, I know how the two of you love to fight over my cock.”

Jack won the day not long after that, taking his dad’s cock in his mouth while he shoved his brother’s face lower, Eric relenting and lapping at Marty’s balls until he exploded in Jack’s mouth. He pulled free and fed the load to Eric, the two of them sharing it, watching it drool into their tangled brown beards. “Fuck dad, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” Eric said when they pulled free, “Can I suck it next time?”

“You know the rules boys, Daddy likes watching you fight for it,” Marty said, getting down from the couch. “Now come on, let’s go see how grandpa’s work on your pig uncle is going.”

They all went down into the basement dungeon, where they found grandpa with his flogger, coated with a sheen of sweat, laying into Keith’s back with a whip. The smell of blood and sweat mingled in the air, and from his sons’ panting, Marty could tell the scent was getting them excited. “Hey dad, Eric and Jack are home from work, why don’t you let the youngin’s take over for a bit?”

Bob looked over his shoulder, confused for a moment, but the magic took hold after a moment, and he remembered his two grandson’s properly. “Sounds good to me–I think the pig’s just getting warmed up, isn’t that right?”

He walked around, and there was a puddle of cum under Keith from where he’d lost any number of loads already, but from the look of bliss across his face and his still rock hard little cock, it was clear he was ready and eager for more punishment. “Fuck yeah boys, come teach your naughty pig uncle a lesson already,” he said, leering at the two of them. Jack and Eric stripped down repositioned Keith so his hands were together and suspended from the ceiling, pulled tight enough he couldn’t quite touch his entire feet to the ground, and then started using him as a punching bag, one twin punching his uncle’s fat gut while the other held him fucking or fingering his ass while he did, and then trading positions. Meanwhile, Marty took a seat where he could watch his boys work, and Bob came over, got down, and started sucking on his son’s cock.

This was shaping up to be a better family that Marty could have ever dreamed of–but it was still missing one last person, he thought. Gary, the old patriarch of the family, was going to have to be given a new position, since Bobby had already taken his. Now with his two sons in place, Marty knew just where to put him, and then, the portrait would be complete.


Over the next day or so, as Marty made sure his twin boys were well cemented in their new lives, he could feel the magic of the portrait beginning to ebb and pull back. If he was going to bring Gary into the fold, he had to do it soon, or he would miss his opportunity. Thankfully, Gary still lived in town, though his years as a councilman were behind him at this point. He’d used his local connections well though, ending up on the board of a sizable corporation, doing very well for himself. It was time, in Marty’s opinion, to take the old man down a few notches. The disjoint between the two realities–between the portrait and how things used to be–made it difficult to see how to get him close enough for the magic to work on him. After making a call or two, he didn’t even recognize Keith as his son, whether that was because of the magic, or because he wanted nothing to do with a pig like Keith, well, it didn’t matter that much.

In the end, the simplest solution proved to be best. Marty told his two sons to go get the old man and bring him back here, no matter what it took. It took a little breaking and entering, and a little bit of a beating, but not long after midnight, Jack and Eric returned with a well bound, and slightly bloody Gary between them, that they dragged into the house. 

“What the fuck is this? Do you fucking know who I am?” Gary shouted when Marty pulled the gag from his mouth. “Is this about money? Well, you’re not getting any, you’ll all fucking rot in jail!”

“No Gary, this isn’t about money,” Marty said, “This is a family matter. You remember your son Keith, don’t you?”

Keith stepped forward, battered and bruised, stinking of cum and musk, covered in hair. Gary stared at the pig, horrified, but after a moment, there was recollection as well. “K-Keith? What…I…what happened to you?”

Keith, on the other hand, didn’t know who this man was. As far as his simple mind was concerned, Bob had always been his father now. An uncle, maybe? He looked over at Marty, unsure of what to do or say, and the pig knew better than to act without direction from his superiors.

“Yeah, your boy,” Marty said. “Or at least, he was your boy. How about me, Gary? Do you remember me? Marty Hackman, that ring a bell?”

Gary shook his head.

“You ruined my life, Gary. Your son gave me a blowjob in high school, and rather than deal with the fact that your kid liked dick, you decided to demonize me, and get me kicked out of school. Now do you remember Gary?”

Gary’s face went a bit pale, then. “I…What is this, what are you going to do to me?”

“Well, I suppose you could say, I’m going to give you another chance, boy, to do right by your family. Boys, pick him up, bring him into the den, so he can see our family portrait.” Jack and Eric dragged him along, following their dad into the family room, where the portrait was hanging over the fireplace. “There, Gary–doesn’t that look like a happy family?” Marty said, grabbing Gary by the hair and making him look up at the picture, “Still, it’s missing something. It’s missing you, Gary…”

Gary watched as the image began to shimmer, and after a moment, a new image appeared in it, behind Keith and next to Bob–his own image, in fact. “What? How…how did…” Gary said, but trailed off, the magic already taking hold, putting him in a light trance.

“Oh, but that’s not where you belong in the photo Gary, not after everything you’ve done,” Marty said. “No, not someone as petulant as you. As greedy. As cruel and conniving. You don’t get to be the head of this family anymore. But there’s always room for another pig, right nephew?”

Gary watched as the portrait shimmered again, and his image in it moved and shifted, moving from the back beside Bob, down to the front row, in front of Keith and next to Jack and Eric. “How…I don’t understand…”

“I know it’s hard for you, pig’s aren’t very good at thinking, right Keith? You wouldn’t expect a pig son of yours to be any good at thinking hard, would you?”

“No way bro,” Keith said, “No son a mine would be a good thinker. He’d just be a stupid, gluttonous, cocksuckin’ pig like me, if I had anything to say about it.”

“Fuck Gary, you hear what your Daddy is sayin’ about you?” Marty said.

“No, I’m not…I’m not…” Gary said, but watched as the image in the portrait began to change–and to his horror, he could feel his own body begin shifting to match it. Gary, as he had gotten older, had spent his time maintaining his physique as well as he could, and he had quite a reputation as a silver fox. But now, the silver was beginning to fade, and his body began to expand with fat. He pushed back with his hands, trying to stop it, trying to cling to his old self, but he was finding it harder and harder to think, as his mind slowed to a crawl.

“Don’t fight it, pig, you know it’s what you deserve. It’s what you want,” Marty said. “Just a short, obese, hairy, stinking piggy. Not many good genes on that side of the family. You got your daddy’s tiny dick for one thing–hell, we tried to measure it once, but couldn’t really get a good read because of how fat you both are. Hair all over. Your fucking musk could peel paint off the wall, and it doesn’t matter if you shower or not, it comes back in just a few minutes. We don’t mind of course, as family, it doesn’t bother us. All that hair though, and you’re still balding at…how old are you? Twenty two? Ugly fuckin’ mug too, but that can’t be helped. Not many women were willing to have sex with that pigdad of yours. We found one willing, but he couldn’t even get inside her–we had to inseminate. We paid her plenty, of course, but even she thought you were the ugliest baby she’d ever seen. Never wanted to see you again, if she could help it.”

Gary could only watch in horror as everything Marty said came true. He lost a few more inches in height, even as his weight exploded–ending up at five foot six and nearly four hundred pounds of mostly fat. His skin was coated with hair, aside from his hair, which was balding, the rest of it buzzed short. The thick beard on his face did some to conceal his ugly looks, but you couldn’t hide the big nose and ears, the thick brow, the crooked teeth. His clothes had disappeared, but that wasn’t shocking. Pigs didn’t get to wear clothes in the house, and it wasn’t like Gary got to leave that often. Between the stink rolling off him, and his ugly looks, the family decided it was best if the pig just stayed home and took care of the family. 

“But every generation has to have their pig, right? Yer Daddy was my pig, and that means you get to be my boys’ pig. That excites you, of course. Getting to service two big, burly sadists like them, day and night, doing whatever sick, twisted things they want to you. They’ve been training you real well for the last couple of years. Just last month, they finally managed to fit both of their fists inside you at the same damn time. You make my boys so damn happy, and you’re happy doing what you do best, being a stupid, ugly pig cocksucker for your whole damn family.”

Unable to help himself, Gary gave a snort, remembering how happy he’d been, feeling histwin cousin’s fists deep inside him, pummelling his prostate until his little cock jizzed all over his gunt. Across the room, uncle Marty had been busy working over his Daddy with a paddle, working out some sadistic aggression on his ass, turning it bright red. Every once in a while, Keith would shudder and grunt, adding to the pool of cum drooling off the fuck bench he was strapped to. 

“You like being a pig, don’t you Gary?”

“Yeah Uncle Marty, of course I do.”

“You like being your family’s fist hole? Their urinal? Their ashtray? You like how we treat you like a fucking garbage can and cum dump? You love being humiliated.When my boys brought home that tattoo gun, you begged them to use it on you, to mark you as theirs forever. Of course, the only place they could tattoo you where anyone would see it was your face, since the rest of you was so hairy…”

Crude writing appeared across Gary’s face, scrawled there by his cousins over the last few months. Gary didn’t mind. He loved being marked by them, owned by them. What else was there for a pig like him to do anyway? Too stupid to work, too horny all the time to do anything other than beg for sex, he thanked his lucky stars every day that he had been born into a family that understood what a pig like him needed, and treated him right.

“Open pig.”

Gary did as ordered, opened his mouth, and Marty tapped the hot ash from his cigar into his mouth, then shoved his nephew down to his knees. “Open up boy, let me help you wash that down.”

Marty started pissing all over his nephew, watching the young pig chase the stream all over, the rest of it dribbling down into his hairy body. The rest of the family gathered around–even Keith–and added their own piss, baptizing the newest, and youngest member of the family as one of their own. Marty could feel the magic thrumming around him and through him–this was the last one, he could already feel it beginning to seal, but he had gotten what he wanted. He pushed Gary down, climbed on top of him, and drove his cock into his loose hole, Gary grunting with excitement as his uncle took him for the first time, for the hundredth time, he didn’t know. All he knew anymore was that he was a horny, cockhungry pig, and he was here to service his family as they required. Gary’s hole wasn’t tight, but Marty was so horny he didn’t last long. He exploded deep in Gary’s hole, and felt the magic contract and solidify around all of them. Looking up, the portrait was still there, but perfectly stable now–but a piece of artwork, nothing more. 

“Come on boys, let’s get these pigs downstairs. I think we’re just getting warmed up, right?”

Everyone hollered in agreement, and dragged Keith and Gary down to the basement, for their nightly ritual. None of them could be happier, of course, especially Marty, whose own memories were fading away, and had disappeared by dawn. He had what he’d always wanted, a loving family. A perverted, stinking, roughneck family of pigs, sure, but a family all the same.

(Caption) Mind the Return Policy

October Caption Challenge (30/31)

You couldn’t get into the best Halloween parties on campus without a costume, which was a challenge for Jeff, since he didn’t have much in the way of cash to spend on anything extravagant. Some guys he knew could pull together a decent costume with just some trash and duct tape, but he’d never been that creative. Looking on the internet for ideas, he saw a good one–go buy some clothes from a workwear store and go as a construction worker. The next day, you can just return them, and you aren’t out a dime–so long as they stay clean of course.

It seemed like an easy solution. There was a little workwear shop near campus, owned by a gruff looking older fellow, who, when Jeff checked out with the gear, just gave him a scowl, like he knew exactly what he was up to. “You need a copy of the return policy?” he asked. Jeff just shook his head, bundled everything up and left the store.

The party was great. Even more amazing, the clothes were good as new the next day, aside from their missing tags, of course. But that wouldn’t be an issue he was sure. He went back to the store with the clothes in hand, and told the older fellow he wanted to return them. He even had the receipt and everything. 

The older fellow scoffed, and his sneer turned into a bit of a smile. “Sorry fella, I can’t take back gear that you’ve worked in,” he said. 

Jeff started to object, but felt the world shift around him a bit, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “What are you talking about?” he managed to say, “They’re good as new.”

“Buddy, look in the mirror, that shit is filthy.”

Jeff walked over and looked in the mirror hanging on the outside of the dressing room, and just stared at his reflection in confusion. For one thing, why was he wearing the clothes he’d bought? He’d…he’d had something else on, hadn’t he? From…school? Everything was fuzzy all of a sudden. It had been a costume, hadn’t it? But he hadn’t…done anything for Halloween, he was too tired from working all day at the site. 

“No, what the hell, I…what the fuck did ya do to me?”

“Look, best I can offer is an exchange. It’s no surprise ya wanna return them, I mean…I’m surprised ya even managed to squeeze into those to get here.”

The same sensation as before, but this time, it was centered on him, inside him. Looking down, Jeff watched as his body swelled larger and larger, packing on fat, the suspenders pushed to the side, his t-shirt riding up as a massive, hairy gut spilled out, the button at the top of his pants popping open.

“I…I mean…I don’t understand…” he stammered, gripping his gut in disbelief, but already the memory was fading, of being any other way.

“No worries Jeff,” the owner said, “You’re familiar with our return policy. Seems like ya come in here every month, after outgrowing the last set of clothes I sell you. It’s like you enjoy being a fat, hairy, stinking pig or something.”

Jeff grunted, as the hefty owner pushed up against him. “I…I uh…look, I’ll just…just take the clothes…”

“No, you’re gonna get in the dressing room, bend over like the horny asspig you are, and I’m gonna fuck that loose hole of yours. Then, we’ll get you dressed in something closer to your size eh? Don’t you want me to breed that hole of yours, you fat hog?”

Fuck, he did, didn’t he? That afternoon, Jeff was back at the site, in his new clothes. They were better, with a little room to grow at least, but that was just a challenge as far as he was concerned. In a few weeks, he’d be bursting out of these as well, and head on back to Wade’s shop to make a new exchange. He was so happy he’d found that shop–really, his return policy was the best in town.

(Caption) Hide and Seek

October Caption Challenge (26/31)

“Found you Jimmy!”

“God dang it, how’d ya guys do it again?” Jimmy said, stepping out of the doorway, a little drool running out of his mouth, as the other frat brothers laughed at him.

“Your big fucking belly was sticking right out into the hallway, dumbass!”

“Wha?”

“You know that we can see you even if you can’t see us, right?”

“I…I don’ know…my head hurts.”

It wasn’t surprising, really. Jimmy had been everyone’s least favorite frat brother, and when Gregory had found the spell book, and realized it worked, the other guys were more than happy to make Jimmy the butt of the evening. They’d decided to play a game–hide and seek. But if you got found within a time limit, then you had to get changed by one of the spells.

So far, Jimmy had gained 200 pounds of fat, he’d lost fifty points from his IQ, and now they were just forcing him to hide over and over again, just so they could keep changing him for fun. 

“Come on guys, can I change back now? I don’t like this anymore,” Jimmy said, pouting a bit, puffing out his fat cheeks.

“Sorry man, you gotta get changed again,” Gregory said, and said another spell. But little did the frat know, this one wasn’t targeted at just Jimmy, but at all of the brothers. After all, Gregory was tired of being in the closet, and Jimmy had been such a homophobe, he deserved to be the house cumdump from now on. “Tell you what, Jimmy. Why don’t we take a break, and you can suck us all off, eh? You love cum, don’t you Jimmy?”

Jimmy nodded vigorously, got down on his knees, and hauled Gregory’s cock out of his shorts for him, and started sucking with gusto. The rest of the guys all found their own cocks getting hard at the sight, and were more than willing to feed their loads to Jimmy as well. Of course, Jimmy got changed back come morning–or at least, he thought he did. Instead, Gregory just warped all of their memories to think that Jimmy had spent the night as a muscle bound top–but now he was just regular old Jimmy–fat, stupid, and always thirsty for cum–and as far as he was concerned, he never wanted to change again.

(Caption) Arctos: One Size Fits All

October Caption Challenge (13/31)

James put his arms up and checked himself out in the mirror. Damn, these were some sexy fucking shorts, he had to admit. 

One of his friends had sent him a link to this online shop called Arctos, one of those bear gear supply companies. Most of the stuff on there hadn’t interested him that much, but when he’d left, he’d gotten an email with a special offer in it, to try their new One Size Fits All Underwear. It had been a great deal, so why the hell not? He’d ordered it, and a few days later, the boxer briefs had appeared in the mail. 

He had no idea what they were talking about when they said one size fits all though–these things were tight, in the best way, of course. He ran his hands down and gave his cock a grope through the material. He’d have to take a few pics for his friend to show off. 

It was a few days later, after sending them through the wash, and folding them in the living room, that he noticed the tag on the back of the briefs. It did say one size fits all, but it also had a weird little dial that you could spin. It was set to large, which must just be his size, but what, if you spun the dial, the shorts just…got bigger or smaller or something? He gave it a spin in one direction, and the sizes went up, settling on 4XL. Sure enough, the briefs got bigger, right in his hands. As a bit of a laugh, he decided to pull them on, but once he did, he was surprised to find that they still fit him perfectly.

Then again, why the hell wouldn’t they? He was a 4XL usually. He wore the briefs while he finished folding the laundry, huffing and puffing a bit from standing for so long, and when he was finished, he plopped down in his chair for a breather. He gave his gut a rub, then reached down and fondled his cock through the front of the briefs, moaning a bit. Damn these things were comfortable, he’d have to order a few more soon. Finding clothes to fit a big daddy bear like him wasn’t easy after all. Maybe he should take another look at Arctos’ offerings, see what they might have available for a daddy like him.

(Caption) Two Lost to Pigtown

October Caption Challenge (12/31)

It was hard not to feel self conscious. 

Taking selfies helped. Aaron usually took a couple before leaving, just to help psyche himself up. They weren’t…great photos, but it helped a little. He always felt a little silly going to Pigtown looking like this, dressed like he was going to some business conference or something, but he didn’t exactly have any of the gear that he saw a lot of guys wearing in the bar and the neighborhood. Why did he keep going back there? He knew he didn’t belong, but he wanted to. That was it, wasn’t it. He wanted to belong there, so badly, but he knew he never would, not really.

It didn’t stop him from going. He still went to the bars, to the shops, to the events. He went to see what he could have if he was less afraid, if he just…let go. 

Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe he would do more than stand and stare, and then slip into the glory holes, and suck cocks where no one could see him, and then wake up back home, with no memory of how he had gotten there. 

Then, he saw him–or rather, he was seen by him. That was more important.

A handsome muscle bear, smoking a cigar. He smelled of fresh musk and light beer. Aaron looked away, embarrassed, but the man came up to him and started talking to him, asking him how he’d been, like he was just an old friend, and they were getting reacquainted. Talking to him like he’d known him forever. Talking to Aaron like he belonged there.

It was only natural to drink a bit too much. And the more he drank, the harder it became to really focus on his fellow. He realized he didn’t quite know his name, that his face was just as slippery as all the things he was learning about him, but despite all of that, he still craved the acknowledgement, and so, it was only natural to bring him home. What happened after that, was less clear.

And then in the morning, things were much, much too clear.

Aaron woke to the smell of rough cigars and rancid musk–not the same as the man he’d met outside the bar, the man who had known him so well. He was already awake and had made himself coffee, smoking a cigar in a filthy undershirt he had not been wearing the night before. Aaron was sure of it, wasn’t he?

“Mornin’,” he said. The voice was right, almost.

“What…who are you?”

“Come on, after that nice time last night, pig, ya gonna pretend ya don’t even remember?”

He didn’t remember, did he? But looking back, all of the memories of that handsome bear were gone, replaced by this lout, this slob, this pig. How had he been so wrong? 

“Gotta say pig, you were delicious. Best meal I’ve had in ages. Might as well give ya something yummy in return, eh? Ya want yer breakfast?”

“I want ya out of my apartment, is what I want,” Aaron said, but his voice–it was wrong too. And his arm, had he had those tattoos? And he was fatter, and…and what the fuck had happened to him? And to his apartment? His well kept two bedroom was just a filthy studio now, and from the sound outside, he wasn’t in the quiet suburban neighborhood from before. 

“In a minute, piggy–come on now, drink up,” the man said, shoved his cock in Aaron’s mouth, and let loose a stream of piss. He choked on it, feeling it dribble down into his beard and the filthy bed below him, and it was…delicious. He tried to remember who he’d been, his job, his life, but it was…gone. This man, this shifter, had stolen it all from him, and left him with this. With that, the stranger left, leaving Aaron on his knees, horrified, with no clue what to do. And at night, his hunger led him back to the bar. He only lived a few blocks away now, and he had a gloryhole reserved for him. It was his place. He finally belonged, somewhere here. Even if most only knew him as a cundump or a urinal. It was something, at least. He could be happy with that.

(Caption) Two Flubs in a Row

October Caption Challenge (11/31)

Ok, so it didn’t work out exactly how Jerry had planned it, but it wasn’t that bad of a scenario, right?

Jerry and Tim had been going out for a couple of years, but lately, their relationship had been on the rocks. Tim was a bit of gym freak, going almost every day of the week, and while Jerry had liked the gym too, after a knee injury, he’d been laid up for about six months. In that time, with nothing to really focus his energy on, he’d eaten…a lot, and packed on quite a gut. Tim was merciless about it, ridiculing him for it, all sorts of mean and snide comments, even threatening to break up with him, if he didn’t lose it. But his knees never got fully back to normal, and the few times he’d gone, Jerry had always nearly damaged it again. So one day, passing a bookstore on the way home from work, he’d stumbled upon, well, a book of spells. And in that book, had been a love spell, a spell you can use to make someone love the parts of you that…well, maybe they shouldn’t. Sure, it was a bit of a cheat, right? But their relationship was so good in every other respect, why not just use this to help Tim past his prejudice?

So, Jerry cast the spell, and now, here they are.

Tim definitely has found a new love for his boyfriend’s gut. A rather obsessive, single minded love. He worshiped the thing, and his new mission in life to to make it as large as it could possibly get. What had freaked Jerry out more than that, though, was that Tim was no longer the muscle bound beast he’d been before he’d cast the spell. No, the new Tim was about as chubby as he was, and loved his own body just as much as he loved Tim’s–determined to grow both of them as large as they could possibly get.

Jerry just rolled with it. He still had the spell book, after all. He could figure out how to reverse this, and then he’d do it right. Unfortunately, he never got the chance. The next day, while he was at work, Tim happened across the spellbook in their room, took a look through the pages, and found something that would make his life absolutely perfect. 

When Jerry got home, he felt…an odd pulse shudder through him, but didn’t think much of it. He just waddled his way into the den of the home he shared with Tim since he’d retired a few years back, shucked off his 4XL clothes, and plopped down in a recliner, while his husband focused on fixing them both their substantial dinner. Fuck, he was hungry. He dug around in his gunt for his puny cock, gave it a little squeeze, thinking about how much bigger he’s gotten since finally being able to retire, and focus on what really mattered in life, getting as fat as he possibly could. 

After their massive dinner, a few belly rubs in the kitchen, the two of them headed to bed, and feeling sexy, Jerry took a selfie of himself in the mirror to send to a few fellow gainers later. There, on the bookshelf was the spell book, but in the morning, it had disappeared, gone elsewhere to tempt another soul.

(Caption) Halloween Nightmares #2

October Caption Challenge (8/31)

Times had changed, he supposed.

Jack remembered when he’d been a teenager, and it felt like he’d had all the time in the world to play video games. But now he was almost 30, with a job, and a physique to maintain. Now he was lucky if he managed to play a couple of hours a day on the weekends, and maybe sometime during the week.

But it wasn’t just that. It was that the fuckers were so fucking mean! If you wanted to play with people, that meant going online, and he was so tired of fuckers calling him whatever foul language they wanted. Sure, he understood a little trash talk, but it was ridiculous. It was enough that, tonight, he lost his temper. After getting clobbered in a round, he let loose, “If I was a fat fucking pig like you guys, I’d be good at this game too,” he said.

The guys on the other end just laughed at him, and he felt his cheeks growing red. Little did Jack know, that the demon was listening in, cackling to itself. It wasn’t long after that, that Jack went to bed, and the demon followed him into sleep.

Jack found himself on his couch again, controller in his hand, playing a game–but it seemed…harder than it should be. After struggling for a while, a dialogue popped up on the screen, asking if he’d like to decrease the difficulty. He grumbled to himself, selected yes–and felt a strange gurgle in his gut. Looking down, he saw his flat stomach bulge out into a gut, his muscles beginning to atrophy right there where he was sitting. He heaved himself up and got to the bathroom to look at himself in shock and horror. He…fuck, he looked like he hadn’t set foot in a gym in his whole life.

Then again, of course he hadn’t. He spent all that time gaming now! When the game had asked him if he wanted to make it easier, it hadn’t made the game easier–it had changed his whole life instead!

Something chuckled behind him, and he found himself looking at a strange little beast crouched in the dark. “How does it feel, being a fat fucking piggy?” it asked.

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

“Hush now, Jack, don’t you want to keep playing?”

He found himself back on the couch, the controller in his hand. He tried to get up, but he was stuck to the cushions. He tried to throw the controller, but it was glued to his hands. “What the fuck is this?”

“Play the game, Jack–I can always make it easier, if you want,” the demon said from its perch behind him on the couch.

He started playing again, and sure enough, it was easier. Everything that had flummoxed him before, his hands just…performed without any sort of effort. At least, until he passed the easy levels. Things got harder and harder, but he refused to increase the difficulty–at least until he noticed the counter for his lives at the top of the screen. It was low–only five left. How had he not noticed that before? 

“What happens if I lose all the lives?” he asked.

“It’s game over, then,” the demon said, breath hot on his neck, “Which means I get to play with you next, forever. Sure you don’t want to make it easier?”

“Please, I don’t want to play anymore. I don’t care! Make it so I’ve never played a game in my life, anything you want, I’m tired of this, please, I just want to wake up.”

“Don’t tell me you’re really going to be a quitter,” the demon said, sounded a bit disappointed.

“Yes! I quit! I’m done, I never want to play a game as long as I live.”

The demon sighed, “Well, if you say so. I guess you can spend the rest of your life on the couch, jacking your tiny cock into your fat gunt, toying with your gaping hole and fat tits, watching the most disgusting, humiliating porn you can find.”

“Wait, what?”

The next thing Jack knew, he was awake from that horrible nightmare. Imagine, him gaming! He hadn’t touched a video game in his life–though he did, on occasion, like to listen to videos of them hurling insults, imagining they were all humiliating him. He moaned, and started tugging on his fat tits, looking for the remote on the nasty couch he was sitting on. He needed to jack off, and he needed something especially filthy to take his mind off that horrible dream.

(Caption) Method Roleplay 2

October Caption Challenge 3/31

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh fuck Daddy, yeah, fuck me…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But…But Sam, you live here…”

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

“But…but I love you.”

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

“Ya still gonna play that game Daddy?”

“What the fuck you talkin’ about?”

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

“Shut up, that ain’t true.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Caption) A Flubbed Spell

October Caption Challenge 2/30

“Oh fuck daddy, please, your boy’s hole is so hungry for your big cock, please fuck me Daddy…”

This wasn’t right, this wasn’t how this was supposed to be happening. Jeremy flipped his way through the spell book again, trying not to think about his growing gut, the hair that was coating his face and body, the winking asshole of his boy, fuck he wanted to pound that ass so bad, but if he did, then they really would be fucked for good.

Jeremy had always had a thing for his dad. When he’d found the old tome of spells at the library, he thought he might be able to cobble together something that might make his dad a little more willing to have sex with him. Thinking he’d worked it out, he’d cast it earlier, and it had definitely worked, but not in the way he’d intended. His dad was looking younger and younger. In fact, as Jeremy stared at him, his beard was shrinking up into his face, his body slimming down, the hair pulling back in as he grew younger and younger. Jeremy on the other hand, was getting older and older, the hair on his body picking up silver. He let out a groan of frustration, ran a hand over his head and it came away with a clump. He didn’t know how to make it work! And if he didn’t figure it out, and he fucked his boy, then the spell would seal–he’d never be able to undo it, no matter what!

“Damn it Daddy, I’m tired of waiting. Put down the stupid book and fuck me!” his boy said, ripped the tome out of his hand, and climbed into his lap, naked, legs wrapped around his waist, groping Jeremy’s fattening chest, rubbing his now hairless crack against the head of Jeremy’s fat daddy cock through the shorts barely containing his new bulk.

“God damn it boy! I’m not gonna fuck you!” Jeremy said, and pushed him off, voice deeper and more commanding. 

His boy was relentless, however, shoved his face into Jeremy’s crotch and started licking at the head, Jeremy moaning, leaking precum from his heavy balls. He grabbed the boy’s head in his hands and smothered him under his belly with a growl, trying hard to remember that he couldn’t fuck him he couldn’t, but a blowjob couldn’t hurt, right?

But no matter how hard his boy sucked on him, he couldn’t cum, and the horniness was driving him insane. Finally, unable to resist any longer, he threw his boy to the floor, climbed on him, and drove his cock into his hole. It was…amazing, better than he’d expected it to be in a million years, and in less than a minute, he came–and he felt the spell snap into place, their roles now forever reversed.

Still, there were worse things, right? He had a handsome boy willing to do anything to please him. The spell had left him wealthy enough that neither of them needed to work. All Jeremy had to do all day was drink his whiskey, smoke his cigars, and fuck his son’s hole whenever either of them got horny. After a few days, neither of them could recall a time things had been different. The book went back to the library, ready for someone else to find it, and try to work it’s magic in their favor.