New You Resolutions (Part 4) [Interactive]

There was no way he was going to do this, Morgan told himself. The list he was holding read like a nightmare:

Morgan’s Resolutions for 2019

Drink lots of cheap beer, and grow a big beer gut.
Drop out of college and find a job doing menial labor.
Go through a second, intense puberty, and age an additional ten years.
Act like a lazy slob, rarely shower, and get off on my own musk.
Become an aggressive, dominant top, and double the size of my cock.

Why in the hell would he do any of this shit? Who in the hell was this company anyway? He looked back at the letter, and then at the list again, looking for more information, but there wasn’t anything else, just this sudden wave of anxiety, and he…he…

Fuck, he needed a fucking beer.

Morgan shook his head, trying to clear it. Why in the world had he thought that? He didn’t drink much at all for one thing, but it did nothing really to slake his thirst. The older couple were out of the house for a while, running some errands…and before he could muster any mental opposition, he went down into the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed one of the beers the man always kept on hand, but which Morgan had always refused, and chugged it, letting off a long belch afterwards.

And fuck, if he didn’t feel so much better, almost immediately.

He spent so much time trying to be perfect, so much time trying to live up to some standard, to prove everyone wrong, to be everything he was supposed to be…but why? Why was he doing this, any of this? He knew he’d had answers, he might have even had answers when he’d woken up that morning, but he didn’t have them right now…and he found that to be such a relief, somehow. He grabbed another beer, drank that too, and then figured he should just go buy some of his own to replenish what he’d taken. He bought a twenty-four pack at the nearby gas station, went home, and in three days, it was gone.

In three days, he hadn’t taken a shower, he hadn’t thought about school, he hadn’t thought about those jocks or being bullied, or any of it. He’d sat in his room, drunk off his ass, doing jack shit, masturbating to the smell of his pits, and feeling…odd. It took him a few more days to realize what was odd–it was that he was aching in a weird way, like he was growing again, but faster than he had in his teens. He was angry too, all of a sudden. Angry, and lazy, and he had so many hormones rushing through him, that by the time school started back up a few weeks later, it was a relief to have an outlet, that he could charge up to the registrar, drop out, and be done with the whole mess.

It felt good, doing it. It felt good, like he was freeing himself. Sure, he didn’t have a job or anything, but he’d find something. He had some savings, some cash from his parents, enough to pay the rent and coast for a couple of months, and figure some things out–that, and finish growing. He hurt all the time now, in ways that he hadn’t remembered since high school. Each day, it seemed like something new happened–his voice cracking and dropping to a low bass, acne appearing across his face, his cock…growing. It seemed like it packed on another inch each week, and Morgan found his desires shifting as it grew, away from the mostly bottom he’d been, to something far more aggressive. He’d watch porn videos of gay guys taking down straight homophobes, raping them, and nothing would get him harder–he’d explode all over himself, thinking about the jocks he hated, so happy he’d never have to see them again–but if they did, boy, would they have a surprise coming to them.

By the time March hit and he had to hit the streets to look for work, Morgan looked like a brand new person. He was about six inches taller, more muscular, his jaw stronger and covered with a thick beard growing up his cheeks, his arms and chest similarly coated with hair from his renewed puberty. His gut, however, was the most notable part about him, jutting out like a beach ball in front of him, making him balance it out by leaning back a bit. He didn’t have a hard time finding a job in the city, and ended up working in a warehouse down on the docks, amazed at how much he could rake in with a union job, enough to move out of that room and rent his own place by June–a proper bachelor pad, he told himself.

By then, he barely recognized himself at all in the mirror, and sure, part of him was horrified…but part of him liked it. A growing part of him, a brute thrumming in his chest, the mean drunk that came out when he’d had a few too many, the brute that had…forced himself on a couple of the guys at work, who had, to his surprise, relented, and let him plow their holes with his massive, ten inch cock. But the greatest conquest was something special–after finals, one of the chief jocks who had bullied him ended up there in the bar–in his bar. Morg knew just what the prissy piece of shit needed–and he cornered him in the bathroom, and fucked the young jock’s brains out, raped him for all the shit he had done to him, and he realized, then, that perhaps these resolutions weren’t so bad after all.

But who else got a letter from the company?

Here’s the next poll! I used two fairly popular ideas from the last poll, to give them one more chance, and also used two ideas from readers that they submitted with the last poll. The public poll is below, and the patron only poll can be found here.

New You Resolutions (Part 2) [Interactive]

Duncan read the list a few times, mostly just disgusted and confused by what was on there. Hell, some of the things didn’t even make sense, or didn’t even seem possible! There were five items on the list:

Stop going to the gym and work to get fatter instead.
Start smoking cigars, and age an extra thirty years.
No longer cut my hair, beard, or body hair, and grow it three times as fast, and three times as thick.
Cum only on myself and my clothes as often as I can, get as many men to cum on me as I can, and never shower again.
Replace my wardrobe with slobby clothes, and never wash them again.

He couldn’t control how fast he aged, or how thick his hair grew in–it had to just be some stupid prank someone was pulling on him. In any case, he had so much he had to get done today, and this stupid thing had wasted too much time. He skipped breakfast in his apartment–there was nothing that…would satisfy him here, went down and got in his car. Instead of going to the gym, like he thought he would, he wound up at a fast food place, went inside, ordered a massive amount of food–and ate all of it.

The whole time, he was trying to make himself stop…but he had to do it. He had to get fatter, right? That’s…what the list said. He didn’t understand where the compulsion was coming from, and eating the greasy food was disgusting to him, but he couldn’t get his body to stop, no matter how hard he tried. Once he finished, he again tried to get himself to drive to the gym, but instead he looked up the nearest smoke shop that sold cigars, went in and bought a pack, along with a lighter and a couple of ashtrays. He told himself to throw it out, but instead, he drove home, lit one, smoked it as best he could, and started stuffing his entire wardrobe into trashbags, and threw the whole thing into the dumpster. It took long enough that he finished the cigar–though it made him sick to his stomach and he nearly vomited, but he was…proud of himself, for finishing it. Proud of himself, for…for doing it, doing what he was supposed to do. Proud, and a bit…horny? Horny enough to sit down on the couch and rub out a load, which he onto his thigh, rubbing it in, feeling it get…tacky. He…wanted to shoot again, but he had more errands to run first.

He left the house again, this time going to the nearby thrift shop, and buying himself a new wardrobe–sweats and undershirts, some…used underwear, which disgusted him, and some mesh ahtletic shorts and beat up sneakers. Then he went home, lit another cigar, despite the fact he still felt sick from the first one, and he jacked off–spraying his load all over his flat belly, rubbing it in, and feeling the stubble growing there.

Duncan had always had quite a bit of body hair, and at his agency’s request, he kept himself shaved all over, and photoshop took care of the rest. Now though, he could see the first dark hairs coming back, much faster than they usually did…and there were so many of them! He went into the bathroom, and saw that the same thing was happening to his face, his stubble was so thick, and so obvious–he tried to shave it, but his hands just threw all of his shaving equipment right in the trash. Furious, he figured he could at least take a shower–but again, his body refused to even get in the tub. When he kept trying, his body ended up disassembling the entire shower fixture and throwing that away too.

And that was just the first day. He lost all of his modeling contracts in a week, and his agency dumped him by the end of January. He had some savings, but not nearly enough–he had, however, befriended the guys at the fast food joint where he went for most of his meals now…and while he held onto his dignity for a while, he eventually had to ask them for a job. He thought they would be disgusted by the idea–after all, he reeked like a cumrag and was so damn hairy now–but when he asked them they were eager to have him there…after all, it was handy having a cumrag around for them to use whenever they got horny. Even the owner of the place didn’t seem fazed by his hygiene, though he usually kept Duncan in the back, making fries and cleaning equipment, getting even filthier and greasier as the months wore on.

It was June when he realized, finally, how much he’d aged in just six months. He’d been 25 this year, but he’d already added another fifteen years or so, making him an even forty, according to his driver’s license, that was always accurate somehow. He was balding, his thick, already inch long beard was starting to grey, and his teeth were yellowed from the cigars he smoked almost constantly now when he was home, and always on his breaks at work. He got kicked out of his apartment for smoking and wrecking the place, and had to move in with one of his coworkers, another fat, horny slob like him, one who was more than happy to keep him around as a personal cumrag. More than once, he’d be woken up to his fat coworker looming over him, spraying his beard and hair with another massive load of cum, and Duncan, would just…thank him, and usually milk out another one of his own to go with it.

All he wanted was for 2019 to end, but he kept remembering the letter, and the party it had mentioned. He didn’t know what that might entail…but if it meant this nightmare could finally end, he’d be willing to do pretty much anything to get his body, and life, back to normal.

Of course, New Life Industries sent resolutions to more men than just Duncan. Who else got a letter from them this January?

Here’s a few options for possible targets by New Life industries. Some of these are more…revenge focused, while others are more about helping guys stuck in a rut become something…different. Also note, that there’s a space to write in your own ideas too! If I like them, I might include your suggestions in the upcoming polls to pick other victims of these New You Resolutions! Here’s the poll for Patrons (remember, your votes count for double in the Patron poll!) and the public poll is embedded below!

Porn Addiction (Caption Sketch)

Jackson knew that porn addiction was a thing, of course, but it wasn’t something that he imagined might happen to someone like him. That was a problem that losers had, losers who couldn’t get cock, or ugly old men who never left their houses. He wasn’t an addict…but the videos on this site–once he’d found it, he kept thinking about them, all the time, and thinking about them would get them horny, and he found himself needing to watch them more and more. So much so, that he’d started sneaking off to the restroom at work with his phone in hand, and he’d work out a quick load watching one…first just once a day, but then, more and more.

It was sex he’d never seen before. The guys in the videos–they were no holds barred, total freaks and perverts with no limits. He watched them do things he’d never even contemplated before, and…and once he’d seen it, he found himself obsessed with it–things that had disgusted him before, like watersports or fisting, were now just warm ups. Still, he wasn’t an addict. He was just…kinkier than he’d thought, is all. He hadn’t had sex with another guy in weeks (or was it months) but what did that matter? He didn’t know anyone like this in real life–the only way he could enjoy it was…in porn, right?

He kept denying it, as long as he could. The days when he called in sick, that he spent in his room, edging for hours, stuffing himself with food he had delivered. When he hit his limit on the site…he had to subscribe of course, but the cost just seemed to keep going up every month. Sure, he didn’t…need it, but he wanted it, and that’s what really mattered. That is, until he got fired. Until he spent three solid days in his room, edging for hours on end, watching video after video–then…he realized he had a problem. Then he realized what a mess he’d become. He’d gained close to fifty pounds of fat, his body was filthy, he…looked older. He looked like the losers he’d always imagined a porn addict might be–and he realized that was exactly what he’d become.

Jackson reeking of musk and cum, in the midst of a four hour edge session

That’s when he’d gotten the email–from the site, offering him a choice. Keep paying to watch, and the site would keep draining him. Within the year, he’d be in his sixties, massively obese, sitting in his own filth, mindlessly jacking off until he just keeled over and died from one last massive orgasm–or he could come join the company as an actor, and make all of his fantasies come true.

He was scared at first. Then his hair started to grey. Then, he realized he could barely take leaving the house at all. If he didn’t go now–he knew he would never get away. So he left. He left, and went to the address the email told him, and two days later, he was in his first film.

No one would have known it was him, of course. Even he wouldn’t have known himself, if there was anything of Jackson even left in the filthy fat whore’s mind–but the company had gotten rid of all that for him. No–he was just another slave to their perverse, demonic pleasures, channeling that lust into the videos, broadcasting them to the world, hungry thinking about the souls corrupted by his unending desires, and he went back to groping his fat body and sucking at the cock in front of him, lost to lust forever.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 6)

Jay pulled his cock free then, and walked around to Jay’s rear, giving the air a few sniffs, “Fuck yeah, you may be a hog, but you stink like a sow in heat. You like that, I bet–any boar who gets a sniff of you is going to want to fuck you, and I bet you’ll let ‘em, you fuckin’ slut.”

Jay slid his cock into Bruce’s hole, and it felt different than it had this morning. It had felt good before, sure, but not like this. Now, it felt like some puzzle piece had slid into him, fitting in perfectly, and that hole he felt disappeared for a moment, and everything was right. He was a hog, a stupid hog, and he was getting fucked. He was getting fucked like he ought to be, and that was all that mattered in the world. Jay started off slow, enjoying the sensation of his new cock in the hog’s ass, but soon ramped up his thrusts, slamming in deep, giving the hog a proper rutting, not noticing that as he did, the phone in his pocket was starting to jiggle loose. After a few minutes, it was thrown out onto the ground beside him, and when he went to change positions, Jay heard a loud crunch underneath his trotter, as Bruce’s phone was crushed underneath his weight.

He only had a moment to realize what had happened, before the energy from the app’s data stored in the phone rushed out, surrounding them both with it’s wild energy, Jay hauling his cock free of Jay’s ass and stumbling to the ground, trying to sort out what was happening to him. A few feet away, Bruce, too was caught up in the swirl of dark energy, feeling it pick him apart, remaking him again and again, trying to sort out filter from reality and back again, until at last, it dissipated, leaving both of them shaking on the floor of the barn, and Jay leaned over and gagged, trying to settle his stomach without losing his entire breakfast from earlier on the ground.

“Fuck, oh fuck!” Bruce said, turing around and seeing the phone crushed to pieces in the dirt, “You fucking–what the fuck did you do?” Bruce’s voice was…distorted, and didn’t sound particularly human. Deep and gutteral, the vowels twisted in a mouth that wasn’t designed for them, but understandable, mostly. Jay just stared at him, and then down at the phone, and then…smelled the air, smelled something…really fucking good on the air. Something he wanted.

He looked down, and saw that he had changed back, somewhat. He was closer in size to the man he’d been before, but still had the boar’s face, the bristle beard and back hair, his cock closer in size to his human one, but still pig in shape. He got up, trying to focus, but everything seemed so…hazy, like his brain was running a couple speed slower than it usually did. He just felt…stupid, really, and rather than the haze clearing, it only seemed to be coalescing around his mind, gaining further hold, making thinking harder and harder. He…needed to fuck, mostly. He was still so horny, and something smelled so good…

He stomped over to Bruce, grabbed hold of his hips and went to thrust, but the pig scrambled away as best his bulk would allow him. Still, Jay was stronger than him, and he caught him, and fucked him, Bruce yelling at him, begging him to stop, but Jay didn’t want to stop. Jay was horny, and Jay wanted to fuck, so that was what Jay wanted to do–and he could see the hog was enjoying it too, even though he didn’t want to admit it. That was ok–Jay…knew what they both needed well enough, and he would take care of them. He would make sure they both got what they needed. When he finished fucking, his mind cleared somewhat, but the haze was still thick. He tried to listen to what the pig was saying, about how they needed to change back, how they had to contact some company and fix this, how they needed help…but Jay didn’t really care. Everything was fine…but there was work he had to do on the farm. He told the pig this, and the pig got angry at him, screaming at him, and Jay didn’t like hearing that, so he dragged the pig over to a pen and locked him in, Bruce screaming and hollering at him to come back and let him out, but Jay didn’t see any reason why he would want to do that, and Jay did know best.

Jay felt better, doing his work, working up a good sweat, and when evening came, he went back to the barn, fed the pig, and fucked him again. The next morning, he did the same thing, and life fell into a certain rhythm. Jay…found himself loving the pig, somehow. Loving the way he smelled at least. Loving how it felt to fuck him. Loving how fat he was getting off his slop, but the pig never seemed to love him back. The pig was angry at first, and then desperate, and eventually, gave up. Maybe he had realized that he loved Jay too, as much as Jay loved him. Love didn’t need to be complicated after all. Love could, on occasion, be the simplest thing in the world.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 5)

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it! He was too weak like this, he was too scared, and too gentle, and too…too much in love to take what he wanted. He wanted Bruce to be his pig, to be happy as his pig, but he could see now that Bruce was too terrified to pursue it. He needed to be someone else. Someone forceful. Someone who cared less, and wanted more. Someone with bigger balls than he had. So Jay had dug into the app, and started filtering out everything about himself that was weak, layering everything else on, making someone who could do it, someone who could take what they wanted, someone who could do what Jay was too kind to do. Someone who could show Bruce what he needed, someone who could give them both what they wanted–what Jay knew they wanted.

And that is who was staring down at Bruce now. He recognized him as Jay, but knew it wasn’t the same Jay who had left the barn before. He was…huge, at least seven and a half feet tall, thick with muscle and fat, covered in bristle from face to trotter. He had, apparently, taken Bruce’s words to heart–Jay was as much a boar as Bruce was a pig, thick tusks pushing out from his short snout, bristle running from his coarse, wiry beard over his head and down his back, a treasure trail running down the front of his thick gut, broad shoulders, thick hips, massive thighs, huge trotters a foot from Bruce’s face, and all he could do was smell him. Perhaps he wasn’t even as imposing as Bruce thought, staring up at him, but so much of what he was seeing depending on what he was smelling–what he smelled was more important. This was an alpha, this was his owner, his master, his ruler, his top, his partner.

“:Fuck, you’re pathetic,” Jay grunted out, and followed with a snort, “We both were pathetic, really. Well, no more of that shit, I don’t think, do you?”

Bruce couldn’t do much other than snort, and just blankly stared at the thick bulge in the front of Jay’s overalls, while the boar pulled out his phone, and in the app, started tweaking a few of Bruce’s filters, and after a moment, he took a picture of the hungry, sex-desperate pig below him, and watched him start to shrink–slightly. The massive bulk which had enveloped him a moment ago, pinning him to the muddy floor of the barn, receded enough that he could stand up and move again, but he didn’t shrink to the same size he’d woken up at. A few other changes swept over him, a softening of some of his features, but twisting in other ways, especially in his face, which looked less like a pig than before, and more human, though he still had his floppy, ring pierced ears and a prominent pig nose pierced with a doorknocker ring. Bruce felt other changes more profoundly on the inside–a dull pain in his guts and groin especially, and he realized, after a moment, through the fog of the pheromones pouring off the boar in front of him, that he’s lost his nuts. The hefty sack he’d had a moment before simply disappeared, his cock shrinking to a much smaller nub, and he found that all of that sexual energy directed at his own pleasure refocused on the stinking boar in front of him, and without even thinking about it, he forced himself up, gut still dragging along the floor of the barn, licking and chewing at the front of the boar’s overalls, hungry for his cock, hungry to serve, hungry for…for so much. He felt like a pit had grown inside him, a hole, and he needed to fill it more than anything else. Food, sex, pleasure, sevice, all of it would fall into it, but Bruce could already tell it would never be full. Had it always been there, in his guts? He didn’t know for sure, but he could already feel it swallowing his fear, his weakness–there wasn’t room to be afraid inside him anymore. The emptiness would either eat him, or his fear, and as he felt it disappear, everything felt so much easier.

It was easy to be a pig. It was easy to suck his master’s cock, easy to snort in his musk, easy to love him. He loved him! Bruce loved him so much, loved him in ways he could have never allowed himself to love anyone before. He’d taken away the fear, he’d taken away the weakness. Jay had freed him, had made everything easy, so easy, so smooth, so empty. He wanted to make him happy too, wanted to be a good pig, wanted to give him everything he could, be everything that Jay wanted him to be, wanted to tell him all of this, but even with his human face, his voice hadn’t returned. It didn’t matter–if Jay didn’t want him to have a voice, than he didn’t need one. He could show him in other ways, he could show him what Jay’s love meant to him.

“Yeah, that’s the kind of attention I wanted this morning from you, you stupid hog,” Jay said, while Bruce sucked his cock, “I have a feeling these changes are going to open up new horizons for you, pretty soon–and if you don’t like them? Well you know what? I can just fucking make you like them. I can make you forget anything was ever different. I know what you need, you fucking hog, I always knew what you needed most, but you were too chickenshit to figure it out for yourself. Well, now you don’t have to think about anything, other than filling up that need sitting in your fucking soul–that, and keeping my boarcock good and happy.”

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 4)

“You made me like this, don’t forget,” Jay said, as Bruce squealed in panic, desperately trying to move himself with his too short, too weak legs, “You made me! I know I’m right, because I’m just a reflection of you–you wouldn’t have made me want this, if you didn’t want it too, but you’re just too stubborn to understand your own head! I know what’s best! I know what you really want! And I’m gonna fucking show you…I’ll…fuck!” Jay said, and stormed out of the barn, slamming the door behind him, leaving Bruce there, squealing still, trapped within his massive, nearly nine hundred pound body, realizing that he had just made things so, so much worse without even trying.

All of this. He’d made all of this. This was all him, every decision, every false step, every idiotic word, every cowardly choice. All of it had led him here, trapped in a relationship with the same man he’d been with before, when he’d been human. Neither of them had changed, just the dressing, just the obsessions. He had to get out of here, he had to get help–but how? He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak–as far as most people were concerned, he probably just looked like a pig–an ugly, strangely shaped pig in some ways, but just a pig at the end of the day. Maybe he’d always been this pig. He gave up for a moment, and just laid there, listening to the farm, listening for Jay, really, wondering what, exactly, he was going to do next.

He…had never seen Jay this angry, he didn’t think. He had been upset when Bruce had left that day, and said he wanted to break up with him. Upset, but not…mad. He’d seemed more upset at himself, than he’d felt angry at Bruce, like he had failed somehow, or angry that he was letting something slip away. Mostly, he’d…done everything he could to avoid alienating Bruce further, he’d left the door wide open to keep going, and that was all Bruce had needed to come back–because all of his protests aside, all the good reasons he had for leaving, he’d always wanted to come back–he just…had never thought it would end with him here.

Time passed again, just as slow as the morning, but now, instead of mildly eager anticipation, all he felt was a dull, muted terror, and the certainty in his gut that all of this, in the end, really was his fault, but even then, he couldn’t quite put everything together, how all of his little weaknesses had compounded together into this nightmare, like the fat pinning him to the earth that he occasionally tested himself against. Denial struggled along anyway. This couldn’t be his fault. Sure, he had made every choice, and every action, that had landed him here. Sure, he was weak, and terrified, and both Jay and Jean had just wanted what was best for him, both of them just wanted him to be happy in the exact way Jay and Jean thought he should be happy, a happiness that terrified Bruce more than just about anything else, because he wasn’t happy. Because happiness would require change, and work, and acknowledging that something inside himself didn’t want to be happy, didn’t think he deserved someone else, didn’t think he should even exist. But this wasn’t his fault, this couldn’t be his fault. It was the app, it was Jean, it was Jay, it was anything else, everything else conspiring against him. But still, he was left pinned there by his own mass, grunting and squealing, wondering if he should cry, wondering if he should scream, he should think of something to tell Jay when he got back, he should be ready to beg, anything other than this mute acceptance, which was all he could seem to muster.

He didn’t have to wait as long this time, at least, before Jay did return, the sound of the barn door creaking open behind him, and he tried to twist his fat neck and see him, Bruce unsure of what either of them was going to do now. He couldn’t see him, though–but he could smell something…something unlike anything he’d smelled before in his life. It smelled like sex, it smelled like beautiful, fragrant desire and rutting and cum and sweat, and unable to stop himself, he was drooling, his cock hardening deep within his flab, and he started rocking back and forth, trying to pleasure himself, even as the smell grew stronger. He could barely focus on anything at all, beyond the smell, when Jay finally rounded Bruce’s massive frame and stood in front of him, only wearing his overall now, but he was no longer the same man who had stormed off from the barn an hour earlier.

Jay had been furious. Furious not so much at Bruce, but at himself. Furious at how weak he was, at how desperate he was, at how this stupid pig could get him so riled up, that even when Jay had all the power in the world, he still felt helpless before Bruce’s terror at himself. He’d gone back to the farmhouse and stared at himself, trying to sort out what he was feeling, wondering about who he had been before this, wondering what he had done to Bruce to make him turn him into this thing. Bruce…had to want this, didn’t he? Bruce had made him! He was just a reflection of Bruce’s desires in the end, right? But if he was just a reflection, then who was he really?

He had to be someone, he had to be someone himself, someone beyond Bruce! He thought about the lonely nights here, after Bruce had abandoned him, how empty he’d felt, how he’d been willing to do anything not to feel that anymore. How everything without Bruce had felt…pointless. He couldn’t go back to that. He couldn’t be without him again, he couldn’t go back to feeling that empty despair, he would kill himself, or he would let Bruce do it for him, undo him, try to bring back whoever had been here before him. But he didn’t want to die. Didn’t he deserve happiness? Didn’t he deserve a chance to get what he wanted out of life?

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 3)

“Well, even if ya don’t want to stay like this tomorrow, I gotta say, that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life, pig,” he said, and stood back up, “How about you? It seemed like you were having a good time.”

Bruce didn’t quite know what to say about it. He had…enjoyed it, he supposed, but then again, he hadn’t really had a choice in the matter. His body had just done what it wanted to do, and he’d just been along for the ride. “I–*grunt*–I did, but…but hell,” he said, paused to shake his face, flinging bits of slop everywhere, “I…it was intense…” was all he could really think to say. He looked back and up at Jay, and saw it wasn’t exactly the effusive praise that Jay was looking for from him, and while he felt bad…what was he supposed to do? Lie? “Look, I…it was hot, yeah, and I…fuck, that was a damn good orgasm, but none of that…was me, you know? I didn’t have any control of myself! I was just so damn hungry, and so horny, and…and is that what you really want from me? Is that it? Is this all I’m really good for, to you?” The question hung in the air, and too late, Bruce realized that he had spoken something that should have never been spoken aloud. It had broken something between them, a contract, one Bruce had only been aware of as subtext–and the look of confusion, and then reproachment on Jay’s face…did not seem to bode well for him, particularly.

“I’m just trying to show you how good things could be if you just let go for a little while!” Jay said, sidestepping the question, “Maybe it’s good that you felt like things were out of your control. Maybe you don’t need to always be wondering if something is right–maybe you can just relax for a while, and do what feels good! What’s so wrong with that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! I liked it, I just…you know what? You weren’t even having sex with me, just now. You were just fucking a pig–a pig you made…me inhabit, a pig though, just an animal. You always told me…you always told me you liked me more because I wasn’t just a pig, but is that…what am I to you, really?” he asked, turning around to face Jay, feeling more hurt the more he thought about it, the more he felt…used, the more he felt like something in this had violated him, somehow. “I think you should change me back now, and…and I’d like…I don’t know, just…not like this.”

“Look, why don’t we just calm down for a little bit. You just told me you liked it!”

“Jay, this…this is a fucked up, and I know you know it. Just change me back, alright, and we can talk about it, but this is fucked!” he shouted, “I know you get off on me acting like an animal, but I didn’t think you literally just wanted to have sex with a fucking pig, you know? Fuck, I…I fucked you up so fucking much, I’m so fucking sorry, I…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I–”

“I didn’t ask to be like this!” Jay shouted over him then, “I don’t know who the fuck I was before this, and you can’t just fucking lord that shit over me, like you fucking know me! At least I fucking know who I am, you know? At least I fucking know what I want! You’re the one who comes crawling back to me. You’re the one who wants this, but is too fucking cowardly to do anything about it!”

“Fuck you! You’re a bigger fucking pig than I ever could be, you know that? Some fucking loser farmer out here, fantasizing about fucking his pigs all day long, so fucking excited that he could make it happen finally. You’re the fucking coward–just go fuck that big hog of yours, and leave me the fuck out of this!” Bruce shouted back. He wanted to get out more, but Jay pulled out the phone from his pocket, moved something around on the app, and he heard the click of the shutter. A moment later, his words dissolved away into nothing more than oinks and squeals–he could still think all the words he wanted to say, but nothing would come out other than pig noises. He quit lunged for Jay’s hand that had the phone, hoping he could grab it with his mouth, but he was much too unwieldy–and after another shutter snap, Bruce could feel his body growing again, piling on even more fat, his gut growing down until it brushed against the ground, and then laid on it, his legs straining, trying to move his sudden mass, but having no luck at all. He was…immobile, and all he could do was squeal and grunt at Jay in anger and frustration, while the farmer looked on at him, scowling and furious–mostly because he knew that Bruce was right, mostly.

Jay…did like pigs. He liked pigs more than people, and always had, but not…for sex. Not until he’d met Bruce, had that bridge been crossed in his mind, and ever since they’d met…he’d been so frustrated. Frustrated by the fact that Bruce was so close to giving into his inner pig at any moment, so close to giving Jay what he needed, and yet…that irritating, fallible, doubting human would somehow always get in the damn way, every time! He just wanted him to let go, he just wanted to show him how happy Bruce could make him, if he just…if he just stopped being so damn human all the damn time. It wasn’t right, what he’d done, he knew that–but it was what he wanted…and to hell with what Bruce wanted, he told himself. Bruce didn’t know what mattered. Bruce wasn’t doing shit with him life. He…owed this to Jay, for what he’d done to him.

Home for the Holidays – Episode 2 (Part 4)

WARNING: SCAT

Mark could feel himself…growing. He tugged at the belt he was wearing, getting it off from around his thin waist, as his gut began to expand, filling with fat just as his brother had a moment before. It was…the same sensation he’d felt with his father and uncle, that the curse was rebounding on him somehow, that he was tied to it, sympathetically. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it also wasn’t exactly comfortable–and when Buzz walked up and started rubbing his belly, delighting in Mark’s changes, it only made him feel even sicker somehow, seeing the old slob enjoying his change this much.

“Why *grunt* is this happening to me,” Mark managed to get out, hearing himself grunt just like his brother had, and with one hand, he tentatively felt his face, and sure enough, a short snout had sprouted there–not as pronounced as Luke’s, but enough to be unmistakable for what it was.

“Because you’re becoming a warlock, Mark–you’re embracing the darkness inside of you. It’s going to grow and grow, and pretty soon, you won’t be able to remember a time when your head wasn’t full of this perverse darkness, same as me, and same as that friend of ours, Magnus.”

“Magnus…he’s nothing like you.”

“Oh, the only difference between Magnus and I is that he cares more about…keeping up appearances. Just wait until you lay eyes on him, once you’re ready. You’re going to see him for who he really is, and then you’ll understand what I mean.”

Mark wanted to deny it, wanted to push that darkness away, but…he could feel it, inside him. It was a power he hadn’t felt before, but also a need, a hunger. He sniffed the air, and he…smelled something. Something he wanted. He rolled over on the bed and followed his snout over to where his brother was sitting in his filthy coveralls, jacking his pig cock, smelling the shit, and piss, and cum, and musk welling up around him, and…and it was turning him on. He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t, and he tried to pull himself away, but Buzz was still inside his mind, still pulling his strings, dulling his intuitions, feeding that…hunger.

“You see, being a warlock isn’t about just about forcing this darkness onto others, we revel in it as well. We share it. Everything you have forced onto these men, it’s inside you as well, it always was, just waiting to grow. Don’t fight it–you won’t win, and giving in is going to feel so good. Just…embrace it…Accept what you need…”

Mark didn’t…remember what happened next, exactly, how he dug into the back of Luke’s coveralls, devouring the mess there, unable to help himself, how it had driven him into a state of bliss, and delight, and he’d pinned him down on the bed and fucked him, both of them rutting like the pigs they were, while Buzz urged them on, eventually taking the other end of Luke, pumping a load of his own cum down Luke’s pig throat, and after Mark came in his ass, he could feel some of the darkness receding, and he was able to break away, run to the bathroom, and vomit up what he could into the toilet, horrified at what he’d done, horrified, and yet…so satisfied at the same time. So eager to try it again, so eager and hungry for more.

Buzz came up behind him, aimed his cock, and started pissing all over Mark’s head, and the hunger returned. He found himself laying back against the toilet, maw open, drinking down as much of Buzz’s piss as he could, still stroking his piggy cock, unable to help himself, while Buzz just laughed. “There’s no going back for you now, you realize that, right? Every step you take is just going to make this even worse–and I can feel how much you want it. Fuck, I fought too, when Magnus helped me down the path, but this was the best thing I could have ever become–you’ll see too, in the end, that this is what you were made for. This is what you have always needed to be.”

He finished pissing, and then left Mark there in the bathroom, covered in piss, jacking off wildly, desperate to control himself…but unable to find the will to resist. He came again, and when he did, the darkness ebbed away a bit further, and he was left on the floor of the bathroom, horrified at himself, but also…part of him was embracing it. Buzz was right, there was something inside him, something real, a twisted knot he’d always felt as long as he could recall, and now…now he didn’t think he’d be able to put it back, to shrink it, or anything…

He wanted to cry, but just felt numb. Eventually, he stood up, and stumbled out of the doorway and into the rest of the filthy house. Buzz was waiting for him, dressed, and told him it was time for them to pay someone else a visit, but who?

What should happen next?

Buzz wants to visit John, the oldest brother, with his new habits.
Buzz wants to visit Isaac, his cousin suffering under the imago curse.
Buzz wants to visit Magnus, to take Mark down the next step in his path together.
A mysterious stranger arrives, and helps Mark escape from Buzz, telling him he wants to help.

The public poll is here!

The patron only poll is here!

Voting ends in a few days!

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 2)

He didn’t have to wait long, at least–Jay headed straight for Bruce’s stall, unlocked it, and swung the gate open. He was dressed in his usual gear for his morning routines–overalls, waders, a flannel shirt. “Sorry for the wait, pig,” he said, “Chores took a bit longer this morning than I expected. Now, how about breakfast?”

Bruce just grunted in affirmation, not really needing words for this, as Jay led him down the row of stalls to a large trough, with several buckets of slop beside it. Bruce bellied right up to the metal, and Jay tipped the buckets into it, and Bruce could barely control himself–the hunger was so damn powerful, he didn’t even think twice about shoving his face right into the muck and chowing down as fast as he could. It was…instinctual. Inside himself, Bruce tried to pull back, tried to contain himself, tried to measure the gluttony that had been growing inside him for the last few hours in the stall, but this body refused to be limited–it wanted food, and it wanted…it wanted to get fucked, and anything else going on inside Bruce’s mind didn’t even matter, beyond those physical demands. He felt Jay run one hand along his back, and Bruce…shuddered, wiggling his tail and his ass, hoping Jay would know what the pig needed–but of course Jay knew what he needed. After all, Jay had made him like this.

Looking down at Bruce, Jay was…ecstatic. It wasn’t everything that he wanted, but he had a whole day to get there. This was the start of it, this is what he wanted Bruce to feel first–he wanted him to give up that control, that constant, aggravating need to constantly hold himself back from the pig he could be, if he just let himself go. So now, he didn’t have a choice. His body would want what his body wanted, and there was nothing that Bruce would be able to do about it, besides enjoy the ride–because Jay knew he was going to enjoy it–he’d make sure of it, one way or another.

“I knew you would make a handsome piebald,” Jay said, running his hand further back, and down Bruce’s quivering rump, “a handsome pig over all, I should say. I’ve been waiting all morning for this pig, you know, been so damn horny, doing my chores, and I bet you are too. Aching for some hot, farmer dick at this point I bet–well how about I make us both feel a bit better, eh?”

Bruce gave a squeal through a snoutful of food, doing his best to signal his desperation, and the moments while Jay undid the fly of his overalls and hauled out his cock seemed to stretch out longer still than the hours spent waiting in his stall. At last, he felt Jay’s cock press against the entrance to his hole, teasing him, forcing Bruce to slide back to fuck himself, pulling himself free of the slop, his hunger pulling him back forward, caught between two instincts he couldn’t reconcile, his mind just a brick of frustration, until at last, Jay thrust into him, forcing him forward, shoving his entire face into the slop, and everything felt…right.

Where time had stretched out for so long before, now each moment felt weightless. He ate. Jay fucked him. His own hard pig cock throbbed beneath him, beating against his gut, and he could feel his balls throbbing and churning, his own load building slowly but surely as well. He lost track of how much he ate, how long Jay fucked him, all that mattered was that he was getting what he needed. Getting what he wanted, more than anything, feeling something he had never experienced before, a complete and utter moment of satisfaction. This was all he’d needed. This was all that he’d ever needed. Food, and a fuck. Is this what Jay wanted him to feel, or is this just the natural result? In any case…it was seductive. He’d felt so many worries for so long, so many concerns that he wasn’t…enough. That his life should hold more than it did, that being happy wasn’t enough, that he wasn’t enough, that his relationships weren’t enough, that his life wasn’t enough. But in that moment, it was. He felt it, that peak, that sensation that everything he needed was met, and he could…rest, perhaps. His mind could rest at least, for the moment, and he could just enjoy the wave of emotion and sensation rushing though him–and then, his cock exploded, and everything else grew even fainter, as the orgasm ripped through him.

His orgasms had always been powerful before, usually holding strong for a few minutes at a time, before ebbing away over another ten minutes or so. This, however, was something else entirely. The pleasure struck him, and just…held there, the intensity not falling away at all, his mind so overwhelmed with sensation that it simply shut off. Bruce didn’t remember what happened for the next half hour or so, because Bruce didn’t really exist for that time. He wasn’t…needed. His body did what it wanted for the next half hour or so–it ate, and kept slamming his ass back against Jay’s cock–and when Bruce became aware of the world again, when there was space inside him to think, he saw that the trough had emptied itself, and he was left licking the metal for scraps he had missed, and Jay was finished fucking him–and from the cum running down the inside of his thighs, had obviously finished inside him at some point while he was gone. Jay was beside him now, at the trough, one arm draped over his broad shoulders, stroking him while he finished eating, and the needs were finally sated enough that he could tear himself away, panting, somehow exhausted, and look at him. Before he could say anything though, Jay leaned in and kissed him, licking some of the slop from the end of his snout, sliding his tongue into Bruce’s mouth, and it was so…gentle, so calming after the whirlwind he’d just been through, that Bruce just kissed him back, enjoying the tenderness they could share for the moment, until Jay pulled away again, grinning that cocky grin of his–obviously thinking he’d already won.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 1)

Bruce didn’t wake up in the bed he’d fallen asleep in–instead, the sun beamed down on him through the thin cracks between the old barn walls, as he began to stir on his bed of straw, stretching out his legs as he opened his eyes. He’d…slept really soundly, harder than he had in a long time, and it took him awhile to realize that he wasn’t imagining things, that he really was out in the barn, alone in a stall, lying on his side here, just thinking about…nothing in particular. After all, he didn’t need to think about anything. All he had to do was wait for breakfast–which would probably be here soon…though he might be able to sleep for a little while longer, if he just shut his eyes and relaxed…

But Bruce didn’t do that, because Bruce could feel that this was off–he could still remember, distantly, that he had fallen asleep in a bed the night before, that everything telling him this was normal was…wrong, somehow. He focused, and things came back to him, slowly–the deal he’d made with Jay coming back into focus, and with a loud grunt, he realized that it had happened! Jay had changed him in the night–he hadn’t even waited for him to wake up to do it. Part of him couldn’t help but feel a bit violated, that he hadn’t even had a chance to prepare for this, but the other part of him was so…well, content, that it was difficult for Bruce to muster the emotional energy to really care. Still, he wanted to see what had changed, exactly–he tried to roll up, but his hands and feet didn’t seem to be working the way they remembered–he focused on his hands, and saw that, well…he didn’t have hands.

Instead of his usual, thick arms, he had legs–two front pig legs, ending with thick black trotters where his hands should be. He bent around, and saw that his legs were also no longer mostly human as they had been–they were just his back legs. It looked like, unless Jay changed his mind later, that Bruce was going to be spending the day on all fours for the time being. Wondering how he’d be able to manage, he went back to trying to roll upright, and it proved easier than he was expecting. His body…knew how to manage well enough with the four legs, and so it was only a few minutes before he was standing on them all, shaking a bit, getting used to the new sensation of his trotters against the ground, and once he was stable, he tried walking.

The stall wasn’t very large, but it was large enough that he could get a few paces back and forth. He only fell down once, when he was trying to hard to make his legs work how he thought they should work, but once he stopped focusing on it so much, it became more natural–this was…just how he walked, after all–or that’s what the new chunk of his mind told him, even though the old Bruce knew it wasn’t true, not really. He took the time to examine the rest of his body, though it was difficult without a mirror, but not too much else seemed to have changed overall–his body seemed a bit chunkier perhaps, but it was hard to tell if that was because of something changing, or just because of how his new body looked, it was hard to tell. One thing that was definitely different was his skin tone. Where before he had been pink all over, his skin was now mottled in a piebald pattern, with large brown spots all over him. He remembered that Jay had told him once how handsome a piebald pig looked, and apparently, handsome had also meant sexy.

He turned circles a couple of times, trying to quell the panic in his chest, but eventually he realized there was nothing he could do, especially without actual hands, and he plopped back down on the straw, figuring he would just have to wait for Jay to come see him, hopefully with breakfast in tow, because one thing Bruce knew for sure was that he was hungry–hungrier than he could ever really recall being, in fact. Left with nothing but his thoughts in the stall, all Bruce could do was think about this, about what Jay wanted out of this exactly. He knew that Bruce had always liked it when Bruce pretended to be a real pig on all fours, but was that what he really wanted from him? To…be a pig? It seemed…simple, somehow, but then, what exactly had he expected Jay to do to him? More importantly, he supposed, did he like it himself? That was the bar, after all–Jay was doing this to show Bruce not only what Jay wanted, but to prove to Bruce that he wanted it too. But so far, the only thing Bruce was feeling was, well, boredom. Well, boredom and hunger, and increasingly, horniness. Perhaps worst of all, there was nothing he could do about any of them.

The minutes ticked by. Or, he imagined them ticking by. He didn’t really have a measure of time in the stall, aside from the impossibly slow shift in the bars of light from the sun on the side of the barn. He got up and paced occasionally, had some water from the basin in the stall, and mostly just…laid around, feeling the needs inside of him building and welling, taking up more and more of his attention, until he wasn’t sure if he was more desperate for food or a fuck, or just both of them together. Mostly, he was just eager for something to happen–why was Jay making him wait? Why just change him and leave him here? Was there some…point to it? Bruce realized, then, the sheer scope of the power he’d handed to Jay when he’d given him the phone and the app. He only had Jay’s word, after all, that he would change him back after today, and while Jay was trustworthy…given the revelations of the day before, who knew what Jay was thinking? He called out, after a while, relieved that he could, at least, still speak words, though his voice had shifted down into something more guttural, and his words were always accompanied by a series of grunts and oinks that he couldn’t control. His cries were never met with an answer though, and so he waited, feeling his stomach churn around an empty pit, his cock and ass aching…and finally, he heard it, the familiar sound of the barn door opening, and he scrambled up onto all fours, squealing, desperate for attention.