Tag: weight gain

Home For the Holidays – Christmas (Part 3)

Ever since Thanksgiving, Luke hadn’t been able to sort out what was wrong with him, but he knew that something had to be wrong with him. He’d…fallen asleep, or whatever, with Mark in that room, and when he’d woken up with a load of shit in the back of his jeans and the front wet with piss, instead of feeling horror at what had happened, he…he’d climbed into his truck and drove off, heading somewhere–heading to Buzz’s place. Luke couldn’t recall what Buzz looked like, or where he’d met him, or why he thought this stranger was his best friend…but he had to see him. See, Luke was sick of working in real estate–what he really wanted to do, more than anything else, was work as a trash collector.

The dissonance in his mind gave him a headache, as he tried to reconcile what his commandments were telling him with what he knew he was supposed to be feeling, but everything in his mind was just being…rewritten faster than he could even begin to understand it. By the time his shit cooled in the back of his jeans, he could come up with a hundred reasons why he hated real estate, and why he’d always wanted to be a trash collector. By the time he pulled up in front of the rundown house with the brown, overgrown yard half an hour later, the new rules were just…him.

As soon as he saw Buzz, memories created themselves in his head, of past times they’d hung out, of all the good times he’d had with Buzz, how safe he felt here, and he asked him–asked Buzz to help him out, that he finally wanted to make the jump–he wanted to be a trashman, he’d do…anything to get there, and he knew Buzz could help him…and the cruelty in his friend’s face was so obvious, it gave Luke pause for a moment, until his head could catch up and bring that back under control.

Buzz made him beg. Buzz made him humiliate himself, tell Buzz about how he couldn’t control himself, how he wanted to be dirty, how dirty men turned him on so much. Buzz asked Luke if he was dirty enough for him, making him smell his rank pits, his nasty feet, working Luke up into a lather, telling him in was no surprise that he wanted to be a trashman, because the only thing he really wanted to do was clean up other people’s filth. In the end, he told Luke that the only way he’d help him be a trashman was if he ate the shit right out of his ass, if he showed him just how filthy and nasty he wanted to be…and while Luke tried to resist it, tried to get out of there, tried to get control of himself…he knew the truth. He was in control of himself. He was here because he…wanted to be here. And so, he did what Buzz demanded, and ate the dirty old man’s shit for the first time. He ate it, and felt so…dirty, and perverse, that he couldn’t stop himself from jacking off while he did it, couldn’t resist reaching down the back of his pants, so he could taste his own, cold shit too, see…see how they compared.

The rest was a blur, really. It had only been a week, but Luke was so…different now, his mind twisted so far by those three new commandments, that he couldn’t possibly think of his life going in any other direction. He wore a diaper at work, usually, the same diaper, day after day, and he would empty it at lunch and after his shift was over before putting it back on. During his days off, he would stay with Buzz, and Buzz would help him become dirtier, help him with new obsessions, help him be the kind of man he was supposed to be–and then Mark arrived in his room…and he could almost remember what his brother had done to him, that he was here because of him…but then Luke and Buzz started chanting at him, and he began to change again.

Buzz had been…frustrated by how skinny Luke was. He’d put him on a feeding regimen to help pack on some pounds, but it was taking too long. Now though, Luke felt his body suddenly expand with fat, and he let out a series of snorts and grunts as he felt himself, rubbed his grubby body, feeling a new, horrific, insatiable hunger welling up inside of him, even as he kept changing. His face…ached, mouth pushing out into a short snout, two tusks curling up from his lower jaw, his short beard turning rough and bristly, the same as the boar bristle running down his back, growing in thicker, even as his belly turned soft and hairless, three more sets of nipples appearing down the front. His cock changed too, growing a bit larger, twisting into a corkscrew as it did, wet from his sheath, and Luke…gripped it, stroked it, feeling the lusts inflamed inside him, feeling his mind shutting down little by little as violent, insatiable instinct crowding out his reason, and the half man, half pig, sat there in his own filth, masturbating, grunting and squealing, while Mark looked on in horror at what Buzz had just made him do.

“There we go, isn’t that better?” Buzz said to him, “He was such a skinny little thing–when he’s out in public, most people will just see him as a fatass glutton, but he’s going to be a fuck and food hungry pig from now on–how do you feel, Luke? Feeling…better?” Buzz leered at him, but all Luke was feeling was…lightheaded, and sick to his stomach. It didn’t feel like he had pushed the darkness out, it felt like it had grown inside him somehow, that even more of him was corrupted by some insidious force, and he stumbled, falling on the bed behind Luke, who barely noticed, Buzz looming over him, soothing him, telling him everything was going to be just fine, soon enough.

  1. Luke picks up some of the pig qualities from the curse he just cast.
  2. Luke’s reality shifts, and he’s a dirty trashman now too.
  3. Luke finds himself compelled to fuck his pig brother, now just as turned on by filth as Buzz is.
  4. Luke grows even older, and finds himself looking more and more like Buzz–and he’s attracted to him too.

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The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 7 (Part 4)

All my life, I have wanted to be the law. Before I knew what the law was. But this, this moment, was the first time I knew what I was, what I was here to do, and everything else was revealed for the farce that it was. A detective, someone tasked with uncovering the secret, the hidden–I had found the world behind the world, the self behind the self, and now I knew. I knew, and I could not unknow any of it. I am not the man I was. I was never truly a man. I was born as this, perhaps. Or maybe, as a babe, the law found me, hollowed out some of me, and lived there, waiting for a chance to arise again. But I was here now. My work on the beast, on the two men with him, it was rough. I did not yet have full mastery of myself, but to just know myself…I came. Over and over, the pleasure of it, thrumming through my flesh, through my skin, through my cock, feeling the law in them all vibrate with me, sensations I had never known. I came, yes, but it was not a human pleasure. It was raw, otherworldly. The three could feel it as well, but only a distant vibration of  it, dampened by the world around them. But I felt it. I felt it, and I knew, I was no longer human. I was beyond human, beyond morals, beyond mortality. The veil had been pierced, at long last, at long last! All this will crumble now, all this will return to the dust it should have been.

You, reading this. Do you see? Do you see the world behind the world, does the ink I use crawl along the page? Did you know it is my own blood, bits of myself I have spread on the page? Perhaps it is dead, by the time it reaches you, perhaps you can only see ink, but it was alive. You are reading me, across the page before you, and if it is alive, perhaps it will take you, give you a glimmer of the world beyond. You will understand better, then. You will understand the sheer inferiority of what your kind has created, how thin the walls around your world have grown. I long for you, to pull you through it, to feed you…one day. Soon. Sooner than you can imagine.

We are nearly to the end now. I will have told you everything that needs to be said now, and I will seal this away for you to find and read. But not yet, not yet. I was finished with them, with the three of them. I unbound them, drew my flesh back to myself, and the three obese fellows could stand, blinking in the dark, naked, the law still churning in their guts, but settling. The large one, the one who had been the beast, tested lips and tongue, and spoke for the first time since the bruiser had unleashed it, I imagine. The words were slow and slurred, human speech partially forgotten or perhaps no longer most suited for its new mouth, and it thanked me. Thanked me for saving it, thanked me for giving it new purpose. Promised to serve me, promised me all of it–asked me what to do–and I told him that he already knew what I desired–to follow my law.

We managed to find clothes for them, though it was a struggle. One of the two security guards could remember how to drive, and where to find his car. The three of them piled inside, and I told them how to get to my home. It would be theirs, soon enough. I would have no need of a human life after this, no need of a house. There was too much work to do! Too much work for us both to do, now that we had found one another. The bruiser was close, close enough to sense what was happening, but not in the building. I don’t know why he didn’t come watch–perhaps he wanted to give me some privacy, or perhaps…he was afraid. He knew, I think, that when I emerged, that I was more than him. Closer to the beyond, than he ever had been. That in freeing me from my humanity, I would, in turn, free him from his own mortal cage–because caged he was.

That was his great weakness–his duality. It made sense now, now he had been described to me, back when I was still free. Whatever was inside him, whatever demon or force like me, instead of becoming contained, it had become a duality, an alter ego–and as an ego, it was constrained by the imagination of the world it existed in. It could draw from the beyond, but it would never be able to escape it–the men he freed were still caught within the rules of this reality–which is, I think, why Cumster was so important, why Cumster had been my gift.

Cumster was special. Cumster had been a turning point, the first creation of his that broke the veil, that could do…more. That could corrupt. The bruiser had always returned to him, studied him, and after Cumster, he too, had begun to change, and warp, and grow….but with out direction or purpose–without the law, that is–there was only so far he could go. I needed him, his influence, to free me from my prison, and now–now I could help him shed the vile human thing that had held him back so far, and together–well, together there was so much more that we could do. We could change everything. We will change everything! We’ll tear the veil down the center, and let everything in. Humanity will be ours, humanity will be gone.

By the time I was finished with the three, the bruiser had faded away, but I knew he wouldn’t go far. He knew I would find him, that our fates were tied now, and would be tied forever. He was going home–and I could feel someone with him, Ray most likely, who would be looking for Jules. It was time that I go home too. It was time that I open my gift, and it was time that I gave the bruiser a gift of my own.

The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 7 (Part 3)

It recoiled and struggled at first, as all things must. It knew that it needed me, but I doubt the thing expected what I offered. What I demanded. My cock slid down the throat, already leaking the law into the beast’s gullet, and the chill of the law, how it dampens and focuses and changes. The thing would have to give up nearly everything that it had become, it would need to change, if it was going to survive–but it would survive, I would make sure of it. I would give it new form, new purpose, and it would help us tear this reality apart, seam by seam.

The struggles grew weaker, and at last, it ceased all together. It’s guts were full of my seed at this point, and it could feel the chill filling it everywhere, the pale flesh of the thing darkening to a bruise, much like my own skin, slowly absorbing my demands into itself, and the thing began to change. The teats and tentacles withered away, growing dry and dark before crumbling off. The body shrank back, still full and fat, but more comprehensible as a body, as something that could, possibly, be human, with two slender legs and arms, the head reforming into something masculine in nature. The eyes opened, at last, and the bruise was there, the law was there, in the beast’s mind, containing and focusing its desires–not riding the beast of them by any means, of course,. But focusing them–and I could sense, deep within, what the thing had been, before my kin had freed it.

A glutton, on the inside, but always…resisting the urge. He had been strong, muscular–a powerlifter, perhaps, or someone who simply lifted heavy things for work, the vision wasn’t clear. He ate, and he loved to eat, but he was afraid. Afraid to let go, afraid to embrace the desire deep within him, afraid to simply let go and be the pig he’d desired so much–and then the bruiser had sniffed him out, and offered him a chance to be free. Except the thing inside the man, the ball of desire and lust and gluttony, was much more powerful than the bruiser might have imagined. So powerful, that once it had been freed, the mortal, human casing had broken apart, and the beast had emerged instead.

Of course, the beast would have been no threat to the bruiser–but once it was completely free, I doubt it would have held the bruiser’s interest much. It was, after all, immune to the bruiser’s power–his art is an intricate one, more intricate than mine (the law is heavy, and absolute–but the bruiser’s art of freeing is much more fine and complex, determining which leashes to undo when.) Once something is entirely free, there is nothing else for him to do–and without me, it would have simply run wild until this reality finally snuffed it out and erased it, and all of the men it contacted, entirely. But I could save it, root it again in the laws of the realities, of this human one, and the one beyond.

Now that it was in my grip, I could contain those desires again, and refashion them into something else. The man he’d been had been a glutton, yes, but he had been something else too–he had not only wanted to feed himself, but others as well. I could…see, distantly, the men he had been with, the flabby obese men he had fucked and made love to, thinking about fucking himself, thinking about them getting larger, about growing whatever he could, even if he could not grow himself. So my law–I would give him what he wanted, I would help him feed men all he wanted.

He moaned around his cock, as he felt the heavy moobs I had left him with–two sets of them–begin to fill and bulge. I reached down with my hands, squeezing them, and a thick cream seeped from the nipples, running down the front of his body, and he could feel it. Feel the law solidifying inside him, his own law, and tears began to flow from his eyes as the bruise faded. It was done. I had pulled the beast back from the brink, I had contained it, and given it new life. Not human, though I could sense that, out in reality, he would appear normal enough, perhaps. Appear as a massively obese fellow, his body asymmetrical and heaving in odd ways, a mouth with too few teeth, skin a bit too pale and without enough hair, and nipples that would always leak slightly…but when he was alone with another, when he was feeding someone his milk, well, then they would begin to see him for what he was–and once they could see him, they would begin to see what would happen to them.

Together, we made quick work of the two men the beast had corrupted. He fed them his milk, and they gladly suckled, while I fucked their asses, filling them with my law as well, though they needed less than the beast had. Their minds were…shattered, but they could be returned to some form and normalcy, but never would they not desire to be fed–and fed by their master, stuffed full of his milk.

The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 7 (Part 2)

I entered the building, and in the solitude, without the gaze of humanity on me, I felt immediately more at ease, more able to assert myself, and my real form. The beast was close at hand, and I imagined that it could likely sense me as well. Whether it felt fear or not, I can’t know for certain, but it didn’t try to run, Perhaps it could sense that flight would be useless, that I was much too powerful now, with my skin, than it could hope to escape me. Perhaps it was relieved, in a way. It had been unleashed, its desires running amok, but there was no logic, no reason binding it. Nothing it did would keep–eventually, this reality would bottle it away, render it…understandable, and likely kill it. That, or it would simply cease to exist. Without law–without some reason beyond this reality, it could never hope to survive. It needed me–perhaps it knew that too, in a way. It knew I could help it–that I would tether it and bind it, yes, but that by the end, it would be more powerful as well. More lasting.

It had made its nest in a small room, what had likely been a storage room or large office before this. It was settled in a corner, heaving with flesh, and I could still distinguish the two victims it had found (two security guards tasked with protecting the premises of the abandoned building from squatters, I could tell later, but not now) but like I had expected, they were much more further gone than the officers had been. They were no longer just sucking at the teats, or tentacles lining the beasts flabby underbelly–the teats had found their way inside them, their jaws stretched and broken, pale flesh slick and shaking as the beast filled them. Already, I could see that their once human bodies were warped beyond their old forms, becoming copies of the beast itself–it was freeing them in the same way it had been freed–that was all it could do, after all, but the copies would never be as powerful as the original. In any case, they were the first things to deal with–I sent out my bonds from my skin, wrapping the two victims in my straps of flesh, and dragged them free of the beast. It was…difficult, and for them, I imagine, quite painful, but I am not one to ever be denied. When the teats had been ripped from their gullets, the two of them were left on the ground, bound tightly, flesh pinched between my ribbons–they would be dealt with later, after I had brought the beast under my law.

It fought, as best it could. It knew better than to run, but it had its own drives that had to be obeyed, even if it knew it could not win, or escape, as it had before. The dance–oh the dance this time, in my skin! So nimble, my flesh peeling away, binding it in the most intricate lattice, spinning the massive thing about, so slow compared to my own movements, lumbering and terrified, and in such awe of me too, I think. How could it not be? It had escaped this reality, yes, but it had not dreamed that there could be something else. I was a nightmare, or an angel, some glimmer of the beyond. It knew what I would give it, and as anything that hungers for anything would feel…it wanted, most of all, to be full. So I fed it.

I bound it tight first, of course, bound it tightly to me, bringing it in, containing it, and shrinking it. It was even more overgrown than it had been before, teats and tentacles like weeds sprouting all over itself. Had I not found it soon, I think it likely would have unraveled entirely, unable to maintain any sort of connection to this human world, and without any other one to go to. So my straps pulled tight across the beasts enormous body, shrinking and reducing it in stature, feeling it bulge between the layers of my flesh, trying and testing the bonds I had crafted for it, but not trying to escape, exactly. More, trying to understand what this was, and what I was doing to it.

When I had reduced it to a more manageable size, larger than a usual human, but easier, at least, to manipulate, with no stray tentacles to worry about, I forced it to bend before me, it’s hungry, sucking maw at my hips, and I savored it, for a moment. Savored our connection now, how I could feel every pulse in its body, every shudder of need rippling through it, savored most of all the thing’s last moments of true, unleashed freedom, a freedom that would kill it if I did nothing, but a beautiful, exquisite freedom all the same. Then, my cock slid from my sheath, and I guided the head to the beasts mouth, and gave it the first taste of law in its existence.

The Frat’s Dirty Laundry (Caption Sketch)

I’m posting captions and taking requests for captions over on my discord server for patrons supporting me with at least $5 a month! Here’s a couple from a five part series I wrote for them over there–if you’d like to get access to the rest, and to all the other captions I post there, you can sign up on my Patreon here and get access!

Alpha Beta Sigma was a dirty frat on campus–drugs, rape, drinking and partying–but because all of the young men who belonged to the frat were legacy students, or similarly important to the schools reputation and bottom line, no real punishment ever really came down upon it. Well, one group of students is fed up with it, and has decided to cast a spell over the young men of ABS–from now on, all of their laundry will be as dirty as they are, and they won’t have a choice but to air it out for all to see.

The first young man to fall victim to the curse was Lyle Everston. He was a legacy, the son of a senator from a southern state, and Lyle’s conservative politics were apparent, but well hidden. Still, there had been a rash of hate crimes across campus, and while no one could pin them on Lyle…well, the washer and dryer in the basement of the house knew the truth.

Most of Lyle’s clothes were dry clean only, of course, but he did have some things that he could wash onsite. He went down into the basement, went to pull his clothes out of the dryer…but they weren’t his clothes, and they most certainly were not clean. Instead of his underwear and lounge clothes, he found a pair of filthy beige work pants, some rubber boots caked with mud,a tattered john deere hat and a sleeveless shirt with the rebel flag across the front. They smelled rank, and yet somehow familiar. In a daze, he found himself stepping out of his clothes in the basement, and pulling on the ones from the dryer instead, his physique packing on some muscle, stubble spreading across his face. Part of him fought–but it no longer had control of his body–Lyle was trapped inside himself, watching and feeling his body change, feeling his body start to tug on his cock, a grungy, cheesy foreskin growing up over the head, and he drooled some dark spit onto it to lube it–dark from the tobacco leaf that had appeared in his mouth.

“Hey boy,” a voice growled behind him, “If’n yer gonna tug on that thing, might as well do it o’er here, wit’ yer Pa.”

Lyle spun around, but as he did, the room blurred–he found himself not in the basement, but in a filthy, rundown trailer, and there, on a small couch, lounged…his daddy, his pa. Not the pa he’d had, no, this one was a lazy, fat, nasty piece of redneck trash…just like Lyle was now. Drooling a bit more spit on his cock, he went and sat down next to his Pa, the older man’s thick musk making the boy moan, and it wasn’t long before they were swapping tobacco spit, hands on each others’ cocks, and inside his mind, all Lyle could do was scream.

Slowly, the house began to feel a bit…empty. None of the remaining young men inside could quite understand why it felt empty, why the rooms that had been doubles were now singles, why the common rooms were a little less filled, but laundry–well, laundry always had to get done.

The next young man to try his luck with the washer and dryer was Henry, one of the school’s star football players. He was an egotistical narcissist, assumed he was the paragon of masculinity, meant to be worshiped by everyone–well, by women of course. Men, especially fat men, were there to be ridiculed and humiliated–and so that’s what he spent his time doing, bullying other fellows on campus. However, when he went to pull some of his practice gear out of the dryer…well, it was a jersey that he pulled out, it just wasn’t his.

It also wasn’t the least bit clean–instead, the front of it had all manner of stains on it–food and drink stains as far as he could tell, and the fabric was stretched out, faded, and, well, reeked. Reeked like it had never been washed in ages…but the smell was familiar. It was…his. His smell, of course. Because it was his jersey. He could remember it better now, but he knew he’d have a better memory if he put it on, so he pulled off the undershirt he had on, and pulled on the jersey, and the memories can flooding back to him–as did the horror of what he’d just done to himself, but it was too late.

The jersey was his, of course. But he was no longer a star running back. No, he’d been a linebacker in high school and college, before he’d dropped out, and not a particularly good one, but man, he’d always loved wearing his jersey. It…made him feel young again. He tugged it down, knowing it had fit better than this at one point, but he wasn’t in college anymore. He’d just turned fifty five, in fact, lived in a shabby single wide all by himself, and spent his days working menial labor, and his afternoons and evenings glued to the TV–usually watching sports.

Football was his favorite. He loved watching his crushes on TV, cheering them on, fucking himself when they scored, imagining they were fucking him in celebration. When football season was over, he usually found solace in wrestling instead–but that was for later. The game was almost on, after all. He pulled on his tight, cum crusted sweats, chugged down most of his beer, and headed to the living room to get settled with the rest of the twelve pack and his favorite dildo (one he’d had custom cast to match the hard cock of his greatest football crush), hoping this game would be a damn good one.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Parts 3 & 4)

Jay let go of his wrist, but just stared at him as Bruce backed a couple paces away. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I can’t explain it right now, Jay, I just can’t.”

“You sure as fucking hell can–there’s someone else, ain’t there? What, you had to come back and compare, is that it? Am I just some joke to you, something you can dip in and out of whenever you like? I fucking love you, you fucking pig! I never fucking stopped loving you, and I know you love this too, I know you love me, you love what I can give you that no one else can, but don’t fucking stand there and try and sell me some pigshit line like that.”

“Jay, you just have to believe me.”

“Then ya gotta give me somethin’ to believe. Out with it–just fucking say it already.”

He owed him an explanation. He owed him much, much more than that, but at the very least, he owed him the full story. Whether he believed him or not…well, he couldn’t do anything about that, he supposed. “Fine. Fine, I’ll…try and tell you what happened, what I remember. But you have to believe me. I can…show you proof, but later, once I tell you what happened.”

So they sat down on the porch, and over the next half hour or so, Bruce told Jay what had happened since he’d downloaded the filters app on his phone–or at least, as much as he could recall, since after two resets to reality, things were a bit…muddied. He could recall the broad sweeps at least, how unhappy he had been, how being a pig had felt so much…easier, so much simpler, and how he’d wanted someone who understood that…and so, he’d created Jay. In fantasies at first, but then, the night before, he had…done something he couldn’t easily take back.

“Look…you aren’t supposed to exist, and neither should I. I made both of us, kind of, but it’s more complicated than that. I never asked you, and I’m so fucking sorry, it was so fucking twisted of me to do that, and I…I can fix it, I can contact the company, see if there’s something I can do–”

“Just…show me the program. I wanna see how this thing works.”

Bruce pulled up the program, found a basic filter to give himself an earring, used it, but Jay couldn’t see the difference, and just glowed at Bruce in annoyance. Puzzled, the pig poked around in the settings, and say that he could add others capable of seeing the changes–otherwise, everyone other than him never noticed a thing, even if it changed in front of them. He added Jay to the approved list, used the filter again on his other ear, and Jay just looked at him, amazed.

“Fuck–it’s just…there.”

“Fully healed too, like it’s always been there,” Bruce said, and removed both filters, the gold studs disappearing as easily as they had arrived, “and gone just as easily…usually. What I did to us…that’s more permanent. A lot more permanent, but I can fix it, I know I can, I just need some time, and some space, and…and do you understand?” he asked, pleaded almost, with Jay.

The farmer just looked at him, and at the phone in his lap, silent for a moment. “I don’t think there’s anything to fix.”

“Jay, you can’t…we can’t stay like this.”

Jay looked like he wanted to say something, but held back–not something he was used to doing, and then looked up at the sun in the sky. “I’ve wasted too much time on this shit, I have work I have to get done.”

“How the–it doesn’t fucking matter, Jay! None of this is even real.”

“It’s real to me. Besides, I need some time to think, but before you go off and do anything reckless, and make shit even worse, give me your phone, and your keys.”

“What?”

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you, not until we figure out what we’re gonna do about this. You can help if you want, with the work, or you can wait in the house. We’ll talk about it after dinner.”

“No, I’m not staying here another moment, I just want to go, I want to be normal again, I don’t want to deal with this shit!”

Jay just chuckled at that, and held out his dirty palm. “Give ‘em up, come on.”

That cocky tone always rubbed Bruce the wrong way, like Jay knew what Bruce was going to do before he’d even made up his mind. “How…do I know you won’t do anything to me with it?”

“Have I ever–ever–done something to you, without you saying yes first? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Jay was right about that…but he felt uneasy anyway, getting stuck out here with Jay…again. Still, he did it, passing him his keys and his phone. After all, he was right, in a way. All Bruce had done so far was make a mess of things–maybe with Jay’s help, maybe if he’d just talked to him about this to begin with, talked to whoever Jay had been, none of this would have happened at all.

“Good–now, you wanna help, or wait here? I’m running behind after that story of yours, and I think you owe me a bit of work, for breakfast.” That last bit was tacked on a bit later, implying that Bruce definitely owed him for more than that, and Bruce was happy to help. The thought of sitting around the house, just thinking about what was going to happen next, made him feel a bit sick. Better to be useful at least.

The work went much faster between the two of them. Bruce had always enjoyed the farm work here, it felt so much more fulfilling than anything he’d had to do back in the city, when he could find someone willing to hire him at all. There weren’t many pigs like him around, and most of them…well, they survived, but thriving was harder. Here, everything had always seemed to come so easily to him–at least, when Jay wasn’t busy trying to force him to try some new, stranger idea of his that had occurred to him. After a couple of hours reminiscing to himself, he realized that none of these things had actually happened–all of these memories were lies. After that, he mostly felt uneasy. They finished on time, thankfully, and headed back to the house where Jay set to work making dinner for them both, and Bruce was left waiting. He tried to broach the topic of his phone and keys more than once, but Jay just told him to wait until after they’d eaten. So they ate–another massive meal, just like breakfast, but while Bruce was happy to stuff himself, there was none of the playful banter from that morning. Jay just ate his own portion, not speaking, obviously still thinking about everything.

When dinner finished, they cleared and cleaned up the kitchen, and then Bruce insisted that they talk–and that Jay give him back his phone and his keys. Jay nodded, and handed them back, before showing Bruce into the parlor, and there, he finally spoke about it.

“What were you going to do, when you left here? What was your bright idea exactly?” Jay asked him.

“I just wanted to fix this. I wanted to try and make us who we were before this, before I went and messed everything up like I did. It wasn’t fair, and it was fucking cruel to do this to someone, to just turn him into someone he…he never had a choice.”

“Yeah, that’s true–he didn’t get a choice. But he’s gone now, and I’m here, and so I get a say in this now, don’t I? And you know what I think? I don’t think there’s anything here to fucking fix. I like my life. I like who I am, and I’m not about to let you get rid of me just because you did something shitty to someone else.”

“That person was you though! I know you don’t remember it, but you’re the same.”

“Nah, we ain’t the same. I don’t know anything about him, I only know about myself. So, you wanna fix something? You can fix yourself, if you want, but you don’t get to change me, not unless I say so.”

Bruce didn’t really know how to reply to that, and so he just sat quietly, thinking about it, about what he did.

“But I do have one demand–not one I can enforce, exactly, but I think you fucking owe me, for all of this shit you did. If you really think we’re the same person, then he should get a chance, right? Well, here’s my wager. I want one day with that program, and you. Tomorrow, here. I get one day, and I get to do whatever the hell I want to do to you, I can show you exactly who you should be. Who you want to be, but are too afraid to face. I get one day, and then you get to decide if you want to stay. Hell, you know what? If you don’t want to stay, I’ll let you try and change me back. I’ll let you talk to that other fellow, see what he wants. You want a normal life? Then fine, you can take it. Cause in all honesty, I don’t…fuck, I love you, you fucking pig, and I…I get fuckin’ lonely around here, and nothing has been as good since you left. So give me one day. One day, and if it isn’t the best day of your life…then I don’t really want to be here anyway, I don’t think. How does that sound to you? We got a deal?”

There it was again, that cocky fucking voice, that little smile. The fucker knew he wouldn’t turn him down, because in all honesty, the thought had already occurred to him, thinking about what Jay might…do to him, if he had the filters, and whether he’d…want it to happen or not. It also would give him a chance to put everything right, or at least, close to right, if…if he decided he didn’t want it, in the end. “Alright, it’s a deal.”

“Then I suppose you need to give me that phone, and those keys, back then, don’t ya?”

Bruce got up, and handed the phone back over to Jay, feeling his heart beat quicker as he did, his cock springing up against the front of his pants, and while he hoped Jay hadn’t seen in, when the farmer brushed his hand against it, he knew he’d been found out.

“For someone so adamant that this isn’t what you want, why are you so hard all of a sudden, piggy?”

His mouth was too dry to answer, and part of him wanted Jay to fuck him right here, do whatever he wanted to with the program to him, just…just make him happy, in the end, but that didn’t happen. Jay opened up the app and started poking around in it, and Jay just sat back down, watching him. “So, what are you going to do with it tomorrow?”

“Still not sure yet. Gotta see what kind of options there are. Why don’t you go up to bed? You’ll see what I have in mind when you wake up in the morning.”

Bruce thought about pressing him, seeing if he would give him an idea of what he had in mind at least, but if he knew Jay…Jay had been thinking about this a whole lot longer that Bruce had, and he already knew exactly what he was going to do to him. Given how Bruce tended to react to Jay’s suggestions, it was probably for the best that he not tell him what he had in mind either. In any case…it was just for one day, right? There wasn’t anything he could do to him, really, that would last longer than that–well, now that he had the phone, he supposed he could…but consent was always something that mattered to Jay. He wanted Bruce to want this. He wanted him to believe that Jay knew best…and yeah, Bruce had always wondered if, maybe, Jay was right. If he was pig first, and man second, and not…the other way around. He tossed and turned in the bed upstairs, alone, but eventually the exhaustion from the farm work earlier got the better of him, and he drifted off. Not too long after that, around midnight, Jay let himself in, phone in hand. He would show Bruce what he needed–he’d show him more than that. He’d show Bruce who he was, really, on the inside, who he needed him to be. He just didn’t know that Jay knew better than he did–but after tomorrow, he’d understand. Bruce would understand perfectly.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Part 2)

Before he could object again, Jay had another cake pressed to his snout, and after that, he didn’t object again. He went to pick up his fork and knife again, but Jay knocked them out of his hands. Next, he went to grab a pancake with his hand, but Jay gave it a hard smack, and Bruce gave a general snort of annoyance.

“Ya know the rules–if pigs are at the table, gotta eat like a pig. Ya didn’t forget that one right?” he leaned in close, picking up one floppy ear with a couple of fingers, and whispered into his ear, “If I remember right, ya came up with that rule yerself, didn’t ya pig?”

He had, early on. Fuck, if it didn’t make him hard as hell thinking about it. He stood up at the table, bent over, and shoved his face into the remaining pile of pancakes, taking massive bites out of them with his snout, while Jay urged him on, tugging away the clothes Bruce had just put on his body upstairs earlier.

“That was another rule, wasn’t it pig? No clothes for pigs in the house. That one was yours too, wasn’t it?”

In fact, Jay had mentioned it in passing, and made Bruce add it to the growing list himself. He’d…done that a lot, really, made these suggestions, wormed them into Bruce’s head until he’d gotten himself properly worked up, and he’d start following them on his own. Jay did a lot of shit like that. Bruce knew he should stop this, that he was blurring the lines of their relationship again…but his cock was so hard, and feeling Jay rub his heavy, full belly was…so damn satisfying. He was full, but Jay had always wanted him bigger, talked about him breaking 800 pounds, one fat fucking pig, a prize winning pig, even. Keeping him on all fours, forgetting how to speak, forgetting he was anything other than a pig, a real pig–fuck, what in the fuck had he done to him?

****

He hadn’t even asked him. He’d had no idea–whoever Jay had been before all of this. Bruce tried to remember as best he could, but the memory had already faded to nothing more than scraps. He could remember a clean apartment, a smaller, scrawnier guy, but no details about him beyond that. He was gone now–Bruce had erased him from existence in a fit of horniness, and in his place, he’d created Jay–a twisted, perverted, redneck…and fuck, if he wasn’t turned on, but feeling Jay’s hands on him, he could feel other hands too, hands in the past in other places, and he shuddered in dread at what he had done, Jay pulling his hands away when he did.

“What’s up pig–I can tell you’re enjoying this. Come on–get those pants off for me. No pants in the house for pigs.”

Bruce shook his head got up from the table, and pulled away from him. “No–no, this was such a fucking mistake, I’m sorry, I’ll…I can fix you–this–I think, but I can’t remember him around you.”

Bruce grabbed his shirt from Jay’s hand, and the redneck just stared at him, confused as to what that might mean by any of that. “What are ya talkin’ about?”

He shouldn’t have said anything, why had he said that? Bruce turned around and headed for the front door, already pulling his keys out so he could get out of here, get back in the city, get his head clear and figure out how to start putting all of this right, but he hadn’t made it off the porch before Jay caught up with him, grabbed him by the wrist, and pulled him back.

“What the hell did you mean by that, pig? What the fuck is there about me to fucking fix? And who else are you fucking talking about?”

Jay was angry, and he’d interpreted that about the only way he could, knowing what he knew, but Bruce couldn’t tell him this, couldn’t tell him what he’d done to him, that he’d sprung from some horny fever dream, caught between his old self, this pig, and a boyfriend he’d never wanted to be with, all of it rolled up together into a whole new mess even worse than before. “I can’t talk about it, alright? It won’t make sense. Just let me go.”

“You know what your problem is pig?” Jay said, leaning in close, “You’re don’t fucking know what you want. You’re broken, and you know it, and you look for people who want to fix you, who want to make something of you, something good, something hot–but you know what? I think you like being broken. I think that’s why you left, but I think you came back last night, and knocked on my door, because you know full fuckin’ well that it’s gonna take a sick, perverted fucked like me to fix what’s wrong with you, and make you into something good–those boys in the city, they don’t know what to do with you, do they?”

Bruce was trying to pull away, but Jay’s grip was only getting tighter, tight enough to hurt. “Fucking let go of me Jay, you’re hurting me.”

“Fucking answer me!”

“No, alright? You’re right! They’re all shit, is that what you want me to say? They all want to treat me like I’m normal, clean me up, make me presentable, show everyone that I’m just like every other fucker in society, but yeah, I’m fucking not. I’m a fat, horny, dirty-minded pig, and you’re the first guy who’s gotten that, really fuckin’ gotten that, but this isn’t you! This isn’t right, you…fuck, I don’t even know how to explain it, but I have to go, I have to figure this shit out, how to fix this.”

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Part 1)

When Bruce woke the next morning, he found himself alone in the bed–but that wasn’t unusual. Jay always rose early to get started on work around the farm before dawn. Bruce had helped him out on a few occasions, but apparently Jay hadn’t needed, or perhaps wanted, Bruce’s help this morning. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that, and he wondered what it meant, if it meant anything at all. It was silly to try and parse it out, he supposed. Jay wasn’t exactly a subtle fellow–he would let Bruce know exactly what he was thinking soon enough. He got up and got dressed in the clothes he’d arrived in the night before–he hadn’t bothered to pack a bag. He hadn’t even really known why he’d even come back here.

Well, that was a lie. He’d come back here because he was lonely. Because even if Jay was a fucking sadistic psychopath (something Bruce had screamed at him when he’d last been in this house) he was also the one person in the world that Bruce felt understood him. All of him. Or at least most of him. He’d grown up in the city, but even living with Jay here on the weekends had changed him. It had been hard, figuring out what to do with himself…because he liked Jay. Hell, he might even love him. But he…also needed to feel safe, and sometimes, Jay could be scary as all hell. It was why he’d left, but it was also why he’d come back, he supposed.

Once he was dressed, he went out into the hallway, and sure enough, there was the scent of breakfast on the air. Jay loved cooking for Bruce–hell, Jay loved everything about Bruce, and maybe that’s why he could be so scary, because he loved Bruce more than Bruce could ever imagine loving himself. He loved parts of himself that Bruce could only ever imagine hating.

He trekked downstairs, listening to Jay whistling one of his old tunes off the country radio station as he cooked, and there was already quite a spread laid out on the table. Jay had heard the old stairwell creaking under Bruce’s weight, and looked over his shoulder at the hefty pig in the doorway, licking his chops as he stood there. “Well go on then, tuck in. I ain’t ‘bout tah fuck ya and not bother tah feed ya, ya know that.”

The voice was congenial, but cold. Distant maybe, or cautious. Jay wasn’t quite sure what to make of Bruce’s sudden appearance either, apparently. Bruce wasn’t about to turn down the offer, and if he rejected a meal from Jay…well, he’d never have a chance with him then. Jay was very proud about his cooking, and he had earned that pride in Bruce’s opinion. He sat down and started shoveling food into him, grunting a bit as he did, and Jay kept filling up the table as he did, softening a bit as he watched the pig eat up, but then, he’d always loved a man who could appreciate his cooking properly. They didn’t talk much though. The last argument they’d had in here was still thick, when Jay had suggested they take their relationship a bit…further, than Bruce had been comfortable with.

So Bruce filled the silence with food, and Jay started washing up the pots and pans in the sink. He could hear Bruce slowing down, getting full, and Jay decided it was time to air things out a bit. “So, you staying? Or are you just gonna come flying in here, without so much as a call, anytime you feel like it?”

Bruce swallowed his mouthful of food, and then sat back. He didn’t know what the answer was himself, really. “I…missed you, I…I’m sorry for the things I said, last time, it wasn’t…kind.”

Jay shrugged. Shrugging was his way of acknowledging something that hadn’t been needed to be said, or that should have been self-evident. When Bruce had called him a fucking sadistic psychopath, Jay had shrugged then, as his way of saying, “We both already know that–why’d you even bother saying it?” It drove Bruce a bit mad when he did that, when Jay just…dismissed him, and what he had to say, like it didn’t really matter, because Jay had already thought of it too.

“But you really…I’m not some animal, you know. I’m a person too. I might be a freak, I don’t…really know what I am to be honest. Being with you feels good, most of the time, but sometimes you really fucking scare me.”

“It only scares ya ’cause ya want it.”

“I do not want it.”

“Pig, ya gotta want it a little, or ya wouldn’t fuckin’ be back here again, now would ya?” Jay quit the dishes, and wiped his thick hands off in a towel, before turning to the table. “Now–are you staying? Or are we gonna keep playin’ this game a while longer, until I get bored with it? Cause I gotta be honest, it’s borin’ as fuckin’ hell on ice.”

“Are you not–can you just not listen to what I’m saying? Is that what’s wrong with you? What you said last time, that was fucking insane shit! I–who the fuck would agree to something like that? Did you honestly expect me to say yes?”

Jay shrugged again, and then walked over to the table. “Ya didn’t finish, pig.”

“I was saving some for you.”

“I already ate when I got up–this is all for you.”

“I…Jay, can we be serious for a fucking second?”

Jay just picked up a pancake, folded it in half, and pushed it against Bruce’s snout, waiting to see what he would do. Bruce opened up, and Jay slid the pancake in. “How about you finish eating pig? Then we can talk about it.”

A Family Man (Caption Sketch)

For those of you who like these sorts of caption stories, I’ve started writing and posting them with some regularity over on my discord server for Patrons! It’s open for everyone supporting me at the five dollar level and up, and includes the ability to request captions, get exclusive access to all the captions I post (because I won’t be posting them all here) and you can also help me out by play testing some of the odd transformation RP games I design in my rare spare time. You can find more details here! I hope y’all had a nice holiday!

It had been a long day for Roy, and a bit of a strange one at his job, and he was glad to finally have the chance to put the day behind him and head home for some peace and quiet. Roy was an office manager at a sizable tech firm, and part of his duties included hiring, and firing, personnel. In particular, he had let go one fellow by the name of Evan the week before. He hadn’t been performing up to par, and had been blaming it on his family–but families were a choice. Kids were a choice. Roy didn’t have kids–of course, Roy was gay, so he had no interest in making them at all. Roy mostly just liked being by himself, that, and working.

But today, Evan had stormed into Roy’s office, and lunged at him, grabbing him by the hair and yanking some out before security hauled Evan off him. Roy was planning on charging him for assault, as soon as he knew more, but that was a problem for another day. Today, he just wanted to get home, relax for a while, listen to some music, cook himself a nice dinner, and go to bed, alone, like always.

Except when he got home to his condo, he realized he wasn’t alone. Someone heard the door, and in a young, male voice called out to him, “Daddy! Daddy come here, I’ve been waiting for you all day!”

No one called Roy daddy–none of his last relationships, and none of his fuckbuddies even. Confused, he went into his bedroom, and saw that it was…different. Everything was filthy, and there on the bed, on hands and knees, was a young, chubby man, his dirty ass facing him, wearing just some ragged, filthy underwear and nothing else.

“Come on daddy, you’ve been away so long today! Your boy needs you so badly…” the young man said, and shook his meaty ass at Roy…and Roy, found himself…confused. He didn’t know this young man, and yet…and yet, something about him seemed…right. “Such a naughty daddy–you don’t understand how important family is at all. Well don’t you worry, I’m going to be all the family you ever need, and you want to be my perfect daddy, don’t you?”

Roy nodded, his mouth dry and unable to speak.

“Take off that suit–my daddy doesn’t work in an office. No, my daddy stays here with me as much as he can, taking good care of me, and making sure I’m nice and happy. Now come on daddy, my crack is so dirty, and you love making sure your boy is nice and clean, don’t you?”

Roy stripped out of the suit, but the clothes didn’t just fall to the floor–as they came off his body, they just vanished away. He didn’t wear a suit after all, he was…he was just a daddy, and maybe something else, sometimes, but always a daddy first. Still, Roy needed lots of reminders about what kind of daddy he was. How old he was. How dirty he was. How fat he was. But most of all, how much he loved his boy, more than anything else in the entire world. After a few days, the old Roy was completely gone, and in his place was the perfect family man–or at least, the perfect daddy for a twisted son like this one.

Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Finale)

Sorry for the missed posts over the last couple of days–work has been crazy busy with the holiday coming up. Here’s the last three chunks of Police Dogs to make up for it! 

Demon dove for the paws, licking at them with his tongue, and deep inside him, something…was screaming and howling with rage, and with fear. Demon…knew who it was, it was the man he’d been, but the anger was already turning to terror, as Chance realized he was being trapped within his own mind, and that the small bits of him that still remained outside of Master Geoff’s control were shrinking smaller and smaller, as he shrunk, and as more and more of his body twisted and warped into the pup Geoff’s collar was turning him into. His tongue…it was so long, and the smells and tastes of Master’s paw were so intense, unlike anything he had ever experienced before in his life. HIs tail was wagging faster now, pounding along with his heart in excitement, and eagerness. He could hear his nails scratching on the floor under him, now more like claws than nails really, his fingers shortening and thickening, losing some of their dexterity as he lost his humanity. But worse, was how excited he was, how excited he couldn’t help being, and he flung himself into worshiping Master’s paws, at least, until Master gave him a kick in the snout, and sent him onto his back, four paws in the air in surprise. Before he could roll over, Master shoved his paw down onto Demon’s head, covering all of his face with the rough pad on the bottom, the scent even more intense, and the sensation of powerlessness…he was nothing. He was nothing, next to his master, he was worthless. He was just a stupid, naughty pup, tiny and insignificant, unable to do anything, unable to disobey, unable to think a single thought that Master hadn’t put into Demon’s tiny head himself. Chance felt his mental confines shrink further, and he screamed again, but to Demon, they seemed…so much further away now. That was good–it had been hard to focus on what was important–cleaning Master’s dirty paws.

Geoff bent down, watching the little pup squirm under his weight, and while he hadn’t thought about shrinking him further than this, a couple of feet tall…he couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like. This was the smallest he’d ever made a pup, really, but there was no reason the collar couldn’t shrink someone smaller…and in fact, there was something he had always wanted to try, and this might be the best opportunity to test it out. He grabbed hold of the collar, and kept pulling, steadily shrinking Demon further still, taking inches off his now measly height, until he was just around a foot and a half tall, not too much larger than the badger’s paw, in all honesty. He felt so fragile, under him, and Geoff supposed he could crush the life out of him, if he so wanted, but he had other pleasures in mind for this one. He pulled his paw away, pleased with the empty look in the pup’s eyes. He was in the final stages of his changes now–his old self was locked away, deep in his mind, where it would starve, slowly. The process took a while, but now, there was no real way of saving him–as far as Geoff was concerned, Chance was gone–all that remained, was Demon, his warped, perverted little pet.

Geoff looked around, and saw that Dingo had wandered off in the midst of this–a peek around the corner, and he was the massive lug right where he expected him to be, looming over the table, and the unfinished box of doughnuts, stuffing them in his maw as quickly as he could. The bigger they got, after all, the hungrier they became, and Dingo was one of the largest he had made–so tall, Dingo had probably knocked his head on the doorframe getting out of the hall. “Dingo!” he said, “Pick up Demon here, and let’s go upstairs–I think I have the perfect punishment in mind for the naughty pup.”

Dingo looked up, knowing he had been caught red handed, or powder sugar handed, perhaps, but his master didn’t seem mad at him for it. Still, he rushed to obey him, while the badger started pulling off his uniform and heading for the stairs, Dingo grabbed Demon by the tail and picked him up. He was…so light, and the pup squirmed in the air, obviously unhappy at being manhandled like this, and Dingo just laughed, and swung him about gently in the air.

“Dingo! Quit playing with your toy, and get up here!”

“Sorry sir!” Dingo said, and hurried for the stairs, clipping his forehead on a doorway as he went, dropping Demon as he did. The pup tried to scurry away, but Dingo grabbed him by the tail again before he could get away, and carrying him upstairs after the badger, and into the bedroom, where Geoff was standing next to the bed. “Get out of that uniform, Dingo–I think it’s time you got a reward.”

Dingo grinned, and set Demon down on the floor. Before he could get his bearings, he found himself pinned under the badger’s paw once again, and all thoughts of escape slipped away from him again, and he focused on sniffing and licking his master’s paws while the larger Dingo struggled to extract himself from the too tight uniform he was now wearing. He managed, eventually, but not without losing a few buttons, and then Geoff directed him to lay down on the bed. He was so large, that even with his head leaning up against the headboard, his paws hung off the end, and his cock, while small compared to his frame, was still a sizable seven inches.

“Alright, Demon–are you ready? You’re going to get one last fuck on your husband’s cock–and we’re going to shrink you until you’re too small to even stay on it. Hear that? You’re going to be so small, you won’t even be useful for sex–all you’ll be able to do is clean our paws, lick out our cracks, and watch me fuck your husband’s ass into submission every night. That’s what happens to naughty pups who don’t do what they’re told–I turn them into my toys.”

Demon was squirming under Geoff’s paw, but whether he was even paying attention to him, the badger didn’t know. That was the problem with these collars, especially when you make someone small–the room left for their brains gets a bit…cramped. He bent down and picked him up, carrying him under the arms and onto the bed, before handing him to Dingo. “Here you go boy–why don’t you give Demon a good last fuck? I want it to be a fuck he’ll remember, so don’t hold back, got it?”

Dingo nodded, took Demon from Geoff’s paws, and held him there, looking at him squirm, trying to free himself, lost somewhere between fear, obedience, and a disappearing past and identity he could no longer really recall. It was…easier, seeing him like this, Dingo thought. It had been harder before, when he was human, when Angus had been so loud, trying to make him stop, trying to get control back, but now that he was looking at this little pup–a pint sized german shepherd, panting, his own cock hard as he squirmed in the air, not quite sure what was about to happen to him, he just felt…sorry for him, a bit, and he didn’t want to hurt him. “Aren’t I…too big?”

“Don’t worry about that, Dingo–he’ll be flexible. Besides, you shouldn’t care about something like that–you like being a brute, don’t you? You kind of like the idea of hurting that pup a bit. After all, hasn’t he been so naughty today?”

Dingo nodded, and he realized that some of that caring, that worry, wasn’t really his–it had leeched in while he wasn’t paying attention, but Master was right. He was a mean, rough, feral mutt, to everyone other than his master, and thinking about fucking this little pup on his big cock…he started leaking just thinking about it, leaking enough that he could drop the pup on the head of his cock, and it was slick enough to work its way inside, the pup barking and howling in surprise and a bit of pain as the massive cock forced its way inside him.

It was as large as his own arm, easily, and the pup was torn between terror, and a raging horniness that was threatening to wipe away everything else. His head just felt so small and tight all of a sudden, and it couldn’t hold everything in it that had been in it before. Whatever was most present, and most immediate, was being saved–everything else, if he didn’t focus on it, was slipping away, never to be seen again. Dingo shoved him down a little further, forcing the pup’s tailhole to open further, and Geoff bent over and whispered in Demon’s ear, telling how good it felt to be fucked, how much he loved having a massive cock in his hole–he was so naughty, he wanted cock in him all the time, and that’s why he was being punished. He’d been a bad dog, and so, he was going to have to be so small, he’d never be able to get fucked again.

Dingo kept thrusting up, working most of his cock into the pup’s tight hole, and then Geoff took hold of the end of Demon’s collar, and pulled it tighter. His body constricted again, tightening around Dingo’s cock, stretching his hole even more, and he howled, Dingo having to keep a tight hold, to keep his cock from slipping from the pup’s hole. For his part, a desperate Demon was trying hard to keep the cock in his guts–he loved getting fucked, and knowing that this was going to be his last fuck ever…he was going to have to make it last as long as possible, no matter how small he got.

Geoff watched the little german shepherd constrict around the dingo’s cock, and his own cock got even harder. He got up and straddled Dingo’s massive frame, so his own cock was in front of Demon, took hold of his tiny frame, and started fucking him up and down on Dingo’s cock, watching the little pup go slack, just enjoying the sensation of the massive cock rearranging his guts, his face and gut grinding against his master’s cock in the process, absolutely helpless, and yet, more content than he’d ever felt in his life, because there was nothing he could do. He was helpless–they could do whatever they wanted to him, and there was nothing he could do to stop them, they had absolute power, and that meant he had to be their…their slave, or even lower than that, their pet, their toy.  He was nothing, and with another tug on the collar, he shrank again, less than a foot tall, his body no longer able to take all of Dingo’s cock–but the massive dog had reached his limit anyway. His cock exploded inside of Demon’s body, and like a bottle rocket, and because Geoff was only holding onto him by the collar–as he flew, it pulled tighter and tighter around his neck, tighter than Geoff had ever intended, shrinking him less than a foot, less than six inches, until he was just three or four, dangling by the end of the collar, choking until Geoff laid the tiny pup on the bed, where he could catch his breath in the pool of cum still leaking out of his hole.

Dingo just kept panting on the bed, oblivious to what had happened, while Geoff loomed over him, surprised that the little pup was still alive. He picked Demon up by the tail and looked at him, Demon staring at the massive badger’s face looming right in front of him. “Hmm…well, that’s a bit smaller than I was expecting.”

Still, there was nothing to be done–but at least he could secure the collar and lock it in place. If it shrank anymore, Demon might just cease to exist. It took some work, manipulating the little tail of the shrunk collar soit slid into the loop, but he managed it, and sealed the length for good–for better or worse, Demon was a pup the size of a mouse…now what in the hell was he going to do with him? Geoff sighed–he’d figure something out, he supposed. He dropped Demon back on the bed, and told Dingo to get up from the bed–that it was time to leave. The two of them got dressed, Dingo struggling with his ill-fitting uniform again, but with Geoff’s help, he got situated enough that he was presentable, and then Geoff dropped the still stunned Demon in the pocket of his shirt, and they left the house, never to return.

No one ever really figured out what happened to the nice couple, Angus and Chance, who had lived there. Some people said there was a kidnapping, others said they had moved, some suggested a long vacation, but no one remembered them for long. The bank eventually foreclosed on the house, and resold it to someone else–but by then, their memory had long since disappeared from reality, for everyone besides Geoff. Geoff remembered everything, and he was having a grand time with his Dingo.

In the past months, nearly a year, Dingo had kept packing on weight at a steady clip. On his tall frame though, even four hundred pounds seemed normal–mostly. Geoff kept feeding him though–he wanted his brutish mutt to be his largest pup yet, telling him, while he fucked his fat ass, that he was going to keep stuffing him until he was too fat to even get out of bed. Dingo liked that, and he gave another shudder, shooting another load of cum into the milker attached to his cock, draining his cum into a small tank by the side of the bed. After a few more minutes, Geoff came deep, and pulled out–the two of them laid on the bed for a while, Geoff resting his head on Dingo’s large gut until he got tired, swung himself out of bed, and unhooked the tank. He had another pet to keep fed after all–and after that massive fucking had twisted up the little pup’s guts, the only thing the tiny pup could eat anymore was cum–specifically Dingo’s. He loved the stuff, and the more he drank, the fatter he got as well–though he always seemed to shrink back down from a sphere after a day or two. Still, watching the little german shepherd gorge himself on his one-time husband’s cum never ceased to thrill Geoff, and watching the little pup fight for it was getting hard again–hard enough for a second go at Dingo’s hole in the meantime, before their night shift started. They were patrolling the highway, and Geoff had started hankering for another police dog to play with in the worst way.