Emptied Out (Part 4)

Nathan woke up to something being thrown in his face–something that reeked. He pushed it away with a gag, and found the passenger side door open, and Biff standing there. The things he’d given him were clothes–or rather, just a pair of underwear. A set of briefs, heavily stained in the front and the back. “Put ‘em on boy, ‘n let’s git ya inside.”

“I’m not wearing these,” he said, holding them away from him.

“All I got boy–’n if ya don’t wanna wear ‘em, ya’ll just have tah cross the complex ass out.”

“Fuck, give me a fag,” Nathan said, irritated, “I need a smoke to think.”

“Put the briefs on, and I’ll let you light up.”

Nathan growled in frustration, swung his legs out, and struggled into the briefs. They were tight on him–clearly they were Biff’s, but he wore a size larger than daddy did at this point. Nathan shook his head, pushing the memory away. It wasn’t his bulk, this wasn’t real. He stood up, feeling the whities riding up his sweaty asscrack. He considered making a break for it, but he had no idea where he was, and a morbidly obese man running around in his underwear wasn’t going to make him any friends here. He took the fag Biff gave him, relieved for smoke, and was thinking clearer when they got to his tiny, filthy apartment–and the stench of the briefs was nothing compared to the smell inside.

There were pizza boxes and fast food bags littered everywhere, and nothing looked like it had been cleaned in ages. Furniture was minimal, with most of the space dedicated to a couch and a large TV, with a computer off to the side–hopefully with an internet connection. It would be his best chance to get help, probably, unless he could get to a phone. Biff tore the rest of the rags off of him, leaving him in just the loaned whities, his massive gut hanging out now with no obstruction.

“Git in the bathroom, boy, that mop has gotta go.”

“What?” Nathan asked.

“The hair, son. Don’t ya want a good buzz like yer daddy?” Biff said, running a hand over his head. “Ya will soon enough, so let’s git ya buzzed–or else no fags, and no soda, either.”

Thinking about the soda made his gut growl. How could he possibly still be hungry after everything he’d eaten today? Still, his gut wasn’t lying, and his fag was already half gone. It was just hair–best to cooperate for now, and see if he got an opportunity to use the computer later.

The bathroom was somehow even dirtier than the rest of the apartment. Biff told him to stand in the shower, and from the layer of fine hair coating the tub, it was clear it hadn’t been used for a proper shower in quite a while. Biff grabbed the clippers by the sink, and started attacking Nathan’s hair–the blades hadn’t been oiled in a while, making them hot to the touch, and they kept pulling at his hair, but before long Biff had his hair razored down to nothing, just a layer of fuzz. He ran his hand over Nathan’s head, and saw the boy shiver in the whities he was wearing.

“Feel good, boy?”

“Y-yeah, it kind of does…”

“Yeah, ain’t nothin’ quite like a freshly buzzed head,” Biff said, rubbing it slowly, standing closer to him so their bellies pressed together. Nathan had expected it to feel disgusting, but it was comfortable, and…familiar somehow. “Lookin’ real good Nate, gotta say–real happy with ya so far.”

“My name isn’t Nate, don’t call me that.”

“Best just get used to it boy–ya ain’t gonna be gettin’ away from me, not now.” He took a drag off his cigarette, leaned in and fed Nathan his smoke, and the two of them passing it back and forth a few times, until Nathan got a bit lightheaded, feeling his cock pressing hard against his gut. Biff stepped into the tub with him, pushing more of his fat against him, and pinning him to the wall, one hand holding his cigarette, taking long drags of smoke to feed Nathan, his other hand reaching under his boy’s huge gut and rubbing his cock through his crusty whities. Nathan was trying to keep himself calm, but everytime he started to push away, Biff would shove him back, and rub his hand over his shaved skull, making him shiver and buck against his hand. “Go on boy, do it,” Biff whispered to him, “Shoot a big load right intah yer daddy’s filthy whities, I wanna see how wet ya can get em, ya fat fuckin’ pig.”

None of that should have made him horny, but Nathan lost control, rutting harder against Biff’s hand, feeling himself fast approaching the point of no return. The cum spilled out of him, and he felt the comfortable blankness washing back over him, Biff plucking the cigarette from between his sagging lips before it fell onto their guts and burned them.

“Yeah, such a good boy for daddy, Nate–we’re gonna have you all empty here soon, don’t you worry about a thing. Now come on, I wanna show ya the thing ya love tah do most in the world with daddy, even more than smokin’ fags ‘n stuffin’ that pig face a yers.”

Emptied Out (Part 3)

“Hot smoker, just like yer daddy,” Biff said, and pushed some smoke in Nathan’s direction. It…smelled different, coming from him. Hotter, somehow, and he blew some of it back, his hand slipping back down to his crotch, thinking about how horny he always got, trading smoke with his daddy like a couple of perverts. Biff noticed, but didn’t say anything, just kept pushing smoke in his direction, watching Nathan slowly lose focus, groping himself more and more, his hand slipping into his still damp khakis to stroke himself properly. He finished his second cigarette, and came back to himself for a bit, pulling his hand away, but he only lasted half an hour before asking daddy for another.

“Sorry boy. Ya want another cigarette from me, you’re gonna have to shoot a load. That, or ya gotta give me some good road head.”

The idea of getting anywhere near Biff’s cock horrified him, and he wasn’t about to jack off again…but he needed a cigarette. Biff kept pushing smoke in his direction, and it was maddening, and hot and sexy, and his hand slipped back down. What harm was there in…one little cum shot? It wasn’t so bad, right? Biff kept sending him smoke, and watched him give in, stroking faster now, until after a couple of minutes he shot again, and just like before, Nathan went slack, eyes glazed over and mouth hanging open.

“Emptied yerself out again, Nate?”

“Yes daddy…” he muttered.

Biff took the next exit off the highway into a small town, “Good, I was gettin’ hungry. Let’s get us both filled back up, eh?”

There was a fast food joint right by the off ramp, and he pulled into the drive through, and the guy taking the order thought it was a joke at first, Biff ordered so much food. It took a little while to get everything, but before too long, they were parked, with bags and bags of burgers and fries–with plenty of soda to wash it down. Biff pulled out a burger and put it to Nate’s mouth. “Go on Nate–feed that big ol’ gut a yers.” Nate mindlessly took a bite, chewing slowly and swallowing. Biff grabbed one of his slack hands and put it on the burger to hold it. “Faster boy. Ya eat like a fuckin’ pig. Don’t care how messy ya get, ya just need it in ya.”

Nate started eating faster now, and Biff kept encouraging him, reminding him to take plenty of drinks of soda–after all, he loved soft drinks, and anything sweet. He was hungry, always hungry, even hungrier than his dad, usually. Hell, he was fatter than his dad was even–he could remember how proud he was the day his gut sagged down even lower than his dad’s did, couldn’t he? Nate kept trying to agree, but his mouth was too busy shoveling in food for any of it to be intelligible. He ate and ate, his gut expanding at a rapid pace as he did, the buttons on his shirt popping off one by one, the undershirt riding up as his gut dropped between his thighs, his pants stretched to the limit as he grew larger and larger. He became more animated, slowly, Nathan coming back to the fore as he filled himself back up, but he didn’t stop eating–he couldn’t stop eating, sucking down his soda, and sucking down on his cigarette, of course. He was such a good son, cumming for his daddy, and now he got his reward–another smoke, and a massive fast food meal to boot! It wasn’t until he finished most of the food off–his dad having eaten a sizable portion as well, that he leaned back, let off a belch, and realized just how much bigger he’d become–and realized that they’d stopped moving.

Nathan fumbled with the door handle, and nearly fell out of the van. As he did, he felt a massive shudder in his fat as his khakis, and underwear, finally burst from the pressure, and he was left standing in the parking lot, in full view of the people in the restaurant, naked from the waist down, a massive, hairy apron hanging free…and he didn’t know what to do. He needed to get help, but not like this. He couldn’t possibly let anyone see him like this!

“Son, git yer fat ass back in the damn van!” Biff shouted at him, and Nathan struggled to resist.

“You…you aren’t my dad! This…this can’t be real, I’m just imagining this. I can’t…actually be this big,” he muttered, hefting his gut and letting it fall, feeling it thwack against his thick thighs. “I mean…I eat lots, but…but not like this.”

“Boy, git back in the van.”

“No. No, I’m not…going anywhere else with you.”

Biff sighed, “Boy, git back in the van, and we’ll go ‘round again ‘n git ya some shakes. Ya are still hungry, ain’t ya? One a every flavor–enough tah git ya home.”

HIs gut rumbled like an earthquake, and his mouth watered, thinking about it. Fuck, he was…hungry. So hungry, even though he’d just eaten so much food, he could barely believe it was still inside him. “But…but I…”

“Son, what ya think’s gonna happen when those folk call the cops on ya? Think Master’s gonna be happy when he’s gotta bail yer fat ass outta jail? Probably just leave ya in there with ‘em, ‘n make ya some jailbitch. Now git in the car, ‘n let’s git dessert.”

He was right–there was nothing he could do looking like this–without even any clothes to wear. That…and dessert sounded really damn good. He got back in, surprised by how hard it was maneuvering his huge bulk, and Biff drove him back through, ordering a shake in every flavor as promised–twelve in total–and then headed back for the highway while Nathan sucked down shake after shake, and cigarette after cigarette to go with them. He managed well enough for the rest of the ride at least–though Biff kept ripping off the worst farts Nathan had ever smelled in his life, laughing after every one he made, and refusing to roll the windows down. Thankfully the food made him sleepy, and not too long after finishing the last shake, he passed out for a while, snoring and belching away, Biff reaching over to grope his boy’s massive fat belly occasionally, and then drove into the city, arriving at the small apartment complex where he lived not too long after that, in the evening.

Performance Reviews (Part 5)

*~* Six Months Later *~*

“Come on, Shitface,” Aaron said gruffly around his cigar, and tugged the leather leash. Whatever had caught it’s attention, the office pet followed Aaron into the bathroom to start it’s day. The bathroom had seen better days, but then again, it hadn’t been cleaned in nearly a year at this point. The partitions had all been torn out, leaving just two open toilets, covered in piss stains and shit smears, a couple sinks that no longer worked, and a urinal with a puddle of reeking piss that Shitface headed towards, while Aaron attached the end of the lead to the hook on the wall, next to the toilets. Shitface didn’t notice, it was too busy sucking up as much of the piss as it could. Aaron watched for a moment, still unable to believe that after all of this time, Carson was still in there somewhere. Cum dripped from the head of Shitface’s chastity cage, but it’s cock didn’t harden–Aaron had taught the beast better, with a good amount of electric shock punishment, and while it remained plenty horny, it hadn’t strained in its cage in a few months. With that, Aaron left the bathroom to get to work–Bryce needed his morning whipping while he ate breakfast. The fat fuck had been slowing down lately, and Ollie wanted him cresting nine hundred pounds by the end of the month, and pain had turned out to be a great motivator for him.

Shitface, meanwhile, finished off the puddle of old piss, and then knelt by the toilet, panting, and waiting. It wasn’t long before someone came in–Cletus, in fact, hauling around his huge gut in a pair of overalls, tobacco spit drooling into his wiry mass of a beard. He sat down with a grunt and started shitting, Shitface sucking his cock while he did and drinking his dipspit as well, until he finished, and then Cletus stood up, turned around, and let Shitface get what the beast really wanted, the nasty filth left in the crack. When it was clean, Cletus gave the beast a pet on the head and told it that it had dome a real good job, and noticed Ollie had stepped in after him without saying anything. Cletus offered his nasty redneck hole to him, but Ollie said he had some business with Shitface first, and Cletus left, disappointed, but some other dirty fucker in the office would want to ride him, he was certain.

“Well, it’s been another six months–why don’t we give you a real nice reward, eh Shitface, and see how Carson is doing in there?”

Ollie walked over, got down, and unlocked the cage around the beast’s cock. It didn’t know what to do–it hadn’t had it’s cock free in so long, and when Ollie started rubbing it, it didn’t respond at all–the beast knew what happened if it got hard, after all. Still, with some urging from Ollie, Shitface got into it, humping into his fist while he sniffed at his pits, but he didn’t manage to cum until Ollie bent over and let it eat out his crack. Only then, did he finally work a massive load from the beast, six months worth of cum pouring out of him and onto the filthy tile, and slowly, from the depths of himself that he hadn’t even known he possessed, Carson pushed his way back to the surface.

Or at least, what was left of him.

“Wha, where am…I? He muttered, lips struggling to form the words it had nearly forgotten.

“Welcome back Carson,” Ollie said, “It’s time for your review. But maybe, first, you should take a look at yourself in that mirror there.”

Carson crawled over where Ollie pointed, getting about a yard before realizing he was crawling. He tried to stand up…but didn’t quite know how, and ended up in a strange stoop, clinging to the sink to keep himself upright, and he could see what the last six months had done to him.

He was so smooth–smooth, and filthy. The hair on his head had either been freshly shaved that day, but from the grunge on his scalp, it was more likely that it had been removed entirely. The same with the hair on his face–and the hair on the rest of his body, though it looked like Ollie or Aaron had decided to replace it with tattoos. His entire front was covered with ink, and it ran down his arms and legs as well–but not on his face, for some reason. No–his face seemed wrong in other ways–his nose turned up, eyes small, mouth too large. That, and he was so…fat, so much fatter than he had been. He couldn’t remember clearly, but he’d been…around 275 when he’d last gone under, but now he looked to be close to 400, enough that he’d felt his gut graze the ground when he’d crawled a moment before. “What…you do to me? Not right, this not right.”

“Of course it’s right, Carson. This is you. You’re a brownnosing, filthy little animal, aren’t you?”

That did sound right, actually, but something…was saying no. A distant voice, but it was there. He shook his head, his hair flinging around him, but nothing seemed any clearer than before. “Not right, not right!” he yelled, “Not right, not me, no!”

He tried to turn and face Ollie, but fell back onto his hands and knees, where he knew he belonged. Ollie regarded him, and the cage in his hand. “I should probably just lock you away for a while longer, really do away with you, make you too stupid and weak to resist, but you know what? This is going to be more fun, you fucking animal.”

Carson slipped away, back into the darkness, and when he next surfaced, he had his face planted in a filthy crack, and someone was fucking him rough, rough like Master fucked him, rough how he liked it now. He’d cum again, and he struggled to pull away, but couldn’t–he was too tired, he was too tired to fight it anymore. The crack pulled away eventually, and Carson looked behind him, and saw it was Master fucking him, leering down at him around his massive cigar, and he felt…fear. So much fear. Obey master, always obey Master, or else punishment, so much punishment.

“Fuck, he is still in there, ain’t he?” Aaron said.

“The code phrase will work for you too, use it if you have to, and cage him up if his mind starts to come back and resist. I don’t think he will though–give him a few weeks, and he’ll accept it.”

Aaron waved the cage in his face, and said, “I don’t know, think I can trust you with your mind out, Shitface?”

He knew that wasn’t his name, not really, but…he couldn’t remember the other one, even though he knew Ollie had said it earlier. He nodded regardless. It was Master’s name for him, and that was all that really mattered.

Aaron looked back at Ollie, “I’m gonna enjoy having him know what’s happening to him–and trust me, in another six months? He’ll love it. I’ll make him love it, all of it. He’ll want to be a fucking pet–he’ll be begging me to use the words on him, to give him the release he craves.”

Ollie laughed. “Well, I’ll let you get started then, Aaron. And that was an excellent review as always–you’re my star employee.”

“Thank you, sir,” Aaron said, “I wouldn’t want any other job than this one.”

Performance Reviews (Part 4)

“I’m still that person, you can’t fucking break me,” Carson said, “I’m gonna blow this whole fucking thing wide open, you can’t do this forever!”

Ollie nodded, “Yeah, I know you’d try–and so, that’s why I’ve decided I simply can’t let that rational mind of yours hold onto the wheel much anymore,” he stepped closer, and Carson could…smell him, smell his stinking ass, but he fought against that urge as hard as he could. “See, that rational mind is still yours, but the rest of your head? I own it. All of it. Fuck, if you’d just give in, you wouldn’t even recognize yourself in a few days. So you know what? You’re going to have to learn how to let go–isn’t that right, you fucking animal?”

Carson didn’t know how to describe what happened next. It was like the urges pent up inside him ramped up to a roar, and every trick he’d found to hold them back could barely keep them at bay. He heard himself start panting, and smelled…piss. He’d pissed himself in the chair, right where he was sitting, and he hadn’t even cared. “No, you, how you do…that…” Carson said, but the words were slow, and nothing seemed to make sense.

“You are a tough one, aren’t you?” Ollie said, “Well, nothing can stop a fucking animal like you, trust me.”

He lost it. Carson felt his mind flung away, the instinct and desires Ollie had spent months planting in him taking complete control, and he threw himself out of the chair and onto his hands and knees, snorting and panting, nosing around to the back of Ollie’s pants. He…didn’t have a clear memory of what happened after that, it was just a cascade of wants and desires, none of it conscious, just a pursuit of whatever twisted pleasure his bestial and perverted mind desired. The next thing he knew, he was cumming, and the beast inside him lost force, allowing Carson to resurface and gain control again–and he found himself around the side of Bryce’s desk, still humping his massive, flabby thigh, and from the wetness in his pants, he had clearly cum just from grinding himself against his boss’s massive leg.

He fell back and looked to the clock. Two hours. He’d lost control for two hours, and he couldn’t remember a second of it, not clearly. He felt something cold in the back of his pants as well, and realized that somewhere in the midst of his rutting, he had shat himself as well. He was shaking in horror, and he looked up at Ollie standing over him. “I’m…I’m sorry, I’ll…I’ll do it, I’ll do everything, I swear, please don’t let it back out, please…”

“I’m sorry Carson, I really am, but you won’t be able to help yourself. You love control a bit too much. And in all honesty? You’re a hot fucking animal when you let go–and I’d rather have that nasty fucking beast in the office than you. Stand up, and strip.”

Carson, still pleading with him, stood up and took off his filthy shirt and soiled pants and underwear. Ollie grabbed something amongst the food on the desk, a little metal…something he didn’t recognize. Ollie started putting it on his cock, and Carson realized what it must be–a chastity cage. “No…No, you can’t…”

“Don’t worry Carson, I’ll let you out again eventually, but six months locked away will do a marvelous job grinding away some of that troublesome mind of yours. I have a feeling that when your next review rolls around, you’ll be a whole new man.”

He locked the cage, and gave it a tug, making sure it was secure. It was…so small. There was no way his cock could get an erection in it. “Please, please, just let me try.”

“Enjoy your last thoughts Carson–because you’re going to spend a good long time as my nasty, fucking animal from now on.”

He tried to fight it, but he was too weak to resist it again, and Carson’s rational mind slipped away again, and the animal fell onto its hands and knees, looking at the cage on its cock and whining a bit.

Ollie went to the door and hollered, “Aaron! Quit beating on the intern for a bit, and get over here. The project I mentioned is ready for you.”

Aaron appeared in the doorway, and grinned when he saw the snorting, empty eyed beast where Carson had been moments before. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding.”

“Yeah, but he’s…well, look at the mess he made earlier. You’re job is to train the thing, make sure it can behave–or at least make sure it isn’t pissing and shitting all over the place–or make it clean up after itself if you prefer. Beyond that, make sure it stays plenty horny all the time–with that rank ass of yours, I doubt you’ll have a hard time with that. it’ll be going home with you too–so get used to parking around back, by the loading dock, out of sight. If people see him, we’ll have issues.”

“Sure thing Boss–can I give the thing a better name, too?”

Ollie shrugged, “Why not? What do you have in mind?”

“Come here, Shitface,” he said, calling Carson over, and the beast crawled to him, and started sucking his thick cock. “I think he likes it.”

Performance Reviews (Part 3)

*~* Six Months Later *~*

Don’t leave.

Carson opened the door to his apartment, stepped outside, and locked the door behind him.

Don’t get in the car, don’t do it, you don’t have to go there. You don’t have to be what the want you to be.

He walked down the steps, smelling the filth all over his unwashed shirt–the same shirt he’d been wearing for over a month at this point, the front stained with cum, ash, food–everything he could think of. He was horrified that someone might see him again, like they had yesterday–the shame…fuck, he hated this, he hated it, but he had to go, he had to. It was his job.

It’s not a job! It’s some fucked up twisted fucking shit. Don’t start the car. Don’t start the car, get out, and call the police, fucking call the police!

He started the car, backed out, and drove to the office, part of him already thinking about the delicious, unwashed asscracks waiting for him, and the other part, the real part, the…smaller part of him, horrified that he’d been doing this for months on end, and he hadn’t once been able to resist it. Still, at least he was trying to resist it–it seemed like the rest of the men in the office had all given into whatever strange shit Ollie had done to them, and never once looked back.

He parked the car, tried one last time to keep himself from going in there, and then took the elevator up, a bit of drool escaping the corner of his mouth and running down the stubble on his chin. Other things had changed about him too, he was certain. Some of them were indisputable, like his weight. Every guy in the office had gained at least fifty pounds over the last six months, and some had gained…substantially more. More than should even be possible, in all honesty. Then, there was the hair. Everyone was hairier, and everyone had grown some kind of facial hair–usually a full beard, but depending on the role, some were allowed to shave parts of it appropriately. Carson, however, wasn’t like the rest of them…and it made sense. He was lesser than the rest of them, after all, he didn’t deserve hair. He shaved his all off twice a week–both on his head, and on his face, and around his cock too. It made him feel strange being around so many hairy men, but…but he didn’t deserve to look like a man, he supposed. Everyone should be able to tell right away, looking at him, that he was something less than a man, less than human, even.

The office was thick with smoke and the stench of rank bodies. The men already there were all involved with their usual activities, but he didn’t get to anyone before Aaron spotted him and made a beeline for him down the hall. Aaron was…huge, and one of the few men in the office who had packed on muscle in addition to a layer of fat. He was wearing his usual office attire–or what had become his usual attire, at least. Leather chaps and a vest, his gut hanging out that seemed to get hairier by the day, muir cap, and his favorite paddle in his hand, ready to strike anyone who needed a little extra discipline that morning. “Shitface! Bryce and Ollie want to see you–time for your six month review.” Then he gave Carson a wink–not a good sign. “Already had mine, told me I’m doin’ great. Turning into the perfect, nasty, domineering leather bear they wanted me to be. Tell me I’m gettin’ some new responsibilities around here soon. Hope I’ll still have time to spend with that tongue of yours.” He passed Carson, and as he did, gave his ass a sharp smack with the paddle, making him yelp and hurry along faster to Bryce’s office–or Ollie’s office really, he supposed. Ollie was the one who was really in charge here after all.

He knocked, and Ollie told him he could enter after a moment. Inside, he found the usual scene, or what had become the usual scene. Bryce was at his desk, which was clear of anything work related these days, and was now piled high with food. In six months, he had somehow gained nearly three hundred pounds of pure fat, a massive stinking apron hanging down between his huge thighs. He looked over at Ollie, love struck, and then kept stuffing himself, while Ollie, relatively unchanged, though filthier than ever, beckoned Carson in and had him sit down in the chair in front of the desk. Carson did everything he could to try and get out of there–the last review he had in here was still fresh in his mind–but Ollie had him, and Ollie knew it.

“Now Carson, why don’t we start off with a…self-assessment. As you remember, six months ago, Bryce and I gave you a new position here in the office. How has being the official brownnoser been going? You can be honest.”

“Fuck you,” Carson said, “You fucking freak, I don’t know how the fuck you’ve been doing this, but this stops–”

Ollie held up his hand and Carson’s lips froze, “Alright, that’s plenty of honesty from you. I was worried that you weren’t taking to your new role as readily as some of the other men in the office. In fact, I’d say you’re probably the most stubborn man here. Everyone else, in fact, has been adjusting great, and loving their new lives. You should have heard Aaron gush about how much he loves flogging Bryce’s big ass here. You love it too, don’t you Bryce? Be honest.”

“Oh fuck Ollie, I…I’m so disgusting, but I do,” he moaned with his mouth full, “I wanna be bigger, I wanna get…get stuck in here, fuck, I wanna be so big I can’t move.”

“See?” Ollie said, and turned back to Carson. “Now, with you, I’ve tried some extra programming, tried to convince you to give in, but I just don’t think it’s in you, Carson. You just can’t let go of that person you used to be.”

I’ll Change for You (Part 9)

It was only half an hour or so, but it felt like an eternity. When the door to the bedroom next opened, the butler was there, now naked and wearing a set of leather manacles, and Burt entered the room, clad head to toe in a perfectly tailored leather suit, gloves and hat–though it was distinctly crotchless, allowing his massive, ten inch cock to hang free. “Now boy, why don’t the two of us pick up where we left off?”

Herman got on his knees before the dean, before his…Master, at least for the night, and sucked his cock, and once again, like before, Burt could feel the arousal welling up inside him, the pendant he had on under the leather shirt almost hot against his skin. But there was no fantasy running through his mind, not this time. Instead, everything around him became more and more vivid, every flick of Herman’s tongue across the head of his cock sending shivers running through his gut, massive thighs, and second and third chins. He knew what he wanted. He knew what they both needed.

“On the bed boy–that’s enough sucking. Daddy wants to see how his new boy’s hole feels.”

Herman was all too eager. Despite the pain in his gut, he got up and laid on his back, as Burt ordered him to do, legs in the air. Burt got up as well, pushed his legs back, and slowly slid the head of his cock into Herman’s ass. It was larger than anything he’d ever taken before, but somehow it slid right into him like it belonged there–because in Burt’s mind, it did. But it more than belonged in there, Burt could…see Herman now, the true version of him, at least a hundred pounds heavier than he was now, clean shaven from face to toe, his boy cock caged up, looking at his daddy while he fucked him with desperate desire…but beyond lust, he felt…love.

Love. A deep, unrelenting affection. This was more than he had with Jules, Jules was a meer mirage of this. No–he loved this boy. Loved him to the ends of the earth, loved him so dearly he would do anything for him, be anyone his boy desired him to be. And if his lovely, lovely boy desired nothing more than he be a short, obese, pipe smoking daddy bear with a ten inch cock, mercilessly ramming it deep into his ass while he cried out for more, and more, and more–well, then Burt was going to give it to him. He was going to give this boy everything he’d ever desired.

He came. He came, and he saw the shape of the boy’s moans resting in the air, he heard the color of his smooth skin, he felt their wills bending together, their fates melding into some singular strain of life. He felt a yes–a grand, all abiding yes resonating in their bones, tuned together as his boy came as well, a massive volley of cum erupting from his caged cock and up onto his heaving belly. He felt a mighty love warping them into shapes neither of them could have imagined, a terrible love, a horrific love, and he was left weak and trembling, tears streaming down his face from the beauty of it, and the sight of his daddy’s crying filled Hermy with great unease.

“Daddy? Daddy, what’s the matter?”

Burton gave his head a little shake, his eyes refocusing on the boy before him, and he smiled. He was happy. He was so…enormously happy. So happy, he could forgive the boy cumming without permission, all he wanted was to hold him tight to him for hours–and so he did. Jules came by a couple hours later, silently slipping open the door to see, and saw his two masters sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms, the lights still on in the room. He didn’t begrudge them, not anymore, though he had been so fiercely jealous of the boy those fifteen years ago, when the dean had met the newest member of the faculty and fallen deeply, inexplicably in love.

But now–now he couldn’t hold it against them, either of them. There was a place for him here as well, in service, but he could never come between them. There was no space there, they were…inseparable, somehow, in a way Jules couldn’t explain, not even after serving them all this time. It was a beautiful love, but also terrifying. Looking at them, he was crying without even knowing why, shaking as he turned out the lights, and retreated down to his small room in the basement, where he was safe, and alone.

It was a couple of weeks later now, and Spring had begun to shake itself from a dull and dreary Winter at long last. Burton and Hermy were striding down the street, hand in hand, discussing the work of the day. Unable to maintain a relationship at the college, Hermy had instead begun teaching at a local private school. It wasn’t his passion, and he did miss the research, but he knew it was for the best, so he could be with his daddy. He felt, at times, like he’d lost something, a piece of himself he hadn’t even been aware of having. It wasn’t his anymore–he’d given it away, and there was no getting it back.

He looked over and saw a strange old man, standing outside a shop somehow wedged impossibly between a bodega and old electronics shop. He was grinning, and watching them walk down the street together. He looked over at daddy, and he too had noticed him, and Daddy gave to old man the slightest of nods, like an old friend from another life, and then suggested they returned home for dinner.

I’ll Change for You (Part 8)

He hauled himself up from the chair and went to the kitchen, where a naked man in his 40’s was bustling about, naked aside from leather manacles on his wrists and ankles, and a cock cage riveted in place–at Jules request. Burt rather enjoyed men to have pleasure, but ever since they had met fifteen years prior, Jules just a student at the time, he had longed to be Herman’s live in slave. He’d dropped out and moved into the basement, and Burt had never been dissatisfied–well, perhaps on occasion, but a session in the dungeon always fixed things right up. “How is it coming, boy?” he asked.

“Dinner will be ready right at six thirty, as you requested, sir,” Jules said, giving him a little bow from his position at the stove, “Is there anything you need from me in the meantime?”

Burt shook his head. “No–but I do need you to play the part for this one–at least for one night. I doubt Herman will need the performance after one dinner. Make sure you’re dressed by five-thirty, manacles off as well.”

Burt could see Jules’ unhappiness in a slight sigh before nodding. Clothes were strange for him in the house, and he hated taking the manacles off especially–he claimed he felt unbalanced without them. Still, Master’s orders were Master’s orders, and he kept cooking away, while Burt returned to his study, selected a pipe, packed it, lit it, and then went to relax, ordering an old fashioned from Jules while he waited, catching up on some reading while he did. The time slipped by, and Herman was early. The bell rang at five-fifty, and Jules rushed to the foyer, immaculately dressed in his house uniform, and greeted Herman at the door, before ushering him into the sitting room where Burt was sitting, pipe wafting smoke.

“Good evening, Dean,” Herman said, the nerves apparent in his voice. The title caught Burt off guard for a moment–he’d been a professor earlier in the afternoon, but apparently he hadn’t caught on to his latest position. He was a dean, wasn’t he? The Dean of Humanities, in particular, which helped explain some of Herman’s nerves.

‘Have a seat, Herman. What can Jules get for you? He makes a fine cocktail, though he’s best at the classics.”

Herman asked for a Manhattan. Burt approved, and Jules fetched a drink, all while juggling dinner at the same time. He’d been such a poor student, back in the day–so good that he’d managed to find his calling, eventually, in Herman’s employ. The drink came, and they made small talk. Herman’s eyes flitted about the room, but were drawn back to Burt’s pipe several times. Burt offered him a smoke, but he declined. It was no matter–he’d take whatever Burt gave him soon enough, the dean was certain of that.

Jules summoned them to the dining room, where Herman found a massive, luxurious feast all up and down the space–far too much for two people to hope to eat, and after the sizable lunch earlier in the day, he felt a bit queasy. “I…I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite, at the moment,” he muttered, knowing full well what was likely to happen next. Burt shushed him, and sat him down, piled his plate eye, and got him started, and only after Herman was eating well, did he take a serving of his own, as large as Herman’s, and begin eating himself. Each time Herman slowed, Burt would encourage him further, and the encouragement became orders, and orders became demands. Burt touched him–lightly at first, lying hands on his shoulders, but found his way lower and lower, over his belly, down into his crotch where he groped Herman’s hard cock, always continuing their conversation as if nothing strange at all was occurring, Jules slitting in and out, taking dishes and bringing others, until Herman, at last, insisted.

“I can’t! I can’t, sir, please…Please, I feel like I’m going to burst…” he moaned, clutching his gut.

Burt chuckled, “Oh? But we can’t forget dessert now, can we?”

Herman looked up at him in horror, unable to even imagine, and watched as Burt undid the front of his pants, and allowed them to fall around his ankles, and lifted up his gut. “It isn’t small, by any means, but I have a feeling you have the…appetite for it, don’t you boy?”

Indeed he did. Burt was so short that Herman had to awkwardly bend over the arm of the chair to get at his cock, even when sitting down, but he’d been lusting after the dean for so long now, the two of them playing so hard to get…or had they? The last two days had felt so strange to him, this beautiful, domineering man simply appearing in his life like he’d always been there, like he’d walked from his dreams and appeared fully formed in reality, and Herman wasn’t going to let this chance pass him by.

“Yes, that’s a good boy–you like sucking on daddy’s big cock?”

Herman tried to answer, but Burt drove his cock in deeper, making him gag slightly, before pulling away a bit, Herman gasping for air. After a few minutes of teasing him, Burt pulled away, squatted down and pulled his pants back up. “Jules, I think your guest will be spending the night–would you see to him? No need to prepare a guest room, I think the master will serve just fine for us both.

One last time, Herman tried to speak his doubts, that their relationship was breaking so many ethical boundaries that it couldn’t happen–and yet, when the butler helped him from his seat…he relented. He wanted this. He didn’t care what it cost him, he didn’t care what might happen if anyone found out. He wanted this. He wanted…he wanted him, Burt, more than anyone else he had ever desired in his life…and somehow, Burt wanted him just as much. The butler led him upstairs, got him free of his clothing and into the bathroom, where Herman had a shower–and the butler also helped him clean out…other things, telling him that the Master of the house preferred his men to be spotless, before entering his bed. Then, when he stepped out, imagining he would be getting into his own clothes, the Butler, instead, had something else in mind. All he found himself wearing was a leather harness strapped a bit uncomfortably tight around his gut, and a black jockstrap, before being ushered into the sizable Master bedroom, and told to wait.

I’ll Change for You (Part 7)

He looked up and down the sidewalk, planning on following Herman and making him accept the ride he’d offered, but it was no worry, really. After all, he’d just find him in his office later–watching the younger professor eat his lunch today…he’d decided what his next step was going to be. He drove back to class in his luxury sedan and rode the elevator up to his own office. No longer an adjunct professor, he was a fully tenured professor. He taught a seminar that afternoon, and had a few productive meetings with some of his teaching assistants and graduate students. Herman was never far from his mind, however, and he hadn’t seen the object of his interest return to the office after lunch. He was, in fact, a bit worried that he’d missed him, or worse, scared him off by being a bit too forward. Still, it was clear that the man had enjoyed himself–as had Burt. The pendant…it was getting closer, and he took a moment to examine it while he was alone.

The light was brighter now–quite a bit brighter in fact–but somehow he knew it wasn’t finished with them yet. It was nearly four by the time Herman tried to slip past his door to his own office, but Burt saw him, and called out, “Herman! A moment please?”

Sheepishly, Herman stepped back and into the office, Burt smiling kindly at him. “What is it, sir?”

Sir. That caught him off guard, but Burt very much enjoyed the sound of it. “I was wondering, Herman, if you had any plans this evening.”

“Oh, uh…I just have some work to get done, is all.”

“I’d like you to join me for dinner this evening, at my home. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

He could see the conflict in Herman’s eyes. He…knew it was inappropriate, what the two of them had engaged in at lunch, and yet nothing had even happened. But dinner? At Burt’s home? The two of them alone? “I…I don’t know if that would be appropriate…”

Burt smiled, “I assure you, Herman,” he said as he hauled himself up from his chair, “it can be entirely appropriate if you so desire. Just two colleagues having a nice meal, and nothing more,” he walked over to where Herman was standing and shut the door, sealing them in the office, “But perhaps you’d like something more than appropriate?” Before Herman could object, Burt pressed him to the wall, firmly yet gently, and began kissing him, tasting a bit of their sweet dessert still on his breath. Herman squirmed a moment, but relented, kissing him back, hungrily. Burt, the fantasy from the bathroom stall returning to him vividly, pressed Herman down on the shoulder, and felt him collapse down onto his knees in front of him, and the professor rubbed and kissed at his suited gut with one hand, while the other was openly groping himself. He…desperately wanted to go further, but not yet–he had to…wait. Burt pulled away, smoothing down his shirt, which had a few wet spots from where Herman had licked him. On his knees, he looked…horrified by what he’d just done, and yet he couldn’t hide his arousal–not from Burt. “Dinner this evening.” he said. “I won’t take no for an answer. Six sharp.”

“Y-Yes sir…” Herman said, blushing a bit at that formality.

“Good boy,” Burt said, the word slipping out without much thought, and he saw Herman’s eyes go wide, and he slipped out of the office, the tent apparent in the front of his slacks. Still–that didn’t bother him really. So what if someone saw it? He felt so confident and self-assured, it was a feeling he had never really known before, but then again, as a young man, it was difficult to gain this sort of confidence after years of living. Burt went back down to his sedan and climbed in–he had a couple of hours until dinner at least–and he realized he didn’t actually have dinner planned out at all! There was a moment of panic, but it was washed away by something else, a sense that everything was going to be just fine–all he needed to do, was trust that everything was going according to the amulet’s plan. He drove home, to a sizable house not too far from campus, parked and went inside. His hard on hadn’t diminished at all, since he’d left Herman’s office–it was clear that it was time for another step closer to who he needed to be, for Herman’s sake.

He went into his study and sat down at his desk, already thinking of Herman, thinking of him on his knees there, in the office–no! No, not, in the office, here. Here in his home, right there in the middle of the room on his knees, and naked. There was…a smell in the room, but it was difficult for Burt to place right away, until he felt the thing in his hand–the hand not presently stroking his cock. It was…his pipe. One of his many pipes. He slid the stem into his mouth and took a draw, the smoke filling his mouth, and he stood up in his mind, crossing to where Herman was, and blowing the smoke into his face, covering him with it, while the boy moaned in lust.

“What do you want, boy?”

“Please sir–please fuck me.”

He thought he was naked–but no. Burt looked down and saw that he was wearing a set of leather clothing, perfectly tailored to fit his even wider frame. His cock had no problem responding, and his massive gut couldn’t hide the ten inch member, either. He ordered Herman into position, and just the sight of his plugged hole was enough to drive Burt over the edge. He grabbed at a handkerchief he kept on his desk for just such an event, and carefully caught his cum in it. A gift for Herman later, perhaps. He heaved a sigh, and looked around at his study, surprised to discover it was…larger than then he’d entered it a few minutes earlier, and the walls lined with several racks of pipes, along with a full sized humidor, should he be more in the mood for a cigar. He leaned back in his chair, his gut shifting around him, though whether it was more a gut, or had begun to sag too far, was a different question. In any case, it felt wonderful, and he stroked it idly, excited for dinner with Herman, and wondering how Jules was coming along with the preparations.

I’ll Change for You (Part 6)

Was it an invitation? It didn’t quite sound like one, somehow, as he said it. Herman got his coat, and the two of them went down and decided to go to a quiet restaurant a few blocks away from town, one where the students weren’t usually found crowding up the place. Burt found himself ordering several appetizers, and when they arrived, he happily tucked it, chatting with Herman, but noticing that his fellow professor seemed rather…preoccupied. “Come on now, Herman–feel free to tuck in,” he said, and started foisting food on him. Herman was…reluctant, but Burt almost enjoyed that aspect, bringing him around slowly, encouraging him to eat more than he was planning on. When it came time to order entrees, and Herman ordered something small for himself, Burt overrode him, ordered him steak and potatoes, and Herman went along with it.

More than once, Burt asked himself what he was doing. This seemed…so unlike him. Wouldn’t this be…irritating to Herman, having some man bossing him around, ordering food for him, and the like? But Herman didn’t seem annoyed–if anything, he appeared a bit embarrassed–or was he aroused? They were sitting at a table, and before their food came, Burt moved over to a seat beside him, allegedly because the restaurant was a loud–even though they’d had no trouble hearing one another up to that point. He slid a hand over onto Herman’s thigh, and then slid it down the inside of his thigh. Herman opened his legs slightly, enough to let Burt grope him gently through his slacks, while the two of them carried on discussing their classes and latest research, the only sign anything odd was happening at all was the flush of red in Herman’s cheeks.

He did like it. He liked all of it. Burt was certainly enjoying himself as well, his own cock bulging in his slacks, thinking again about that fantasy, about…ordering this older man around, forcing him to submit and bending him to his own will. The waitress returned with their food, and Herman tried to pull himself away from Burt’s groping hand, but he refused to remove it, the young woman not even noticing where Burt’s hand happened to be, as she set their plates down. Only once she’d left, did Burt remove his hand, pick up his silverware, and start eating, encouraging Herman to do the same. He would, on occasion, check to see how Herman was responding, and as far as he could tell the man’s cock didn’t lower once–and neither did Burt’s, in fact. Still, he kept it respectable. If any students had walked in, all they would have seen were two professors out to lunch.

Herman finished his plate, and Burt ordered dessert for them both. He looked a bit…full, but didn’t object. When the single dessert to share appeared, Burt insisted Herman eat most of it, and more than once fed him bites off his own fork. When they were finished, Burt picked up the check, and then they left, and went back to campus. Burt offered him a ride, since they’d driven over together, but Herman insisted that he’d rather walk. Burt tried to insist, but Herman said he had another errand to run on the way, and then he was gone down the sidewalk, leaving Burt horny and frustrated. He walked to his car, and sensed that the horniness he was feeling was a sign of the amulet building up in power again, and so he slipped his cock free of his slacks, found a few spare napkins to catch the mess, and started masturbating, thinking about how he should have been more insisting, and gotten Herman into his car with him.

How, once he was there in the passenger seat, how he could have rubbed his belly gently, feeling how…tight it was, after their meal, taking out his own cock, and then Herman’s, suggesting one last meal to top off his dinner, Herman licking his lips and leaning over, sucking on his cock under the steering wheel, gently and sweetly, until Burt filled his mouth with his cum. He shot as he reached orgasm in the fantasy, huffing and puffing slightly, his gut pushing out a bit further, but it was the hands on the steering wheel that he noticed first.

They looked…old. Weathered and wrinkled, with a few age spots on them. They ached slightly as well, more than they should have. He squinted at them, wondering why he was having such a difficult time picking out the details of them, until he felt the glasses in his breast pocket, pulled them free and put them on, and the world grew perfectly clear. He…he hadn’t needed glasses before, had he? No–perhaps his vision had been slightly blurred, but when he took them off again, he couldn’t even read the sign of the restaurant across the parking lot. He put them back on, feeling them rest in their usual, well worn spot on the bridge of his nose, and he reached over and turned the rearview mirror towards him.

White–his hair was…white, or at least mostly grey. There were a few streaks of color throughout, but he looked to be closer to fifty at this point, and maybe even slightly older than that. He had crows feet at the corners if his eyes, a wrinkled brow, and jowls hidden slightly by his trimmed beard. He was still dressed in a suit, but this one felt…more luxurious, somehow. Still, that wasn’t too surprising, he prefered expensive clothes, after all, custom tailored to his…particular physique. A man of his girth simply couldn’t find clothes off the rack that would fit correctly, not at five foot four and over 350 pounds.

I’ll Change for You (Part 5)

He slipped away and went to the bathroom, among the throngs of students passing from class to class, but it was clear that this hard-on wasn’t going away–if anything, it was intensifying. The sensation was the same one he’d had in his dorm room the day before, when the necklace had changed him. Did that mean it was happening again? But why now? He hadn’t seen, or even really thought about Herman all day long! However, as he did that, his arousal intensified, and he found Herman centered in his thoughts, thought about them together, pressing their hairy guts together, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and forcing Herman to bend down to kiss him…

No–this wasn’t right. This fantasy felt strange, just like the last one had. He was himself, but he was also someone else–and he reached down his shirt to get the necklace off of him, but stopped. No–no, he needed to just let this happen. He had to trust that this was the right thing to do, that whoever that strange old man had been, he was doing this to help him. Besides…it did feel good, didn’t it? He pushed Herman up against a wall, in his fantasy, pinning him there, feeling his shudder with excitement, one hand up on Herman’s shoulder, pressing him down, feeling him collapse, slowly, under his guidance. He was on his knees now, worshiping Burt’s hefty gut, licking it, running his tongue through the hairy surface, and Burt gave a few huffing pants and shot his load inside one of the stalls, the cum splattering against one of the partitions and sliding down as he collected himself.

Did he…change again? Burt didn’t feel different, necessarily, but he also felt a bit out of sorts, all the same. He pulled up his khaki dress pants, tucked in his shirt and adjusted his tie–and then took a moment to wipe up his cumshot with some toilet paper and flush it. It was, perhaps, kind of sexy somehow, but best not to leave any evidence where, heaven forbid, a student might find it. Satisfied, he stepped out of the stall and went to the sinks to wash his hands, but when he saw himself in the mirror he stopped short, jaw agape at the sight of himself.

He most certainly had changed–and rather substantially at that. He was even larger than he’d been before–probably another fifty pounds heavier, and a few inches shorter which didn’t help his girth much. Still, that wasn’t the most apparent shift–it was his hair, that he noticed first. It was receding several inches now, and had quite a bit of grey streaked through it. The beard he had was fuller as well, a touch longer but well manicured, but had just as much early grey as his hair did. He looked like a man in his late thirties, or perhaps even his early forties. Still…it suited him, as did the clothes he was wearing. He’d dressed in his usual casual dress for class as a TA this morning, but what he was wearing now was closer to a suit–dress pants, a button down shirt, tie, and jacket. He looked…authoritative and distinguished, and even if the rest of the changes had him a bit uneasy, he found himself enjoying it, in some twisted fashion. The necklace was still resting outside his shirt, and he considered taking it off–but didn’t. He tucked it back in, next to his hairy chest. Whatever this magic was, it was clear that it was by no means finished. He was going to see this through, whatever it was, and if he needed to change for Herman to love him…then so be it. He would be whoever Herman needed him to be–whoever he wanted him to be, if it meant he would love him.

Memories were slowly falling into place, as he became more comfortable with his appearance. He was older now–forty-three, to be precise–and an newish professor within Herman’s department, not yet with tenure, but certainly heading in that direction. It was, he realized, about time for lunch–and with that light breakfast earlier, he was famished! He left the bathroom and headed for his office, planning on picking up a bit of work to pass the lunch hour with, when he saw that Herman’s door was open, and he was sitting at his desk. The amulet–it wanted him to do something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. Not…not what he’d seen in that fantasy, no, he realized now that as much as he might want that, it was too…forward for someone of Herman’s sensibilities, especially here at the school. He needed to take it a bit slower, lure him in–and then he’d get what he wanted, soon enough.

“Care to grab some lunch, Herman?” Burt asked, surprised, and at the same time, pleased by his deeper voice.

The professor looked up when Burt spoke, and he saw in Herman’s eyes something he’d been desperate to see for weeks on end–Herman wanted him. Herman wanted him, and Burt knew it, and Herman knew that Burt knew it, but neither of them had yet made a move beyond a cordial friendship. “Oh, uh sure! I can come along, I suppose. I’m not that hungry though.”

“Nonsense,” Burt said, “every man needs three big meals a day!” he laughed, slapping his gut, noticing how Herman’s eyes were locked on it, forcing him to tear them away after a moment. “Or you can always just watch me eat, I suppose.”