Symbiotic Justice (Part 3)

CW: Rape, Gore, Violence

“Erik,” Lief said quietly. He pushed open his brother’s door, his cock squirming and writhing towards where he was sitting at his computer, headphones on, oblivious. “Erik,” he said louder, “Erik, you have to get out of here.”

His brother dropped the headphones, “Faggot I told you not to fu-fucking disturb…” his voice trailed off when he spun and saw the freakish, two foot long, muscular tentacle where his little brother’s cock should have been, the skin writhing as sharp fragments of bone pushed their way out of the skin.

“Erik, I can’t…run, please try to run,” Lief said, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t, I’m so hungry…”

Erik got up from his chair and stumbled back, and Lief entered the room, the cock snaking out through the air, lashing at Erik’s ankle and cutting him to the bone. He fell to the ground and stumbled back up towards the window, but the toxin was already spreading through his leg, rendering it useless, even as Lief advanced, his brain shutting down, the only thing that mattered at this moment was his hunger. He lashed out again, feeling a burst of pleasure at tearing into his brother’s flesh again, the other leg now, leaving him crawling along the floor.

He deserved this, for everything he’d done. Yeah, this was right, this is what Lief had always wanted, what Erik deserved. He ran forward and tugged down his brother’s shorts, revealing his ass framed by the straps of the jockstrap he had on, grabbed him by the hips, and directed the spade like head to dive right into his ass. Erik screamed, and tried to keep crawling, but Lief’s hands felt like steel on his flesh, digging in, bruising him, as the thing pulsed, forcing it’s way deep into his body, the shards of bone ripping and tearing at his insides as it fucked him. “Yeah, you fucking asshole, I fucking hate you!” Lief screamed at him, even louder than Erik was crying for help, “You’re mine now, you’re all mine, you hear me? Mine forever!”

Something…changed, about the head of his cock. It seemed to split into smaller pieces, painfully enough to make him grunt in surprise, and Lief felt his cock push deeper into his brother’s body, digging into his muscles, and then, the orgasm struck…but rather than feel like he was ejecting something into his brother, it happened in reverse–his cock pumped, and drew something from his brother back into him. He shuddered with each draw from his cock, feeling whatever it was being swallowed down the length of his cock until it reached the base of his body, and a heat grew from the base of his cock and suffused his entire body. Bones cracked, and began to grow, his muscles were hot, stretched painfully tight until they cramped, but all through the pain, wave after wave of pleasure swept through him too, and he drove his cock in and out of Erik’s bloody ass over and over again, reveling in it. He didn’t know if he was dead or not–most of him didn’t particularly care. Whatever he was, he wasn’t…hungry, anymore.

After an hour, he could draw nothing else out of his brother. He looked like a husk, but Erik was still alive, from the sound of rattling breaths creaking through his parched lips. Lief felt drunk–drunk on power, on food, on conquest. His body had grown several inches taller, and he’d packed on pound after pound of muscle–he looked to be a bit larger than his brother had been, before this, and he felt…so fucking good. But he could feel…other things happening. Hair growing in all over his body, thicker than he’d ever seen on a person before, in patches. His hands and feet were growing as well, his nails thicker and sharper. The light…hurt his eyes, and so he smashed the lamp, discovering it was even easier for him to see in the dark than it had been in the light. He licked his bearded lips, feeling a tongue slip out of his mouth which was too long to be human, and which came to a sharp point, his teeth and jaws aching. He pushed into his brother, to the base, feeling his cock writing about to make space, and then, at last,m he felt the seed squirming in his sack pump out, down his shaft, and begin to fill his brother’s husk like body.

The sensation was different than when he’d fed. Almost relaxing, as he filled his brother’s body. Erik groaned in pleasure, the first sound he’d really made in an hour, and Lief saw his body changing, skin growing pale, but also filling out again, but not with muscle. Instead, his entire form looked soft and flabby, missing the definition he’d had before, and looking…inhuman. Yet the more he changed, and the fatter he became, the hotter Lief found him. He leaned over him, pressing his muscular, hairy body against his brother’s rubbery body, pushed his mouth the Erik’s ear, and slid his pointed tongue into his ear. Erik cried out once, and then said nothing else, Lief’s tongue drooling into his brain, rewiring it, softening it, simplifying it, making it as worthless and gelatinous as the rest of him was becoming. When at last his sack was emptied and he withdrew his cock, Erik’s ass closed up behind him, and his brother rolled over, jaw slack, eyes lazy and unfocused.

“Service me, you fucking piece of shit,” Lief said, his voice…it didn’t sound human either, not with his tongue, and his teeth, and his jaw. Erik just nodded, and crawled over towards him, licking at Lief’s furry feet, eager to serve his master…and Lief watched, horrified at what he’d done, and yet the voices were pleased, and he felt so…full. He beckoned his brother, his thrall, closer, and shoved his cock down his throat, into his belly, fucking him gently, shuddering at the sensation, and when his parents got home from their date, Lief went downstairs, to have a word with them both.

Cleaning House (Part 8)

CW: Scat

~Daddy’s POV~

He’s my boy.

He’s dumb, filthy, nasty, fat, and a total pervert. He’s mine. He’s everything I wanted, and now, it’s all he wants too.

It’s difficult to explain what happened to me–honestly, even the experts are still puzzling it out. I saved the world, somehow, but I don’t remember a thing about it. They said I was a hero, but when I woke up that day, looking like this–fat, hairy, reeking, horny as can be–I had no memory of who I was. Still, the government sends me the fat checks, and want me living somewhere quiet–somewhere alone, and I could manage that for a while, but I’m…not alone in here, in my body. There’s something else inside me, a fragment of something, and it’s…so hungry.

I found out, by accident, what I could do. Hypnotize people, I guess. Change them, slowly, encourage them, make them lose themselves. I was caught between my desperate loneliness, and my own terror at what I wanted, what it wanted–what we wanted. So I placed the ad in the paper, and I chatted with him over the phone, got a feel for him, and I liked him a lot, the sound of him even. When he showed up at the cabin and saw the state of how I lived–fuck, I was so hungry for him, for that disgust on his face when he saw me. He tried to turn around and leave, but I had too many hooks in him from our phone chat–he marched right in, terrified out of his wits, and then we had our first chat, face to face.

Those first few months were tough. Controlling people is…exhausting, and I can only do it for so long–I have to convince them that they want to be controlled by me. I made him fantasize about me, long for me in all of my filth. I made him want to be my boy. I made him want to be bigger, and dirtier, and fatter, and hairier. He began to crack, after a few months, and I could start feeding him, and that night he gave in and masturbated for me–fuck! Then, I knew he was mine. Our boy.

I hired him as a cleaner at the beginning, but honestly, I love the filth. I kept up appearance for a little while, while I was cleaning out more and more of his mind, but now, with our second winter coming, the house is even more of a sty than it was when he first arrived, but he loves it even more than I do at this point. I honestly…I wasn’t going to push him this far, but when he left for that funeral–I can’t explain how I felt, when he was gone. I was terrified he wouldn’t come back, I was terrified I’d be alone again, but I couldn’t be alone, not with the voice. When he came back, sobbing in misery, horrified at himself–I was so angry. I started cleaning out even more of him, like he’d cleaned out my house, getting rid of everything that didn’t concern me, letting the sick, twisted loe he felt for me now grow larger and larger until it took up nearly everything inside him. Getting rid of his intelligence, of his shame, of his confidence, of his self-control. He can still talk, for now…but that’s a project for the winter, too, I think.

We’ll be alone here for months, with nothing but the snow for company. I’m going to scrub him out completely, and then I’m going to fill him back up again. He’s going to be my boy–my son–for real, or at least believe it with all of his heart. My stupid boy, with a vocabulary of 500 words, who usually just speaks in grunts. My perverse boy, with a cock that’s always hard, and two hands that can’t keep away from it for longer than a couple minutes. My nasty boy, pissing and shitting himself, unable to stop anything, unable to even feel shame as he drops load after load into the back of his underwear to eat later in front of me. My fat boy, pushing at least 600 pounds, but still able to work for me, for his daddy, the man he’ll do anything for.

I try to tell myself that it’ll be enough, if I finish the job, if I destroy him. I hate myself for doing it, but I can’t stop, it won’t let me stop, and I enjoy it too much, I’m so fucking ashamed of it. But one–one will be enough. One boy, one helpless boy for me is all I need. He can take it–he’ll have to, everything I can give him, because whatever is inside me…it wants out. It wants to grow, and consume, and destroy…everything, but I can’t let that happen. Whoever I was before, he died to stop that from happening, and I have to stop it too, I have to keep it from happening, and this…this is the only way I know how to do that, anymore.

He would understand, right? Who am I kidding, he wouldn’t understand it. At least…it’s what he wants now. He’d never be able to function without me anyway–he needs me now as much as I need him, to stay in control. He can take it–he’s a good boy. He wants to make sure Daddy is happy, he wants me to control him, and own him, and abuse him, and feed him–so I will. And after this, I’ll stop. The voice…it tells me that this won’t be enough, it laughs at me for lying to myself, but I know better. All I want his him. I can’t…explain how it makes me feel, when I see the love in his eyes, the complete devotion he has for me–what else could a Daddy possibly want? In any case…it will have to be good enough.

Cleaning House (Part 7)

CW: Scat

It’s…hard to talk about, honestly.

I mean, I don’t remember it that well, either. I showed up in Daddy’s clothes, reeking, almost 200 pounds heavier than she remembered me…

I drank a lot, that night, and smoked a lot too. Still, I tried to help, after I cleaned myself up and took a shower. Being clean…I felt so naked, and so worthless. Amy didn’t…want me there, and there was nothing I could really do to make anything better. I was just…something else to manage. She did everything without me, and I just sat there in a stupor, drunk, and she cared so much. The only…

The only family I could care about anymore was Daddy. I missed him so much, more than I missed my mom. I needed him to know what to do, I couldn’t…I don’t know how to be alone anymore, I don’t know how to live for myself, if I ever really did.

Amy, I still feel awful. She even ordered me a suit, knowing I wouldn’t even think to buy one. It chafed, I was so hot and sweaty in that tiny church, listening to everyone drone on about my mother. I jacked off, I was so bored, I jacked off into my filthy underwear at my mom’s funeral, got drunk after, jacked off some more and hit on a few older guys who reminded my of Daddy–none of them took me up on the offer.I didn’t even stick around to the next day–I junked the suit, got back in my real clothes, and drove off.

I got back to Daddy and I sobbed. I was so sorry for leaving him, I was so upset, and he was there for me, he…he understands me, and he knows me like no one else I’ve ever known. He knows what I need better than I do. He held me for an hour in bed, telling me that I was safe, that I would never have to leave again, that he’d never make me leave, that he’d never let me leave. That I belonged with him, that there was nowhere else that I could ever belong anymore, other than here. He fed me a big dinner, I drank a huge load of piss he’d been saving for me all day, I cleaned his nasty crack…and by the next morning, I could almost pretend that none of it had ever happened. But it had, and I don’t…it changed me.

I saw how worthless I am. How stupid I am. I couldn’t understand what Daddy saw in me, I couldn’t understand why he loved me, unless it was pity. I thought about leaving, I couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting someone to me, but I was too scared. I acted out, I pushed back, I made him spank me, and I liked it, and he liked it, and he got rougher, and meaner, and I begged him for more. I didn’t deserve to be his boy, I said. I’m too much of a fuck up, I’m a waste.

He made me eat his ash one day, right out of the tray. I licked it up–it was so…dry, but some of his piss helped wash it down. He fed me his cigar butts, and some of his trash. I…I begged him for his shit. I wanted to be his toilet. I wanted to prove to him, and to myself, that it wasn’t a lie, that I was as low as that, that I was a toilet. He refused, and so I filled the back of my briefs with a load of my own, dropped them to the ground, got down and started eating my own shit, right there in the kitchen. I’d…practiced already. I knew I liked it, and when I saw how hard he was in his briefs, I wondered why he’d refused. He fucked my shitty hole, made me clean off his cock, and then I was under his rim chair, eating his shit straight from the source, and it only…I only got hungrier, after that.

It was summer again, already. Most of my days were spent outside doing work around the cabin, naked aside from a pair of Daddy’s old boots, my shit, piss and cum stained briefs or jockstraps, and a pair of work gloves. I lost a bit of fat and bulked up again, but when you crest 400, there’s only so much that muscle can do to make you not look like a tub of lard. In the mirror I barely recognized myself anymore. I looked so much like him now, it disturbed me. Still, he’s happy–that’s what matters, right? That’s why I came here, that’s why I agreed to be his cleaner. It seems so far away now, but it’s only been a year and a few months. I feel like I’ve known him for years, and that he’s known me my whole life. I have no secrets from him, I can’t lie to him, I can’t lie at all, really. My sister called, worried about me, and I told her everything, or as much as I could before she hung up, and she hasn’t called again since.

Fall is here again, and everything is dying. I feel like I’m dying too, day my day, curling up into myself, into this cabin, into Daddy. I’ve…been pissing the bed, most nights, and Daddy started forcing me to wear diapers at night, for protection. I feel so small in them, and he looms over me, grinning down, humping the front of my diapers with his cock until I cum, gasping, and then he shoves his cock down my throat, and when he cums, I keep sucking, hungry for more–more food, more piss, more cock, more ass. I want him to fill me up, because all I ever feel, when I’m alone, is empty. I shouldn’t be here. I should run, but I won’t. I can’t. Even…going to town now, fills me with such anxiety, I can’t go without him anymore. We’re supposed to have the first snow tonight, and everything will be white again. Maybe it can cover me up, until I disappear too.

Cleaning House (Part 6)

This became my new normal over the next several months. A fuck in the morning, a massive breakfast, a few hours cleaning Daddy’s body and eating his ass under the rimchair, lunch, chores, a massive dinner, and then a relaxing evening before bed. I…I loved it. All of it. I felt like I had find my proper place in life, and I thanked him every day for giving me the opportunity to serve him as his boy.

As I adjusted to my new role, and my new life, Daddy slowly began to impose more rules on me to follow, controlling more and more of me until I couldn’t so much as go to the bathroom without his permission, and often, his supervision. He forbade me from shaving, and my beard filled in, thicker and faster than I remember before, when I’d tried growing it out. I, too, had to stop showering, and certain things began disappearing from my shopping list–most notably, toilet paper. Still, from how dirty Daddy’s ass is, I don’t think he ever used it much, and he loved seeing the streaks growing in the seats of my whities…and to be honest, it turns me on too, especially when he gags me with my own crusty, cum soaked underwear while he rims and fucks my own dirty hole.

I was still growing steadily, and with winter here and no tasks outside the cabin, I had no physical activity to bulk with…and so my waistline kept expanding. By New Year’s I’d hit 300, and none of the clothes I’d bought fit me–instead of allowing me to buy anything new, Daddy insisted I just wear his old cast offs, including his old underwear. I…fuck, the first time I pulled on one of his massive pairs of briefs, and I felt how crusty and filthy they were, I couldn’t stop myself, and I jacked off right there in front of him while he watched, grinning, listening to me belch and snort and grunt like a fucking pig. My masturbation habits–it’s gotten really bad now. Even at the store in town (Daddy doesn’t see much reason for me to go to the laundromat anymore), I have to consciously remind myself to get my hand out of my pants…and more than once, waiting in line…I have eeked out a quiet load, and knowing that people are right there…fuck. What the fuck is wrong with me.

I think back, and I…I don’t remember being this perverse. I mean, I had ideas, sure. I’d fantasized about being owned by a daddy for as long as I can remember, but I…I’d never done anything, not until I’d met Joe. My ex-boyfriends were nothing like him either, usually slim guys close to my age, the same sorts of guys who do nothing for me when I look at them now around town, but one grungy looking trucker, and I have to duck into an alley to jack off in my pants, thinking about how dirty his crack is, and if he might let me lick it–whether Daddy might let me lick it, I mean. He’d…talked, a few times, about sharing me out with other men. I didn’t know if he meant it, or if he just said it because he’d found out it turns me on…at least, until that night we took a drive in January, out to a local rest area. We stayed there all night, and I had to ask every man who came in whether I could be their urinal, toilet paper and cum dump…and several said yes.

Yeah, I forgot that–when Daddy made me drink his piss. It was late one night, when we’d polished off a twenty-four pack together, and he was too drunk to stand up easily, so he started…talking to me, telling me he thought it was time I drank piss–I wanted his piss, right? I…I hadn’t really thought too hard about it, but I did–so I got down, and he pissed down my throat, and I nearly choked, that first time. I’m better now–much better. But back at the rest area, Daddy just watched, and chastised me if I fucked up in front of anyone. He told me on the way home that it had been a present for me being such a good boy, getting to serve so many men…but I didn’t really know how I felt about it, at the time, but the more he took me…the more I looked forward to it. It’s like he knows what I want even before I figure it out for myself.

In time, the snow melted, and winter turned into spring. I…barely recognized myself, by the time March rolled around, and I got the call from my sister. I weighed about 330 pounds, I had an inch long beard all over my face, and my hair was a tangled mess. My clothes were filthy, I jacked off close to eight or nine times a day, and the entire focus of my life was Daddy–keeping him clean, keeping him happy, drinking his piss, licking his ass, and being fed by him until I was blue in the face. In the winter…the world shrinks. Everything outside is white, and the world is gone, hidden. I’d forgotten about so much else, but that phone call…I missed her call, twice. Honestly, I was afraid to call her, I was afraid to talk to anyone other than Daddy, but he made me call her back.

My mom had died, suddenly. She was in tears, and needed help with the funeral, she was furious I hadn’t listened to her messages. I felt…awful. I told Daddy, and I said I had to go home for a few days…I didn’t even think about what I looked like. About what anyone might say about me. Still, Daddy agreed–I needed to go, and say goodbye, and help my sister with what I could. So I got in my car–as best I could fit in the tiny sedan–and drove over to the next state…but it wasn’t until my sister saw me, and smelled me, that I realized I was never going to belong there again, in that world.

Cleaning House (Part 5)

I was still in Joe’s bed, surrounded by his stench, and surrounded by him, as well. He must have climbed in without disturbing me, and he’d wrapped me in his arms and fallen asleep. I felt so…safe and secure, and happy, and I could feel his hard cock pressed against one cheek of my ass…and I definitely liked that too.

Fuck, what had I done yesterday? What had we done? What had he done to me? I’d wanted that–I’d always wanted that, for as long as I could recall, but…but doing it, it had felt so terrifying. Terrifying that…that I really enjoyed it as much as I had. No one should enjoy that right? Didn’t that all mean I was broken, somehow? I didn’t want to think about it, and so…and so, I didn’t. I snuggled back against Joe, focused on him snoring gently in my ear, and drifted back off, until he woke an hour or so later.

He kissed me, groped me in bed, and then pushed me onto my stomach and crawled behind me, spread my ass and ate out my hole. It felt…fuck, it still feels amazing, whenever he does that, but better when I was tight, when him shoving his tongue in my ass made me shake and groan and writhe under him, humping the mattress until I came in my briefs. He opened me up enough that he could slide his cock into me with just his spit as lube, and he fucked me, rough, for a few minutes before he came. The fuck…it wasn’t much, but the feel of his tongue. Rimming was something I’d thought of, but always been to scared to do.

Breakfast was next, and we followed the same pattern as the night before–I helped him cook my meal, he force fed me the entire thing, and then he cooked a meal for himself while I relaxed on the couch, digesting and jacking off–he demanded two loads from me by the time he finished cooking, and then, I crawled under the table and sucked him off while he ate, and came again at his demand. My cock–it ached, and yet I was still so horny. I felt like someone had flipped a switch in me, and now…now I couldn’t stop myself.

When he finished his meal, he told me it was time I took on a new task, and I followed him back out into the front room. “I hate showerin’, boy,” he told me, “Always have–too big tah really clean up real good. So yer gonna clean me from now on–all over, with that nice tongue a yers, every mornin’.”

I gulped, and started to speak, but he told me to start with his pits…and as soon as I got a good whiff of his musk, I didn’t want to object. I didn’t really want this to stop, did I? I had my dream man here, right in front of me…I couldn’t let this slip away. I spent the next half hour cleaning his upper body, and then moved to his feet at his order. I…fuck, his feet were huge, and I couldn’t stop myself, as I came again, licking them.

I started to work my way up, but he stopped me. “Time tah change seats,” he said.

He got up, hauled a bag out of a closet, and dumped a rimchair out onto the floor, and made me assemble it. I…I’d seen them in porn before, and fantasized about them, sure…but his ass? I thought about how it had felt when he’d rimmed me earlier…and I wanted to make him feel that good too, I realized. I got underneath, and he sat down, his cheeks spread and hole right against my lips. I licked, and he groaned. I licked harder, hand in my underwear, jerking off as I cleaned his ripe, greasy crack while he played his game, and fuck, I was loving it. I felt so used, but I wanted this man to use me. He put his ashtray on my belly, and warned me not to topple it, forcing me to keep my frame as still as I could, even as I licked and proped harder and deeper into him, tasting him and his shit for the first time, and already excited that I would be doing this daily.

The fart caught me by surprise, and with two strokes my cock exploded in my briefs yet again.

“You like that boy? You like daddy’s nasty farts?”

“Y-Yes Daddy.”

“Yeah, not surprised, the way yer chowin’ down on that filthy hole. I bet ya love daddy ass, right boy?”

“Yes Daddy, I do.”

Yeah–good boy, I like hearin’ that–guess ya can spent a bit more time under there, since ya like it so fuckin’ much.”

I serviced his ass for another hour, and then finished licking his ass and thighs clean, ending at his cock, which I sucked off. My jaw ached, and I was so hungry–when he fed me lunch next, he couldn’t stuff me fast enough. That afternoon was spent on chores, and then we ate dinner again–me first, and then him, and after a night of beers, cigars, and another fuck, we fell asleep again in his bed–or our bed, since I never ended up in the guest bed again.

Cleaning House (Part 4)

“Need something else, boy?”

My mouth was dry.

“Need daddy’s cock in that mouth a yers?”

I couldn’t say anything. He took my hand again, and tugged me forward, out of the chair, where I fell to my knees in front of him.

“What do ya need, boy.”

“I…want your cock, I do, I’m sorry.”

He gave me a slap to the face. “I asked ya what ya need–not what ya want. ‘N never apologize, ‘less ya fuck up, and that ain’t how I’m addressed, is it? Git it right.”

“I…need…your cock, d-daddy.”

“That’s a good boy,” he said, wrapped one big hand around the back of my head, and pulled my face into the front of his own briefs. They were…moist, and they reeked. I realized something, in that moment, that in all of the loads of laundry I’d done for him back in town, never had I ever seen a pair of underwear in those loads. “Daddy’s been waitin’ fer ya tah come ‘round, boy, things ‘r gonna be a lot better fer us both.”

He made me pull his briefs down with my teeth, and I saw his cock for the first time–six inches or so, thick as the can of beer still in his hand, with a hefty amount of foreskin around the head. He fucked my face for a couple of minutes, but got a bit winded, stopped and went back to the couch, naked. “Come on boy, git over here ‘n play with me while I play.”

I spent the next hour on my knees between his legs, sucking his cock and licking his balls, bringing him to multiple orgasms, but surprisingly his cock never once softened–and equally surprising, neither did mine. He forced me to have one hand down the front of my pants at all times, massaging my cock, keeping myself horny, matching him load for load, until the front of my briefs were soaked with my cum, and my cock felt raw and tender to the touch. He finished up the game when both of our guts started growling, and told me it was time for dinner, and he went into the kitchen to start cooking for the both of us, leaving me in my briefs on the floor, shaking, confused, and more turned on than I’d been in my life. “Boy, git in here–ya can help,” he called out to me, and so I joined him in the kitchen.

I didn’t do much–or rather, he didn’t let me do much, but it was the first time he’d let me near the kitchen since I’d moved in with him, and I felt…special. We laughed and chatted, things felt…more normal, as if I didn’t have four loads of cum in my gut, and my briefs weren’t coated in my spunk.

“I’ve never…done anything like that before,” I said.

“But ya wanted it.”

I nodded, hesitantly.

He smiled at me, and pulled me into a short hug, out frames pushed together, him gently grinding his gut into my smaller one. “As soon as I saw ya, I knew ya were the one, I had tah have ya.”

“I…the first time I saw you, I fantasized about you for days, while I packed up my things.”

He didn’t say anything, just pulled me closer, and then we went back to cooking. I noticed that the portions seemed…a bit smaller than usual, but I didn’t say anything about it. When everything was finished, I went and sat at the table, but was confused when he didn’t join me. “Aren’t you eating too?”

“Nah boy–this here’s all fer ya. I’ll eat later.”

I looked at the spread in front of me, confused–I could never eat all of this! It was easily a meal for four on it’s own. “I…I can’t do that.”

“Ya can boy, trust me–trust yer daddy, I ain’t never gonna steer ya wrong.”

That was the first evening he fed me. My hands barely touched the food–instead, he forced me to keep one hand back in my filthy briefs, and the other on my nipples, as he drove the food into me at a steady pace, faster than I usually ate but not so much I choked. I liked it, actually, giving him control. I liked it so much, I came again, moaning through a mouthful of food, and he grunted and belched, grinding his own hard cock into the side of my belly. “Fuckin’ Pig,” he said, “Fuckin’ Pigboy.”

He kept feeding me, fucking his cock against the side of my belly, and before the end of the meal he’d cum again as well–I could feel the sticky mess spew through the front of his whities as he kept grinding against me, and then he leaned in and kissed me. His mouth was all beer and smoke, and I exploded again as his tongue invaded my hungry mouth until he pulled away, and we focused on the remains of the meal. Somehow…I ate it all. All of it. I ached, and I could barely move, but all of it was within me, and I belched–Joe leaning in close and sniffing it, grunting, groping me roughly. “Good boy, I told ya ya’d eat it.”

“Thanks, daddy.”

He helped me up from the table, and led me down the hall of the cabin. I thought we were heading to my room, but instead we went to his. It was the one room of the house he didn’t want me to clean, or even enter, and I never had. It was sizable, but as filthy as the house had been when I’d arrived, with laundry all over the floor, with sheets on the bed I knew I’d never once washed since arriving as his cleaner. They smelled so strongly of him–his cum and his sweat…I laid down on them, feeling him his musk was engulfing me. “Sleep boy–Daddy’s gotta go make his own dinner now.”

I had no idea how I would possibly sleep with my gut so angry, but all I remember is Joe turning out the light, shutting the door, and when I next woke, it was morning.

Cleaning House (Part 3)

I woke to the smell of fried breakfast and made my way downstairs in just my boxers. I wouldn’t have normally, but after our conversation the previous night I felt like it was the right thing to do. And by the look on Joe’s face when I walked into the kitchen, I realised it was definitely the right thing to do. “There’s me boy! Have a seat and I’ll serve up”. It was the first time that I ended up with more on my plate than he did. But I ate it all and gave a massive belch after. “Now that’s how ter compliment the chef!” he bellowed with a big laugh. “Now, don’t be thinkin’ yer gettin’ outta yer regular duties now, just ‘cause I’m feedin’ ya. Git the kitchen clean, ‘n then I’ll have a list of chores outside fer ya.”

The tone he used with me that morning–it was different. He’d been fairly easy going so far, and had been happy with whatever work I’d done around those house. I don’t think he cared, to be honest, as long as everything ended up cleaner than it usually was. But in the kitchen, washing up, I felt his eyes on me from the doorway, and I felt…uncomfortable. He’d seen me in my boxers before, of course, but this was the first time I felt like he was really looking at me–or…enjoying looking at me.

Did he enjoy looking at me? I was afraid to ask. Had he noticed how much I’d enjoyed looking at him? He came up behind me and gave me a light slap on my ass, and I felt it jiggle. He chuckled. “Next time yer in town, buy yerself some briefs. They’ll be more comfortable.”

“I’ve always worn boxers though.”

“Yeah, but ya ain’t been close tah 250 pounds before. Tomorrow, when ya do the shoppin’, buy a pack of briefs–and a couple jockstraps.”

“I don’t like wearing jockstraps for sure.”

“Just do it.”

So the next day, on the rest of the shopping list, he’d added the two items there at the bottom, and I bought them. I wasn’t sure how to feel about him telling me what kind of underwear to buy, but honestly…I felt good doing it, and maybe a bit humiliated I suppose. Still, he was…firmer over the next few months, and as large as the meals were, the work never seemed to stop either. My routine was eating, working and sleeping. He decided it would be a good idea to keep a record of my growth, and I was surprised by how quickly I was growing. I now had a nice big round belly that hung down, hiding my belt, a big chest which was both muscle and fat and my arms were nearly twice the size of when I first started working for Joe. I hit 280, and kept going strong.

As fall came and the weather turned, there was less and less work to do outside, beyond raking leaves and getting the cabin ready for the winter. One afternoon, on one of my days off, Joe and I were sitting in the front room. He was playing his games and I was sitting there eating a stack of sandwiches with crisps and drinking beer he’d made, and told me to eat. I’d gotten into a habit of belching loudly as Joe never seemed to mind. In fact he seemed to enjoy it, and praised me whenever I let off an extra loud one. Still, after he’d started feeding me more, I’d found he was less and less interested in me playing games with him, and so I found myself just watching, and snacking–always snacking. Well, I’d pretend to be watching the game, but more often I was watching him sit there, stuffing his face with the snacks I’d bring him, drinking beer, smoking fags and cigars. I’d get so horny, actually, that I’d developed a bit of a…habit of sneaking off to the bathroom down the hall to jack off when I couldn’t stand it anymore, and then returning after flushing away the evidence.

“I gotta go take a piss,” I said.

I heaved myself up, but before I could take a step, Joe spoke, “Ya sure ya gotta piss? Ya don’t usually piss in there, ya know. Usually yer in there wackin’ off.”

I can’t imagine how red my face must have gotten, but I was so startled I couldn’t even deny it.

“Take off those pants and sit back down, boy.”

Boy–fuck, he’d called me boy. Did he know? He had to know at this point, if he knew about me jacking off. Still, I did as he said, and dropped my sweats and stepped out of them. I was wearing a pair of the briefs he’d made me buy, but they were tight at this point.

“That’s a good boy, wearing your whities like that. Now, if ya wanna jack off, ya can do it here. In fact, I wanna see it, so get to it.”

“I…Look, I, it was a mistake, I’m sorry.”

He looked over at me and smiled, “Nothin’ that’s happened here so far has been a mistake boy, trust me. I’m gettin’ what I want–I always do.”

He paused his game and hefted himself up, lumbered over in front of me. His belly, just hanging there, was so…huge, and a bit of drool fell out of my mouth as I stared at it, and then looked up. He ran a hand down my belly to my crotch, and groped me cock and balls with his big hand. “Plenty hard–yer ready. So do it boy. Shoot that load a yers intah those whities.”

I tried to protest again, but he grabbed my wrist, and forced my hand down to my crotch…and I gave in. He stood there, looming in front of me, stroking my belly and teasing my nipples, and in less than a minute, I exploded, the load filling the front of my briefs. I felt…awful. I felt humiliated. I was so turned on, that I didn’t know what I wanted, other than it to never stop.

Cleaning House (Part 2)

Two weeks later, I’d left my place and moved in with Joe. My room in the cabin was big and had an en-suite so I could ‘have my privacy’, as Joe put it.

Over the next month or so I worked hard enough to just collapse onto my bed after dinner, which always consisted of large meals. Joe could cook really well and the smells coming from the kitchen were always so tempting. He could cook anything it seemed, and he cooked a lot. Because I always wore jogging bottoms and an old t-shirt when I was cleaning, it wasn’t until Joe paid my first month and I went to go into town to pay it into my account that I noticed I’d put on a bit of weight. I struggled into my biggest clothes and noticed that my belly was hinting that it wanted to pour over my belt. My t-shirt did nothing to hide this new addition to my body. Everything was so tight. “See yer’ve put on a bit o’ weight.”. Joe was leaning against my bedroom door watching me looking at myself in the mirror.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to buy some new clothes I think.” I felt myself getting warm. There was something about Joe mentioning my weight and wearing these tight clothes that I really liked.

I came back from town after spending all my money on clothes and some snacks which I found surprising. I didn’t normally fancy snacking but I really wanted some. I would just work harder and build up a sweat to compensate for the extra weight I was putting on. And as the house didn’t require much of an upkeep now that I had blitzed it since I moved in, I asked if there was anything outside that I could do. Joe had me chopping wood for the winter, clearing out the garage, moving heavy equipment and more. I thought cleaning the house when I first arrived was tiring, but this was something else. I didn’t mind doing it though. I know I was earning minimum wage but that didn’t seemed to be the main driving force behind all the work. I enjoyed it. And the evenings were fun because we were always having a laugh and playing games on the multitude of consoles. Joe kept his rpg’s to during the day when I was busy.

It was a few months later that Joe said he was going to take me out for a meal to thank me for all the hard work so I got dressed and noticed that again I was bigger, but I put it down to extra muscle from all the outdoor work. I walked into the front room and Joe looked at me and a smile crept onto his face. “Look nice n’ smart there.”

“Yeah, I’m slightly bigger though. I should’ve bought a few sizes up.”

“Suits ya. Makes ya look more… manly.” he smiled nicely so I took it to mean a compliment. “Oh, and we’re goin’ all ya c’n eat food place. I’m famished and I’m guessing ya must be pretty ‘ungry yaself.” I agreed. I was starving. I was used to craving certain foods. Like pizza, burgers, even salad. But I didn’t crave any of those. What I craved was food. Just food. I didn’t care what it was, I just felt like eating!

I had never eaten so much in my life! I excused myself when we got back to go and lay down as I was really tired. I lay there after taking my clothes off which were so restricting – that was a relief – and dozed off thinking about all the food I had eaten.

I was woken by someone shaking me. I looked up to see Joe standing there with a plate in one hand and a milkshake in the other. “Thought you’d be ‘ungry. You’ve bin ‘sleep fer a few hours.” I was about to say that I wasn’t, but I actually was. I thanked him and he left me eating the food and drinking the milkshake. Afterwards I walked into the front room completely forgetting to put on a top. I sat down and took some peanuts from the bowl next to my seat. I was there eating them and realised that I’d never done that before, but it felt natural to eat them so I didn’t think about it again. Joe said that I was sporting quite a belly and I looked down and I was! It was sticking right out and over my belt.

“I knew ya enjoyed ya growin’ build despite what ya’ve bin sayin’. It really suits ya bein’ bigger. Have yer thought about bein’ bigger still?”

“Uhm, well, not really. I mean, I’ve noticed my clothes aren’t fitting as well as they did. But putting weight on on purpose? I mean, it’s weird isn’t it?” I panicked wondering whether he would take that as an insult to his size.

“Nowt weird about it. Lot of people like puttin’ on weight n’ gettin’ bigger. Hell, how’d ya think I got this size?” As he said that, he slapped his gut and it rippled, and he laughed. “If ya want to get bigger, I c’n help ya. Ya already got a good appetite and ya bin buildin’ up bit of muscle from bein’ outside, but if ya wanna go further…”

I sat there. I was seriously thinking about it. I would’ve laughed it off if anyone else had said it, but I trusted him not to make fun of me. “Yes. I would love to get bigger.”, I said with conviction and a confidence I was surprised at.

“Great! I knew ya’d come ‘round. Git yerself some sleep, ‘cause we got a big day tahmorrow.”

Cleaning House (Part 1)

A couple weeks ago, I received a short story submission from a fan, who said I could publish it if I so desired on my site. The story was nice, but a bit short, and it ended just as things were getting to, well, the good parts. So, what follows is the story the fan submitted, lightly edited, which I then went ahead and extended for fun, into something more complete! Hope you all enjoy it.

“All of these jobs look boring.” I thought, throwing down the local newspaper onto the floor. I needed a job. My redundancy money was nearly all gone, but nothing was showing much promise, and the wages were ridiculously low. I couldn’t survive on this money! I went to have a frustration wank in the bathroom and came back and laid back down on the sofa. Looking down at the paper again I saw an advert that I didn’t see before. It read:

“Cleaner required. Minimum wage but meals included. Can also provide accommodation. Sense of humour a must, interested in rpg’s a bonus!”

“Okay,” I said out loud to myself, “That could be helpful. My lease on this place is up in a couple of weeks.” I phoned the number and spoke to a guy that sounded nice. Laid back kind of guy and we had a laugh so he invited me for an interview.

I drove down the lane towards this wooden log cabin. It was out of they way, but I kind of liked it. It was rustic and somehow… homely. I’d already decided that if I got offered the job I would snap it straight up.

I walked up the three steps to the door and then stood there for a minute. Why was I nervous? I’d been on loads of interviews and I wasn’t exactly shy. I put it down to the fact that it was a different kind of job. One that I wasn’t used to doing. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“C’mon in! S’open!”. I recognised the voice straight away from the phone call. I put on my best smile and opened the door. I wasn’t expecting to see what I saw. The place was a tip. Beer cans, pizza boxes, empty packets of crisps and sweets. They were everywhere. I couldn’t see the floor. It could have been carpeted or plain wood for all I knew. Joe (that was his name by the way) must have seen the look on my face because he laughed “Yeah, now you c’n see why I need a cleaner. Would’ve tidied up, but y’know.” I looked in the direction of the voice and my heart skipped a beat. I knew I was gay, so that wasn’t a shock, but what WAS a shock was my heart skipping a beat and a sudden twinge in my pants when I saw Joe.

He was big. No, that wasn’t good enough. Huge? Humongous? That was getting there. He was sitting there with a fag in his hand, resting it on him enormous belly. His legs were spread wide and his belly hung down almost over the edge of the sofa. But what made him look huge was that it was so wide as well. He had a massive chest which looked muscular and massive arms. It looked like his wrists were as thick as my biceps. He was also bald and sported an impressive manly beard. He certainly wasn’t my normal type. Yeah, I did go for guys with a bit of meat on them, but not this much. And his voice… deep, gravelly and countrified.

He stood up as I made my way over and shook my hand, looking down at me and smiling. He was about six inches taller than me. I could feel activity in my jeans and tried my best to stop myself from getting hard. It was a struggle, but upon thinking of Joe noticing that I was sporting a hard-on made it disappear quickly enough. I really wasn’t sure his views on gay guys and didn’t want to really freak him out. Or worse, send me packing with no job.

He let go of my hand and cleared a load of pizza boxes off a seat and onto the floor. “Have a seat. Fancy a beer?” I declined, saying that I was driving. “Ah, one won’t kill ya. And I promise t’feed ya before ya leave so yer not over limit.” I accepted and he opened a beer with one hand and passed it to me. It looked like a normal can in his hand but as soon as I took it I realised that it was a large can. I nervously took a sip and then tried speaking. “So…”, I just went blank. I didn’t know what to say.

“Haha!”, Joe bellowed out a laugh, “Don’t be nervous. I think we got on okay on t’phone so I think we’ll be okay talking in the real.”

“Heh, yeah.” I said, barely audibly (“heh, yeah? What the fuck was that?” I thought). I took another sip of beer while he paused his game he had obviously been playing when I walked in.

We talked for hours. I’d had a few beers without even noticing and then I was starting to feel hungry and luckily Joe said he was going to order some pizza and within half an hour we were sitting there – one medium pizza for me and two large pizzas for him. Plus sides. He tried to talk me into more food but I told him I don’t have a big appetite. “Ha!” he laughed, “That’ll change when yer livin’ ‘ere.”

“So I’ve got the job then?” I thought I sounded more excited than I probably should have.

“If yer wan’ it, it yours.” he smiled.

A Dog’s Tale (Part 5)

It was at this point that Fido paused in his story, looked down at my lap, and licked his chops–I mean, his lips, or whatever. I followed his eyes, and was disturbed to see that his rather detailed description of his first time in gear had, for some reason I couldn’t quite explain at this moment, given me a massive erection in the front of my pants. But that…I knew I shouldn’t be turned on by this. Fido had, as the story progressed, gone from a mere curiosity to someone much creepier. Why in the hell was I even still listening to him? I needed to get home, I had work in the morning, but more than anything, I didn’t want to have to listen to the fucker’s strange ravings anymore. And yet, even as I tried to stand up and head for the doors of the train, my body stayed right beside him. He reached out with one hand, stuck in the paw of the suit, and groped my crotch, whining a bit.

“Don’t worry master, I’ll help you out soon, once we get home. Then I’ll be your pup. I’ll be a really good pup, I promise. I can’t wait to be…me again.”

“No–No, fuck you, I don’t know what your fucking shit is, but I’m fucking done with you.”

It took all the will I could muster, but I did, at last, lurch up to standing and squeeze through the people on the train towards the door as we approached the next stop. I didn’t care if Fido was following me or not–I’d get away from him somehow, or at least find some security guard or police officer to get him to stop fucking harassing me. I got out on the platform–one I couldn’t remember ever seeing in my life–where in the world was I even?

“Master! This isn’t our stop!” Fido shouted, but I just headed for the stairway out–I needed some fucking air, I needed to get away from this crazy fuck. As I hurried off, I passed a map of the subway system, and realized I had somehow gotten on the complete wrong train, heading in the opposite direction from my apartment. Instead, I was heading towards the rundown section of town, mostly occupied by small apartments where the lower class workers and laborers tended to live. I should turn around and head for the trains, but that would mean passing Fido…and all I knew was that I needed to get this fuck away from me, but he caught up to me soon enough.

“Sir, I don’t understand, why did you get off?”

“Please, just fucking leave me alone!”

“But I haven’t finished my story yet–I haven’t even gotten to the good parts!”

I turned on him, and screamed in his face, “I don’ wanna hear anymore a yer fuckin’ story, ya fuckin’ mutt!”

Something was wrong again–my voice…that wasn’t how I was supposed to sound, was it? I felt dizzy and a bit lightheaded, and as I turned around, I saw people staring at me–at me, like I was the crazy fuck, and not the fucker beside me in the fucking costume.

“Why’s he yelling at his doggy, mom?” said a little girl passing by, but her mother just shushed her, gave me a wary look, and pulled her along.

“I’m ain’t fuckin’ crazy…he’s the crazy fuck,” I muttered, but Fido just tapped at my hand with his.

“Let me finish the story sir, and everything will make sense, I promise.”

“No, I don’t fucking want to listen to anymore of this crap,” I said, quieter so only Fido could hear, and kept walking, until I passed an advertisement on the subway wall behind plastic–letting me see a translucent reflection of myself, and what I thought I saw–it couldn’t be right. My body…I could remember it not looking quite right before, but now I seemed even more off–my gut even more pronounced, and I seemed to have lost another couple of inches of height…but now, there were new differences. My usually clean shaven face was covered with a thick beard, one that looked like I’d been growing it for years, and my head was completely shaven. Almost worse, my perfectly tailored suit was gone, and replaced by a pair of grungy, hi-viz coveralls, the kind worn by guys in construction. I didn’t even fucking look like me anymore, I looked–and sounded, I realized–like some lower class, uneducated grunt. Then Fido caught up with me, and in the mirror…in the mirror, I didn’t see the man in the suit, no, what I saw was…was a dog. Was my dog, the big fucking mutt, almost to my waist–I turned and looked at him, and he was still standing there in the costume…but what the fuck was wrong with me?

“What the fuckin’ hell is this? What the fuck’s happenin’ tah me? I ain’t supposed tah look like this, ‘n why’s everyone think yer a real fuckin’ dog?”

“Because I am a dog, master–that’s what I’m trying to tell you! See, I thought it was a curse, but Master Joel–he helped me see what I needed to be, and after that first night in Pigtown everything made so much more sense, you see.”

“I don’t wanna listen anymore, I don’t wanna hear any more crazy shit from yer fuckin’ mouth.”

“Come on Master, you’re just cranky because you haven’t smoked your pipe in a while. Let’s go sit down outside, you can smoke a while, and I’ll keep telling you my story–how’s that sound?”

I tried to resist, but he just grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out of the station, parked me on a bench, and as he kept speaking, he helped me light a pipe that had somehow appeared in the breast pocket of my new coveralls. I listened, and felt my cock start to harden again, but once I had a nice buzz going from my pipe, I settled down, and groped my cock as my dog described his first night in Pigtown.