The Contractor’s Boy (Part 3)

Shane settled into the new routine of his life with little fuss. He would wake up early–always clad in his work gear–head downstairs and start cooking. His father would come downstairs to eat breakfast around the time when Roger would arrive at the house, and while the three of them ate, Shane’s mother would drift through the room, in her own world, and head to work. After eating, his father would leave as well, and then Shane would join Roger and get started on the work for the day.

He was learning quite a bit, however, and the tasks he was given were becoming quite a bit more than just fetching and carrying. Still, the project didn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense–what exactly were they doing in here, anyway? His father had only ever mentioned getting the house renovated, but had never been more specific than that–but what on earth was this new room even for? He might try and ask Roger these sorts of questions, but quickly learned that he shouldn’t–he’d earn a stern rebuke at best, or if he pressed the matter, Roger would make him bend over the sawhorse while he paddled his ass red.

Usually, however, those sorts of questions wouldn’t occur to him at all. He would just focus on whatever task Roger had given him in that moment, and complete it to the best of his ability. Still, several times a day he’d notice a detail, and realize that something about this entire situation was…wrong. Like when he took a bathroom break one day, and lingered at the mirror, staring at the filthy coveralls he was wearing–that he’d been wearing for nearly two weeks straight. He hadn’t even taken the boots off in all that time either, not without Roger’s explicit permission–say, if he got something in the bottom of one–and then it had to go right back on. The front and the crotch were covered with stains from his own loads of cum, and recently, from Roger’s. He’d taken to jacking off as well, and while he’d often make Shane suck him off, he nearly always shot his load onto Shane’s coveralls, and afterwards make Shane tell him how much he enjoyed being Sir’s cumrag. But usually, a thought like that would derail his concern, and he’d forget about his worries, or he’d start jacking off, or he’d ignore them–knowing that broaching the subject with Roger would be a poor choice.

Still, things were changing. There were a few differences he’d noticed when he’d gotten home from school that had gotten worse–his father’s whole appearance, for example. He’d always been very concerned with his looks, but he’d suddenly made all sorts of changes–and not all of them were flattering. For one thing, he was gaining weight, enough to create a bit of a paunch in the front of his shirts when he went to work, stretching the buttons slightly. He’d started growing out his beard, as well. It had been kind of funny, when Shane had arrived, because the grey in the face had confirmed that his father had obviously been dying his hair to a younger black–but he never dyed the beard, as it grew, and the grey roots of his hair were beginning to show as well. It made him look rather…distinguished–at least, it did until it got a bit overgrown and shaggy.

Then, there were the cigars his father had started smoking–the same brand as Roger, in fact. His father had always hated smokers, and yet he seemed perfectly at ease with his new habit. When Shane had tried to ask him when he’d started, in fact, his father had looked at him like he was a bit crazy–and Roger had insisted that his father had been smoking them for years. Still, that couldn’t possibly be right, unless he’d been hiding it from his mother this whole time. In fact, her behavior was perhaps the most bizarre of all. Normally, she was always micromanaging both her husband and son when they were home, but when Shane had arrived, she’d seemed so…distant and uninterested in them both. Now, there were some nights when she didn’t even come home at all. The only person she talked to was Roger, who’d ask her how she’d been lately, and they’d have a private conversation outside–usually while Shane and his father ate. Everything was different, somehow, and yet, it felt to Shane like all of it was completely normal.

But today…something was different about today. For one thing, Roger was nervous, but in an excited sort of fashion. It was a Saturday, and so both of his parents were home for the day, but Roger had mostly given Shane a list of construction tasks to complete in the room that afternoon, while he’d gone and taken both his father and mother into another room to discuss some of his thoughts on the project’s progress. Shane had expected it to take a few hours, but they’d been hours now, and his list was almost finished. Being unsupervised this long…shouldn’t he be doing something? Trying to get…help? But why would he need help? Instead, he kept working–Sir would be…upset if the list wasn’t done by the end of the workday–he knew that.

He finished the tasks, and sat down on a bucket, groping the wet crotch of his coveralls, ready to milk out another load as a reward, when Roger came back into the room with his parents. “Alright–how’s the list boy?”

“All finished sir,” Shane said, “I…I was just gonna jack off.”

“That can wait boy. Looks like the boy and I are all finished for the day then, so we’ll be leaving,” Roger said to Shane’s parents. “Clean up the tools, boy, and then let’s go.”

“Do you need me to make dinner like usual sir?” Shane asked, a bit confused by what Roger had just said.

His mother laughed, “Oh, he’s very sweet to offer, but no.”

Roger winked at him, and Shane got a bit anxious. That wink…it never meant anything good. Still, he cleaned up the room as Roger liked it, and in ten minutes they were finished. “Well come on boy, it’s time to go home. We’ll take tomorrow off, though, and be back on Monday,” Roger said.

“But…I mean…” Shane said, looking at his parents, “I am home. I sleep here.”

His mom and dad got…rather strange looks on their faces, and looked over at Roger. His mother, in particular, looked quite disgusted. “That’s not appropriate–I thought your boy would behave better than that.”

“No boy, that isn’t appropriate talk, is it. Apologize to the nice lady, and then get your butt in the truck.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, mom,” Shane said, but Roger whacked him upside the head.

“You address ladies as Ma’am, boy. You know that.”

“S-Sorry Ma’am,” Shane muttered.

“Now get going.” Roger shoved Shane towards the front door, and he knew he should object, but the world seemed to be spinning, and he was crying, and he looked back at his parents, but they…didn’t even seem to recognize him. And then they were outside, and into Roger’s truck, where he grinned at Shane’s face. “They won’t miss you boy, don’t worry–and you’ll be back Monday morning anyway for work! But I’ve been missin’ you at home, boy–where you fuckin’ belong–and where you’ll be staying for a good long time.”

The Contractor’s Boy (Part 2)

His parents arrived home that evening, and found their son still hard at work with Roger, room thick with smoke, quite a few cans of beer littering the floor, and as embarrassed as Shane was to be seen like this, neither of his parents seemed to pay it any mind. His mom suggested that Roger stay for dinner, since he was doing such a good job, and Roger was more than happy to take her up on the offer–it was late, and no one felt like cooking, so they ordered some food in for delivery. When it arrived, Shane was surprised by how much there was for just four people–nine extra large pizzas. But while his mom ate her usual two or three slices, Shane found himself in the dining room with Roger and his dad, all three of them chatting (well, it was mostly Roger talking, actually) and before he knew it, All of the pizzas were gone, and both him, and his father’s, guts were stretched tight and packed full. Roger gave them an affectionate rub, told Shane he’d been a very, very good boy that day, and then left for the evening. Exhausted after a long day of work, Shane climbed upstairs–still in the coveralls and boots Roger had given him–thought about a shower but decided he couldn’t be bothered, and headed to his bedroom to sleep.

In bed, he felt…uncomfortable. It was because he was still wearing the coveralls and boots, right? Shouldn’t he take them off? He’d never slept in a bed with any sort of shoes on before, and it…didn’t feel right at all. But that couldn’t be the problem–he was probably just horny. He jacked off instead, blowing two loads into the front of the coveralls, thinking about…Roger. About his cigars, about his voice, about how every time he heard the word “boy” he felt so calm, and relaxed, and happy, and sexy, and horny. It wasn’t long before he finally fell asleep, but when his alarm started blaring at six in the morning, he wasn’t particularly happy. Still, there was a reason he needed to get up, wasn’t there? He was helping Roger out some more today, and he needed to eat before he arrived.

Downstairs, Shane hauled a bunch of stuff out of the refrigerator and started cooking. It was simple fare–bacon, eggs, pancakes–but enough for six or seven people. His dad came down for work, sat down and stuffed himself, and then Shane joined him. His dad thanked him for the meal and then left for the day, his mom coming down a bit later, unfazed by the cumstained coveralls, seeming a bit…distant and uninterested in general, actually. She ate a light breakfast and then left for her own job, and Roger arrived as she was leaving.

“You had breakfast, right boy? Something good and hearty?” Roger said, patting Shane’s belly, which was doing flips–not…only because he was so full, but also because he was horny as hell, and hadn’t jacked off that morning. “Gotta keep the boy growing, right? Light me a cigar, boy.”

“Y-Yes sir…” Shane said. Shane took the cigar and lighter his master handed him, and went through the routine he’d been taught, but Roger could see he was anxious.

“Something wrong boy?”

“Just…just horny sir. I didn’t jack off this morning.”

“You need to jack off boy? You can do that if you want.”

Shane went red in the face, and assured Roger he didn’t need to if there was work to do, but Roger insisted. And so, while Roger smoked a cigar and groped his own cock, Shane reached into the front of his coveralls and started stroking his cock.

“That’s a good boy. Makes you feel good, jacking off in front of me, right boy?”

Shane nodded, but in his head he was horrified. He couldn’t believe he was doing this in front of someone like Roger, but if anything he was even more turned on. Roger exhaled a plume of smoke, and Shane let out a groan as it engulfed him, and his cock exploded. Roger reached out and groped the front of Shane’s coveralls, feeling the sticky cum soaking through. “You’re being a very good boy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Go get us a couple of beers, and let’s get to work.”

Shane did as he was told, and they worked through the morning, stopping at lunch time. Roger wanted to go out and get some fast food, and Shane didn’t protest–though the strange looks the older woman who lived next door gave him when he walked out behind Roger made him wonder just what he was doing. This wasn’t normal–none of it was, and yet, here he was, climbing into Roger’s truck, heading for a local burger joint. Again, Roger got too much food, and encouraged Shane to stuff himself–he got so full that it made him horny…or was it the fact that Roger was hotboxing him with his cigar smoke the entire time they sat in the truck? In any case, Roger was talking to him a lot, but he could barely focus–he was happy to get back to work in the afternoon at home.

Roger stayed over for dinner that night too. In fact, Shane couldn’t recall the last time he and his parents had eaten dinner without Roger there. The only difference was that Shane was the one cooking today, while Roger and his dad talked, and his mom got some work done in the office. It wasn’t the best meal, but Roger and his dad praised him for it anyway, and that made him feel good–and plenty hungry–Shane tucked away more than either of them, snorting and grunting, cock hard in his coveralls.

“This boy’s a total pig, Gary,” Roger said to Shane’s father.

“Really sir?” Gary replied.

“Yeah–feel that boy’s cock–see how hard he gets from stuffing himself?”

His dad reached over and felt up Shane, and he was too shocked to even do anything other than freeze as it happened, mouth full of food.

“Damn, sure is! Hard as a rock.”

“Yeah, real pigboy,” Roger said, reaching over and groping Shane’s cock, tugging at it through the rough fabric, sticky from all the loads of cum he’d encouraged Shane to shoot into it all day long. He was close, snorting and grunting through a mouthful of food, and he came.

“Fuck, that’s…kind of disgusting, sir,” Gary said.

“You seem to like it plenty yourself,” Roger said, and felt Gary’s own rock hard cock, “You’ll be jackin’ off later, thinking about your own full gut, right?”

Gary nodded, “Yes sir.”

“That’s good–real good,” he said, and stood up with a belch, “You did real good today boy,” he said to Shane, “and I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Trucker Baptism (Sketch)

Avery was on a road trip to visit his newly married brother a couple of states over–it was a drive he’d made fairly often, and by far, the thing he hated the most was having to stop on the road to go to the bathroom. The fasted highway there wasn’t the busiest, and the two rest areas along the way weren’t particularly well maintained. Still, he also wasn’t a fan of pulling off onto the shoulder just to take a piss, and so he resigned himself to taking a stop at one of them, and pulled off the road.

There were actually a number of semi-trucks parked off to the side, as well as a few smaller cars like him. When he got into the grungy restroom, he was surprised–he had to stand there and wait for a urinal, because both were occupied by guys. One seemed fairly normal, and the other looked like a trucker–thick beard, heavy gut–he let off a belch as he pissed and wiped a bit of slobber onto his sleeve. He finished first, however, and backed off–Avery realized as he walked up and undid his fly that the slob hadn’t even bothered to flush. He reached for the handle, a bit surprised by how dark it was, but before he could flush it away he the stench of it hit him.

It was strong–some of the strongest piss he’d ever smelled, but while he wanted to gag, he found his body reacting differently–he took a deeper breath, and felt his knees start to shake a bit. What was the matter with him? Just flush it already! He tried, but his arm was weak, his head dropping lower to smell it better. The man beside him finished pissing and gave him a disgusted look before booking it out of the room, leaving Avery alone–or so he thought.

Behind him, the trucker was smirking, watching as Avery kept smelling–snorting really–and dropped to his knees in front of the urinal, hauling his cock free as he did, unable to believe how turned on he was.

“Always nice, getting a chance to spread the good news,” a voice said behind him. He couldn’t…quite turn away from the piss in front of him, but he heard heavy footfalls as the trucker walked up beside him, looking down and smirking. “Nice, ain’t it? Never smelt anythin’ like it in yer life, I bet.”

Avery didn’t quite know where to find his words, and so he nodded a bit, eyes still glued to the piss in the bowl.

“Thought we were runnin’ out! Ain’t found a convert in a while. Good tah keep the faith alive though,” the man walked up, bent down and ran his hand through the piss, sloshing it a bit, and then pulled it out, dripping, and wiped Avery’s forehead with it. It ran down over his eyes, which he shut tight, past his nose, to his mouth–helpless, his tongue darted out for a taste, and his cock leaked precum even faster than it already was. “In the name of our Glorious Master, are you ready to receive your baptism, brother?” the trucker asked him in his ear.

The trucker didn’t wait for a nod, or a yes–he palmed Avery’s shaven skull and shoved his face into the piss, pressing his face to the porcelain while Avery shuddered. He could taste it–he could smell it. It was inside him now, but what? More than the piss, but it wanted more, it wanted to be deeper. He hadn’t managed to get much of a breath, and the trucker wasn’t letting him up for air. He struggled harder, but the man’s weight was leaden. He tried to reach for the flush lever, but couldn’t find it. Unable to fight any longer, he inhaled the filth, and felt the still warm piss flood into his lungs, filling him with…with the Master. Master’s will, God’s will. He could…see, as his vision blurred, a man, a massive fucker, reeking of piss and musk. He would serve him, he was meant to serve him he–

A fist slammed into his gut, right on his diaphragm, and Avery coughed, spraying piss all over the floor where he’d fallen. The trucker was beside him, and pulled Avery’s head into his lap as he coughed, and he felt the stiff shaft of…of his brother’s cock pressing against the side of his face, but he didn’t flinch away–he rubbed against it, horny, aching to serve him, to serve the master.

The man let his cock out, and Avery started sucking at it, hungry for cum, delighting in the taste, digging in his own pants for his cock, only to find it had somehow doubled in size, rivaling his brother’s in length and girth. With his other hand, he discovered other changes, but he didn’t grasp the full scope of his conversion until he’d drank his baptismal load of cum and been helped off the floor. In the mirror…it was him, and yet it wasn’t. Big gut stretching his hoodie, pants bursting at the seams to contain his wide ass, thick beard on his face, and hair coating his body.

“Come on brother–ya have a load of piss fer me, I think, and then I need a nice long fuck. Haven’t had an initiate in ages, ‘n this trucker pig needs tah worship some God Cock, don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah,” Avery said, his deep, gruff tone making his cock leak, and he leered at his partner. “Ain’t been tah church before though, so yer gonna have tah show me the way.”

Wake Up!

Lucas was just finishing up in the locker room after practice, and he was the last one out today–he’d been caught chatting with coach on the field for a few minutes, and most everyone was on their way back to the dorms by the time he’d gotten in and started getting out of his uniform. He’d just gotten into his shorts and shoes for the walk back to his room, and was getting his shirt, when he realized someone had been watching him this entire time.

It wasn’t someone he recognized–certainly not anyone from the team. He looked even too young to be in college, actually, but maybe he was a freshman who’d gotten lost. He was peeking around the corner of the locker room, and just…staring at Lucas there, in a way which was making him immediately uncomfortable. “Uh…can I help you?” he asked.

The young man didn’t seem upset that he’d been caught peeping, but his face did flush with excitement. “You…It could be you…” he said, and stepped out. Much to Lucas’ surprise, the young man was completely naked. His face seemed young, but the rest of him was very well developed–lean and muscled, with a massive cock hanging between his legs. Why in the hell was he naked? Sure, it was a locker room, but he didn’t belong in here.

“What the fuck man, are you some fucking faggot?” Lucas asked, and stood up, “Stay the fuck away from me.”

The young man didn’t approach, just stood there, cock swaying. “I would never–not yet. You need to Wake Up first.”

The young man was speaking at a normal volume, but the phrase “Wake Up” seemed to multitudes louder than anything else the young man had said, loud enough that Lucas swore he could see the room shake around them.

“Yes, it could be you! You have to Wake Up daddy! Wake Up! Wake Up!…”

Lucas tried to cover his ears, but the force swept over him all the same, and to his terror, the room was coming apart like an earthquake. The boy was still screaming those two words over and over again, and the ceiling was crumbling, it was going to crush him–

Luke jolted awake with a start, panting, in his recliner, and looked around the room. Where was he? It looked like a fairly normal den, he supposed, but…but he’d just been in the locker room! How had he ended up here? Then he looked down at himself, and the questions only compounded.

This wasn’t his body. Sure, in another 20 years or so, he might have looked something like this, with the soft gut and thick thighs, the low hanging balls and fuzzy belly, but…but this wasn’t right. He stood up and went to turn around, and there, in the doorway, was the boy.

His boy.

His…his son.

His naked son, with that…that big fucking cock of his swinging to and fro, and he could fucking taste it, yeah, that…fucking boy cock felt so good rammed down his fucking throat, and his son loved making his daddy moan like a fucking whore…

Luke shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Where–what did you do? Take me back there! I…This isn’t right!”

“Oh daddy–you know how dreams work! Once you wake up, you can never go back. I thought you might be one, and I was right. I’ve been searching so long daddy, and I finally found you.”

His son advanced towards him, and Luke backed away, but he…wanted to touch him so badly, to please him, to…to satisfy him. Teach him. He was just a boy after all, he had so much to learn.

His boy stopped a few feet away, his cock hardening. It was so fucking big, just staring at it was making Luke’s stomach growl. “Come on daddy–come make your son happy.”

He should. He shouldn’t. His knees shook, but refused to buckle. “I’m…I’m you’re fucking father boy, and…and you’re going to make this right. I don’t know what you did, but fix this right now.”

His son frowned. “Don’t be silly daddy–you can’t go back. You’re Awake now.”

“No! No, this has to be the dream–you did…something to me boy, now fix it!”

The boy smiled, “I want to be reasonable daddy–but if you think this is a dream…then maybe you need to Wake Up again.”

The room sloshed, and Luke lost his balance, one foot…falling through the floor like it was mush. “No boy, not–”

“Wake Up daddy! Wake up if you want, but I’ll always be here.”

Like before, the words had tremendous force, and the walls of the room began to sag around them, Luke’s feet sinking into the carpet. He tried to crawl out, but like quicksand, it was sucking him down, and the last thing he saw before it swallowed him up, was his boy leering down at him, and his massive cock leaking cum like a faucet.

Lou lurched over, fighting off the dream, his body sweating and shivering in terror. Still, he tried to cling to it, but it was fading quickly, and within a minute, it was lost, aside from a vague sensation of drowning. Good–he didn’t want to feel like that again, he never wanted to feel like that. He heaved himself up from the bed where he’d been napping, feeling his fat body settle around him, scratched his ass through his briefs, and waddled over to the bathroom to relieve himself.

It sucked getting old–everything hurt. It felt like just yesterday that he was young, a promising athlete, running and jumping and–

He started to shake again, and felt like he might throw up. No–no, he didn’t want that. He wanted to be old, and feeble, and…and hungry–but hungry for what?

“There you are, Grandpa,” his grandson said in the doorway, naked, his massive cock hard as a rock. Just staring at it filled Lou with such fucking lust, but his old cock didn’t get hard anymore–but he didn’t need to get hard to make his grandson happy. “I need you real bad, I’ve waited so long.”

“Well, you can wait a bit more–Grandpa has to pee,” Lou said with a chuckle.

“No!” His boy shouted, “No! Now! Now, or I’ll do it again, I swear I will!”

He didn’t quite know what his boy meant, but the threat filled Lou with terror all the same, and he got down and started sucking his grandson’s cock, the boy roughly fucking his face, slamming his huge cock down his old throat, but it felt so good. He tried to hold his piss, but couldn’t–and emptied his bladder into the front of his briefs, feeling it run down his hairy thighs and pool around his knees…but it didn’t matter. Keeping his grandson happy was most important. It was his dream, after all, and he never wanted to wake up ever again.

Slave Swap (Part 6)

He spent three years as Jug. At times, he could almost convince himself that he was enjoying it, to some extent, but in moments of honesty, he was simply disgusted. He was weak, just like Master said he was. He was weak, and even staring at his ugly face, his massive beard, his expanding frame in the mirror every single day did nothing to help him quit. He’d grown quite a bit larger, over the years–and now weighed close to 450 pounds. It was hard working at this point, getting up and down to clean the toilets, getting up and down to drink loads of cum and piss from men at work, from men on the streets, from men in the bars and the bathhouses. His reputation had certainly spread, and he had several men who were regulars–waiting to feed him once, if not twice a day, and his Master had never, for a day, not loved watching his slave slowly succumb to the pressures of this body.

He would…reward him, on occasion–with new programming, or new ways of shaming and humiliating him. He’d begun to lose control over his bowels–slowly enough that he wasn’t quite sure if it was simply his body giving in to age, or if it was Master manipulating him slowly–but if he wasn’t careful, his regular farts would quickly lead him to dump loads of shit into the back of his diapers. Thankfully Master hadn’t made that…attractive to him, though he had threatened it on multiple occasions. It seemed to be enough to make Jug addicted to stink–his own foul body odors in particular, his belches and farts particularly, though nothing could turn him on quite like a day old diaper pressed to his face.

Jug had begun to lose hope that he’d ever escape this. Master seemed to be enjoying himself too much to ever give him back his old body. He…couldn’t even really remember what he’d looked like, before all of this. Couldn’t even remember who he’d been. Slowly, his old memories had faded away, leaving Jug’s fraudulent past the only one he could really access with any reliability. Still, he knew what Master had done to him. Knew he would get his body, and his freedom back, eventually. Still, he was terrified to even broach the subject, for fear that Master would hold it over his head, dangle it within reach. He could imagine it:

“You want your body back slave? I don’t think you could really respect it, do you? How about this–you go one week without guzzling cum and piss, without sucking down those filthy cigars, without drinking so much you pass out every night–you do that for one week, and I’ll get you your body back. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? I mean, you couldn’t even make it a full week years ago, when your…needs were so much weaker than they are now, but with a proper goal in mind, I’m sure you can get there.”

He could barely believe it, then, when one day Master arrived for what he expected to be a fuck session, and instead, he unfurled a rubber sack onto the floor. “I think you’ve served your time, Jug–now get in there, and let’s get you back in your proper body.”

He was so happy, he cried, kissing his Master’s feet in appreciation, and then worked his massive body into the tight rubber suit, allowed Master to hook him up to the catheter, IV and mask, and then fell asleep, and when he woke up sometime later–he did feel different. Lighter, and smaller, and he was so eager to see himself, to remember himself. Master drew down the zipper and he ripped the mask off his face and got up, and when he saw his reflection in the mirror in Master’s room, he nearly started to cry.

What had they done to him? What had they done to his body? Cameron stared at his form in disbelief. He could remember what he’d looked like now–clearly. His muscled body, his hairless skin, his youth–he remembered it like not a day as Jug had ever passed. But now, he looked to be close to 300 pounds–a bit smaller than he’d been when first taking the other slave’s body–and he had hair all over, including a particularly thick bush around his cock. He looked like an animal, especially with the long hair and thick beard. Master shoved him up against the full length mirror, putting Cameron eye to eye with himself, and fucked him roughly.

“I’ve missed this hole slave–feel’s good to be home, doesn’t it?” he gripped him by the long hair, tugging his head back forcefully, “I particularly like what they did during your absence–don’t you think? With your…current inclinations, I’m sure this feels quite nice. Doesn’t it?” Master shook his slave’s gut, and Cameron felt it jiggle, “You like how that feels?”

Cameron couldn’t speak. He couldn’t believe what had happened. “You…you let them…”

“I told him he could return your body in whatever condition he wanted. I’ve enjoyed watching him do it, too, over the last couple of years. His slave enjoyed it as well–ruining your body, force feeding you’re skinny muscled frame until you looked like this. It was such a nice present for him, really–you’re very generous, slave. They’re very happy with what you’ve done to him as well, of course. You did a very nice job, I can assure you.”

He started fucking Cameron harder now, getting closer to cumming.

“At least you don’t need diapers! Still, you’ll be needing plenty of piss and cum, after how wrecked both your body and mind are–I’ve made sure of that. Plenty of cigars and beer too. Unless you can find the will to resist–get this body back into proper shape. What do you think? Think you can do it? I doubt you can, but maybe now that it’s your own body, you’ll care a bit more about what happens to it. Still, I’ll rent you out again soon enough, maybe in another year or two. There’s no rush after all–we aren’t even to the five year mark, and I know I’ll be keeping you for the full term! I have so many friends, you see–other masters–and they all want a turn with your body. Ten years from now, you won’t even recognize yourself! You might hate yourself so much, you’ll be begging to stay with me, as my property, just so I’ll let you live in another body on occasion. Yeah–imagine your body so fucked up, that I rent it out as punishment for other master’s slaves–how does that sound to you? Because it sounds fucking amazing to me, slave, so fucking amazing…”

Master came, and Cameron was crying, tears smeared across the mirror in front of him. Still, he’d asked for this, hadn’t he? But even now, all that money promised to him, it wasn’t worth this, was it? But now he had no choice at all, and if Master’s plans were fulfilled, he imagined he’d never have a choice ever again.

Slave Swap (Part 2)

“Count backwards from 100 slowly, slave, and then you may force your way out. Take a look at yourself, and then come find me at the computer.”

Cameron started counting, and heard Master’s footsteps recede out of the room. While he laid there, counting quietly to himself, he tried to piece together what, exactly, his body was feeling. There was some pain–quite a bit of it really–but nothing too prominent, just some aches in his joints which he might expect after a trip somewhere, confined like this. But why put him to sleep? Where had this even come from? Master had never shown much interest in fetish play before this. He hit fifty, and realized that his voice sounded a bit odd as well, but passed it off as distortion from the mask he was wearing–though it seemed different from the one Master had put on him before. Was it? The shape was slightly off. From ten to one, he could barely stand waiting, but he made it, and started wriggling in the suit, trying to get the zipper to creep down. It was hard work, and he felt tired and sore and weak, but he managed to get it down past his head, and then pushed it open with his shoulders, letting him free one arm, and then the other. He pulled off the mask and looked around–they hadn’t gone anywhere! They were still in the bedroom, though the light was different, certainly. He got the zipper down further, and that’s when he noticed something was off–his usually flat stomach was not flat at all, but as he unzipped the rubber, he revealed a massive, flabby gut covered with grey and white hair.

Cameron didn’t know how to react at the sight. He stopped unzipping felt it–it was certainly…him. Had Master taen him to get his body reshaped? But then why the sack? He kept going, eager to get free now, and at last he managed to get out entirely, pulled the IV from his arm, and the catheter from his cock–but as he did, his cock kept leaking, dribbling piss onto the floor as he stood, and moved in front of the mirror, and found himself looking at…someone else entirely.

How much could this have cost? This was no minor set of modifications. Cameron looked to be at least sixty now–and an unmodified sixty–with a thick white beard, a shaven head, a septum ring through his nose. His gut hung down, blocking view of his cock and balls, but they seemed smaller than before, and the hair was everywhere. If he’d thought Master was fat and hairy before this…well, Cameron now had a much thicker pelt, and was heavier than him by at least fifty pounds. The weight was all concentrated in his gut, however–his arms and legs seemed thin and weak, and shook slightly as he stood. Piss was still dribbling, running from the head of his short cock and under his balls, where it hit the floor. He tried to clench, but his body didn’t even respond. Still, as horrified as he was, he had orders; he walked out on shaking legs and followed Master into his office the next room over, where he was sitting, naked, masturbating slowly to something that sounded like porn playing on the screen.

“Come slave, come take a look at this,” Master said, and Cameron obeyed, walking around behind his Master, one hand cupped under his cock to try and catch the piss, and found himself looking at a livecam. He didn’t know the man who was on top…but he did most certainly recognize the man getting fucked. It…was him. His face, his body, his…voice. He didn’t know what to say. Master turned in his chair, looking at Cameron’s surprised face, and started stroking faster. “Fuck…you’re fucking face, you stupid fuck…” He grabbed Cameron by the thick beard and tugged him down, “suck me off and drink my fucking cum, slave!”

Master didn’t last long–thirty seconds–and when he finished, he wiped his cock on Cameron’s new beard, smirking down at him, and Cameron…he just looked back at the show, at the stranger fucking his ass somewhere, and started to mutter, but didn’t know what question to try and ask first.

“It’s been five days, slave, since you were last awake. You’ve been delivered to a slave processing facility, which–thanks to your upgraded chip–is working on proprietary mind swapping. This isn’t the body you had a few days ago, slave, but it is your mind. You’re prior body is in the hands of that Master there. He felt his slave deserved a reward for excellent service, and I offered your body as that reward. You will be living in his, instead, for the time being. What do you think? Are you enjoying it so far? Be honest.”

Cameron looked down at himself, at his old, obese body, his hand overflowing with piss still dribbling out, and looked back up at Master, tears in his eyes. “I…I hate it. Did I upset you? Did I do something wrong? Is this punishment?”

No slave–this is service. Your body, and your mind, are mine. My property. That means I get to decide what to do with them. Still, that body…while pretty, was rather boring. I find variety to be much more interesting, among other things. As for your…leak down there. Do get that taken care of? The master who owns that body removed its ability to control any aspect of its bladder–they enjoy…diapers. I bought some–they’re in the bathroom. Please go secure yourself, and then we can chat a bit more regarding some…changes we’ll be making to your lifestyle, while serving in this body.

Method Roleplay (Part 5)

He stumbled out of the bathroom, but felt a strange sense of vertigo–he was in a hall, but not…the hall he should be in. The walls were covered with paint that was chipped and peeling, the carpet covered in stains. There should be a doorway across from him, where the computer had been in Brett’s office, but there wasn’t a door–a bit further down the short hall was one, which led to…the bedroom he and daddy shared together.

No, this had been Brett’s apartment, they weren’t living together yet, right? He opened the door, and saw the messy room covered with clothes, and he could smell them both in there, their musk, their sex…fuck, it was so hot, how much it reeked. It got Evan worked up just like it did Brett, smelling the stale, stinking air. His dad’s cum was still dribbling down the crack of his ass, and he ran one hand up it, getting it good and coated, and started licking it off, grunting and moaning as he rubbed his little cock.

Why…had he come in here again? He’d been looking for a computer, right? But…they didn’t have a computer. They were too poor for that–Daddy just had his smartphone, and that was it–but hadn’t they listened to something together? There had been something, he was sure of it, but it was like the harder he tried to grasp it, the further away it got. He…he should talk to daddy about it. Daddy would remember it right? He had to! Daddy was so smart–he was just a dumbfuck little shithead boy–or at least, that’s what daddy said he was, and daddy was usually right about those sorts of things.

He turned around and walked back towards the main room of their apartment. He could hear the TV on, and smell…smoke. The smell concerned him–was something burning? He found his daddy where he expected him, on the couch, watching sports on TV, a can of beer in one hand and a cigar in the other, but this wasn’t right. This apartment wasn’t right. Brett should be changing back to his old self, but things only seemed to be getting even worse. After all, Evan hadn’t said anything about Brett being a smoker, and now he was sucking down cigar smoke? It was like reality was moving around them, and trapping them in the fantasy they’d created.

“Daddy? I…I know it’s hard, but I think we need to change back now?”

Brett looked over at Evan, a confused look on his face, and belched. “What the fuck are you talking about, boy?”

“Re-remember? We listened to that…thing together? That song, or…or somebody speaking? Maybe it was a book. You remember that right?”

“Boy, ya know yer old man’s memory is pretty shot. Ain’t too bright, ya know.”

“But do ya remember?”

“Boy…” Brett paused, “Boy, I remember a lotta shit, but ain’t none a it makin’ much sense right now. But I’m feelin’ a whole lot better, now that I got a cigar ‘n a couple a beers in my gut, and I’d feel a bit better with my boy next to me eating out my nasty pits, so git over here, sit down with yer daddy,” he said, patting the cushion beside him.

Evan didn’t want to disobey him and get another spanking, so he did as he was told. As soon as he was on the couch, Brett threw an arm around him and pulled him in tight, Evan’s face inches from his sweaty pit, and they reeked of sex. He gave a grunt without really meaning to, and felt a bit of his cares slip away.

“Yeah, that’s my sexy boy, ya make yer daddy real fuckin’ happy, ya know that?”

“No daddy, I’m…this ain’t how I’m supposed tah look–it ain’t how we’re supposed tah look. Ya do remember, I know ya do.”

“I was just bein’ thick boy.”

“No! I was lyin’ before! Ya were right! This ain’t right!”

“People can’t git younger, Evan. I ain’t ever gonna be a kid again–the world don’t work like that. How fuckin’ dumb are ya?”

“But daddy–”

“Boy, shut up–I wanna fuckin’ watch TV ‘n not care about shit until work tomorrow.”

“Ya can’t go tah work lookin’ like that! No one’ll recognize you.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Brett said, looking at Evan like he was crazy, “I been a mechanic there fer years.”

“Ya ain’t a…mechanic…” Evan muttered, but as he did, he saw his daddy’s clothes change in front of his eyes, becoming a set of grease covered coveralls, his hands coated black, and the scent of oil and metal mingled with the other odors of their apartment. “Daddy, ya gotta stop, or ya ain’t gonna be able tah git back if ya keep goin’!”

“Course not, boy–but I got ya with me, so I’m fuckin’ good.”

“No–No, I’m–this ain’t me daddy, I don’t care what ya wanna be, but this ain’t me,” Evan hauled himself off the couch, and started fishing around for clothes to put on. He had to get out of here–maybe get back to his apartment, where he could remember himself better, and change back. “I ain’t gonna fuckin’ live like this. It was just supposed tah be a game! I don’ wanna live like a fuckin’ nasty pig!”

“Boy, watch yer mouth, ‘n sit yer ass back down this instant.”

“I got a job daddy, I got a future, and a life. I ain’t givin’ that up fer some fucked up fantasy.”

“Please. You? Git a fuckin’ job?” Brett said, standing up, “Boy, yer thick as a fuckin’ brick, ‘n fat, ‘n lazy. They even fired ya from the fuckin’ garage, remember?”

“Daddy, I don’t…wanna remember that…” Evan said, but he could. He could remember how his daddy had gotten him work there after he’d dropped out of high school, but he’d just sat around eating and jacking off until their boss had fired him. And now…now he just…

“All yer fuckin’ good for boy, is sittin’ ‘round here, stuffin’ yer face, jackin’ off like a good pigson, and when I git home ya serve yer daddy like a good little porker should. Ain’t that right?”

“Nuh-uh, ain’t…nah daddy…” Evan said, but his words were slow, and even thicker than they had been. He could feel his body growing, his gut sagging and covering his cock completely, the smells of the room growing more intense. “Mean…I gotta…” and with that, his mind broke. He really was too stupid to figure this out–what the fuck had he been thinking? He knew better than that. He was…he was just his daddy’s pig–he was never gonna be more than that. “S-Sorry dad, I know I’s just a dumb pig ‘n stuff.”

“It’s alright boy,” Brett said, put his hand on Evan’s head, and pushed his 400 pound, idiot son to his knees. “Daddy’s got some nice beer piss fer ya, pigboy–‘n then how’s about we order pizza ‘n git ya fed nice ‘n full?”

Evan liked the sound of that a lot, and he gulped down daddy’s piss, grunting and snorting as he did, and by the time he’d been stuffed full, over two hours later, neither of them would have ever believed that the day before they’d been anyone other than the incestuous pigs they were now.

Method Roleplay (Part 3)

Evan didn’t need to be told twice–he dropped to his knees on the tile of the bathroom floor, and scooted up to his daddy’s cock, still unable to believe that his young roommate from moments before had actually…become this fucking daddy of his dreams. He could smell the powerful musk rolling off him, and it was making his hard cock start to leak–he shoved his face into his daddy’s crotch and took a few deep snorts of the smell, enjoying it.

“Yeah, you like that smell don’t you boy? You want daddy’s scent all over you.”

“Fuck daddy, you know I do.”

“Pretty fuckin’ lucky that a slobby daddy like me found a nasty boy like you, ready to worship my fucking filthy body.”

“Oh…fuck daddy…”

“Perverted fuck–you want daddy to soak you down in his smelly piss? I bet a filthy boy like you would fucking love that.”

In fact, watersports had never really been much of an interest for Evan, but for this man? He…he’d probably do anything he asked him to do, without any doubts. He nodded, and after a could of moments, Brett started pissing, aiming his stream all over Evan’s face and chest–and he nearly came just from that alone. Why had he thought he wouldn’t enjoy this? Of course he fucking enjoyed this! He…he bathed in his daddy’s piss every…every chance he got, didn’t he?

He opened his mouth wide, and Brett directed the stream there, watching his boy gulp it down, stroking his cock, and grinned. “Gonna fill up that gut of yours boy. You want a big gut like daddy, don’t ya?”

Evan nodded without much thought, and kept drinking.

“Yeah, you wanna be just like your daddy, don’t you boy?” Brett said, grabbing Evan by the back of head and pulling him closer to his cock, pushing the head into his mouth as the piss slowed, “Fat, stupid, hairy, lazy, horny all day and night. Just like your daddy.”

Part of Evan was trying to push back–after all, for him, part of the pleasure of older men was the difference between them. Him–old, fat, grungy, and perverse–and him–young, slender, clean, and corruptible. But…had there been more? He had always liked the idea of an older man corrupting him, ruining him, hadn’t he? It seemed like he had, but everything was a bit fuzzy.

“Course, ya ain’t gonna be like your old man in every way, right son? Not with that little boy prick, and that hungry ass of yours. Still, I’ll keep ya plenty satisfied.”

Evan could swear something strange was happening to his cock, while he started sucking on daddy’s cock. It wasn’t growing soft, but it was getting smaller. And his hand kept brushing up against something else–his belly–but he’d been toned, hadn’t he? No–he shouldn’t be worrying about these things, he needed to focus on his daddy, and making him happy, getting him good and horny so he can fuck his boyhole, and make him scream–fuck, that’s what he needed. He’d feel better after a nice ride on daddy’s cock.

“Fuck boy–talkin’ bout it makes me fuckin’ want it. Git up and bend over the counter.”

Evan didn’t need to be told twice–he knew what happened if he ever disobeyed his daddy after all–and it wasn’t like this was an order he’d ever disobey anyway. He hauled himself up–which seemed a bit more difficult that it should have been, and daddy had to give him a hand, but he made it, turned to the counter and leaned over, facing the mirror, and he froze. That–that wasn’t him. That wasn’t his face, with the scraggly beard, overgrown hair and zitty skin. That most certainly wasn’t his body either, behind him, with that big gut hanging off him, his ass much, much wider than he remembered…or…or did he? Something didn’t seem right, but before he could sort it out, Brett, behind him, had slicked up his index and third finger with slobber and shoved them into Evan’s ass, making his boy shudder and groan, pushing back onto his daddy’s fingers.

“Oh fuck, thank you daddy…”

“You’re welcome, son. You know it’s always a pleasure for me, and you want to make me happy, don’t you?”

“Oh…Oh fuck daddy, more…more than anything!”

“Yeah, because you’re a good boy aren’t so? A total slut for your nasty father? My fucking pigboy? That what you wanna be son?”

“Oh fuck daddy, that sounds…fucking hot…”

“Fatten you up even more, open up this hole of yours, cleaning my body and drinking my fucking piss all day long?”

“Dad, get your big fuckin’ dick in my piggy hole, I can’t fuckin’ take it. Ya know I hate it when you tease me!” Evan said, grunting and snorting and shoving back on Brett’s hand, trying to get as much inside him as possible.

Brett was stroking his own cock with his free hand, and didn’t notice was it was growing again, to nearly eleven inches, so thick he couldn’t meet thumb and finger around the shaft–even with his big hands. He let a gob of drool roll off his tongue and land in his palm, which he used to coat the head of his cock–he liked it a bit dry in his boy’s hole–and then started pushing it inside. Evan suppressed a cry of pain, but he’d take it for his dad–he’d do anything for him, after all.

Method Roleplay (Part 2)

“Did it work?”

Brett didn’t want to say that it had, but he certainly had fallen asleep, hadn’t he? And he felt…kind of strange, almost like he wasn’t all here at the moment, or like some little hole had opened up in his head, and something was…coming in, or going out. “I don’t know…do you feel…kind of strange?”

“I feel pretty good, actually,” Evan said, standing up, “Even if there was nothing to it, at least I got a good nap. So, come on–you ready to give it another shot, daddy?”

“You know, I don’t…actually feel that horny right now–how about later tonight?”

“That doesn’t sound like my daddy–my daddy is always fucking horny,” Evan said, got close and started groping Brett’s crotch through the shorts he had on, and to Brett’s surprise, his cock had gone from flaccid to hard in less than a second…or had…hadn’t be been hard the entire time? It was hard to remember, exactly. “Please don’t…call me that Evan. I’m serious, I feel really weird–don’t you?”

“I always feel weird when I’ve been too long without my daddy’s cock in my holes. And why don’t you want me to call you daddy? Whenever your boy calls you daddy, it turns you on, doesn’t it? I can feel your cock throbbing daddy, don’t lie to me.”

“B-Boy, you’re…fuck…” Brett leaned back, just enjoying the sensation of Evan’s hand kneading his cock and balls.

“Yeah daddy, let your boy take good care of you–you just lay back and play with that big furry gut of yours, and those meaty tits while you’re boy gets a taste of thick daddy cock.”

Yeah, fuck, that did sound hot all of a sudden. He leaned back in the computer chair while Evan started hauling open the fly of his shorts, and as he did, he felt his shirt ride up–he pulled it up the rest of the way, rubbing his big gut, coated with hair…but…it felt bigger than usual. He just had a bit of a paunch, but this gut…it was big and round, like a beach ball, and it obscured his vision of his boy sucking him off more than it should. There was more hair than before too, and when he pulled his shirt up, and off, he saw that his nipples were both the size of pencils, jutting out from his fat chest, and he started to breathe a bit quick. “Evan…Evan, this isn’t right, I’m not…I don’t actually look like this!”

Evan pulled away and stood up, blinking at Brett’s bigger gut and tits–and realized the nine inch cock he’s been sucking on was only supposed to be five and a half. He reached out, and rubbed Brett’s furry gut, unable to believe it was really there, but more turned on than he could really imagine. “I…I mean, I guess it worked then, didn’t it?”

“This…I don’t think I can do this, Evan. Change me back!”

“Calm down, it’s just an illusion caused by the hypnosis. It’ll go away. Just calm down.”

“Then how in the hell are we both seeing the same fucking thing! I’m 26, I can’t look like this.”

Evan didn’t have an easy answer for that one, but he didn’t really want to answer it–he was too fucking turned on looking at his boyfriend there, becoming more of the man he’d always wanted him to be–could it go even further? “Daddy…you’re just confused is all. You’re just remembering things wrong. You aren’t 26, you’re turning 50 next month.”

“Shut up boy, I’m fucking serious.”

“You had a bad dream–this is who you are. A big bellied, extremely hairy, big dicked daddy bear. You get confused sometimes–after all, you aren’t that smart. Pretty much all you think about is all the dirty, kinky sex you want to do to your boy, day in, and day out, isn’t that right?”

“Boy, you need tah listen to your fuckin’ daddy.”

“No daddy, listen to me. Go on, look at that big flabby gut covered with silver hair, give this huge cock of yours a nice stroke, feel that thick beard of yours and how much you’re balding. You aren’t 26. You aren’t that young kid you think you remember–you’re my big, dirty, perverted daddy, aren’t you?”

“Boy, ya need tah fuckin’s shut yer fuckin’ mouth!” Brett growled as he hauled his ass out of his chair, shoved past Evan and made his way to the bathroom in his apartment. It couldn’t be true. He was so…so fucking sure, but when he got in there and turned on the light, and say himself in the mirror…there he was. His huge gut hanging out, covered with a thick layer of hair, his half erect and leaking daddy cock hanging out the front of his grungy boxers, thick beard across his face, a month or two overgrown, crawling up his cheeks. Hair a mess and balding badly, more silver than the brown of his youth. What…what in the hell had he been thinking? His boy was right–he wasn’t some young kid! God, he can be fucking thick sometimes…and yet, something was still nagging at him all the same–still, it probably wasn’t important, right?

“Fuck, I can’t…believe it,” Evan said beside him. He’d gotten to the doorway behind Brett, and he still could barely believe his words had really done that to his boyfriend. It didn’t seem real–in fact, the changes he’d just seen were seeming less real by the moment. Words…they couldn’t do this. No, this was just his daddy, of course–the same he’d always been.

“Fuck boy, sorry, daddy was outta his fuckin’ mind, but I’m feelin’ a whole lot better now,” Brett said, leering at Evan–at his boy–stroking his fat cock nice and slow while he did, “Yer horny daddy’s ready tah play–now git the fuck down here ‘n help daddy out.”

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 5)

Everything had been going so well.

“I want a fucking answer, you fucking piece of shit–what the fuck were you doing to my fucking jock that it fucking looks like this?” Daryn held up the shredded underwear so Jasper could see it–but he already knew what it looked like–the waistband broken and mostly gone, about half the pouch remaining, several chunks gone and the edges frayed. He’d been stupid to take it, but he’d been so hungry, and he’d done so well for two months–hadn’t he deserved a reward?

He really had done well–even Mr. Wadsworth had said so to him. He’d lost quite a bit of his weight from that first binge, and with a…meager diet every day–a cup of piss water, a few cum soaked pieces of tissue–he’d managed to keep the worst of the hunger at bay, and still keep his wits about him, but it hadn’t always been easy. He’d fallen off the wagon a couple of times–never as badly as that first taste, but enough to know that if he wasn’t careful–and if he didn’t keep Daryn completely in the dark–then things were bound to get much more complicated.

The jockstrap had been taunting him for days at this point, just lying on the floor by the trashcan in Daryn’s room. It smelled…so fucking good, so fucking delicious, and it wasn’t like Daryn was going to miss one of his many, many jockstraps, right? So he’d taken it back with him into his room one night, and started devouring it, unable to believe how good it tasted, and how horny it made him. He savored it, portioned it out–a bit of waistband tonight, a little patch of crusty pouch tomorrow–maybe he should have just disposed of the evidence in one go, maybe then he wouldn’t be here, in this mess, with Daryn looming over him, throat dry, not sure what sort of lie he might even manage to tell.

“You want to know what this fucking looks like?” Daryn asked, “It looks like something has been fucking eating my jockstrap–that’s what it looks like.”

It…maybe a mouse, or something?” Jasper replied.

“And why in the fuck did I find it in your room, hidden under your fucking pillow? This is my fucking jock–you don’t take my shit, you fucking pig.”

“I’m sorry, I just…I was hungry–” Fuck, did he just say that?

Daryn just stared down at him, and then sneered. Without saying a word, he shoved the jock into Jasper’s face, and unable to stop it–he’d never figured out how to stop it–he started drooling, knees shaking slightly, and Daryn mopped it up with the fabric. “I always wondered why you seemed to drool every time you looked at me, you know that? If you were so fucking hungry, all you had to do was ask nicely. So, let me hear you ask, fucker. What do you want?”

Jasper sealed his lips, unable to trust his words.

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want,” Daryn said, “I want you to be hungry, Jasper. I’f I’d known, I would have done a much better job feeding you.”

Jasper’s jaw dropped, and Daryn took the opportunity to push the half-eaten jockstrap into his mouth. “That’s a good little dump–go on and finish your meal, and then we’ll see what else I can feed you.”

It wasn’t hard, eating it. He’d already noticed that his teeth had changed in odd ways, becoming a bit serrated, better for tearing apart fabric and tissue, and his slobber made swallowing the thing down so easy. Daryn was so happy too–why had he been trying to keep this a secret from him for so long? Daryn was only too happy to feed Jasper a load of cum and piss next, and as soon as he’d tasted both of them fresh and from the source, Jasper knew he’d never be able to do without either ever again. June was still two months away, however–if he didn’t push back, then what would happen to him? To them both?

The next day, Daryn was distressed to see he’d wiped away a small chunk of the gains his prior temperance had earned him, and he went out, planning on telling Daryn he couldn’t do this anymore. That he was alright with being hungry, if it meant he could be himself again. Instead, he found himself on his knees, sucking down three loads from Daryn before his roommate had to leave for class. He sobbed on the kitchen floor, both because he was so full and satisfied than he’d ever thought possible, and also because he knew he’d likely lost his one chance at ever getting back into his previous life.

Still, his mind didn’t last long enough to really understand what he’d lost–with Daryn now making sure his dump was constantly fed, within a week Jasper had lost most of capacity for thought. He spent the day wandering the apartment on all fours, heavy gut dragging along the floor behind him, snorting and rooting around for anything his master might have left him to eat. After devouring the contents of his gym bag one afternoon–his cleats included–Daryn was forced to keep his pet kenneled up during the day, and he’d let him out when he got home each day, fed him load after load of cum and piss and the food scraps from dinner, before fucking the thing’s tight hole, and putting him back in his cage for the night. When June rolled around, neither of them could even remember the fact that Jasper had once been human–he was just a pet now, a dump really. Still, Daryn saved a lot of money on his five year lease–especially after Mr. Wadsworth corrected the mistaken “multiple tenant” fee and changed it to a pet fee instead. Yeah, Daryn figured they’d both be staying here for a long time–but Jasper was happy anywhere, as long as he always had a gut full of his master’s filth.