Medical Trials (Part 4)

~~~A Few Months Later~~~

Evan pushed the janitorial cart down the hall, and into the last cell on the hallway. The room was filthy, but he knew better than to ask questions about what might have happened in there–he could smell some cum, shit and piss, but there was more blood than anything else. He stripped the bed and shoved the still damp, but cool sheets into the laundry bag, and then started cleaning up the walls.

He’d been working in the Trinq labs as a janitor for…for as long as he could remember, which wasn’t really that long. He wasn’t exactly smart, and most everything failed to keep his interest, unless it had to do with his job, cum, or his boyfriend. He wiped down the mirror, looking at his face with disinterest. It still wasn’t quite…familiar to him, but that didn’t really matter. It was his face. How he felt about the face wasn’t important. How he felt wasn’t important. Feelings weren’t really…possible anymore anyway; all he ever really felt was calm detachment. It didn’t matter how he felt, all that mattered was that he did what he was told. He looked at himself anyway, through the red streaks. His head was perfectly smooth, just like the rest of his body. His hair had all fallen out–even his eyebrows–and none of it had grown back, not even months after his final injection. No longer strong and angular, his face was round and soft, cheeks puffed out and drooping, chins and jowls like pliable wax, eyes distant.

The rest of his body was similar. He’d shrunk substantially in the final round of tests, dropping from six foot three down to about five feet tall, even as he’d packed on fat. His weight had stabilized at 325 pounds, now that he was no longer receiving injections, but it hung off him in flaps and rolls, his grimy coveralls, grey with the Trinq logo on the breast, bulging and heaving with each movement. His balls were gone. They’d shrunk smaller and smaller until they simply ceased to exist, and his cock was less than an inch long, and completely numb to all sensation. He no longer felt like a man, really. He felt like something else entirely–genderless, perhaps, but not a woman either. Just a drone, or an object. Something unimportant. Something that existed to be used, like a tool.

He cleaned the room, hoping there might be a bit of cum he could eat, but while he could smell it, the blood was everywhere, leaving him disappointed and hungry. The room was clean in a few hours, and he checked his watch–his shift had ended fifteen minutes ago, so he wheeled the cart back to the janitorial area, threw the bloody sheets down the chute to the incinerator, got out of his jumpsuit and burned that as well, and back into his street clothes, before clocking out.

He left Trinq’s building, and walked to the bus stop. He’d grown used to the stares by now–everyone he passed could tell there was something wrong with him, that he wasn’t supposed to exist, that he didn’t fit into their usual categories. More than once, he’d been cornered by men and pummelled in alleys on the way home, but he didn’t mind that much. The longer men were around him, after all, the more likely they would feed him their cum. That was something he’d learned rather quickly–that something about him, either how he looked, or how he smelled, made men want to use him as a cumdump. He could imagine that might make a normal person feel humiliated, but Evan just felt something resembling gratitude. He liked being something that had a purpose–he liked being used.

There was no incident like that this evening, though he sat next to an older business man on the bus, and after a few minutes, the man pulled out his cock, and ordered Evan to suck it–he was happy to have a snack, at least. He got off at his stop, and walked the few blocks to where he lived with his boyfriend, Adam. But Adam wasn’t really a boyfriend, in the same way Evan wasn’t really a man any longer.

Adam worked as a police detective–in particular, he’d taken over the caseload of a certain Evan Timmons, who’d committed suicide earlier that year. He didn’t really work for the police, however. Or rather, he worked for the police, but he also worked for Trinq Inc.–burying cases, funnelling prisoners and inconvenient witnesses into experimental drug programs, destroying evidence. In return, Adam had been receiving samples of several new drug therapies from the company. He was already home when Evan arrived–he could smell him in the second bedroom of the apartment, which was where Evan slept in a cage, and where Adam worked out. Evan stripped out of his clothes and went and found his master, smelling him, hungry for his cum. Adam was naked as well, his extremely hirsute body matted with sweat, foot long cock half hard and leaking on the floor. Evan got down and began cleaning up–sweat, cum, piss, anything his master left behind as he continued his workout, not paying any attention to the thing following him around the room. Adam might have felt a twinge of guilt, at one point, but power and strength was more important to him now. In truth, Evan disgusted him, but also terrified him. Trinq’s executives had made it perfectly clear to him who Evan actually was–and that if Adam ever betrayed them, that he would suffer an even worse fate at their hands than the blob Officer Timmon’s had become. Trinq wasn’t about to let anyone stand in their way of power either, after all. They were going to change the world, whether people wanted them to, or not.

He’d been so focused on his bicep curls, that his six pack had already disappeared by the time he set down the weight, and went to flex at himself in the mirror. He realized the reflection seemed off, but it took him a moment, and another ten pounds gained, before he realized what was happening, lifted up his shirt, and nearly screamed in the middle of the gym floor.

What the fuck was happening to him? He grabbed the flab in his hands, just to see if it was real, and discovered that…he could feel it growing and expanding. He looked around in a panic, unable to understand how something like this could even be happening, and then he ran for the locker room. He had to get to a doctor or something, he had to figure out what was wrong with him!

But by the time he got to the locker room, his clothes no longer fit. The changes had accelerated, and he pulled on his jeans just in time to have the seams ripped apart my his expanding ass. He stared at his new, hairy body in the mirror hanging over the sink, disgusted with himself, when he noticed someone watching him with a smirk…someone…he thought he should be able to recognize.

It wasn’t until he was bent over the sink, the stranger’s cock buried in his fat ass, holding his hair back, filming the video to post later, and he realized it was Ian, a massively obese guy he’d bullied for years in college, now looking slim and trim after transferring all of his fat to his old bully, and taking his muscles for himself. He was nice enough to leave him some 4XL clothes once he was finished, but for his old bully, getting clothed was only the beginning of his problems. His hole was still itching for a cock…and if he didn’t find something to plug up there, he felt like he was going to go insane.

“Who’s the fat ass faggot now?” was all Ian said as he left the locker room, and the ex-jock to his new life.

Source: hotchubsblog

Medical Trials (Part 3)

He knew he should be more shocked than this. He tried, as hard as he could, to make himself *feel* shock. To convince himself that because things like this didn’t usually happen to bodies, what he should be registering is shock, alarm, fear, terror, but beyond a general sense of unease, Evan mostly just…looked at himself, like he’d appraise an object. As something he didn’t have much attachment to, emotionally.

Before becoming a police officer, Evan had served in the army, serving two tours in Iraq. He’d never really enjoyed his time in the army, but he had always appreciated the routine it had instilled in him. As a teenager, he’d been a bit of a troublemaker, and he appreciated the fact that the military had helped him get past that. He’d kept up his exercise and diet even after leaving the army, moving through a few jobs before he ended up in law enforcement. He’d always been told, by the various women he’d dated, that he had a strong jaw, and a stronger body, with a six inch cock he knew how to use. Beyond his muscled frame, he was moderately hairy, with more than a few tattoos he’d picked up with his army buddies.

Looking down at himself now, however, it was clear this drug–whatever it was–had already ruined him, substantially. It was the gut which disturbed him the most. It made sense, to some extent, given how much cum he’d eaten, and how full he’d felt each time. The skin was paler though, and even the stretchmarks from such rapid growth were a mild pink where they should have been violently red. He ran his hands over the surface, feeling how soft and flabby it was, and noticed that his body hair was less thick than it had been, and appeared lighter than before. He’d always kept his face clean shaven, but brushing a hand over his face, he couldn’t even feel stubble there, and even the hair on his head seemed too fine, and thinner than it had been before.

Everywhere, he’d lost muscle and replaced it with fat. He felt weak and tired, lifting his arms was tiring, and he could see several of his tattoos looked like they were fading away somehow. His skin was smooth and pale–he couldn’t have been in here long enough to lose his tan, but he looked like someone who never went outside. He’d forgotten about his cock, in all of this. He…didn’t really want to think about it, or feel it. The pain and agony of the sessions had made him slightly afraid to touch it, but he did, eventually. It was swollen and red, but also smaller–only about three inches, and his balls had shrunk quite a bit as well, each the size of a large grape. Touching himself for the first time in…days?…weeks?…he felt nothing, beyond a vague sickness in his gut, and he pulled his hand away, happy to just let the calm wash over him. Though he would feel better, if he had some cum to eat–but it wasn’t worth the pain.

He was in a room similar to the one with the chair–the same white walls, the same mirror, the same door–but this one had a small bed, a simple chair and small table, a sink and a toilet. More like a prison cell, which wasn’t exactly much of an improvement. He heard a buzz, and the door unlocked. A man stepped into the room, dressed in a well tailored suit. Evan couldn’t recall his name in the haze, but he remembered interviewing him about Trinq’s missing employees. A vice president of…research and development? He wasn’t sure, but he had a disarming smile, not that Evan cared that much. Of all the questions he wanted to ask:–“What am I doing here?” or “What have you done to me?”–the one that feel out of his mouth was, “Can…can I have some cum?”

It was the first time he’d heard his voice unmuffled in all this time, and it was higher, thinner, than it had been.

“Ah, straight to pleasure, detective? No time for business?”

“I’m just…hungry, is all.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are. We’ll get to that, don’t worry. Still, I’m mostly here to check on your progress, in our Calmura trials. Are you enjoying them? We’re working with some private prisons to develop new systems of inmate management, though we’re still trying to work out some of the side effects. Still, in your case, I don’t see anything wrong, do you? Do you like some of the changes? How do you feel?”

“I…” Evan started to say, but he didn’t know how to talk about his feelings. After a moment of silence, he just shrugged. “I don’t…like it. I think.”

“Not sure?”

“Just don’t feel much of anything, really.”

The man sighed, “I was worried seven doses would take too much fight out of you–this would have been more fun after four or five. Oh well, next time, I suppose.” The man pulled a vial and a needle out of his pocket and set them on the table. Even in the dull world his eyes were registering, he recognized the blue in the jar.

“I don’t…want any more.”

“No?” the man said, smiling. “How about we make a deal. You inject yourself with the next dose of Calmura, and I let you suck my cock. You did say you were hungry, right? Still, if you don’t want anymore, you can leave–all you have to do is walk out that door–it’s still unlocked.”

Even before he’d worked out the logic, he was sitting in the chair, readying his next dose. It was simple really. He loved cum. He needed it. If someone offered him cum, he’d do anything to get it. The man was a bit disappointed to see how well the subject had responded, the police officer finding a vein and injecting himself without any apparent reservations, and he set the needle down. “Can I suck you off now?”

The man shrugged, and pulled his cock out of his suit pants, Evan getting down in front of him and sucking, hard, eager to get his next dose of cum. Still, he wasn’t very experienced, and eventually he just let the man fuck his throat roughly, until he came, and he swallowed all of his cum down, feeling…better. It would hurt, cumming again, but this had been worth it. Cum was worth anything. Cum was priceless.

The man just shook his head, and set a beaker down on the table. “There’s probably not much left in those balls of yours, but that will give you a snack for later, right?”

He left the room, and watched Evan position the beaker under his cock, the first orgasm building, and he shot into the glass, over and over again. “Well, that was so successful, I’m almost disappointed,” he said to the scientists observing Evan, “When will he be finished?”

“Another few weeks, at least. We’ll begin his final stage of programming today, once he finishes the ejaculation phase.”

“Good. Keep me updated.”

“Yes sir.”

Dale’s Story (Part 7)

Well the winner by a good margin was option number two with 35% of the vote, and the close runner up was option four with 27%, so why not combine them both together, right? So, WARNING: BESTIALITY AHEAD is what I’m trying to say.

“Well come on o’er here, Mick, ‘n let me git a good look at ya,” Dale said, waving the farmer over to where he was standing next to Bishop, or Piggy as he knew himself know, still helplessly chowing down on slop from the trough, horrified that someone had found him in this position.

“I don’–who the hell are you?” Mick asked, “How’d ya…know my name?” he walked over, not even aware that he was doing so until he was a few feet away from Dale–and he looked over his shoulder at where his shotgun was lying back by the barn entrance. “Yer on mah property, I want ya off.”

“Oh, we ain’t trespassin’, Master Mick–yer the one who invited us, after all. Piggy here wanted tah be yer new pigslave, ‘n we’re tryin’ him out, tah see if he’s good enough fer yer sty, ain’t that right?”

Mick’s mind was simple, and Dale found it rather…thrilling, how he could rewire the man’s head at to his merest whim. The farmer was a gentle guy, easy going–he had a shotgun, sure, but he’d never be able to really use it on anyone. No–he’d been more scared than anything, when he’d heard the noises in his barn, coming back from getting his hogs bedded down for the evening. So Dale started hardening him, giving him edges, cruel and abusive instincts, sadistic desires, and filling his mind with all sort of pervere, twisted fantasies. He resisted a bit, but the old Mick couldn’t stand for more than a moment against Dale’s mental onslaught, and when Mick looked down at Bishop again–it was hunger and lust and anger in his eyes that show through, as he kicked his new slave in the gut, yelling at him to eat faster, that he’ll never manage to be his pigslave with a sorry appetite like that. Mick started inspecting him then, unhappy with his scrawny the pig was, but he could fatten him up, if the thing had the spirit to handle him.

Dale crouched down next to Bishop’s face in the trough, and watched his brother plead with him for a moment, but he was already rewiring him as well. After all, this is what Bishop had wanted, right? Yeah, a master, a farmer, someone who could really help him become the pig he knew was deep inside him, that he’d always felt in there, that he’d always wanted to be. He wanted to be abused, humiliated, raped even, if that’s what it took, and even though these desires made him feel so ashamed, his cock was hard as a rock when Mick ran two dirty fingers down his crack and gave the piggy’s cunt a test–and Dale had an idea, or rather, Mick had his idea a moment later.

“I’m on the fence ‘bout it,” Mick said, “Could be a good ‘un, but I ain’t sure it really wants it. One way tah find out fer sure though. Get the hog’s hole warmed up fer a bit man, ‘n I’ll be back in a few.”

“Heh, ya heard the boss,” Dale said, unzipping his fly and dropping his pants, hefting his huge gut onto the small of Bishop’s back and shoving his rock hard cock in dry. Bishop groaned in pain, and Dale gave him a slap on the ass. “Don’t be worried ‘bout this, bro, be worried ‘bout who yer new master’s bringin’ back wit’ ‘em.”

Bishop had no idea what Dale might be referring to, until Mick returned with his prize winning boar leashed up. “Best way tah see if it’s got what it takes, is tah give it a taste a the real thing.”

“Sounds like a plan tah me!” Dale said, and made room for the boar. He gave the animal a mental prod, encouraging it on to mount Bishop, who cried out when he realized what was about to happen with him…but he wanted this. No, he didn’t want this, whatever his brother was doing to him he…he’d always thought about this, about being mounted like an animal, by an animal. A squeal escaped his mouth as the boar slid inside him, and the excitement of his fantasies coming true–his cock exploded all over the ground beneath him as he rutted with the boar, Mick letting out a laugh. “Hot damn, this thing ain’t a pig, it’s a god damn sow! Heh, bet we’d make some real nice progress if we went ‘n nutted the damn thing–then it’d put some wait on her hips real fast.”

“Well, I suppose that’s up to you, Master Mick-it’s your piggy now.”

“Heh–the leather daddies back in the big city ‘r gonna go fuckin’ nuts over it at the convention next year, I’ll tell ya that!”

“Well Bishop,” Dale said, “I think yer in perfectly capable hands now–maybe I’ll come check in on ya tahmorrow, ‘n see how yer comin’ along.”

Bishop tried to beg, tried to plead, but all he could do was oink and squeal and debase himself as the boar came to climax inside him, and his master shoved the animal to the side and took it’s place, raping his new pig’s sloppy pussy as rough and hard as the boar who’d just been inside him. Dale watched a moment, and then left the barn, satisfied–to an extent.

“Damn, Dale, that’s pretty fuckin’ twisted,” a familiar voice said behind him. He turned, and the stranger appeared out of the dark, smoking a cigar.

“Fucker deserved it.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, just let a stream of smoke into the evening air. “Well, ya still got plenty a time left–who else ya wanna get some revenge on, while ya got the chance?”

I’m not sure if we’ll revisit Bishop here or not–his story line seems to have wrapped itself up pretty well. Still, I’m sure a guy like Dale has a few other grudges he could take on, right?

His father–he’ll need some way to occupy himself now that both of his son’s are out of the house.
His bully from high school who still lives in town–he could use a few lessons in punishment.
A couple of Bishops friends–he’s sure to find them at George’s bar tonight, and he never did get to finish that drink with them.
The stranger himself–try and take control of him. It’s risky and might fail, but he’ll never know unless he tries, right?

So, who do you want Dale to target next?

Pig Bros (Part 2)

Ethan found his body drawing closer to the massive figure, and squeezed into the booth with him, Avery still screaming across from them. The man shoved his face into Ethan’s personal space and started snorting, and came up for air, “Not bad, actually–good thing I always come prepared, right, boy?”

From the pocket, he withdrew a second crystal–still pink, but with darker striations running through it. He made Ethan take off his shirt, and then pulled him close, the crystal pressed to his breast, “Now, give me a kiss boy, eh?”

He fought harder than he ever had in his life, but he leaned in and allowed the massive farmer to shove his thick tongue in his mouth, as he pressed the crystal through his skin, Ethan feeling the same searing pain as his brother, screaming into the fat man’s snorting mouth. He pulled away a moment, and said, “You won’t remember much, but you will remember this–in one week, you and only you, come find me here. Understand?”

***

The brothers woke up the next morning in a ditch, both of them shirtless, on the far south side of town. Neither of them could remember what had happened the night before, at The Watering Hole, but neither one of them could imagine it having been a good experience. Ethan was furious at his brother for convincing him to do something so stupid, and Avery was apologetic for once. The first half of the morning they spent walking back into town to their car, and by the time they got there, both of them were utterly famished. They went back to their dorm room for new shirts, and then went to the dining hall, where both brothers found themselves going back for second and third helpings of heaping plates–far more than either of them would have ever eaten previously, but neither of them could quite work up the will to stop. When they finished, they both swore up and down that they’d never eat like that again, but a few hours later the grumbling had begun, and they devoured just as much for dinner that evening.

The next week, they did their best to get back into the swing of their classes, but neither of them found it easy to focus on their studies. Ethan in particular was having issues–normally he was fairly calm and collected, but in the days after their trip to The Watering Hole, he found himself becoming irritable and even aggressive–not to mention the fact that he was horny all the time, suddenly. At first he thought it was just blue balls, but women…didn’t interest him much, for some reason, so he ended up just masturbating seven or eight times a day, trying not to think about how his cock seemed to be getting longer, his balls bigger, his bush thicker.

Avery, on the other hand, found his sexual interest dropping like a stone. Well, that wasn’t quite true, it was just that his cock just…didn’t seem very interested in getting hard for much of anything at all. He was still horny, however, and it was becoming…difficult to deal with. He found that eating helped keep the edge off more than anything else, and so he would often hang around the dining hall even after Ethan had retired, still stuffing his face, trying to fill some…hole in him he couldn’t quite identify. Each day, he’d stare at himself in the mirror, in clothes that now hugged his frame tight, looking at his growing gut, his thick thighs and ass, and promise himself he’d stop, but he couldn’t. And things only seemed to get stranger.

The weight gain only sped up. The two brothers were being openly gawked at and mocked as they crossed campus–Ethan usually shouting back angrily while Avery just hurried along faster, blushing. His beard fell out over the course of a day, emphasizing his second chins and puffy face, his body hair thinning as well, leaving him with a slight treasure trail and a tight bush around his cock and balls, both of which seemed…smaller than they had been. While he’d been losing hair, Ethan had been gaining everything he’d lost, and more, with a full beard appearing all over his face in the course of a night, along with enough hair to cover his front and back. It was…odd hair too, almost bristly to the touch. They tried to talk about the changes, but neither of them could say much of substance–while each of them was disgusted and repulsed by their new bodies, they also felt…normal, somehow. They knew they should be different, but were at a loss of imagination as to what they might be instead. Instead, Avery found himself hoarding his brother’s cumrags, sniffing them, desperate for some form of sexual satisfaction, while Ethan kept catching an odd, urgent whiff of something around his brother, a smell which made him both uneasy and incredibly horny. Come Saturday, he knew he had to get out for a bit, by himself. Pulling on his biggest clothes, which now barely fit him, he told Avery he’d be back later, took the car, and went for a drive, his body on autopilot, taking him back to The Watering Hole.

The farmer was there in his booth, waiting. Ethan didn’t know how he knew the man…but he did. He waddled over and the smell of him, the sense of need suffused his mind, and he grunted and snorted, close to cumming in his pants. “There ya are,” the farmer said, “Have a seat, and try not to cum yet, if you can help it.”

Dale’s Story (Part 6)

Ha, well, it wasn’t quite what I was expecting to win, but option number four (pig farm) pretty much ran away with 34% of the vote. Option two (beers with friends) was in second place with 25%, so we’ll try to have Bishop meet back up with his friends at some point, beers or no. Let’s see where this goes first, however!

“Ya know what ya always called me, the name I hated the most a all?” Dale said, leaning in close to Bishop’s face, where his much younger brother was kneeling in front of him. He didn’t say anything, “Go on, guess. Ya called me it often enough that ya obviously knew how much I hated it. Go on.”

“P-Piggy?”

“Yeah, that thar’s the one! But do ya remember what ya’d always do as well?”

Bishop didn’t want to do it, but his mouth opened, under Dale’s control, and he started squealing, loudly. He’d always done that to chase Dale off–call him Piggy and squeal at him until he ran away crying. He kept trying to talk, trying to apologize or beg, but all his mouth would do is squeal, grunt and snort.

“Now, how’s ‘bout we go visit a piggy farm, Bishop? I think we could have some real fun there, don’t ya?”

Bishop shook his head, but couldn’t fight Dale’s control over him. He stood up and began stripping off his clothes, abandoning them in the office. He squealed and grunted in protest, and Dale just laughed.

“Ya ain’t gonna need those on the farm, piggy, ya’ll just git ‘em dirty,” Dale said, and examined his brother’s physique. He’d put on a bit of weight since graduating from high school, but he was still quite the stud–and as he was, he certainly got Dale’s cock hard in his fat, but Bishop didn’t deserve it, and he wouldn’t have that body for much longer, if Dale had anything to say about it. He led Bishop out of the office, caught his son’s fucking against the side of an old truck in the garage, and told them to finish closing up the shop without him, that he had an errand to run and he’d see them later. He forced Bishop into his truck, he climbed in with him, and drove out of town, keeping Bishop occupied licking and sucking at his fat until they arrived at one of the pig farms surrounding the town, and he forced Bishop out again. He covered himself up as best he could, embarrassed to be naked in the evening light, and thankfully no one was around to see him as he and Dale walked to the barn and went inside.

Bishop fell to the floor, and only after trying to get up a few times did he realize it was Dale, who’d removed his ability to walk upright, forcing him to crawl up to a massive trough along the wall, while Dale looked around, figuring out how to dispense the feed, and after finding it, he pulled the switch, and a thick, sloppy mash dropped into the trough in front of Bishop.

He fought as hard as he could for a moment, but drove his face into the muck and started eating it as quickly as he could. Dale stopped the flow once the trough was full, and then walked up and got down beside his brother, running his chubby hands over his naked back, down to his ass, slipping a couple greasy fingers inside him as he talked to him, influencing his mind.

“Yeah, that’s it Piggy–ya go tah town on that shit. That’s yer new name, by the way–the only thing ya’ll let people call ya from now on. Piggy–just hearin’ a guy say it, inside, yer gonna hate it, it’s gonna fill ya wit’ so much shame, but outside, you’ll grin, and that piggy cock a yers is gonna get a flutter. Ya’ll look like a piggy soon enough to, since we’re gonna make ya eat all the time, I think. Yeah, I can do that to ya–ya can feel that hunger now, can’t ya? The pleasure yer gettin’, fillin’ that gut a yers. Damn Piggy, got her cock hard ‘n everythin’ already, ‘n all ya’ve done i stuff that fat fuckin’ face a yers like a damn animal. Fuck, feel how full this gut a yers is? Damn piggy, yer gonna–”

He was interrupted by the barn door opening, and Dale looked behind them to where the farmer had just opened the door, shotgun in hand, staring, unbelieving, at the scene in front of him. Dale took control of him easily, and the older man set the shotgun down against the wall. From the look of him, he’d been in the mud with the pigs, the man’s rubber waders coated with muck. He wasn’t the cleanest fellow either, which was fine with him–and he had a feeling Bishop would enjoy him as well. But what does he do?

Alright, time for you to choose! Here’s a range of options, from a couple more normal ones to some…more extreme options. Again, they can be mixed and matched a bit, if two are more popular than the rest.

Dale convinces him to hire Bishop, and degrades Bishop’s mind and memories to match his new position in life.
He makes the farmer an aggressive leather master, and Bishop is his new pigslave in training.
Two pigs are better than one–he has the farmer join in with Bishop, and Dale enjoys them both.
Dale convinces him that Bishop is actually one of his sows in heat, and together they get a boar to mount him.
As an apology for trespassing, he offers Bishop’s services as a toilet and cumdump for the filthy farmer.

So, what would you all like to see happen next?

I’m still taking votes for Part 5 of Dale’s Story. Help me decide what to do to his asshole brother!

FatOldHog: There, I fucking did it, are you happy?

DaddyLoveXXX: You’re not done yet Hog, you still have to eat it. That was the deal, remember?

DaddyLoveXXX: Yeah, that’s a good hog, slurp all that old cum of yours down. Go on Hog, tell me how it tasted–did you enjoy eating your own seed?

FatOldHog:

It was fucking disgusting.

DaddyLoveXXX: Oh really? I thought an old pig like you would enjoy a treat like that.”

FatOldHog:

Look, I did everything you said I had to do, alright? Please just change me back.

DaddyLoveXXX: No, if you remember, I told you I’d be willing to change you back after we’d both had our fun, isn’t that right? Well I still haven’t gotten off, you old hog, so if you really want me to change you back, you’re going to have to help me out.

FatOldHog:

No, this is fucking over!

DaddyLoveXXX: Now now, be careful! You wouldn’t want me changing that username of yours again, would you? Now play with those fat grandpa titties for me, show me how much you like showing yourself off.

DaddyLoveXXX: Come on now, that isn’t very sexy at all! Hold on…

DaddyLoveXXX:

Yeah, now you’re getting into the spirit Hog! Looking sexy, getting my cock hard. Why don’t you go find one of those toys you have, and then come back and we’ll play someone.

OldHogPervert: Toys? What…

OldHogPervert:

No–fuck you, no, I’m not putting anything in my ass!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Oh really?

DaddyLoveXXX:

I thought disgusting perverts like you put things in your ass all the time, though. In fact, I bet there’s something in that old hole of yours right now.

Plug_My_PiggyHole: Oh fuck, why does that feel so good?

DaddyLoveXXX: Because you’re a slutty daddy piggy, that’s why! Fuck, look at you go, ramming that thing in deep–it looks big enough to be a fist! I bet you’d rather have my cock in your ass though, isn’t that right?

DaddyLoveXXX:

Don’t just give me that little half nod–type it out. I want to see it.

Plug_My_PiggyHole:

I wish you were fucking my old piggy hole.

Plug_My_PiggyHole:

God, why did I just call it that?

DaddyLoveXXX:

Because that’s what it is!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Daddy, keep a hold of yourself–don’t you go making another mess now!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Fuck Hog, we’re going to have to keep you better under control, so you don’t keep cumming like that.

Locked_PiggyHole: What the fuck is this fucking thing? How do you get it off?

DaddyLoveXXX:

It doesn’t fucking come off daddy–you’re going to be wearing that new cage for a long, long time–fuck, here it comes!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Damn hog, that was a fun session. Glad you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.

Locked_PiggyHole:

Please, just change me back now…

DaddyLoveXXX:

Oh alright.

LinebackerPiggy: Wait–I’m young again, but I’m still fat! And my cock’s still in this damn cage! Change me all the way back!

DaddyLoveXXX:

No way! I don’t think your coach would be very happy with me for messing with his piggy linebacker slave, do you?

LinebackerPiggy:

No, you can’t do this to me, please!

DaddyLoveXXX has signed off.>

LinebackerPiggy:

Fucking get back on here!

Perfect Girlfriend (Part 1)

“I’m not kidding guys. She’s, like, the perfect girlfriend,” Andy said, talking with his two friends, Sam and Owen in the breakroom. He’d just finished his shift, and was getting ready to go home for the day, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to keep bragging about Kendra, his girlfriend of six months. They’d moved in together last week, and so far, it had, apparently, been bliss. “She’s so fucking horny, you wouldn’t believe it, needs me, like, four times a damn day. How am I supposed to keep up with that?”

Sam and Owen rolled their eyes–they were both tired of hearing about Kendra–it seemed like the only thing Andy was interested in talking about, and it had only gotten worse over the last few months. Andy had used to be a pretty fun guy, hanging out, playing video games, but ever since he’d started dating her, the guys had seen less and less of him, and he’d started changing in odd ways as well. He’d packed on at least 25 pounds, going from a wiry fairly normal 200 to a husky 230, with no sign of stopping–but he did love her cooking, he said, over and over again. All of this, and neither Sam nor Owen had ever even seen her, much less met her. They’d both suspected she was fictional, but even they’d never heard of someone going so far as to “move in” with a fictional girlfriend. Needless to say, neither of them replied to Andy’s news of sexual conquest–it didn’t matter if they said anything or not; he’d keep going regardless.

“Anyway, she said she’s making meatloaf tonight, so I’d better get home quick, right?” Andy laughed at himself, “See you two tomorrow!”

“Yeah, man.”

“Later.”

Andy loved these days when he could get off early, around three. He got in his car and drove home to his apartment, fifteen minutes or so from work, thinking about Kendra. How as soon as he opened the door, she’d be there, ready for him to ravish her, and then she’d cook him dinner. Fuck! This was the damn life, right?

He pulled into his parking spot outside the complex, got out of his car, and couldn’t help but notice his hands were clenched into fists he couldn’t quite get loose, his guts roiling, body shaking slightly. Damn, what was up with him all of a sudden? Probably just hungry, or maybe that sushi he ate for lunch, who knows? He walked up the flight of stairs to his apartment, fingers fumbling with his keys, and he couldn’t quite get it into the lock, like his hand kept missing it somehow. Still, he needed to get in and see Kendra, he was so damn excited! On the third try, the key slipped in and turned. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

“There’s my handsome boyfriend,” Ken said, sitting in the recliner in front of the TV, the same place Ken always was when Andy got home, when he remembered. He grabbed the door handle, trying to twist it, but he already knew he wouldn’t be able to get it open–he could always get in, but he’d never once been able to get out without Ken’s permission.

Ken. Andy had moved into the apartment across from him a year ago, and he’d just assumed his neighbor was an old weirdo, and a bit of a pervert, from the way he kept looking at him when they passed on the stairs. He was dirty, with long hair and a big beard, teeth rotting, clothes reeking with cum and smoke and who knew what else. He…didn’t know when he’d been ensnared, but he’d dated Kendra without knowing her real identity for a month, before Ken revealed himself one night, before raping Andy’s hole. He’s been trapped in this nightmare ever since–outside, he’s dating his beautiful, perfect girlfriend Kendra. Inside, he’s little more than Ken’s mindfucked slave.

“Come on over here son,” Ken said, “Daddy’s been edging for hours, waiting for you to get home.”

Oh fuck yeah, Andy thought, stripping off his work clothes as fast as he could, hurrying to his dad’s side. Fuck, he loved his dad so damn much, he’d do anything for him. He immediately climbed on top of his dad, grinding their bellies together, waiting for Ken to pull his cigar out before giving him a long, wet, sloppy kiss, sucking the smoke from his mouth as he exhaled, before kissing him again, slipping down lower, feeling his dad’s thick, hard cock slipping up and down his crack, catching slightly on his boyhole. God, he wanted daddy inside him, it was the only time he felt alive, serving the cock that made him. Another few tries, and the head slipped in, followed by the rest of his shaft, Daddy holding his son tight, the boy letting him slide in and out, slow, moaning and sighing and whimpering.

“I love you son, do you love me?”

“Oh god daddy, I love you so much!” Andy cried, “Oh fuck daddy, fuck me!”

“Could never fucking help yourself, you know. I remember the first day you came into my room, begging me for my cock like a little whore. Telling me how you’d seen guys fucking on the damn internet, wanted your old dad here to show you what it felt like to have a cock in your ass…”

Andy didn’t remember that, really, but he’d probably just forgotten that. His dad would never make something like that up. It did sound like something he’d say anyway–Daddy was always talking about how much of a nasty, desperate slut his son was.

“Finally getting some meat on those bones, turning into a damn hot fuck.”

“Thanks daddy.”

“But you want to be bigger, I bet–think you’re hot now, just wait till you finally top 300, you fucking pig.”

Andy’s eyes glazed over, mouth going slack, and he gave a great, long snort, bucking his hips faster, grunting in time with Ken’s thrusts, mouth exploring his master’s body, lciking and sucking at his sweat and musk.

“Nasty, disgusting, filthy piggy. Gonna stuff yourself today. Stuff yourself, and you won’t be able to fucking stop, hell no.”

The hunger was back, oh fucking god, he was so hungry! He slurped and licked at his master’s neck before biting down on his shoulder, slobbering, gut kneading itself into knots, master closer to cuming now, closer to cuming deep in his pig’s filthy hole, and then maybe he can eat, maybe it can fucking eat! Drool ran from it’s mouth uncontrollably as Master thrust in time with the pig’s grunts, and then with a groan, he came, holding pig on for a moment longer, before letting him slide off. The pig tried to stand on two feet for a moment, but fell onto hands and knees, where it felt much more natural. Master’s cock was there, and it crawled over, cleaning off the filth from it’s own ass, and as disgusting as it tasted, it was too good for a pig like him, and it ebbed the hunger slightly, having something it it’s mouth to lick and slurp on.

I’m still taking votes for the fourth chunk of Dale’s Story here!

“Yeah big boy, how are you feeling? Hungry? Hell, of course you’re hungry–open that mouth wider, I wanna see that thing stuffed full. Go on, chew fucker, chew! I know muscle fucks like you don’t know how to eat, so I’m going to give you a crash course. You can stop trying to make yourself stop, you know–there’s nothing you can do now about that. You’re stuck here until I’m good and finished with you, and we have all fucking weekend. Now chew, fucker, chew! Yeah, that’s it–now here comes some more…”

…

“I never did ask if you remember me. Do I ring any bells? No, I didn’t think so–guys like you, you just ruin someone’s day, laugh about it for a moment, and then forget it, right? I remember you though–it was a couple months back, I was new in town, there at the leather bar, looking for some friends or maybe a fuck, just being nice, minding my own business, when you start squealing and pointing. Those friends of yours joined in–hell, half the bar joined in. Now, don’t go getting it twisted or anything, I have enough self-esteem that your little stunt didn’t faze me, but I just knew I was going to have to get some personal time with you, and now here you are. Now give me a squeal, like you did back in the bar. Come on piggy–I’m gonna twist these big nipples of yours, on these new fat tits you have, and I want to hear you squeal. No, I want the neighbors to hear you squeal, got it?”

…

“That bellyhole feel good? Fuck, listening to you moan about it, it fucking must! Hold on, let me oil that big belly up a bit more, open it up a bit more. What do you think piggy? You want me to fuck this belly hole with my big cock? I bet I can fuck it so hard that I get that little cock of yours to explode deep in that gunt of yours, how does that sound? No no, I got this–you focus on stuffing that chubby face of yours. Fuck, you’re disgusting, but not disgusting enough, yet. Just wait until I make this thing a fucking crater! Guys will be fisting this belly soon enough–how does that sound? Heh, doesn’t sound like you like that idea, but I think you’ll come around here soon enough. And when I’m done here, I’ll give that virgin, jiggly ass a good plowing too. Can’t wait to see you at the bar–because you’ll be hanging out there plenty, trust me, begging all those old muscle friends to fuck any one of your holes–even paying them to do it, if they refuse. And I’ll be watching, you know. Me and everyone else. And I promise, we’ll all be squealing piggy–and you’ll be squealing along with us.”

Dale’s Story (Part 4)

Thanks again for all of the participation with this one! I hope you’re all enjoying how this is shaping up so far. Option four won handily over the last few days, with a solid plurality of 44%. Despite an early lead, option two came in second, with 27%. Here’s the next chunk! Hope you all enjoy.

The stranger smiled, and said, “Boys, why don’t we make sure your daddy doesn’t run off with a few more pitchers of beer and some greasy bar food.”

“Yeah!” Mike said, “I’ll go get some food from George. Jerry, you make sure daddy finishes his pitcher.”

“Heh, sounds good to me–sound good to you, Daddy? Come on and have a seat, you must be starving.”

“Starving is right,” the stranger said, and before Dale could object, his gut let off a massive rumble, and the hunger he’d lived with his entire life doubled or tripled in force. “Come on and sit back down Dale–we all know you aren’t going anywhere for a while yet.”

Dale fought his body, he fought the desperate need to eat gnawing away inside him, but he sat back down at the table, Jerry picked up the pitcher, skipping the glass, put it to his daddy’s bearded lips and tipped it up. All Dale could do was drink, and stare at the stranger leering down at them both, feeling the beer take hold of him, making things…fuzzier. He felt the beer running out each side of his mouth and down his front, soaking his coveralls, his cock hardening at the thought of what a mess he was making…and…and at the thought of Jerry cleaning him up. Yeah…fuck yeah…

The pitcher came away from his lips, nearly empty, and Dale let off a massive belch, groping his soaked gut for a moment, before unzipping the front of his coveralls. “Made a right mess a mahself boy, go on and lick daddy’s fat tits clean.”

“Ah fuck daddy…” Jerry moaned, swung a leg over his Daddy’s lap so he straddling him, his son’s cock pressing into his daddy’s expanding gut, leaned in and started licking up the beer from his dad’s fat chest and neck, listening to Dale groan and belch, feeling him pull his boy closer, grinding into him.

“See Dale? I knew you’d start to enjoy yourself eventually,” the stranger said, then looked up, “Oh good, Mike’s got your evening snacks I see. George knows what you love, of course.”

Dale looked over at the door as it opened, both terrified and desperate to see what his other son was bringing. The sight of fried chicken, piles of fries and onion rings, all drenched in ranch and barbeque sauce made his mouth water, and he licked his lips. “Fuck boy, get that shit in mah big belly, I’m fuckin’ starvin’…”

“Heh, sure thing daddy, but Jerry’s in the way.”

“Git down there boy, daddy’s gotta eat!” Dale said, and pushed Jerry down, under the table, where he unzipped his daddy’s coveralls further, his massive flabby body spilling out, and started digging around for his cock in Dale’s inflating gunt, while Mike started shoving food in his dad’s open maw, Dale focusing on chewing and swallowing as fast as he could, kneading his fat, feeling himself grow even larger still than he had been. Every little while, Dale would get a break, and guzzle some more beer straight from a pitcher, and then keep eating, his focus collapsing to just him and his two boys, getting drunker and heavier until he came with a long, food muffled moan, down Jerry’s throat, having demolished all of his snacks, Mike kissing and cleaning up his food coated face.

He looked about the patio for the stranger, but he was gone–when had he left? He couldn’t recall. “Where’d mah friend go?” he asked Mike.

“Who? Daddy, it’s just us out here.”

“Nah boy, thar was another guy. Older, with a pipe.”

Jerry crawled out from under the table, and got up, dusting off his knees. “Dad, it’s just us–I think ya had too much tah drink–let’s git on home. Ya good tah drive, Mike?”

“Sure bro.”

Together, they hauled up their massive, 600 pound father from his chair and led the very drunk Dale back through the bar, as he kept insisting to talk to the stranger, but everyone just ignored him–they knew how Dale got when he’d had too much to drink, and the fat ass had too much to drink quite often. At least he had his two boys to take care of him, right?

Dale was in the office at the auto shop the next day, working on some paperwork, shoving chips in his mouth absentmindedly, thinking back on the night before, wondering how much of it had just been his imagination, how much had been the beer, and how much had been real. He’d woken up in his own bed, two boys beside him, and after a morning fuck and a big breakfast, they’d gone to work, like normal…right? But then why did this feel so new to him? He knew what he was doing, sure, but…but something still didn’t quite feel right. Even a big lunch at the buffet hadn’t improved his mood much.

The office door creaked open, and he looked up to find himself looking right at the stranger from the night before, and his jaw dropped. He was real! Then…then did that mean…everything else was real too? “Sorry I disappeared so suddenly yesterday, but I had plans to make, people to see. But don’t think I forgot about my promise Dale! It just so happens that brother of yours is having some car trouble–he’ll be calling here to make an appointment, I think.”

Before Dale could respond, the phone rang, and Dale answered it. Sure enough, it was Bishop–his car was making an odd noise, and he couldn’t figure out what it was, and Dale told him to bring the car by in a couple of hours so he could look at it. He set the phone down. “He…he can’t be my brother…but he was by brother, wasn’t he? Fuck, what did you do to me?”

“This was the deal, Dale. This is my town now, and everyone’s going to find out what that means soon enough, but you’re the first. Now, here’s the deal–I have three powers at my disposal–the power of body, the power of time, and the power of mind–and I’ll give you one of them, so you can have some fun with your brother and his friends, so you can get the revenge I know you still crave. So Dale, the choice is yours.”

Actually, the choice is yours! Here’s the three options:

Power over time – the user can manipulate the strands of time to create alternate outcomes, including control over age, fate, the past and the future.
Power over body – the user has control over the body’s natural form and processes, including control over physical features, physiological function, and size.
Power over mind – the user can manipulate and control an individual’s mental states , including control over desires, memories, belief and intellect.

I have various ideas for each option, but if there’s something you’d like to see in particular, let me know and I’ll consider it! So, what would you like to see?