Ruining Mr. Fisher (Part 7)

It didn’t feel good. It hurt. But that…that was oddly satisfying. He deserved this, and…and he wanted this. He’d wanted his son for years, and the first time Shawn had raped him, years ago now, he’d fought weakly, secretly happy his son wanted to abuse him. He…loved being abused. It reminded him of where he belonged. Ned shoved a filthy foot in his face and Gerard licked at it, smearing it with blood, but he needed to serve, it was who he was, what he was made to do. Some small piece of him fought, told him this was wrong, this is what Ned wanted, but the sheer force of years of torment and abuse at the hands of them both had made it impossible to think beyond the next beating and rape.

The both of them teamed up and abused him all night long, and by the end of it, the pleasure was back, the pain was so good again, it was the only joy he felt, now that his cock was dead. He…craved it, begged for it, begged for his beastly son to pummel him over and over. He called out of work, and they let him rest, finally, for a few hours, until he was well enough to drive him and his son back to his house, where his son had been living for years now, his father’s abusive master. Gerard did everything his son demanded, both out of fear, and a certainty that his son was his superior–or at least that’s what Shawn and Ned told him. Shawn was generally skilled in his abuse, only leaving bruises where they could be covered by Gerard’s suits at work, returning home after being visited by Ned each night, so he could satisfy his son’s insatiable, sadistic appetites. It was exhausting, his work suffered, but he clung to it, like a waterlogged piece of wood in a storm. Without this office, what did he even have anymore?

Ned, however, kept making it harder, and after that night in his trailer, he was determined that Gerard should be the master of his own fate. His first choice, about a month later, was between becoming addicted to drinking piss, needing it as much as he desired cum, smoke, and alcohol; or becoming his son’s and Ned’s personal toilet paper, desperate to clean out their filthy ass cracks. The piss seemed insane, and he’d already been forced to lick out Ned’s hole once or twice, so he chose an addiction to crack. From that day on, he found it impossible to get by without shoving his face in his son’s sweaty crack after every shit, and he begged Ned for the pleasure of his own crack each day. He found himself more interested in crack than cum too, and would often troll through the bathhouse, waiting for a top to fill a bottom with his load, before swooping in and eating it back out.

The second choice was easier–filthy pits which Gerard would never be able to hide? Or Horrendously loud, disgusting farts? He went with the farts of course–he’d already become rather keen on them, after having his face shoved in cracks on a daily basis–but what Gerard hadn’t counted on was what his own gas would do to him. Everytime he caught a whiff of his own stench, he would find himself compelled to snort up as much of it has he could, making a scene of himself every time, making sure everyone around him in the office knew just how much he enjoyed the smell of his own filthy farts. It wasn’t too much longer after that, that his manager called him into his office, fired him, and had security escort him out of the building, kicking and screaming and raving and sobbing.

He’d lost it. He’d finally lost his job. He’d known it was coming, of course, he’d known that Ned would never let him keep it. But…But he’d destroyed his son for this job. He’d…fought so hard against Ned, to try and cling to it, and it had still slipped from his hands, all the same. Why had he even cared so much about it? Everyone had hated him, had been cruel, even back when he was just fat, calling him Tubby and Fatass to his face. He’d hated it, and yet…it was the last piece of himself, and now, on the sidewalk outside, wearing a filthy suit, he let loose a huge fart, snorted it up, and broke down into sobs, struggling to light a cigar to help him calm down.

he went home, and found his son working out, like always. He’d only gotten larger, his arms so packed with muscle he couldn’t even drop them to his sides. He told him what had happened, and his son beat him to a pump, screaming at him, calling him a disgusting failure of a human, and then fucked his hole. Gerard didn’t fight back; after all, Shawn was right. It was late when Ned arrived–he’d figured out what must have happened when he was cleaning the office and didn’t see Gerard there, his desk cleared out and empty.

“Well Ned? It’s finally come to this,” he said, swinging the medallion in a circle, watching the chair wrap around his finger in one direction, and then the other, “I don’t blame them, really. Hell, I thought for sure they would fire you sooner, to be honest.”

“Please, what else do you want from me? I don’t have anything else, please, just leave me alone,” Gerard said.

“Oh, but Gerard! I can’t just have you be unemployed! You’re far too diligent for that. No, you’re going to have to do something with your life. Still, it might be hard finding a job that would take someone like you, some fat, filthy, cigar and drink addicted fart sniffer cum swiller. I mean, you’d have to be willing to take, well, just about any kind of work, don’t you think? Still, I found the perfect new career for you, and I guarantee you’ll love it. Now hold on, this one’s going to hurt like a bitch,” he said, and shoved the medallion to Gerard’s breast one more time.

Requested & Submitted by @inchingtowardursinity

He couldn’t believe how long they’d been taking, building the house next door to his. He’d been surprised when the person who’d bought the large house beside his had simply bulldozed everything, opting to build a new house all from scratch. he hadn’t really seen much of the new owner; he appeared to be taking a rather hands off approach to his new house, and in Charles’s opinion, it showed in the amount of work the crew was putting into it. Often, it seemed like they weren’t doing anything all, beyond being rowdy, loud and a general nuisance.

The crew was full of older, burly men—all of them with a considerable amount of tattoos, most with beards, and every single one of them seemed to be smoking something–cigarettes, pipes, cigars. The smoke was the worst part–he couldn;t seem to escape it, and the more he smelled it, the harder it was to focus on his own work around the house. One time, he’d been trying to do yard work, when he realized he’d just been…standing there for close to half an hour in one spot, just…smelling the smoke. He was angry at himself, and didn’t even notice the fact that he was hard, suddenly.

Still, Charles warmed up to the crew over time. He befriended a few of them over the fence one afternoon. It turned out that the reason things were taking so long was that the crew was understaffed, and the owner was taking forever, on the plans and details. Not too long after that, the men started suggesting he come over and hang out with them in the afternoons and evenings. He never really recalled the meetings well, but…but he sure did enjoy himself every time. There were flickers of clarity–once when he had his cock through a hole in his fence, getting sucked off by one of the workers on the other side. He couldn’t believe what he was doing, but he also couldn’t stop, and he fell back into his smoky stupor long before he came, got down, and returned the favor.

Soon he was craving smoke, but for some reason none of the men would let him smoke anything of theirs–all he could do was suck their second hand smoke from their mouths. It was not long after that, when the owner came knocking on Charles’s door. Charles was in the middle of a terrible week–he’d…simply forgotten to go to work for a few days, and his boss had called and informed him he’d been fired. The owner had heard of his troubles, and had come by to offer him some relief. He had a perfect job for him, he said–all Charles had to do was give him the deed to his property.

Charles refused at first–he loved his home. But when the owner laid out a pipe, a cigar, and a pack of cigarettes, and offered him one of those in addition to the job…he couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed the pipe, packed it and lit it like he’d watched the crew do countless time, and sucked down the smoke, feeling his entire body heating up, from his toes to his gut to his hands…and in a matter of moments, a very, very different man was standing there, chuffing on his pipe.

“What do you think Chuck? Think we can have this house torn out in a week?”

“W-What? I…I don’t…” Chuck looked down at his body, his full gut coated in a riot of tattoos–at least what he could see around his long thick beard, “I…where am I?”

“You’re a member of my crew Chuck. We’re looking at this house I just bought. I want to tear it down and add it to my property next door.”

“O-Oh…I…I guess me ‘n the crew could do it…”

“That’s what I like to hear–now you fat pig, bend over–I wanna fuck your nasty hole.”

Chuck was all to happy to oblige, letting his owner fuck him bent over the side of the couch, and then he went back and joined the rest of his crew. He was welcomed like an old friend, and all of them wanted a taste of Chuck’s new, eight inch cock, and a chance to admire his new, beautiful body; just like the bodies the owner had all given them over the years.

Going to college in a small rural town didn’t exactly have many perks, unless you liked cows. and farming. You liked your school, sure, but there wasn’t much to do, which is how you found yourself at the State Fair in October, killing a Saturday when you’d rather be partying in the city with friends. The place was full of hicks, and it was a bit disgusting to be honest. You’d kind of been hoping to spy on some hot cowboy butt, but there was more plumber’s crack than anything else. You’d been closeted since you got here–it didn’t really seem like a good place to be gay.

It was early afternoon when you started to get hungry–that was when you spotted the oddest sign–an “All You Will Eat Buffet”. What the hell did that even mean? You went in, and a big bubba welcomed you–and before you could get any information about the place, he had you seated on a bench, and a big plate of food set down in front of you.

“I–wait, I didn’t order this?” You yelled after him.

The man laughed. “Don’t matter! You will eat it all up, won’t you?”

The words were like magic–you started shoveling the fried food into your mouth as fast as you could, unable to stop, terrified at the sudden compulsion overwhelming you. You finished the first plate, and second one was immediately set down on top of it.

“There you go. You’ll eat that too, won’t ya? Yeah, that’s nice. I don’t get skinny college kids in here too often, but yer always fun–I think you will be eatin’ a whole lot today, don’t you?”

Plate after plate came, and you couldn’t stop yourself. The afternoon, and when you got too tired and full to continue, the bubba would be there, massaging your growing gut, and whispering in your ear. Calling you a pig. Calling you a slob. Calling you a hick. Calling you stupid and gluttonous and horny. Soon, you were demanding more food, eating as fast as you could, reveling in your own gluttony, and when the bubba mentioned that you will be sucking the cum from his balls along with dessert, you were only to happy to swallow his thick cock down too.

It’s night now, and the buffet’s closed for the day. You stumble, impossibly full, weighing at least 400 pounds. You aren’t a college student anymore–just a fat ass trucker pig, begging for cock whenever you can get it. But you think you’ll be hanging around here for another day or two–that’s the best buffet you’ve ever seen, and that bubba back there was already mentioning how much you will eat tomorrow.

Requested by Anonymous

He’d thought this would be a shortcut, cutting through the fields on his way back home, but Mitchell had underestimated the distance and gotten a bit turned around in a stand of trees. Now he wasn’t quite sure where he was, but he could see a few buildings in the near distance–a farm house and a long, low barn. If he could get back to a road, he could at least reorient himself, even if he was technically trespassing.

He got closer to the barn, and he started to smell something–whatever it was, it smelled like food, and he hadn’t eaten in a few hours–it was making his stomach grumble. Curious to see what someone could be cooking in a barn that smelled so damn good, he crept around and found a door, and inside he found a bunch of machinery pumping some kind of strange slop into a a huge trough lining one wall, and in the dim light it looked like a bunch of pigs were feeding at it. His curiosity sated, he tried to turn around, but his feet instead carried him closer. The smell was intense, and his hunger was only growing. Without really knowing why, he found himself on his hands and knees at the trough, drool following through his beard, eyes vacant, and he shoved his face into the slop.

He tried to resist for a while. The slop didn’t taste very good, but something about it made him feel good, and warm…and horny. The first orgasm caught him by surprise, filling the front of his jeans without him even touching his cock–and not long after that he didn’t even want to stop anymore. He kept eating until the machine finally shut off, and he and the rest of the pigs all finished off the slop, licking the metal clean before he could finally pull himself away.

He looked down at himself, unable to believe what he was seeing. He must have gained fifty pounds in a few hours, all of it in his gut! He looked around at the pigs, and saw all of them were forming a large mass, heaving piles of flab, all of them grunting and squealing–but they weren’t pigs at all. They were all men! massively obese men, their eyes blank, sucking at each other’s holes and cocks. He had to get out of here, but he was so full he could barely stand up–and he didn’t really want to leave. He just kind of stayed there, watching the pigs fuck…and kind of wanting to join them. he didn’t even notice the obese redneck walk in, wearing just a pair of overalls.

“Well well! Looks like another little piggy wandered on in here when I wasn’t lookin’!”

Mitchell managed to pry his eyes away, but there was nothing he could do as the man walked over, started ripping away his over stretched clothes, and putting a leather collar on him.

“Bit too small though–gonna have tah give ya a boost so ya can catch up with the rest a the litter, ya runt!” the redneck said, and led Mitchell over to one end of the trough, shoved a tube down his throat, secured it with a mask, and then turned the machine back on–slop pumping it’s way right into his gut.

“That’s better, ya’ll be as big and stupid as the rest a the swine in no time!” he said, “Still, gotta try out yer hole, right?” He dropped his overalls, slipped his cock into Mitchell’s ass, but the new pig was already too stupid to do anything but buck back, and spray another load of cum across the barn floor.

Ruining Mr. Fisher (Part 3)

Needless to say, Gerard began staying late much more often at the office. In fact, he found it impossible to leave until Ned had come through to clean the office, and to find some new way to bring the banker down a few more pegs at a time. It was the very next night that Ned made the banker strip naked in his presence–the fat redneck gave him a hand job and then as soon as Gerard’s cock softened again, forced his cock into a metal cage, and locked it with a padlock. It was a tight fit–immediately Gerard’s cock tried to get hard again, and the pain was excruciating, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Ned said he needed to be punished for cumming without permission, and so the cage would stay on until he felt Gerard had earned an orgasm for himself.

Gerard never earned an orgasm, not in the next several months. Most nights, Ned would simply come by the office, looking more and more filthy and disheveled and slobby each day, force Gerard to serve him in any number of ways, and then leave him again. At first, Gerard would do his best to not do anything to make Ned change him further–he was agreeable and wouldd serve him as required…and in some ways he kind of enjoyed it. He’d already found himself making time for himself throughout the day to slip away from the office for an hour or two, so he could go to the porn theaters and shops downtown and suck a few loads from strangers when he got hungry. On the weekends, he would spend the entire afternoon and evening there, drinking cum like a fiend, praying his wife wouldn’t figure out why he was suddenly completely uninterested in having sex with her–not that they’d had sex much at all, in this new life of his. Still, Gerard could only take so much humiliation, and from time to time, Ned’s picking and goading would work. Gerard would start resisting–would yell and scream and swear and try to punch and anything to get back at Ned for ruining his life, and Ned would use his outbursts as excuses to press the medallion to his heart again, and ruin his life bit by bit.

The second week, during his first outburst, Gerard made the mistake of ridiculing Ned for his size and fat body–so Ned shifted his life until Ned himself was a binge eater. His waist exploded in size immediately, and Gerard kept hoping it would stop, as he looked down at himself, but it just kept going, stopping only when he was over four hundred pounds. Not quite as large as Ned, but still, that shut him up. He hated it though–he was hungry constantly, and found that he had to have a snack with him at all times, or he couldn’t function, and the only place he could go for lunch and feel full were all you can eat buffets. After two weeks he broke down, begging Ned to let him stop eating for a bit. Ned took a kind of pity on him. Gerard didn’t stop eating by any means, but suddenly he loved the feeling of his fat body, and found himself fantasizing about becoming even larger. Eating became a challenge, to see how much he could stuff in his face each day, and even though he was disgusted with himself, he couldn’t stop. Worse, the fuller his belly the more turned on he got, but his cock, trapped in a cage, couldn’t be satisfied. Instead, he just ate more and more, driven into a sexual feeding frenzy–usually capping off his meals with at least ten loads of cum from strangers at the bathhouse.

The situation with his wife and son was becoming unbearable however–whenever he was home, it seemed like they were fighting. Two months after Ned first seized control of him, he broke down in tears, on his knees in front of the redneck, begging him for mercy, desperate to keep his family together. The redneck just laughed at him, pressed the medallion to Gerard’s chest, and when it pulled away, he didn’t have to worry about his wife anymore, since he’d been divorced for years. Ned consoled him as he sobbed, reminding him that now he lots more time to spend stuffing his face and sucking cock, without have to worry about hiding it from his bitch of an ex-wife. He still saw his son on occasion–one weekend a month. Shawn hated his father’s faggot guts however, and refused to spend any quality time with him at all, even when he did have a moment of custody.

Still, Ned helped him settle in a comfortable, bachelor lifestyle. Ned gave him a ten cigar a day smoking habit, and made him an alcoholic–helped him realize how silly it was taking a shower every day–or more than once a week. After six months, Gerard was a completely different person–close to over 450 pounds, reeking of sweat, smoke and booze, ill fitting and often unwashed clothing, crusty with food and cum. He’d gone from being the star of the company in a corner office to a low level manager barely hanging onto his job–but he hung on all the same. It was, really, the last bit of himself that he had left.

Then, one night, Ned told him that he’d finally thought of a way for Gerard to earn an orgasm for himself. All he had to do was, when the next weekend came that his son Shawn was staying with him, bring his son out to the trailer where Ned lived in the country, and give him to Ned. If Gerard brought him his only son, then he could get the chance to shoot his first load in months. Gerard refused, at first, until Ned pressed the medallion to a new spot on his body, right over his cock, inflating his genitals to massive proprotions. His cock, which ached already, was suddenly in constant pain in it’s enclosure, and his cum production was so constant that even in his cage he leaked constantly. The pain was too much to bear, and so Gerard agreed–he’d bring Ned his son, for a chance to be free of this pain. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t live like this, and…and it wasn’t like Shawn loved him anyway. In fact, he kind of hated his son, hated the way he looked at him. If he could get a little comfort, then Shawn was a sacrifice Gerard was willing to make.

Ruining Mr. Fisher (Part 2)

He gagged, and nearly threw up at the vile taste of the janitor’s unwashed cock, as the man shoved it down his throat. What…what in the hell was he doing? He was straight! He’d never had a faggot thought in his life, and suddenly some strange, filthy janitor was in his office, with his crusty gut shoved against his face, cock down his throat? Gerard kept trying to will the rest of his body into action, but it was like the rest of his body had gone limp as soon as that medallion had started swinging in front of his face, like he was fucking hypnotized or something.

Ned laughed, enjoying the feeling of his victim’s throat gagging around his cock as he thrust deep, grinding the banker’s face into his pubes as his filthy hands ran through way through the man’s perfectly combed hair, over his head, down his neck and under his clothes, stripping back his coat, unbuttoning his crisp shirt and pulling it away from his body, and finally he gripped the man’s undershirt in both hands and ripped it apart, revealing the man’s smooth, waxed chest. “Alright Mr. Fisher, now we git tah the good part. I haven’t done this with anyone else yet, so we’ll be learning together, but I knew ya had tah be mah first.”

The medallion stopped swinging, and suddenly he felt the paralysis lift somewhat from his body. He yanked his face away from the man’s crotch, trying not to throw up, spitting on the carpet. “You disgusting–I’m going to sue you for what little shit you have in this world, and make sure you spend the rest of your life getting raped in prison.”

“Nah, I don’ think so,” Ned said, palming Mr. Fisher’s head in his hand and shoving him back, giving him a clear view of his chest, the other hand holding the medallion, “Let’s see what ya think ‘bout that in a second,” He he pressed the medallion to Gerard’s chest, over his heart.

The gold turned a searing white against his skin, and Gerard screamed, but the pain was as much mental as it was physical. It was like his entire life was suddenly before him, like a huge stone bridge behind him, well constructed and maintained the whole way across, until the entire landscape started shaking, like some massive earthquake. And he watched his life crumble away behind him, and there was nothing he could do. In a matter of moments, the bridge was still there but there were holes, broken cables, missing guardrails, and just as quickly as he’d seen it, it was over–he was in his chair, gasping for breath, clutching his chest. He looked down and found a dark red mark exactly where the medallion had been on his pec–or what had been a pec moments before.

He looked down at his body, and his perfect, gym toned body was no more–he was by no means fat–certainly not as large as Ned by any stretch of the imagination, but he had a flabby gut which showed the fact that he spent his time in an office, coated with a thick layer of hair. He’d…he’d always hated how much body hair he had, and he’d waxed it for years…hadn’t he? But now…now he couldn’t remember doing any of that. He’d thought about it, sure, but it had seemed like so much effort. Same with his hair, which was balding a bit and turning grey. He could fix it up, he supposed, but that would just take so much energy…He got up from his chair and went to the mirror hanging in his office, looking at his pudgy, sloppy self, his messy hair, his stubble coated face, his gut, and he was disgusted with himself, and yet…and yet he…he liked that disgust. His cock was getting hard, why in the fuck was this turning him on?

“A good first step,” Ned said, “We’ll go down further later, but for now, why don’t you get down and finish what you’d started, bitch.”

He fought–but his body simply obeyed. He got down on his knees and went back to sucking the janitor’s cock–and it was still disgusting, but now…now he kind of liked it. He liked the idea that he was debasing himself like this. This filthy slob–this fat failure of a man–it was, suddenly, everything Gerard had imagined, some deep fantasy that had been locked away inside him, but suddenly it was out, and he…he liked it. He liked serving this man, and he happily sucked at the man’s cock, hauling his own dick free from his now ill-fitting suit pants and started jacking off–realizing only after it had started that he’d sprayed a load of cum across the carpet of his office.

“You fucker–you don’t get to fucking cum without my fucking permission!” Ned growled, the medallion in his hand, “You wanna see what this fucking thing can do to you? You want a reason to get this carpet filthy?”

Ned pressed the medallion to the mark over Gerard’s heart, and it was like it…sunk into his body, like a gear into some strange machine of his body. The heat was there again, but now…now it didn’t burn, now it was almost…pleasant, feeling the heat scorch away bits and pieces of his life, forgetting some things and remembering others. Ned pulled the medallion back, and Gerard redoubled his efforts, suddenly remembering all of the hundreds of cocks he’d sucked in glory holes behind his wife’s back all these years, hungry for cum more than anything else, his gut ballooning in size yet again. Ned finally came down his throat, and as soon as he’d finished, Gerard got down and started eating his own cum from the floor–and Ned laughed, and excused himself–reminding Gerard to keep on working late every night, so they could keep having these nice meetings.

Story Requested by @alexstrider008

Jimmy had gone to the club that night, dressed in some of his sluttier best–all spandex and rubber, stretched tight over his lithe, muscular body, blonde highlights spiked up just so, looking like every other twink there–but then again, that was the point of being a twink, right? Looking like everyone else? He felt like he belonged with them all, out on the dance floor, their muscular bodies pressed together…but tonight he found himself talking to someone different.

The man didn’t look like he belonged in this kind of club–not wearing that much leather, and certainly not with that big gut hanging over his waistband. Jimmy and a few of his friends had been pointing and laughing at him all evening, secretly hoping the fat leather fuck would get the hint, finish his beer, and leave. But…somehow (he couldn’t quite remember now, and in fact, everything was becoming oddly foggy) he had ended up next to the man in the booth, having a conversation with him. The rest of the twinks were scandalized, of course–no so much as he was, when he found himself getting up after the man and…following him out of the bar.

They ended up going into a small house, and immediately down into the basement where the stranger stripped Jimmy of his spandex, shoved him up against a wooden cross and secured his ankles and wrists to the four boards. Next, a blindfold, and then the man shoved something in his mouth–a thick tube which was narrow at first, and then widened to the point that it stretched his jaw, and pushed down his throat–making it difficult to breathe except through his nose. “That’s good, such good boy,” The man said, “Gonna get you good and big, just you wait.”

There was the sound of a pump, and then he felt something oozing through the tube, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it–he could feel some strange sludge sliding it’s way down his esophagus and right into his stomach. For a few minutes it was fine, then he felt the first pangs of discomfort, his stomach swelling–but it didn’t stop. All he could do was moan and whimper for hours, while the man went about his work. First, he heard the sound of an electric razor as his perfect hair was shorn from his head. Then, the man began toying with him–clamping his nipples and cock, edging him, filling his hole with dildos–each larger than the next.

He felt so full, but…other things too. An exhaustion crept into his body, and it was like he could feel his muscles…dissolving. Turning to jelly in him. The fog coating his mind grew thicker, and he found himself craving this feeling of fullness, craving abuse from this man, this…this master. He was happy, he could hear him, could feel him groping his…his gut. He had a gut, he could feel it hanging off him where he was bound.

At long last, the pump ceased. His stomach ached, but already rumbled, needing more. The man hauled the tube free of his mouth, unhooked Jimmy’s wrists and ankles, and he immediately fell to his knees, hands behind his back, awaiting a command. He couldn’t see, but it was a brand new morning, as his master fucked his throat, before hooking him up for a second, even larger, feeding.

Source: kawi-stuff

None of them had noticed anything yet. I wasn’t sure if any of them would notice the spell at all. Still, it was working, that much was certain. All of them had been massively muscled just a few hours ago, hairy, oozing masculinity. Already they were starting to pudge up, their body hair becoming thinner, their facial hair disappearing bit by bit. It was hard to tell whether they were becoming a bit more flirty because they were a bit drunk, or because the next part of the spell was taking affect. Serves those fucking jocks right, though–this will teach them to pick on fat guys like me. They’re all going to be fat cockwhores by the end of the night.

Fuck, it sure is working, you should see the four of them! None of them is less than 300 pounds at this point, and all of them are obsessing with the guys around here, flirting with them, unable to peel their eyes away from the men’s crotches, even as their own cock’s shrivel up into nothing. This sort of shit would have gotten me pummeled into a pulp, but none of the guys here mind–the spell makes anyone the four of them take a liking to into a big, hairy brute who will give their holes a good reaming. Joey keeps looking at me, in particular, and fuck, it’s making me a bit horny. He can’t stop himself, and he knows it–I can see the terror in his eyes even as he licks his fat lips.

Yeah fucker, that’s fuckin’ right, who’s in charge now, huh! Who’s on top now? Yeah, I wanna year ya fuckin’ squeal, squeal like a pig!

Oh god oh god, wha happened tha me? I ain’t, this ain’t right! Where’d all this fuckin’ hair come from, ‘n why’s it so hard tah fuckin’ think all a sudden? The…spell? Fuck, I fucked Joey, ‘n this is what that made me? Got a damn good cock though, feels real nice. Bet…Bet it’d feel nicer in that other pig’s hole though, now that other guy’s done plowin’ him. Yeah, think I’d better give him a good fuck too, can’t fuck enough pigs after all, fuck yeah…

Source: huskyishusky

Making Pigs (Part 3)

Officer Vernon knew this wasn’t what he should be doing.

He’d received multiple calls about a couple of guys having sex on the side of the freeway, in open view, and he’d been tasked with getting them to stop and arresting them for gross indecency. But he’d gotten off his motorcycle, walked over towards them, and then…and then here he’d been standing for a few minutes, just watching them fuck, his cock out of his uniform pants, stroking himself off, unable to look away.

“That’s good pig, just keep stroking that big, thick shaft of yours. Just keep watching me pound Porgy’s front hole. You like watching men fuck, don’t you? In fact, whenever you see men fucking, it’s like every other thought flies straight out of your brain, and it’s all you can think about.”

Yeah…yeah, he did have a hard time focusing on anything where guys were fucking in front of him, especially when one of them was a sexy pig like Porgy…fuck, watching that perfectly smooth fat jiggle, the fucker’s triple chins wobbling as the man plowed that pig’s cockhole deeper and deeper…What had he been thinking about again? It…it probably wasn’t that important really. His cock was important. He looked down at it, at the fifteen inch long monstrosity in his hands, and could barely believe the size of it. It hadn’t been that big before, had it? Who cares? It felt fucking good in his hands as he milked it, angling himself so he could show it off to the car’s driving by.

“Yeah pig, that’s right. You like showing off, don’t you? Why don’t you take that shirt off, show everyone that firm gut of yours and piggy pecs, those fat, inch long nipples you have studded on your chest. Go on, give them a twist, I bet they’re sensitive as hell, right? Almost enough to make you cum, just playing with those by themselves. And those fucking meaty thighs, packed with as much fat as muscle I bet.”

The buttons popped off as he tried to get his shirt off, and he ended up just tearing his way out of it, hearing the seams of his pants ripping apart at the same time. After a moment, he too was naked, aside from his boots which were bulging around his enlarging feet, stroking his massive cock with one hand, twisting his huge nipples with the other, eyes empty, drool leaking out one corner of his mouth, lost in the pleasure of his own changing body.

“Hairy beast too, a proper boar. Stupid as fuck though. Bet you can’t even talk. Still, those hands and feet of those are as massive as your cock–guess it’s true what they say. Damn short though–what are you, just a little over five feet? Damn pig, that cock of yours almost hits your fucking knees. Yeah, fucking look at you, Can’t believe I caught myself two today, gonna fuckin’–”

He watched the man start huffing and fucking Porgy deeper now, and with a cry, he shot his own load deep in Porgy’s front cunt, the pig letting out a squeal of his own, cumming for the fourth or fifth time.

“Get over here, come clean out Porgy’s holes like I know you want to. Cum hungry slut, covered with fucking hair. No thought in your heads except about fucking and stroking that big cock. Need a name too though–how about Boaris, eh?”

Boaris snorted his approval, and tried to walk over, bursting from the remains of the boots as he did, and got down in front of Porgy, hefted up the fat apron and shoved his lips to the pig’s gunt, sucking out all the cum he could, licking it up, digging his tongue in deep. The man came up behind him, running his hands through the thick, furry pelt that had grown in over Boaris’ whole body, from the tops of his size twenty feet to the backs of his palms to the huge curly beard swallowing his face.

“Porgy, clean yourself out, and give Boaris a treat–eh?”

Porgy somehow knew what the man meant, and he let loose his bladder, sending a flood of piss out his hole which Boaris tried to drink up, but a good bit of it just ran down the front of his body, soaking into his hair, running down over his pecs and the curve of his muscular gut.

“Alright you pigs, that’s enough get in the back–we have an auction to get to, and a long drive to get there.”

The two pigs, their past lives now well forgotten, hauled themselves into the bed of the truck–Boaris helping the massive Porgy in first, before hauling himself up after. The man climbed in the cab, started the engine, and drove off. It wasn’t a mile down the road that he felt the truck start bouncing–sure enough, Porgy was flat in the bed and Boaris was mounting him at eighty miles an hour down the highway. Yeah, these two were going to fetch a damn good price at the hog auction today, he could just tell. And with all the attention they were getting, it was a good chance they’d pick up a third or fourth pig on the way too. The man smiled and took a long drag off his cigarette–the pigs never see it coming, but somehow it never gets old.

Making Pigs (Part 2)

The man took another drag off his cigarette, looking like he was pondering something, while the pig kept sucking his cock, fiddling with his nipples as he did. “Still, I suppose we need a name for you, eh pig? I can’t just keep calling you pig, after all.”

That…that wasn’t right. He had a name, didn’t he? It was hard with his mouth glued to the man’s cock, but he twisted his eyes over, to the badge still pinned to the uniform shirt he’d stripped off earlier. Robertson. Something Robertson. And…and he had a wife, and he…he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be on the side of the fuycking highway, sucking off a stranger, no…no matter how much he might enjoy it. It took all of his energy, but he pulled himself away–it took so much force, that he ended up falling on his chubby ass on the pavement, which hurt, but the pain only brought his mind back more. “Fuck…fuck you, I have a name, you son of a bitch. My…My name is Robertson, and…and you’re under arrest, you fucking pervert.”

The man took a drag off his cigarette, and laughed. “Pig, you’re no cop–not anymore. Hey–I’ll tell you what. If you can fit in that uniform there, then I’ll let you arrest me, tough guy. Go on, I want to see you try.”

So he tried. He grabbed the shirt, and while he could get it over his shoulders, no matter how hard he tugged, there was no hope that he could possibly button it. Undeterred, he tried with the pants, but his thighs and ass had swollen so large that he couldn’t even get them close to his waist. “They…they fit me earlier. I was wearing them…”

“No pig, you weren’t–you weren’t wearing anything, because pigs don’t get to wear clothes.”

“They don’t?”

“Fuck no–now take those fucking things off, you dumb ass, and give them to me”

Confused, the pig none the less did as the man said, took off the uniform, and handed them to the man, watching as he got out his lighter, set them aflame, and chucked them a few yards off in front of the car. “That ain’t nobody anymore. And that means, you don’t have a name, right?”

“I…I suppose so.”

“How about Porgy? I think I’m going to call you that for a while, and see if it sticks. You like that name, I think. It makes your little, tiny piggy cock leak a bit whenever I call you that, doesn’t it? Just like how it makes you link knowing you’re naked in front of all of these fucking people. You’re one horny pig at this point, I bet–so why don’t we make you cum? Pig’s like you can only cum with a cock in their asspussy though, so you’d better bend over the front of the truck, Porgy.”

Porgy didn’t really…understand much of that, but his puny cock was hard, and he did want to feel that man’s big cock in his ass, really bad. With a snort, he waddled over and bent over the front of the truck, the metal hot on his flesh, ass towards the road. The man got out and came around behind him, sucking on his fingers and getting them wet, before probing around in the pigs hole with two or three, listening to the man’s grunts of pain turn to snorts of pleasure.

“Fuck, I love hairless pigs like you–not a hair anywhere on your body. Nude crotch, nothing in your crack, not even anything on that head of yours,” the man said, watching the hair on the man’s scalp retract, and he palmed Porgy’s head, “Feel’s good, huh Porgy? Good to have a man taking control of you, good to have his fingers in your cunt, good to show the whole world what a fat slut you are?” One last drag off that cigarette, and all that was left was a small butt. “Open up Porgy.”

The pig opened wide–the man snuffed his butt out on the pig’s tongue and then fed it to him, made the pig lick his fingers clean afterward, and took his time lighting another cig, the pig getting antsy, hungry to feel a real man’s cock deep in his piggy hole for the first time, dribbles of precum wetting the pavement beneath him as it dripped from his gunt. With another cigarette, he figured the pig was finally ready for his first proper fuck. He lined himself up and slipped in, the pig’s cunt giving no resistance, and Porgy let loose his first real squeal, bucking back, feeling his entire hole light up with pleasure, with need. This…this was his purpose, this was what he was made for, this is what he needed to to, needed to be. The first orgasm overwhelmed his entire body, his smooth skin shaking, eyes rolling back in his head as cum gushed out of his gunt across the asphalt beneath him.

The man pulled out, and ordered the pig to turn around. Not sure what the man was doing, he felt the man heft up his low hanging apron, and thrust himself inside the pig’s cock cavity. It hurt, feeling the man’s cock pound against his own, and yet…it felt good too. “How does it feel, huh? having a cock so small, being so fat that you might as well be a pussy? That you have a front hole where a cock should be?” The man twisted the pig’s nipples, and felt a second gush of cum flood around out around his cock as he thrust deeper, the pig’s cock shrinking even further up into his body. He pulled his cigarette free from his mouth after a long drag, leaned in and locked lips, feeding the pig his smoke, listening to the car honking behind them, the sound of tires grinding along the shoulder behind them. He looked up after the kiss, and saw a second pig climbing off a motorcycle and coming towards them. He hadn’t really planned on collecting two pigs today, but he wasn’t about to turn another one down, if they were coming to him.