Mr. Morris (Part 4)

The amulet. Grandpa’s amulet. He’d promised me that he’d give it to me, and there it was hanging around my brother’s neck. I was angry for a moment, but then he started talking to me in that same way Grandpa always talks to me…and I calmed down, but I still fought him. I told him that the amulet wasn’t his, that I knew he’d stolen it, that Grandpa had planned on giving it to me, and he laughed. He told me Grandpa had given it to him–that Grandpa had always planned on giving it to him. He said, “Why in the world would he give it to you? You know he thinks you’re just a stupid pig slut.”

And then, right then, there was a seed of doubt. I had these memories, but there were these other ones too, ones I couldn’t quite sort out. I could remember Mr. Morris, I could remember Grandpa how I’d always known him but there was also someone else, someone…very, very different. I refused to believe what my head was telling me, but I started to get dressed. I had to go see him, I had to talk to him and see for myself. My brother thought that was a fine idea–and suggested we both go over together. We snuck out of the house, and I drove us both over to the senior living, went up to Grandpa’s apartment.

The place was a filthy. Before, it had been spotless, but now…now the entire place was littered with trash, and there was a foul odor in the air…the same odor I’d smelled around Grandpa all my life. My old memories were retreating, these new ones were coming forward. I already knew what I’d find in the recliner, slouching in front of the television, but I had to see it for myself. He glowered at me when I entered the room–he’d always despised me, and I’d never known why. He loved my brother though–my slobby, failure of a brother–and why not? Grandpa was a drunk, a smoker, massively obese. He’d never taken care of himself all his life. His hair was matted with sweat, and I don’t think he ever showered, but the worst part was the diapers. He’d been incontinent for years now, and he never changed the ones he was wearing regularly, so he stank like an overflowing toilet all day.

I was furious. My brother had done this to him, to my Grandpa, he’d fucking ruined him, but instead of yelling, and getting angry, I was stripping off my clothes. I was getting down on my hands and knees in front of Grandpa, and he was laughing with that cigar stuck in his mouth, that cackle-wheeze, and my brother was behind me sliding a finger into my hole, telling me that he’d always hated me, hated me for the attention I got from our parents, hated me because everyone wanted my ass, hated me because I was smart and perfect, and that it was past time I’d taken my proper place in this family. I then I heard a dull thwack, and my brother crumpled to the ground, Grandpa standing up from his recliner with a lamp in has hand, huffing and puffing.

As quick as I could, I got the amulet off from my brother’s back. Grandpa told me how he’d attacked him that afternoon, stealing the amulet and fucking him into the filthy slob standing before me. But it hadn’t worked as well as my brother had thought it would, because the amulet can only be used to it’s fullest if it is given, not taken. And so grandpa gave it to me, and when my brother woke up…well…let’s just say I fucked him right in the head. He’s a dumb, stupid pig, but I wasn’t as cruel as the amulet would have liked. It has…quite the mind of its own, but as long as you’re ready for it, it isn’t too much of a problem. My brother spends his days now living at home, serving my father, and then he goes to the senior center and he serves the men there. All of them. He pays special attention to Grandpa of course, but his ass and mouth are available to anyone over the age of fifty-five, and I…well, I went off to college, the amulet still hanging around my neck. I did my best to help grandpa get back to how he was, but the amulet really doesn’t like reversing anything it’s already done. He still has to wear diapers, but he takes it in stride at least–though I think he might rub them in my brother’s face when I’m not around, as punishment. At least, I think that’s something the amulet might have snuck in while I was fucking my brother, but I never really felt like asking for details.

Grandpa made me promise that I wouldn’t use it while I was at school, and so far, after a month, I haven’t. That certainly doesn’t mean that I don’t want to. I have no problem getting cock, of course–pretty much anyone will drop their pants at a word, and all of my professors love me, and my mouth, and my ass, to bits. I just have a way with those older, burly bears, you know? But to be honest, I’m starting to think that what my grandpa doesn’t know, probably wouldn’t hurt him. And I have this guy on my floor–fuck, he’s so damn hot. Huge cock, and he lets me suck him off, but he’s a bit of an asshole, you know? I’m thinking he might need a bit of an attitude adjustment. Just some light conversation is all, nothing extreme. And maybe, if the feeling’s right…well, what’s the harm in one good fuck and a few changes to go with it? I’m sure I can keep everything under control just fine.

Mr. Morris (Part 3)

But I did it. I logged all my community service at the last minute. I finished all my classes with straight B’s for blow job. I got up on that stage, naked underneath my gown, my father’s cum leaking down my thighs. He’d wanted to congratulate me with a fuck in the locker room before the ceremony, and I wasn’t about to deny him that. He actually seemed to be…kind of proud of me. I could dimly remember, before I’d been fucked by Mr. Morris, that my older brother had been a bit of a screw up, that I’d been the better kid, the one with the potential. Now I was just a fat faggot whore, but at least I graduated from high school right? And college! I was going to college.

You have to understand–I’d always felt a bit stifled under my parents roof. My brother, well, he’d started drinking and smoking pot in high school, and they’d sent him to rehab. All my life, I’d had strict curfews, rules, order–and while I never really resented it, I always just wanted to be free, right? And college was the goal. If I could just get to college, if I could just get somewhere else, across the country if possible, I could finally figure out who in the hell I am, away from my family. And even after, I still felt that way. As much as I enjoyed being my dad’s and brother’s fat whore faggot, I knew there had to be more for me out there. More cocks to suck, more old men to fuck my holes. It was a different kind of thirst, I suppose, but it was still there.

And now, now I was almost there. I was graduated. As soon as I could get away, I hurried over to the senior center and found Mr. Morris waiting for me. I could sense that he was excited too, and I tried to get him to tell me what he was planning, but all he told me was that he’d like to fuck me again, and this time would be different. I didn’t care–all I really wanted was his cock in my fat ass. I got that, and more than I even thought possible.

This time, when his cock was inside me, everything was still all swirling around and changing, but this time I could sense that he was in control of it. I, however, still couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on–I was in a stupor just like before, unable to move, while he plowed my hole. But this time, when he came, it’s wasn’t just Mr. Morris cumming in my ass–it was my Grandpa. He’d made me his real grandson, and I was so happy, I couldn’t keep myself from crying.

He hugged me, and I felt that hug reverberate through so many hugs he’d given me in the past, hugs I hadn’t even remembered until now, from when I was a kid, and everything I felt for him just grew even larger. He wasn’t just my lover, he was family. Once we could speak–I was shocked, he was exhausted–he told me that he’d done his best to try and fix some of what he’d done before. The amulet–it doesn’t like to reverse changes, but he’d managed to temper them slightly. He told me it should make for a slightly better summer for me. In fact, it was the best summer of my life.

My dad was proud of me again…though it was different. My brother was still the fat slob screw up that he’d always been and he treated me like shit, but now my dad fucked us both. I could tell he loved me more, because when my dad fucked my brother, it was to punish him, but when dad fucked my hot cubhole, I knew it was because he couldn’t fucking my hot ass. No one could. Hell, I could stare down any old man in the street and give them a tent in their slacks, and I found that most of them, even if I just half-hinted, would happily feed me their cum down some dark alleyway. I loved it. I loved the attention, I loved the sex, I loved my family, all of my family.

Now, all of us would go see grandpa, and usually all of us would end up fucking around all night long. As the summer wore on, I began to notice something else–my brother seemed to be growing kind of distant. He’d always been a bit jealous of the attention I’d gotten, and with me about to go to college on a full ride, so soon after he dropped out after flunking all of his classes–I could tell he was angry at me. He fucked angry too, and more than once he actually hurt me a bit, but I just shrugged it off. I was going to college, and he was just a jealous, failure drop out, and he knew it. Dad and grandpa were so proud of me, and sure, I was going to miss them, but they knew how important this was for me. The summer flew by, and my brother just grew angrier, and angrier, until the night before I was set to leave, when he let himself into my room that evening, something shimmering around his neck, and a nasty looking grin on his fat face.

Mr. Morris (Part 2)

He got up, and he was at least easy on me. He had some lube, and he greased up his fingers, sliding them in, getting me used to the feeling. He was impatient though. I kept asking him to slow down, but he kept pushing me on, two fingers, and then three. I felt so..full, and it kind of hurt. But I wanted it. I’d always wanted it, from the first time I saw him, he’d known how much I wanted his cock in my ass. Reality kept shifting, and it was true. I had wanted him from the first moment I’d seen him. And I wanted him now. I was scared, but I started pushing back, begging him for it. He was breathing heavy now, and I felt the slick head of his cock press against my hole, and then he was inside me again, but this time…this time it was terrifying.

He told me later that he’d lost control of himself, and apologized. I still…still don’t quite remember everything that happened. It was just…there was so much. Like I was caught in a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions and history, some of which was mine, some of which was his, some of which had happened, and a whole lot that hadn’t. It lasted the whole time he fucked me, and I was just in a stupor, face planted in the pillows, while he pounded my ass like a wild man, screaming shit, calling me a fat slut, a whore, his cub bitch. Still, he…did apologize, right? But he said after that there wasn’t much he could do about what might have happened. He couldn’t take it back you see? I forgave him–I loved him too much.

I loved him because…because he was the first man who’d fucked me and treated me like a person, you know?

I did stay the night. He spooned me in bed, and I didn’t really want to leave in the morning. I…didn’t really want to go home, though I couldn’t quite figure out why. I drove home, and I was surprised that my mom wasn’t there…and then I realized that my mom and dad had divorced when I was just a kid, and left me and my brother to live with my dad. And I thought of my dad, and my brother. My big brother, who’d just gotten home from college, and my gut tensed up. I went inside, and tried to get to my room without either of them noticing, but my dad was waiting. He was…different. Fatter, for one. Much, much fatter. And meaner, and drunker. My brother joined him, and he was also chubby, and also drunk, even though it was morning. I told them I was tired, and didn’t really feel like doing anything, but they said that they didn’t care how I felt–they were horny, and I had chores to do.

Suck my dad’s cock. Clean my brother’s feet. Suck my brother’s cock. Get them new beers. Get them more snacks. They didn’t want those snacks, go to the store and get different ones. Clean the kitchen. Make dinner. Go get in the bedroom and lube up. Suck my brother’s cock while my dad fucks my fat asshole. Go to bed. Wake up in the middle of the night. Let my brother fuck my hole. Go back to sleep. Get up. Make breakfast. Suck my dad’s and brother’s cocks while they eat breakfast. Clean up my filthy mess of cum that I’d shot on the kitchen floor like a complete faggot.

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough that afternoon and back to my volunteer work, but mostly back to Mr. Morris. I told him everything. I told him that it didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t stop myself. It just felt…so normal to me. And worse…I liked it. I liked the way my dad and brother had treated me, it had made me feel so hot, and I’d jacked off more in the past day than I could remember–though I made sure to never do it in front of them. Neither of them wanted to see me touch my short faggot cock with them around. As I was telling Mr. Morris all of this, I realized I had my hand down my pants in the common room, stroking my hard cock, and I pulled it out quickly. He seemed embarrassed and worried, but he apologized again and consoled me and I leaned on his shoulder while he stroked my hair. He sucked me off again, and told me that all I had to do was get through the next few weeks, get to graduation, and then he’d have a present for me. A present he he hoped would make things better.

I really did like it, though, and so the next few weeks weren’t nearly as difficult as I had expected them to be. However, I was surprised by just how many men had become accustomed to receiving my services! My school schedule had shifted around, so that I suddenly had all of my classes with the beefiest, chubbiest, oldest male teachers, and I was serving every single one of them. No wonder I had such good grades! I never had time for school work with all of my chore duties at home, so this was really the only way I could hope to get to college. College! I had nearly forgotten. I hurried home, and found that one thing that hadn’t changed was my full ride, thankfully. At least I could get through this summer, and get away from my family then. Well, I’d have to leave Mr. Morris too, and that did make me sad.

And so I spent the last two weeks of my high school career on my knees. Sucking off teachers. Sucking off coaches. Sucking off beefy students. Sucking off my fat dad and brother almost constantly. And sucking off Mr. Morris of course. I kept asking him to fuck me again, but he said that we had to wait. He’d lost control last time–the amulet had…well, he never really explained what exactly had happened when he’d fucked me. All he told me was that he wanted to make damn sure that he got it right next time.

Mr. Morris (Pt. 1)

I procrastinated, I know. One month until I was supposed to graduate from high school, and I still needed fifty hours of community service. I pleaded with my principal to just waive the requirement, but she said her hands were tied–if I didn’t finish, I wouldn’t be able to walk, and I might not even get to go to college in the fall. So there I was–four weeks, fifty hours, twenty hours a week. Luckily, the service coordinator at my school had a suggestion. I wasn’t the first student to put it all off, and a local senior living center liked to have students come in during the evenings and weekends to keep people company. It meant that I would have to volunteer six days of the week, every week, but I’d be able to finish. I thought I’d lucked out–how easy could this be? All I had to do was sit around for a few hours and listen to old people talk. It was going to be so easy.

For a few days, it was easy. Really easy. The staff would pair us up with someone living in the center, and we would join them for dinner (which was free for us) and then have us sit with them for a couple hours after, and then send us home. In fact, some of the people were pretty cool. Then I got paired up with Mr. Morris. He was a bit on the short side, and rather fat with a short, full beard. He seemed a bit younger than most of the people who lived there, and it was a pleasant change from the usual sort of awkward conversation I was used to. I mean, I can’t quite remember what we talked about for the most part, though I do remember his showing me this amulet of his during dinner. He said it had been in his family for generations, but that since he hadn’t had any kids, there was no one he could give it to. It was a rather stunning piece of jewelry, coated with gold and with a number of jewels encrusted in it. Gaudy, maybe, but the way it caught the light…He left it out on top of his shirt all evening, and I just couldn’t quite bear to look away.

I was paired up with Mr. Morris every night after that. The staff just treated it like it had always been that way, even though they had made a point of saying before that they liked to rotate people around as much as possible to keep the experience fresh for everyone. I didn’t mind though–I loved being paired with Mr. Morris. By the end of the second week, I had realized something else–I loved Mr. Morris.

Now this was a bit strange for me. On one hand, I could remember being completely straight, and having a girlfriend, but it was like no one else could remember any of it. When I told Amber that we had dated, she laughed at me, and I did feel a bit foolish. I had come out to here my Freshman year, and we’d been best friends ever since, grading boys, the whole thing. She knew my tastes ran a lot older though, and bit more heavyset than people might find normal. Most of my crushes were on faculty, not on students. The strange feeling only lasted a few days though, and then it was perfectly normal for me, though I found myself acting different around Mr. Morris, my heart fluttering a bit when he put his hand on my knee, and whenever I jacked off, I kept having fantasies about him, only him.

Finally, I couldn’t bear it anymore, and I confessed that I not only loved him, but that…that I wanted him to be my first. I wanted him to be the one to take my virginity. I expected him to be disgusted, but instead he smiled like he’d known all along, the amulet glinting, and he suggested that I tell my parents that I would be staying overnight with a friend on Friday night. Amber covered for me, though when I told her why she was a bit disgusted. My parents knew I was gay of course, so staying over with Amber wasn’t a problem at all for them. In fact…they seemed almost…too ok with the whole thing. Regardless, I joined Mr. Morris for dinner that night, and he was dressed so handsomely, I swooned a bit. He was a perfect gentleman, but with how he kept pawing at my crotch under the dinner table, I knew he wanted it as much as I did. When the staff told us it was time to go, no one said anything when I joined hands with Mr. Morris and followed him to the elevator, and up to his apartment.

Once we were inside, I had no idea what I was doing, but he was gentle, and he kissed me, and…and he was everything I’d ever wanted in a man. He helped me out of my clothes, I helped him out of his. I was scared of sucking his cock, but he said he’d like to suck mine first. I agreed, happily, and he told me to get on the bed. I noticed that even though he was naked, he hadn’t taken off the amulet, and it seemed…excited as well. Like it was catching too much light in the dim apartment lighting.

Now, I suppose I haven’t said too much about myself up until now. I suppose part of the reason is that I was pretty average. Average build, not too muscular, but certainly not fat. Maybe a bit tall and gangly, but what teenager isn’t a little bit? I was smart. I’d gotten into every school I applied to, with even a full ride from one, which was good, because my parents weren’t very well off at all. And there I was, naked, mostly hairless, sitting on Mr. Morris’ bed, and this bear of a man climbed up on all fours, amulet hanging from his neck and shining and all I can think is how lucky I am. Then, he swallows my rock hard cock and…and I can’t even describe it. I’d always felt a connection to Mr. Morris, ever since I’d first met him. But with our first sexual contact…I could feel him…inside me. I swear the amulet was glowing now, but that probably was just my imagination, but Mr. Morris, he was in my body, or exploring my body, or something, and then things started happening. I noticed my stomach start to gurgle, and all of a sudden my flattish stomach was bulging out into a gut, pushing up and out. I…I freaked out, and scrambled away from his mouth, and as soon as his mouth was off my cock, the feeling was gone.

He could see that I was scared, and I asked him what had just happened. He told me…mostly everything. How the amulet could change things, if he wanted them to change. That the closer he got to something, the more he could change them. The whole time, he was rubbing my gut, and I had to admit, it felt really good. Then again, I’d always…kinda wanted to be fat, you know? It seemed natural, after all. I was attracted to fat guys, right? So why wouldn’t I want to be fat too? And maybe…maybe a bit hairier. A proper bear cub. At least…at least, that was how Mr. Morris explained it to me, and it made so much sense. He told me that he could make it happen. That he could make me fat, and no one would know the difference. I was nervous, but how could I say no to him?

I sat back on the bed, heart beating fast, but this is what I wanted, right? I just…couldn’t quite remember it being what I wanted, was the problem. He wrapped his mouth around my cock again, and he was inside me, and my gut was growing, and soon enough it didn’t matter. The gut became too big to really be a gut anymore, and my chest was filling out into fat moobs. I touched my fattening nipples, and they were so sensitive! I could feel cum leaking from my cock like a faucet, but I held off as best I could. I could see my thighs growing wide, my ass spreading out underneath me. My chin was a bit scratchy, and I felt a short beard there. I’d never been able to grow a beard! And there was hair on my chest! I ran my fingers through it, and it was too much for me. I shot my load, and he swallowed it all down, nursing on the head for a moment, before releasing me. I laid back, surrounded by fat, and sighed. I felt like…me. Like a me I hadn’t even known could exist. Like a me that shouldn’t exist. Mr. Morris was looking at me…fuck, he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes, and in his huge, fat, hard cock. I remember what he said next. “Roll over.” It wasn’t a request, he wasn’t asking for permission. I tried to stop myself, I was scared, I didn’t think I could handle anything in my ass, but my body was listening to him, not to me.

Our Demons (Part 4)

He wiggled his toes. He hadn’t been able to do that in a while. His finger uncurled from their fists reluctantly, trying to remember how to work. They felt strange, like they had too much weight to them. The rubber pulled back further, along his arms and legs, and there were some sensations Rich was expecting, but that didn’t happen. He…couldn’t feel any air against his cock, even though the rubber was no longer covering it. It was still buried in…something warm and soft. Without the rubber holding it back, he felt his gut spill out, followed by his chest. He must be fatter, but how much fatter? He wanted to touch himself, he wanted to feel himself, but Master had ordered him to stay still, sitting back on his knees, hands on the floor. Now only the hood was left. Two rough hands…rough. How long since he’d felt skin against his skin? Skin besides the feeling of a hand or a foot in his ass, besides a cock down his throat, or a filthy ass puckered against his tongue? He shivered. His skin got chills after being trapped in the suit for so long, and his entire body felt slimy and clammy with sweat.

The hands pulled the hood free in one movement, and the light was blinding. He hadn’t seen anything since the hood had gone on…days ago? Weeks? He’d been unable to keep track of time. He’d tried to count cigars, he’d tried to count fucks and loads and so many other things to keep his mind busy, but he’d just…sunk in. Accepted it, enjoyed it even. He blinked a few times, and realized he was kneeling in front of a mirror. There was some kind of white blob in the reflection–was that him?

It was him. What in the world was he, even? Fat. He was fat. No wonder he couldn’t feel his cock–it was buried beneath his huge fat apron, between two thighs larger than anything he’d ever seen before. He couldn’t look at it. It was disgusting. He looked up, and caught his own eyes, but his face, even his face was wrong. His mouth seemed too wide, the nose too big, eyes too small. He no longer had anything resembling a neck–his head just dissolved into folds of fatty jowls and chins which cascaded down onto his chest, where two huge moobs shook with every labored breath. His hair was gone–all of it. His entire body was completely smooth, his head, his face, his belly. His skin had lightened to a ghostly, sickly white, and the sheen of sweat all over him only made it worse.

He looked away. He couldn’t look at that. He looked over and down and saw a pair of leather boots, followed them up, and found a massive, six and a half foot tall brute looming over him. Derrick–no, not Derrick was gone, or dead. This no longer even looked like him. His entire body was covered with leather, a crisp, shiny uniform, up to his neck. The face, though. Beneath the thick beard he could see a sharp jawline too angled to be human. In fact, the entire face looked like a crystal with flesh stretched so tight over it it might rip at any moment. He was smiling. He was smiling, and it’s eyes were red, and it’s teeth were sharp, and there were bones pushing through the skin above his eyebrows, blood dribbling from two of the wounds, unnoticed by it.

He needed a cigar. He couldn’t think about any of this. Almost as if he was anticipating him, the brute, the demon, took a thick cigar down, shoved it in Rich’s mouth, and lit it to life. He sucked in the smoke…and realized too late that he had made the final mistake. There was something else in this cigar, something…another it. Another thing like whatever it was in Derrick’s body. He coughed and hacked, trying to force it from his lungs, but his body felt so…heavy all of a sudden. Leaden. It was just so much effort. He slumped to one side, tried to catch himself, but ended up crashing to the floor on his fat side, wheezing.

“Oh Rich, I think you dropped something,” it said, bent down and picked up the cigar and this time jammed it so far down his throat where he lay that he knew he had no choice but to inhale. “Oh Sloth, Mr. Sloth. Do come play with me. I’ve enjoyed the mortal, I truly have, but oh how I long for a filthy, filthy Sloth…”

Rich was trying to fight, trying to rationalize with whatever it was inside of him, but while Derrick had at least been able to reason with the Wrath now inhabiting him, Sloth was unreason. Rich would plead, but pleading was too much effort, wasn’t it? In fact, why think at all? Why bother with a mind? It was mindless, it was acidic. Every effort he made against it simply dissolved. It was irrelevant. Useless. The ego is useless. He was useless. Yes…why even exist at all? That was the question he suddenly had to face. Why exist?

Rich was too exhausted to answer. There was no answer, really. He could see that now. It would be easier, really. So much easier to just stop fighting. He sighed, and let the demon inside of him run amok. His memories dissolved, his desires fled. What was he even? A voice? A will? What was a will in the face of utter sloth?

Wrath watched eagerly, as the cigar burnt down. He could see the light in Rich’s eyes dimming, the iris’ and whites dimming to greys and then to deep tar black, without any reflection at all. The cigar burned to ash, and the mouth hungrily chomped it to bits and swallowed it down. “Wrath….Wrath……Fuck…hole…….” the blob managed to say, with a voice something between a whisper and a gargle.

“Oh you piece of filth, I know what you want,” Wrath said, and rolled it over. It was so heavy suddenly! But he found the hole, sucking and hungry at the rear, drooling some foul smelling filth down the crack, and shoved his fist in as deep as he could with a deep howl.

Do You Shrink as You Get Older? – Part 3 (Patreon Commission)

“That’s a good little man,” Don said, and opened the top of the cage, reached in with one huge hand, and stroked Howie’s furry back, making his shiver, and shoot a load of cum into his underbelly. “Silly Howie, thinking you could just leave me. Well now you’re never going to leave me. If I can’t have you as a lover, then I guess I can settle for a pet.”

Don reached down and grabbed him under his armpits and stood up, Howie kicking his legs in the air. He was so high! Don hadn’t been this tall before, had he? He couldn’t tell whether it was just his own vertigo, but instead he focused on Don’s sweet eyes, his wrinkles when he smiled, his thick white beard, and they kissed, or rather, Don licked and sucked at his smaller face, cleaning his own cum out of Howie’s beard, and then carried him into the bedroom, set him down on the bed, and laid back down.

Howie immediately went to drink more cum, but Don pushed him away. “Nuh uh, there’s one thing I still want to do. You always said I was too small to be a good fuck, eh? Well now let’s see how my cock fits in that tight, tiny hole of yours.”

Howie tried to fight against Don, tried to push back, but there was a cloud over his mind, he couldn’t find any good reason not to dig Don’s cock free from his gunt, no good reason not to smear fresh cum over the head, and place it against his ass. However, he couldn’t quite get enough leverage, and it was so big! Don had to help him, and once the cock was deep inside of him, he grabbed Howie and starts sliding him up and down the short shaft, Howie helpless in his hands, groaning and moaning with pleasure, orgasms shooting through them both spontaneously. Cum was pouring from his hole, and each time he shot, he grew even smaller, the dick stretching his ass a bit larger, the cock pushing a bit deeper. Finally, he couldn’t fit it any longer, and Don dropped him, his gut taut with cum, hole aching, he collapsed onto the bed and groaned in pain, but his hand wouldn’t stop rubbing the head of his cock, just barely within reach of one tiny hand not pinned by his huge belly. Don sat up and stroked his side with one huge hand. How small was he now? A foot and a half? A foot?

“Fuck I’m hungry,” Don said, “Gonna go eat something, and then I’ll be back to finish you off.” He heaved himself up off the bed, and knocked himself on the top of the doorway. He was taller, and so fat the sides of his gut brushed the side as he slid through, heading for the kitchen. Howie, however, was still so thirsty. He hefted himself up, fighting his massive gut, and then struggled across the bed to the edge, hung off, and managed to slip off without hurting himself. He followed the trail of Don’s cum into the kitchen, lapping up each drop and puddle as he came to it, and found Don on the sofa, surrounded by a pile of snacks which he was stuffing into his mouth, his cum dribbling onto the sofa cushion, and back under him, into the couch itself. His cum. Howie’s cum. He needed it, he was so thirsty–it was all he could think about. He picked one fat leg and started his climb, falling off a couple of times before he realized he could use the thick hairs growing on Don’s fat legs to pull himself up. Don would shout encouragement to him as he climbed, watching the short old man heave his way up his leg, grinding his crotch against the fur, spasming occasionally. By the time he reached the sofa, he was less than a foot tall, but Howie no longer cared. His mind was shrinking too–all he could think about was drinking cum and playing with his cock and his fat old body. He burrowed his way into Don’s gunt, found the head of his cock and pressed his whole mouth against the slit, drinking down as much as he could, feeling himself growing smaller and smaller, his head turning fuzzier, and then everything went dark.

He woke up on something scratchy. He pushed himself up, and tried to figure out what was going on. He wasn’t in bed, it was somewhere else. There were bars around him, and he walked up to them, looking out, and saw that he was up on the dresser in a cage meant for a mouse. Looking down, he realized that if someone wasn’t paying close attention, they might even mistake him for one. His round, fat body covered with white fur, pink ears and a bald head, a face covered with a thick beard. But he wasn’t worried. He wasn’t scared. All he really was, was thirsty. He tried to speak, but all that really seemed to come out was a squeak a bit more high pitched than his usual voice, and a huge figure eventually lumbered into the room and bent over, looking at him in the cage.

Don–he was massive now, probably weighing close to six hundred pounds and covered with hair. He tapped on the cage, Howie licking at his finger. “Now now, calm down. I just have to go into town for some supplies. After all, I think we’re going to be living here for a while, don’t you?”

Howie didn’t care where he was, as long as Don was close by, and he could drink his cum.

“I just don’t want you wandering around on your own is all–a little man like you could get into trouble. So much better keeping you safe in your cage. I bet you’re thirsty though–don’t worry, I got your bottle right here.”

Don slid a water bottle into the fixture on the cage, the little spout on the end pushing through the bars into the cage. Howie went and licked at the small metal ball, allowing the cum in the bottle to flow through, and he drank and drank.

Do You Shrink as You Get Older? – Part 2 (Patreon Commission)

Don woke up feeling groggy, but healthier than the morning before. He gave a yawn, and felt something in his mouth–he opened his eyes and found himself faced with Don’s crotch, his cock down his throat. It felt bigger that before, but that couldn’t possibly be right. Cocks didn’t just spontaneously grow overnight. Still, he was thirsty. Don was still asleep, but Howie sucked another two loads out of him in rapid succession, grinding his own cock into the fluffy, warm sheets, feeling how wet they were. He worried that he might have pissed himself, but it was sticky and tacky like cum, which was almost more worrisome. Again, he was struck by the notion that something strange was going on, but it felt like something at the edge of his mind, easily forgotten if he didn’t stay focused on it.

He pulled his mouth off Don’s cock, deciding to take a break, wormed his way off the bed, couldn’t find the floor with his feet, and ended up falling off onto his ass, looking up at the edge of the bed looming over him.

The room was bigger?

He looked around, trying to decipher his lower vantage point. He stood up, finding it a bit harder than usual, and decided that it wasn’t that the world had grown, but that he had shrunk. A lot. He’d gone from six and a half feet to closer to three feet tall overnight.

He felt like he was going to be sick. He told himself this couldn’t be happening, that he was just dreaming. He slapped his face, which hurt, but nothing changed, and then looked back down at himself, and realized that he wasn’t just shorter–he was also fatter. The gut he’d had the day before was now an apron sagging down past his crotch. In fact, the “sheets” he’d been grinding his cock into hadn’t been sheets at all, but his new gunt and the underside of his gut. Now he really was feeling sick–he ran into the bathroom, something which took longer than it should have–and vomited his breakfast of cum into the toilet, before flushing it away, wiping his chin, feeling a mass of hair there that shouldn’t be. He waddled up to the counter but was too short to get a good look at himself in the mirror; he ended up scaling the toilet, and from there hefted himself up onto the counter next to it, where he huffed and puffed for a moment or two, not used to carting around so much weight.

Standing next to the sink, he got a full view of himself in the mirror, and the sight almost made him feel sick again. Shorter, much shorter. Between the loss in height and his gain in weight, he looked about as wide as he was tall. His gut had taken on the most weight, sagging down past his crotch to his thighs, which had eaten away the space between them and now pushed together all the way to his knees, down to his fat calves and ankles that looked like a solid mass balanced on rather small feet. He hefted his gut up, looking underneath it at his own cock that had sucked up into his fat body–it looked like it had shrunk even more than the rest of him. He could just reach the head with one of his hands, and even just brushing against it was enough to make him groan with pleasure. It had never been so sensitive, and now that he’d felt it, he kept going, unable to stop himself, rubbing the head with his fingers, pushing it down into his fat, getting closer until he was awarded with a burst of cum that covered his fingers…and in the mirror, he saw himself collapse in on himself ever so slightly, his gut grow out a bit heavier. He yanked his hand away; had cumming just made his shrink?

It made sense. He had no idea how much he’d cum over the last day–it felt like hundreds of times. How could he even have cum left in his balls? He…he could keep going. He could keep trying to empty them out, it felt so damn good…

He had his hand back under his gut again, but stopped himself. He had to stop, he had to. He couldn’t shrink anymore. To take his mind off his cock, he tried to take in everything else that had changed since the day before. The mass of hair he’d brushed his hand against was a beard. Marga hated facial hair, but Don had always wanted him to grow it out into a full beard. Now it didn’t seem like he had much choice–in a single day the beard had exploded in size. The hairs were only a few inches long, but with his smaller stature that was enough to reach down to his chest. Running his hand through it, the beard was stiff and crispy from dried cum, and he shivered, feeling the thirst growing in his throat. His beard wasn’t the only thing that had grown hairier either–his entire body had filled in with a mass of hair, so thick in some places that it was hard to see his skin. Almost all of it was grey, if not white. From what he could see of his face, he looked like he’d aged twenty years overnight, into his sixties, his forehead and eyes lined with wrinkles, his hairline receding back past the crown of his head.

He had to get help. Don was still tall, he could drive. Howie didn’t think he’d even be able to see out the windshield, much less reach the pedals. He got back down off the counter the way he’d climbed up, and hurried back into the bedroom. Getting back onto the bed was a bit of a challenge, but he managed by hauling himself up with the sheets, crawled over and realized he wasn’t the only one who had changed substantially over the last few days.

Unable to help himself, Howie was captivated by Don’s balls. The sack had always been average, though it had looked a bit larger under Don’s shorter cock–now it was dwarfed in comparison. The balls inside each looked to be as large as his new fists, and cum was seeping from the head of his cock, dribbling down the shaft…no, he couldn’t look there, he couldn’t. He forced his eyes up, over the rest of Don, and saw that he wasn’t the only one who had changed overnight. Don had always been a bit on the chubby side, but now, like him, he’d grown massively fat, his gut sagging down and out into a thick apron, huge moobs with thick nipples covered with white hair, that flowed up to his neck, where a beard, thick and white, covered his multiple chins, and he saw Don was awake…and staring at him.

“What are you waiting for, lover? I got all this cum for you to lick up. You’re slacking off.” His voice was deeper than usual, more resonant, and…commanding. It took an effort of will to resist. He had to get Don to realize something was wrong. They had to get help, they had to do something.

“Don, you have to realize…look how short I am! We have to get out of here, we have to get to the hospital.”

Don laughed, his fat body shuddering in…in a somehow sexy way. Howie had never been interested in old men, and definitely not in fat ones, but he was so horny…no, even though he was horny, he just liked how Don looked. How big he was in every way. How old he was, the saggy fat, the wrinkly face, all the hair covering his body, the shiny pate of his head. But more than like…he loved him. He really did, he loved him more than he’d ever loved Marga. In fact, thinking of Marga now, all he could feel was a sense of disgust. He never wanted to see her again–the only person he wanted, who he could bear to be with, was…was Don. Don smiled at him, Howie’s heart fluttered. “Oh Howie, everything’s turning out exactly how it’s supposed to. Now get over here and drink some more cum–you’re still too big.”

“What…did you do this?”

Don reached out with one fat hand, but Howie ducked away, nearly tumbling off the bed again. “I said get over here and drink up.”

Again, Howie had to fight himself, his growing desire to do everything Don told him to do. Don rolled over and grabbed at him again, Howie jumped off the bed, scrambled up and ran for the bathroom, locking the door behind him as Don got up, stomping to the door. “What the fuck did you do to us?”

“I know you were gonna leave me!” Don shouted, “I know you were gonna ditch me, I could see how you look at other guys, but you’re mine, Howie, you’re fucking mine! Don’t you see how much I love you? I’ll take good care of you, you’ll be so happy, I promise. Now open the door, Howie, open up and drink some more delicious cum like a good old faggot.”

What in the hell was he going to do? He couldn’t get out with Don waiting, he couldn’t fight him off. He couldn’t even drive the truck–hell, he didn’t even know where he was. A weapon, he needed something to fight with. He looked up and saw the mirror. If he could break it, get a shard or something, maybe he’d have a chance. However, he only managed to climb up onto the toilet before he smelled it–cum. Don’s cum. Looking down, he saw a puddle growing under the door, he could hear Don huffing and grunting and moaning on the other side. It smelled so good, and he was so fucking thirsty. He grabbed a towel, meaning to stuff it under the door crack, but why use a towel when he could just…just lick it up? Yeah, he liked cum, he could just lick it up off the floor, lick up his lover’s cum and play with his cock, the first orgasm sending shivers through his shrinking body, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was cum. Drinking cum, shooting cum. Why was he so worried about shrinking anyway? He had Don to take care of him. He loved Don so much…

“Open the door, Howie…”

Yeah, he should do that. Why had he even locked it to begin with? It was suddenly a challenge to reach it, but he managed to turn it and pull it open. Don was on his knees outside the door, cum flowing down his gunt and dribbling onto the floor. He could see Don’s balls pumping as he twisted his nipples like faucets. He rushed over and started drinking as much as he could, feeling it coat his whole body as it flowed over him.

“See Howie? You’re mine now. You’re mine forever.”

Daddy4Boys: Hi boy

Jasonite555: Who is this?

Daddy4Boys: Your daddy, boy. Don’t pretend like you don’t know who I am 😉

Jasonite555: No, I actually don’t.

Daddy4Boys: But you got in bed naked with me just last night, boy.

Jasonite555: Leave me alone fag

Daddy4Boys: You’d always wanted your daddy’s body, but you didn’t know how to ask. You had a bad dream, and asked to climb into bed with me, and we were naked, and your little dicklet got hard.

Daddy4Boys: You asked me something boy, what did you ask me?

Daddy4Boys: Tell me boy.

Jasonite555: Why’s my dicklet hard, daddy?

Jasonite555: What the fuck, why did I fucking type that?

Daddy4Boys: Your dicklet’s hard because you like lying here naked with your daddy, see? Daddy’s cock is hard too, son. Go on, touch it, it’s ok.

Jasonite555: No this is fucked up

Jasonite555: I’m not gonna

Jasonite555: Wow daddy, it’s so much bigger than mine, big and hard

Daddy4Boys: It sure is, son, but yours will get bigger when you’re older, but for now you’re just my big boy. Do you like me touching your dicklet?

Jasonite555: Yeah daddy, it feels really good.

Daddy4Boys: It feels good having you touch my cock too, son.

[Jasonite555 has logged out]

***

Daddy4Boys: Hi son

Jasonite555: What the fuck, I fucking blocked you, you sick fuck

Daddy4Boys: Now is that any way to talk to your daddy?

Jasonite555: Fucking shut up, you fucking did something to me, you freak. My fucking dicklet shrank

Jasonite555: Not a dicklet, fuck

Jasonite555: It’s like, three inches hard now, what the fuck did you do?

Daddy4Boys: That’s it boy, I’ve had it with your tone. *Grabs you, bends you over my knee, and pulls down the back of your pants for a spanking.*

Jasonite555: No daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it

Daddy4Boys: *Starts smacking your fat ass with my hand.*

Jasonite555: Daddy, no, please, it hurts.

Daddy4Boys: If you don’t want to be spanked, then you need to speak to me with respect boy.

Jasonite555: I’m sorry daddy

Daddy4Boys: *Let’s you up after ten swats.* That’s alright boy. Now son, be honest, did that spanking make your dicklet hard?

Jasonite555: No…

Daddy4Boys: *Pulls down your pants* Don’t lie to Daddy boy, I can see how hard your dicklet is.

Jasonite555: My dicklet’s not hard! No!

Daddy4Boys: I think someone needs another spanking, to learn not to tell lies. *Pulls you back over my knee, and listens to you moan with pleasure as I smack your ass harder.*

Jasonite555: Oh…oh daddy, my dicklet…something’s coming out, daddy!

Daddy4Boys: *I keep swatting, and then let you stand up, rubbing your ass. There’s a splotch of cum from your dicklet shot across the crotch of my pants.*

Jasonite555: No…No, I did not just fucking cum, I didn’t

Daddy4Boys: You made quite the mess son.

Jasonite555: I’m sorry daddy, I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t stop.

Daddy4Boys: Well I think it’s only right that you should clean up your own messes, son. Get down here and lick it all up.

Jasonite555: I’m not gonn

Jasonite555: you cant make me type

Jasonite555: *Gets down and starts licking up the cum from my dicklet like a good boy.*

Daddy4Boys: *I ruffle your hair with my hand.* How does it taste, son?

Jasonite555: Really good daddy, I didn’t know you could eat it.

Daddy4Boys: Would you like some more? Daddy can give you some, but you’re gonna have to suck it out. There’s nothing that makes boys’ bellies grow big and fat like cum.

[Jasonite555 has logged off]

***

Jasonite555: What the fuck did you do to me.

Jasonite555: I can’t stop eating my cum, you fucking freak, every time my tiny dicklet shoots, I have to lick it up.

Jasonite555: And I’m getting fatter, I have a fucking gut.

Jasonite555: How are you fucking doing this.

Jasonite555: Fucking answer me! I know you’re there.

[Jasonite555 has logged off]

***

Jasonite555: Look, I’m sorry.

Jasonite555: I can’t eat anymore, I stuffed myself. I’m so full I feel like I’m going to burst.

Jasonite555: Please stop this, don’t make me do that again, I’m sorry.

Jasonite555: Please, I’m scared daddy

Daddy4Boys: It’s alright boy, I’m here.

Jasonite555: Why didn’t you say anything! I thought you’d never respond

Daddy4Boys: Now now, don’t cry son, it’s perfectly alright. It’s all normal for fat boys like you to eat everything you can.

Jasonite555: It is?

Daddy4Boys: Well sure. Besides, it feels kind of good, doesn’t it? Your belly stuffed so full you can barely move?

Jasonite555: Yeah, I mean, kinda

Daddy4Boys: Turn on your cam, son. I want to see.

Jasonite555: I don’t

Jasonite555: Why am I even talking to you

[Jasonite555 invited Daddy4Boys to view your webcam.]

Daddy4Boys: Oh yes, you look beautiful son, just what I wanted. So fat and smooth.

Jasonite555: Really? You like how I look daddy?

Daddy4Boys: I think you’re beautiful son. Do you want to see your daddy?

Jasonite555: I do.

[Jasonite555 has invited Daddy4Boys to view their webcam.]

Daddy4Boys: What do you think of daddy, son?

Jasonite555: I like you daddy. Looking at you makes my dicklet really hard.

Daddy4Boys: Of course it does son. Most boys get turned on looking at their daddy’s fat, old bodies, just like how daddy’s get turned on looking at their fat, smooth, young boys.

Daddy4Boys: But you only ‘like’ me, boy?

Daddy4Boys: I think you love me son.

Daddy4Boys: Answer me. Tell me the truth, or I’ll have to spank you again.

Jasonite555: I love you daddy

Jasonite555: I do, but I don’t think I should love you. I think you’re doing something strange to me.

Daddy4Boys: Oh, little boys like you shouldn’t worry about things like that.

Jasonite555: But it’s scary

Daddy4Boys: It’s not scary. You just think too much son. You’re too smart for your own good. You need to think less, and just trust daddy to do all the thinking for you. Just focus on that hard dicklet, and on making daddy happy. Just a dumb, fat, happy boy.

Jasonite555: I don’t wanna to be dumb.

Daddy4Boys: It doesn’t matter what you want to be, it’s just what you are. The sooner you accept your role in life, the happier you’ll be.

Jasonite555: My dicklets, like, so super hard daddy

Jasonite555: can i play with it

Daddy4Boys: Of course boy, as long as I can play with my cock while you do.

Jasonite555: your cock is so big daddy

Daddy4Boys: I bet you’d like to suck on it, right boy? And feel it up your ass?

Jasonite555: yeah

Daddy4Boys: You’ve never had sex with anyone before. I can’t wait to be your first.

Jasonite555: I had sex before

Jasonite555: I think

Daddy4Boys: You’re remembering wrong. That’s just you thinking about all that daddy porn you look at all day long, while you stuff your face with food. You’re really stupid after all, so you just get confused really easily.

Jasonite555: yeah you probably right daddy

Jasonite555: Yeah, I’m just dumb I’ve never had sex but I really really really want to have sex with you, so bad

Jasonite555: can I cum daddy?

Jasonite555: im so close

Daddy4Boys: Yeah son, shoot your load for me.

Jasonite555: that felt so good daddy, tastes so good too. I hope I get to taste yours for real one day.

Daddy4Boys: Soon boy, you will soon. Tonight, in fact. I’m coming to pick you up now.

Jasonite555: Really!!! I’m so excited.

Daddy4Boys: See you soon boy.

Jasonite555: ok daddy, I can’t wait. I love you daddy, I love you so so much

[Daddy4Boys has logged off]

Patreon Commission: A Pig and His Sty

“Those fuckers…” Barry said, tracking mud across the floor of his friends’ farmhouse as he made his way to their bathroom for a shower. Jerry and Mac had a fondness for pranks, and he could still hear them laughing outside by the pig sty, where the two of them had grabbed Barry, chucked him over the low wooden fence and into the mud on the other side. He was covered, head to toe, and after shouting at them, they’d suggested he just calm down and go inside for a shower.

He turned on the water, and then started stripping off his muddy clothes. How in the hell had he gotten as much mud under his clothes as on them? He didn’t even know what he could wear–both Jerry and Mac were big farm boys–he’d never be able to fit into anything of theirs. He could worry about that later though–first he just had to get some of this damn mud off of him.

The water had heated up, he stepped inside and felt the mud start to sluff off him as he wiped it away. He focused on his head for while, trying to get all the mud out of his short hair and off his face, and then looked down at his body, and saw that while some of the mud had just come away with the water, large patches of remained behind all over his body. He grabbed the soap, lathered it up between his hands and started washing at the large splotches, and then grabbed the brush and attacked the mud as hard as he could, but for some reason it wasn’t coming off at all.

He inspected the splotches a bit closer, picking at the mud with his fingernail, but realized he wasn’t picking at dirt, he was looking at his own skin. Somehow, large patches of his body had turned the same dark brown as the sty’s mud. He climbed out of the shower to get a better look at himself in the mirror, but it had steamed up. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist and left the bathroom, heading for Jerry’s room where he knew there was a large mirror on the wall. As he walked, the towel kept wanting to come undone, and then it couldn’t quite fit around him at all, and Barry was left clutching it around him as best he could.

Luckily Jerry wasn’t in his room, and he gave up on the towel, standing in front of the mirror naked–but more shocking than the splotches of brown all over his body and face was the fact that between getting out of the shower and entering Jerry’s bedroom, he had somehow gained close to 200 pounds. No wonder the towel hadn’t been able to reach around his body–his flat stomach had grown past gut and turned into a full blown apron that sagged down and covered his entire crotch. He grabbed the fat with his hands, confirming that it was indeed his, and screamed.

He lumbered out of the bedroom, still naked. He had to find Jerry and Mac, he had to figure out what was happening to him. He was out of breath by the time he stumbled out onto the porch, hot, heaving for breath, and snorting loudly with every other breath of air. He stepped out into the midsummer sunlight, his skin burning and itching. He had to cool down, he couldn’t get enough air. He had to get away from the sun. Forgetting aboutJerry and Mac, he instead wandered around the farmhouse until he spotted the muddy sty, and breathed a sigh of relief. The mud would be cool, he’d feel better in the sty.

It took him a few minutes to figure out how to get past the fence. He couldn’t get the gate to work, or rather, his hands seemed too clumsy to get the latch to open, so he ended up hefting himself over, tumbling off and into the cool mud with a loud thunk. The impact knocked the breath out of him, but he was in the mud again, the cool mud. Snorting and grunting, he rolled around a few times, coating himself all over, already feeling cooler in the summer sun.

“Well look at that, bro. Looks like our friend loved the sty so much he got back in all on his own!”

Barry looked up and saw Jerry and Mac on the other side of the fence, leering at him. He rolled over and tried to stand up, but his arms and legs didn’t seem to be working right, and looking down, he realized why. He already was standing up, on all fours. The rest of his body was still human, but his arms, legs and haunches had all morphed into pig legs, his hands replaced by solid trotters. He looked up, terrified and tried to speak, but even though his mouth and throat were human, the only sounds that came out were a series of grunts, oinks and squeals.

Jerry and Mac just laughed, and started stripping off their clothes, before climbing in naked. Barry led them on a chase around the sty, the two brothers laughing, their cocks hard, until Mac finally tackled him to into the mud, and slipped his muddy cock into Barry’s ass. As soon as he did, Barry felt a pleasurable calm wash over him, and when Jerry came around to his face and presented his cock, he swallowed it and suckled happily, feeling his own cock and balls start to pulse in the mud. Jerry reached under him, and said as he fucked, “Looks like he’s enjoying himself–his new piggy cock is rock hard!”

Barry had no idea what they meant by that, but he didn’t want them to stop. Jerry shot first, milking his cock into Barry ass, and Mac shot second, coating his face with cum, that Barry found himself licking up hungrily. Then they rolled him over, but his gut was so large now that he couldn’t see his crotch at all. While Mac teased him, Jerry ran inside for a mirror.

“Dang Barry, you sure seem to be enjoying yourself. Jerry ‘n I, we were just gonna keep you as a pig part time, but from the way you’re muckin’ up, I think you might be hangin’ around a lot more than that.”

Barry tried to talk again, and found that, if he concentrated, he could just barely make out words that could be understood. mac made him repeat himself a couple of times, just to tease him. Barry wanted to know why.

“Oh Barry, so naive. Friends, Barry? We’re lovers, and we’ve had our eye on you for a while now,” Jerry returned with a small mirror and hopped the fence, careful to keep the glass from the mud. They positioned it so Barry could see his new sheath, heavy bulging balls, and the bright pink, corkscrew cock emerging from it, and he squealed in terror. “Now Barry, calm down–you fuckin’ love it,” Mac said, and went back to milking the pig’s cock. “Now give us a load, Barry. Shoot, and then you’ll understand.”

Barry fought, but his new arms and legs could only do so much, especially once Jerry pinned him down. Mac rubbed, sucked, stroked, and Barry finally gave out a high squeal, shooting a huge load up onto his gut, and when he did, he…what had he been doing? The orgasm was still ripping through him, dulling his mind, and he rolled over into the mud, settling down, snorting and grunting contentedly, as his master’s laughed and climbed out of the sty, leaving Barry to his new, muddy, life.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a good piggy from now on, aren’t you–not that you have a choice. Can’t look away, can you?”

Bruce again tried to twist his head down and away, but Ivan’s gaze kept him locked. He sank lower towards the bathroom floor, dropping onto his knees, face level with Ivan’s bulging crotch, and he felt the piss he’d been storing up all day at his desk release into the front of his pants, the fabric wet and sopping almost immediately, a puddle growing out from his knees. He whimpered, but couldn’t speak.

“What, you don’t like pissing yourself? Well too fucking bad. From now on, you piss when I want you to–and if I want you to piss yourself tomorrow in front of the entire board, during that big presentation of yours, well…I don’t think that promotion you’re angling for is going to end up working out. They’ll probably have to pick me instead. Now open your mouth, I got something for you to taste.”

That was when Fred walked in–their boss. Ex-military, Fred kept his head shaved, a full beard, and his body muscular, the suits he wore tailored a bit too tight. A notorious homophobe–if Ivan hadn’t been out, the promotion would have definitely been his, but Fred liked straight, married Bruce better. Ivan had his old family trick to tip things his direction, but he hadn’t quite anticipated Fred joining them so soon.

“W–What the fuck is going on here!” Fred shouted, staring right at Ivan, as those cold blue eyes, it was that faggots doing, he knew he was no god, he should have…should have tried harder to get…get him fired. Should have…

Fred stumbled into the wall, suddenly exhausted. Blinking fast, his eyes never left Ivan’s. “What…you doin’ to me…” he muttered, and then he collapsed to the tile floor, face first in the puddle of Bruce’s piss, and Ivan chuckled, reconnecting with Bruce’s eyes.

“Guess we’ll have to speed up the plan a bit. Good thing most everyone is gone for the day. Come on, help me carry him down stairs–you can suck me off later.”

***

Fred woke up slowly–another fuckin’ faggot dream. He wasn’t a fucking faggot, he was a man, a real man. Real men didn’t have faggot dreams, what the fuck was wrong with him? Ivan again, too–but this was was strange. Bruce had been there too, in the bathroom…everything else was fuzzy. Whatever. He wasn’t a faggot, no fucking way.

He pried open his eyes–this wasn’t his apartment. His mind told his body to get up quick and figure out where he was, but all he could manage was to writhe a bit beneath the sheets. The scummy sheets. He couldn’t feel them–for some reason he was still dressed in the blue suit pinstripe suit he’d had on in that dream–but he could hear them. They sounded crispy, and he nearly retched. He might have even vomited, if he hadn’t felt so tired.

He was tired. He was never tired. With great effort, he rolled over and saw a small window high on one side of the room–a basement, he was in a basement. The sun was up–what time was it? Shouldn’t he be at work? That big presentation was today, he had to be there for Bruce, right? Work suddenly seemed like too much work. He lolled about instead, settling in deeper. Between the sheets, the musky quilt and his suit, he was sweating heavily, but didn’t mind the heat. His cock was too hot though, he let it out of his fly and started jacking off, and then rolled over and began grinding his erection against the mattress. He came after a few minutes, but kept thrusting, the cum coating the front of his suit, and then he collapsed again.

What in the world was he even doing? He had to get out of here. Instead, he laid in bed for the rest of the day. The duration between his overwhelming periods of horniness decreased–by the time the basement door opened and Ivan and Bruce tromped down the stairs, Fred was unable to stop, just endlessly thrusting against the mattress, the front of his suit saturated with cum.

“Well, it looks like someone has made himself at home already, eh Bruce? See, I told you.” Ivan said.

Fred managed to regain control long enough to roll over, but his hand immediately wrapped itself around his tender, chaffed cock and kept stroking, “This is just…just another dream. Just another faggoty dream…”

“Oh Fred, I assure you that this is entirely real. Everyone at the meeting was very surprised by your letter of resignation by the way, and with Bruce fired for pissing himself and then jacking off in front of the board, I suppose you two will have to live here, with me, for the time being.”

“You…you fucker…”

“Don’t worry about rent or anything like that, I know the two of you are going to be pretty well occupied. Why, Fred, I doubt you’ll ever be getting up from that bed ever again–so it’s a good thing Bruce here is going to be taking good care of you, right Bruce?”

Bruce hadn’t spoken–he was just staring at Ivan, drool leaking from his open mouth. He nodded, and then spoke, slowly with a bit of a slur, “Yes…sir. I’m gonna f…fatten up Fred, n….and piss all o’er him, ‘n fuck his holes, like you said.”

“That’s right,” Ivan said, now it looks like Fred is pretty uncomfortable in that suit–why don’t you get him dressed in those clothes me bought off that bum on the way home?”

Fred tried to fight Bruce off, but he was so tired, and all he really wanted to do was jack off, as he dressed him in the filthy pants and shirt, dyed filthy by months on the street, and as disgusted as he was with himself for thinking so, they were much, much more comfortable, and much, much hotter. Yeah, they stank, they reeked, and when Bruce pissed on him in the bed with he jacked off and came again, he smelled even better, and when Ivan ordered a stack of pizzas, and watched Bruce force them all down his throat, that was hotter still. And two years later, the now five hundred pound Fred, still confined to his bed, thought he had never been hotter in his whole life.

~~~

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