Are you unhappy with your weight? Do you wish that your body would match how you want to see yourself? Then the Fat Action Team is for you! We run private seminars in many cities, call us today for locations in your area!

That was the third time Max had seen the flyer on bulletin boards outside the restrooms in the Flying J’s he stopped at on his cross country hauls. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit interested. Max had been driving trucks for quite a few years now, and the simple act of sitting behind the wheel for ten hours a day, and eating greasy food at these truck stops was quickly piling weight on his aging frame, and he didn’t like it one bit. Hell, he’d been a track star back in high school, and had simply assumed that his metabolism would never fail him! And now here he was, over 300 pounds and hating the image in the mirror. So, he ripped off a phone number slip from the bottom and gave it a call, discovering there was a seminar happening in his hometown during his next weekend, and he signed right up.

When he arrived, however, he quickly figured that something strange was going on. For one thing, he knew a lot of the guys there, fellow truckers from the road, but they were all guys who’d grown quite a bit larger over the last few months, and who were all rumored to be complete fags as well. Still, as soon as the seminar started, and the spiral appeared on the wall, Max wasn’t worried one bit any more–Max wasn’t worrying or thinking about anything.

The rest of the weekend was spent in a haze of sex and food. Trips with the Fat Action Team to all you can eat buffets, followed by massive orgies in the hotel bedrooms, all of them videotaped by the Team members, to be sold on their porn site, gainerpornos.com. Still, when Max left the seminar, refreshed and already signed up for another group session in two weeks, he did look at himself differently in the mirror–he was too damn skinny. Still, he devoured food on the road (and fucked quite a few FAT members he ran into at truck stops) and successfully packed on ten pounds before the next seminar. He felt so good about himself after that, and there was nowhere to go from there but bigger, and bigger, and bigger…

***

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Unemployment sucked–there was no way around it, and Wade was getting restless. He had about a thousand dollars left in credit card wiggle room before he’d hit his limit for good…and he didn’t think that would be enough to even pay his bills this month. He needed some cash, and he needed it now–but this site–it had to be a scam, didn’t it?

It advertised that it was looking for healthy men who wouldn’t mind taking on a few of the site’s customer’s bad habits. Apparently it could break someone’s bad habits for them, but only by forcing that habit onto someone else. Still, the amount they were paying out was massive–one thousand dollars a month per habit, with a year lease on each habit required as an employee. Still, Wade was a healthy guy right? He could handle a few bad habits, and he was becoming increasingly desperate. Still, all he needed to take was one for the moment–so he signed up, was vetted by the company in a day, and received a special download for the program, opened it up, and the screen flashed with a dazzling array of colors, and then went black.

The company policy was to tell the habit takers what they’d received after they’d accepted the package, or else they knew people would balk and refuse. Sure enough, when he got the second email which told him he’d picked up someone’s massive binge eating habit, he didn’t think it was possible…until he found himself eating junk food constantly from that moment on. He had to eat–there was no choice in the matter, and his new habit quickly blew through half of his new paycheck, and he barely had enough left for rent. What choice did he have? He took on another bad habit.

The next one didn’t help his financial situation at all though–it turns out that a three pack a day cigarette habit is very, very expensive. The one he took after that was equally worthless–an alcoholics habit of drinking at least a twenty-four pack of cheap beer over the course of the day. He resolved to take just one more for a little extra spending money, and ended up a chronic masturbator, jacking off twenty to thirty times a day. By the time his leases were up a year later, Wade was close to 400 pounds, and he decided to keep the leases going in exchange for a wage increase. After all, what was a drunk, fat masturbating loser like him going to do for a job? He was stuck…but still, maybe taking on just one more could get him out of this rut…

***

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Into the Night of God – Part 3

***WARNING***

If the first two parts of this were too much for you to handle, don’t read this one. Just don’t. Or rather, read it expecting a horror story–not erotica. Contains amputation, genital nullification, mental death, scat, and bestiality.

Commissioned by Anonymous

Part 3 – The Night

Bruin whines in his crate, but I don’t do anything with him yet. I’m not sure what to do with him yet, to be honest–I had apparently misjudged the weight of the connection they must have formed during the day in the hospital, to allow something like this to happen. Rather, that was a lie. I know what I have to do to him, but I would like there to be some other option. There isn’t though, and it’s all the damn doctor’s fault. I could have been merciful. He could have been happy here, serving and worshiping me, but he clung like a rat to a life that I’d forbidden. He defied me, with that damn journal of his–I should have burned it when I’d had the chance. Still,confidence breeds foolishness–I will be more careful when adding to my flock in the future.

I pour myself another shot of whisky, and take a drag off my smoke. My calm blend tonight, even though it makes my limbs heavy–I need to take the edge off my mind, and file off the anger for a moment. There will be other times for anger, but not now–I have to be calm for what’s coming, if I lose control…well, then I’ll be out a pig. This will require careful work, and I can’t let that fuck mess things up anymore than he has already. Still, he was quite the actor–looking through these new entries in his book, he’s been out from under my mental control for a little over a month now, regaining his thoughts bit by bit, pushing back against me. His mental fortitude is impressive–I introduced him to the donkey a few weeks ago, and Jack does not have a small dick. Still, maybe he really does like it? It doesn’t matter now, still, I find I’m curious anyway.

I pour another shot and flip through the diary again, looking at his thought process, at his plan. It could have worked, if he’d picked a better time, if he’d studied me better, but he’d panicked and run too soon. Grabbing Bruin and getting in the truck, planning on making a break for it–what a fool. Still, I’d stopped them easily enough, even if I’d had to shoot out two of my tires. I’m gonna have to fix those tomorrow–I hate car work. He’s just been one big headache since I’d met him, since that fucker had run over my last dog. I know I lost control, I know I went to far, burning him like that. Still, it hasn’t been a complete waste, even if it had taken me months to clean it all up. I can’t help that I lose control sometimes–I just can’t handle the extent of my wrath. Still, I’m feeling good and calm now. I’m under control, I’m feeling mellow, and I think it’s time.

I’ll deal with Bruin tomorrow and the rest of the week, while the pig heals. I’ll just have to destroy him, as much as I hate doing that. It makes for a dumb ass dog, but his loyalty–an animal is worthless without that. I can’t have him care for anyone else. I’m the important one, Me! I’m his master, how fucking dare he, feeling for anyone else, especially some fucking rich ass twinky doctor like that! I hate him, I’m gonna kill him, I’m gonna make him wish he’d never been born I’m–

Breathe. Deep breaths, keep calm, it will all be sorted out in time. I nearly lost it there, but I can’t postpone this any longer, he needs to be dealt with. He needs to learn his lesson, he needs to understand that I’m the one he has to answer to for his wrongs. That I’m God here, that it’s my judgement, my farm, my world that he’s in now, and my word is law.

I step out into the cold night–but Spring will be here before too long, I imagine. It has been a long winter, but Bruin and the Doc at least kept me busy, and I suppose the Doc will keep me busy this summer too. He’s in the barn, bound up on the cross I keep there for play when I want a change of setting. It’s even darker in there, and I turn on the lights, watch him blink awake, and he’s angry. He’s yelling, but I say nothing. I have to make this quick, before I lose it, before I just decide to just gut him and end it, but he deserves worse than that, he deserves true punishment, but it will be slow, and he will regret defying me.

Right hand first, with the hedge clippers. Thumb, and every finger cut off at the root. He screams, understanding–or beginning to–what he’s done to himself. Then the second hand like the first. I could take the whole hand as punishment for theft, but I take both his feet instead, saw them off below the ankle. He’s begging now–pleading with me, the fool. God’s don’t respond to the pleas of mortals, God’s don’t care about their subjects. What a delusional fuck.

Two more operations. I dig into his mouth with a bloody hand, drag out his tongue and snip off half, stopping the bleeding as quick as I can, and then the final cut, I remove his balls and cock with a single snip, and then tend to his bleeding and wounds. I wonder if I should just let him die, but that’s too easy for him, for the defyer, for the pig. He’s sobbing now, he’s already hopeless. Good, but as a final measure, I douse his cock and balls on the ground where they lay in gasoline and light them on fire, before leaving, shutting out the lights, the flame his only light–for the moment. Now, I must let him heal before we continue.

I focus on Bruin for the next few days as I planned, and it is good practice for what I will eventually do to the pig as well. It is a hybrid I have rarely used because it is exceptionally strong–it destroys the mind, rather than enhancing it. For the tribes, any who used it were generally left as nothing more than drooling fools, rendered more like animals than anything else. It was supposed that strong spirits dwelt in these particular leaves, the spirits of animals, and that they would overwhelm anyone with a weak spirit. In fact, they simply degrade an individual’s mental faculties so far that they can barely reason, behaving more on instinct than anything, but the hypnotic state that it induces is strong enough that it can overcome anything, even love.

I administer it to Bruin through the gasmask. His remaining humanity disappears quickly, and before I realize my object, I begin to replace it with anger and hatred. I pour my own dire emotions into him, I make him hate the pig, I make Bruin loathe him, I make him trust only me, his Master, his God, the Divine. I stop before I lose too much of his mind, but he’s far stupider–just an angry brute, a guard dog, a hunting dog. When I let him loose in the fields after this, I often find him later in the day, his mouth caked in the blood of some rabbit he chased and disemboweled during the day. He makes me so proud. I love that beast, and he now, truly, only loves me.

I bring this new Bruin before the pig as he heals, as well. I show him what he made me do to our pup–my pup. I show him how Bruin hates him. In the barn Bruin leaps at him, leash taut, leaping for his throat, ready to kill him should I release the lead. The look on the pig’s face–terror, but also regret and sorrow. He understands. He understands that this was his fault, that he made me do this, that this is all part of his punishment, in the end. He is healing well, though. My healing blends have closed his wounds, and they are scarring well. I mind his crotch–well, it’s crotch, now. I mind it to make sure it can still piss through a small hole, but otherwise it is just a flat, round scar–nothing left of it’s manhood, as it should be.

I fuck and fist it, and it still finds it pleasurable. It still realizes it belongs to me, that I control it. I love knowing that the act of pleasing me still brings a stupid grin to its face. On occasion, I regret what I have done, but I must remain steadfast. It had to be done, it had to be punished, I cannot allow myself to be defied. There is more to be done, more work to do, and it will begin soon. I start him with the smoke. The pig’s mind is far, far sharper than Bruin’s, it will take much longer to unravel, but I will enjoy watching it happen. It struggles against the gasmask at first, coughs from the smoke, but as soon as he has sucked it all down and gone limp, I pull it away and begin introducing it’s new habits and desires. Especially it’s hunger. It will be central to him, his stomach his new mind. The next day, I test him, and put him in a stall with a trough, and begin pouring in the slop.

The pig fights it for a few moments, but cannot resist for long. It devours as much as it can, and quickly, it realizes that he cannot stop. The trough never empties, I make sure of that, and even though the pig grows fuller than it has ever been before, it continues eating non-stop, until it collapses from exhaustion and faints. I wait until it wakes again after close to an hour, and sure enough, it continues eating–the compulsion is far too strong for it to fight. I have already won, and he doesn’t even realize it. He still fights the compulsion, still believes it has will, that it can defy it’s Lord God.

I clean up after the pig for now. I want it to grow accustomed to its new appetite. At first, it can only eat in two hour blocks, but soon its stomach has stretched large enough that it can continue eating for nearly three times as long. It no longer fights against the compulsion, the hunger has only grown stronger. I have smoked him two more times, reinforcing it’s need to eat, but I hold back. I don’t want to destroy it’s mind entirely, not yet, I want it to realize what it will become, I want it to accept it, to accept it’s complete submission to my will.

I’ve been taking care of the pig’s waste so far, scooping it out along with the rest of the hog manure, but I decide it’s time the pig starts managing it’s own matters. I smoke it again, and this time, the hunger becomes paired with a need for filth. I expect this one will take more work to ingrain within his psyche, but that’s alright–I have all the time in the world. Spring is now nearly giving way to summer, and I’m minding the pig less. I’m working on several new hybridizations, and I have my own crops to maintain. Bruin is as good a guard dog as any, and only grows more loyal to me by the day. Still, one day he got into the barn by accident, and I had to drag him off the pig before he killed it–still, it gave the hog a much needed, and much enjoyed–fright, for me at least.

The pig doesn’t want me to know what it’s been doing, I can tell. It’s doing it’s best to hide it, but I can see–the streaks of shit across it’s growing body, and finally I catch it in the act. I look in the stall, and there it is, rolling in it’s own massive pile of filth, grunting and snorting as it does, and before it can do anything about it, I’m straddling it, my cock down it’s throat, and I piss gallons into it’s guts, and it loves it. I can tell. It gives me a chance to see it’s growth too. As much as I detest chemicals, the additives and hormones in the slop have been working marvelously. The pig’s muscles have withered, and it’s packing on fat faster than anything I’ve seen. I fist it’s filthy hole next, and then force it to lick it the filth off my arm. I want it to realize that I did this. That I’ve known what it’s been doing all along, that it has no secrets from me, not anymore. The last place it can hide, it’s mind–not even that will last, but it doesn’t realize that yet. It will soon though.

The need and compulsion for filth grows, as I increase the frequency of it’s smoke sessions. The first signs of mental loss are showing–the pig will “blank out” as I call it, and run on instinct alone for minutes at a time. It’s new obsessions dominate it, and I watch it wake up from these mental time gaps, it’s face in a pile of hog manure from the pig in the next stall, and it’s horrified, but it can’t stop. Before long, I don’t even have to clean up after the pigs–the hog does all the work for me before I can get to it. Still though, it eats. I feed it too, my own shit. It fought the first time, but now it’s excited–it craves it. I bring it Bruin’s as well, and make sure it knows where it came from as it chews it down.

I begin pressing deeper into the pig’s mind, destroying it forcefully. I remove its memories–its past. It can no longer remember a time when it wasn’t a pig on my farm, when I didn’t own it, mind, body and soul. The blanks last longer now–hours at a time. But he is fighting me still. He still believes he can win if he tries hard enough. But you can’t win against God, you can’t defy me and expect a chance to defy me again. Still, I taunt it, on occasion. I bring it out of the barn. I leave it by the side of the road, and I step back. I give it the choice, I give it the chance to leave. I tell it that I won’t follow, that it can crawl into town if it wants, or wait for some passerby to find it and rescue it. I know that my commandments are too strong for such a weak pig to resist them, but it fights them anyway. It gets a few hundred yards down the road before it’s fat body, too tired and exhausted to make the trek, overloads its feeble mind. It blanks, and the pig inside draws it back to the barn to feed, to degrade itself for my pleasure.

How must it feel, when it loses consciousness on the road, and winds up back in it’s stall, eating, or licking the holes of it’s fellow pigs? I’m sure it’s beginning to realize what’s happening to its mind. It probably assumes that I bring it back though, that I stop it. I wonder when it will see the truth–that deep down, it wants to be here. That the animal I’ve crafted within it is winning. That before long, there will be no doctor–just a pig. A fat fucking pig covered in filth, devouring shit and piss, desperate to be fucked and fisted by me, it’s Lord and Master–it’s God. Sometimes, when it collapses, exhausted from eating, I listen to it sob. That’s how I know he’s still in there, how I know he’s losing, but hasn’t lost yet. Still, I should make it more tempting, I should corrupt it even further now.

Another session of smoke, but this time–pleasure. How much pleasure it gets from it’s filthy life. How content it is here. Now, when it devours the pig’s manure, I watch it shudder with delight. It can no longer cum, certainly, but it can orgasm. I watch as the pleasure overwhelms his disgust, I watch the doctor begin to rationalize its own descent into darkness. “This isn’t so bad,” it is thinking, “I am fed, I am cared for, I am happy. It could be worse.” But could it? Could it really be worse? Have I not been creative enough? Have I not punished it enough? The pig has fallen so far that he can no longer recall what he was, what it’s life could have been. His world is shrinking. I define the world, and the pig’s place within it, and he can do nothing but nod gleefully and accept it. Then, I give him pleasure for his service and piety. A pig’s pleasure, but pleasure all the same, to him.

I smoke him every day now, he is getting close to the final night of the mind. He struggles to understand me now. I speak to him often, but he usually just stares at me blankly, unable to comprehend language and words that should be familiar to him. He tries so hard though, to understand me, to comprehend the word of the Lord, but his brain can no longer grasp it, and he will inevitably blank out, and wander off to search out whatever filth it can find to satiate it’s never ending hunger. How must it think, when it is aware of itself? In images? In feelings? It’s language is disappearing, things must seem so simple now. Eat. Filth. Fist. Piss. Happy. Sad. Pain. Nothing else, anymore, aside from a few stubborn remnants.

It spends entire days, now, in the instinctual darkness. My mindless pig, obsessed with filth and devouring anything in front of it. It is clear that in it’s rare moments of relative lucidity, it struggles to piece together anything like a rational thought. I wonder if it still has any capacity to hate it’s life? It doesn’t seem to. At this point, it’s thoughts must be of how lucky it is to have a life which gives it so much pleasure. That, or simply confusion. Its mind struggling to do something–anything–with these higher order thoughts which were once so second nature, but which serve no purpose in the world I have made for it to exist in. I am with it nearly constantly now. I want to see it, that moment when the light goes out forever, when it’s mind finally shuts off, when it can no longer recognize itself as a self. I decide, finally, that I will give it a moment so pleasurable, so full of instinctual bliss, that it will give me the moment I have been waiting for for so long now.

I give it a pile of fresh sludge and slop, and it squeals with delight, hurling itself into it, eating it, covering itself with it, and then in comes the stallion. It has never ridden a cock this large, but it is eager to try, and It is soon impaled on it, the horse thrusting it into the pile of muck, and I can see the massive waves of pleasure rippling through it’s obese body, but the eyes, I watch the eyes. In them, there is a flame, it flares wildly. It can’t comprehend this situation, it has discovered bliss, it has witnessed the divine in it’s pleasure, has entered heaven, and then it dies. The pig continues, but it is an empty vessel now. It has known my wrath, and it has known my bliss. Night has fallen, and dawn will never come.

Identity Crises (Part 3)

***WARNING*** This one is even filthier than the last. If heavy scat or castration bother you, turn away.

He opened the door, and as soon as he did, he realized that he shouldn’t have. The reality wave which pushed it’s way out and over him–it was different than the others had been. More forceful, and far less wiggle room. The others seemed to have melded around him–but this one…this one simply forced its will on him, pressed down on him, contorting him and his mind until he nosed his way into the room, crawling on all fours, feeling his belly scraping across the floor underneath him as he let out a snort, and saw his master across the room.

Master–he loved him. There was no question in his mind, no doubt–just universal adoration when he looked at the ten foot tall man, naked–his body covered with grimy fur, his beard reaching his belly button, muscular and handsome and…and everything that Terry–no, not Terry, his name wasn’t Terry anymore, he was Porky, Porky was the name Master had given him, back when he’d finally enslaved him, back when his son had taken him and declared ownership of him, like Porky had always known he would.

“Get over here pig,” Caleb growled, and Porky crawled over, eager to serve, and when he came up next to him, Caleb simply said “Open,” and Porky obeyed. Opening his mouth, and allowing his master to tap the ash from his cigar into his mouth, Porky doing his best to not think about the heat of it, and just swallow it down like he’d learned. He was his Master’s preferred ashtray after all–he’d been doing it for years now, and he stayed there, mouth open while his Master surfed the internet, and all Porky could do was admire him.

Porky hadn’t always been Proky–he had been Terry once upon a time. And Master had been Caleb, his son, but Terry had always been afraid of him. His son wasn’t like him–Terry had been weak, but his son was strong and powerful, far bigger and mannlier than Terry could have ever hoped to be. He remembered all those long nights, when he couldn’t sleep because he could smell his son in his bedroom, how he’d jacked off, over and over, imaging his massive boy dominating and fucking him–enslaving him. Years ago, Terry had finally worked up the gall to ask. He’d crawled over to his son, and begged–begged for the privilege of serving him, and Caleb had agreed. He wasn’t Caleb’s father anymore–he was Porky, his pigslave. And Caleb wasn’t his son–he was only his master–all he’d ever wanted. He took another mouthful of ash and swallowed it back, taking a sniff of his son’s musk, of his shitty ass. He wondered if it needed cleaning–Porky would clean it for him. He loved cleaning out his son’s ass and eating his shit and drinking his piss and eating his cum.

That was why Caleb had made him a pig, instead of a slave. See, he’d known all about his father’s filthy interests. He’d left the toilet unflushed on occasion, just so he could listen as his father used to drink his son’s reeking piss from the bowl or eat the turds he’d left behind. He’d made sure to stash his cum soaked jockstraps for his father’s pleasure. Of course, his pigslave hadn’t felt any pleasure in a long time. He’d had his one inch cock locked up long ago–but he didn’t need to cum. In fact, he couldn’t cum–his Master had taken his balls away after five years–now, his scrotum had two half pound steel weights in it, which had successfully stretched it to the ground. That is, if he hadn’t been wearing his diaper. He’d been fucked so much my his master’s massive cock that he couldn’t close his ass anymore–and Master hated it when Porky made a mess in the house.

“Clean my foreskin, Porky,” Caleb said, and with a happy grunt, the pig worked his way under the massive desk his son had had custom made for his massive physique, and started licking under the massive foreskin his son’s foot and a half long cock had shrouding it’s head. The cheese was thick and reeked, but Porky wouldn’t have it any other way, and he snorted and squealed softly in appreciation. He was almost done with it, when Porky heard a loud fart erupt from his ass, and shit started packing its way into the back of his diaper, and he was surprised for a moment…but why surprise? He was used to shitting his diaper by now, why would he be surprised at all? And yet, part of him felt like he’d never done it before in his life, and that everything about this situation was just wrong–but how? This is what he wanted, what his master wanted. Everything was perfect…right?

One of his Master’s big feet curved around to the back of Porky’s diaper and started rubbing up and down the padded bottom, and the pig felt the shit start spreading up and down his crack and around to his caged cock, and he hoped his Master was getting horny. He’d really like to get fucked–he needed a good fuck really bad, but he knew better than to ask for one. That wasn’t what pigs did. Pigs did what their Master’s said, no matter what. They were ready whenever their Master’s wanted them to be. Still, he kept cleaning out his Master’s foreskin, and it was starting to harden–he let himself get a little hopeful.

“Pig,” Caleb said after a few minutes, “Get out of there–that nasty shit stink of yours is getting me all horny.”

Porky couldn’t crawl out of there fast enough, as as soon as he did, his massive Master stood up and ripped the diaper off of him, revealing the pig’s shitty crack and he let out a little groan, got down and worked his massive cock deep into his pig’s ass.

It had taken Porky years to feel anything beyond pain when his master fucked him, but now he was finally used to it, and took the entire shaft up to it’s ass. He could smell his shit now, and he was hungry. Thankfully, his master pushed his diaper under his belly, smearing shit all over it, before it ended up under Porky’s face, and he started licking the diaper clean, grunting and snorting the entire time as his master abused his hole.

“I have a feeling this is gonna get messy,” his Master said, “I think we’d better take this down to the basement.”

Porky felt his Master wrap his arms around his massive gut, and hefted him up off the ground, shocking Porky. He weighed close to 600 pounds now, and his Master was so strong he could pick up with no real effort. What a wonderful master he had! He was so lucky that he could serve him as his pig. With his entire cock buried up Porky’s ass, Caleb left his room and started heading downstairs, and Porky witnessed something…strange. The waves of reality he’d felt…whenever they turned a corner, he could watch them sweep out from where they were, changing the entire house as his Master moved through the house, like reality kept shifting and adjusting to his very whim. It was awe inspiring–he’d had no idea that his master was capable of something like that…and yet…

Something clicked in Porky’s head, and he realized now that this had happened to him before–not this, not being carted around on his Master’s massive cock, but he’d…changed, before. Reality had changed before, and…and Master was the cause of it? But then…maybe things shouldn’t be like this…but why shouldn’t they? He was happy, serving his Master. His Master as happy with him as his pig–why should things be different? How could things be different?

His concern was derailed as they started walking down the steps into the basement, and Porky watched the workbench and tools shift and change into a massive complex–a fully equipped sex dungeon, complete with a cage where Porky lived when his Master didn’t need him. As they walked down the stairs, the pig suddenly noticed a warmth in his ass–but it wasn’t his master cumming, was it? No, there was too much of it–he was pissing in him, filling him up with his piss, and it felt wonderful.It was no surprise then, when his Master headed for the tub–he was apparently in a dirty kind of mood. Porky loved it when his Master was feeling dirty–because Porky was always eager for filth. He was a pig after all.

Caleb hefted his pig over the side of the massive tub–a massive, converted hot tub which had had it’s drain permanently plugged with cement, and there, standing in the middle of the tub, he grabbed his pig’s meaty love handles and started fucking him up and down on his massive cock, feeling his piss run down his shaft as he fucked him, then down his hairy legs where it pooled around his feet. He shifted Porky’s angle, and started thrusting again, and the pig let out a sudden grunt as his master pummeled it’s bladder with his massive cock, and he started to piss uncontrollably, feeling it soak the underside of it’s belly, before running down it’s scrotum, which swung to and fro as his Master fucked him, and between both of their streams, the two of them managed to fill the tub up a couple of inches before they ran dry. Now though, Caleb didn’t care–the stench filling the basement was driving him to new heights of horniness, and he was fucking his pig up and down on his cock as hard as he could sweating from the exertion, Porky simply biting it’s lip and hanging on as best he could, until with a roar, he came, the massive amount of cum from his huge balls flowing out almost immediately from Porky’s entirely loose hole and joining the piss and shit already pooling in the tub, and then Caleb finally set Porky down in the tub, who immediately shoved it’s face into the messy pool, drinking up as much as he could.

Standing over him, his Master just watched the pig debase itself, and then he did something that Porky did not expect–he stepped out of the pool, shook his head, said, “No–no this is…just, not this,” and then stomped his way back up the stairs, slamming the basement door behind him. Porky didn’t know what to think for a moment, but then he realized he must have done something wrong–but what? What could be have done wrong? He’d been a perfectly good slave today…hadn’t he? Besides that time in the bathroom, when…when he’d…

When he’d told his Master no to to fuck him? No, he wouldn’t never do that, he could never do that, it just wasn’t in him. He was too weak, too small, too much of a desperate sub to ever say no to a man as big and powerful and important as his master. But he was shivering in the tub–he could clearly remember doing it, but…but how could he have? He’d been serving his master all day, like usual–they hadn’t even been in the bathroom downstairs, had they? The room was starting to spin, and it felt like…like Proky could start to see little tears happening all around the room, little tears in reality, like the walls and floor were shaking and vibrating to pieces, and he shut his eyes but the cracks were still there.

“No…No, I love my master, I obey my master, I obey, I obey, I obey, I obey…” Porky said, crouched down in the scummy tub, eyes clenched shut, repeating his mantra, and he felt the world start…healing itself again. He couldn’t even tell if it was the world which had been cracking…or just his mind. It was so disconcerting. In the end, he clambered out of the tub and crawled over to his cage, shutting the door behind him, and in the cramped, confined space he’d come to know as his home, he felt a bit more comfortable and sure of himself. Still, he didn’t move, and just stayed there, knowing he’d already broken the unspoken rule when he’d climbed out of the tub, but hopefully his master wouldn’t be too angry, not like that other time…that other…place.

Now that he was calm, he carefully started working through his head, finding other memories that just didn’t…fit. How his daddy had smoked his cock to a nub while he’d ridden his big cock. How he’d made his son a massive dinner, how they’d fucked…it didn’t make any sense, but as soon as he sensed the cracks starting to open again, he shut them all away, and just stayed in the present. The past didn’t matter–it wasn’t important. He just had to focus on being the best pig he could be, and the rest would be ok. His master would make sure of it. Everything would be ok. Now, all he had to do was wait.

His master didn’t keep him waiting too much longer–he heard a door upstairs open and close, and then…as he came downstairs, he could see the walls and ceiling…bulging out, as though reality were pulsating around him, and there were those cracks again, and Porky shut his eyes as tightly as he could, until he heard the basement door open, and then the pressure was all around him again, reality twisting and yanking and contorting him, and this time, it really was painful, like he was a piece of dough that had been kneaded so far as to become nearly inelastic, but it refused to stop. When it finally came to a stop, he was gasping for air around his thick cigar, and started taking a few deep puffs, the tobacco helping him calm down, as he tried to process what had just happened to him.

“Hey daddy bear,” his son’s voice called out from the top of the stairs, “What are you doin’ down here all alone in the dark?”

Terry felt his cock stir, and he adjusted his monstrous tool in the crotch of his pants, and looked up the stairs to where his massive son stood. God, was he even bigger than before? How was that even possible? His head struggled for context, as his eleven foot tall son thumped down the metal staircase Terry had had to put in years earlier, after his son had broken the wooden one that the house had had before…or still had…or…something. He felt like he needed to vomit–hadn’t there been…a tub here? Or had he just imagined it? The basement was equipped with every sort of dungeon tool he and his son had been able to purchase, but never a tub–why hadn’t he thought of that? Damn, that would be hot, the two of them filling it up with their piss and then wallowing in it, fuck…hadn’t they just…just done that?

“What’s up Dad?” Caleb said, “You alright?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine, I just…feel really strange is all.”

“Well, I bet I know what could make you feel better,” Caleb said, slipped his hands under his dad’s arms and then lifted him up into the air. The sense of powerlessness, of being lifted up by his Master–no, not master, his son, always his son, they’d always been equals…well, sure, they’d played some scenarios before, but nothing serious–

He groaned as Caleb ripped open the crotch of just old jeans with his teeth and swallowed his entire foot long cock in one go, resting his dad on the crest of his gut as he sucked him off. God, how had he, at all of five feet, managed to help conceive such a monsterous man? Not that he was complaining of course, but for some reason…none of this seemed possible, nothing seemed right–

With a twist of vertigo, Terry lost his balance and slipped off his son’s gut landing hard on the floor, his head slamming into the concrete, and he rubbed his head, checking for blood, but there wasn’t any, thankfully.

“Fuck–Dad, are you alright?” Caleb said, looming over his father.

“Yeah–yeah, I’m good, I just…just lost my balance is all…I don’t…I don’t think I can…” Terry said, but the vertigo hadn’t let up, and he leaned over and vomited onto the floor. The world, it was starting to rip again like before, and he…he couldn’t take it. He groaned and laid back, trying desperately to hold onto himself as the world threatened to rend apart, but he opened them once quickly, and saw…his son in so many different ways. Fat, old, massive, hairy–he could barely keep track of them all, and then his son had him in his arms, and was rushing up the steps, all the way to his room. He laid his Dad down on his bed, and then sat down at his computer–a specially ordered one for his massive frame–and he started typing, and then, as he finished and hit the return key, another wave rippled out, but this one was entirely different. Instead of trying to bend and twist Terry into some new shape, it felt like it was unfolding him, and as it washed over him, the nausea and vertigo disappeared–but in it’s place can a realization of what had happened over the course of the day…and he screamed.

“Dad! Dad, calm the fuck down dad!” Caleb shouted, pinning Terry down to the bed. They were still in their last forms–all Caleb had done was undo the reality conforming option on the program he’d brought home with him that afternoon, and being twice as tall as his dad, he was able to hold him down easily, not that Terry cared in the least. He kicked and fought anyway, and finally Caleb let him up and he sprinted from the room and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him, and he slumped back against the wall, just…staring at his hands. His grimy, filthy hands, and his grey beard, and his filthy clothes, and he just started stripping it all off of him in a rush. How many versions of himself had he been today? He couldn’t even keep track of them all in his head–they’d all rushed forward in a massive jumble. Who was he now? Was he actually himself, or was he just some new twisted version his son must have concocted? He stepped out of his pants, naked, and walked in front of his mirrored closet, and nearly sobbed. He…he was disgusting to look at–tattoos and piercings all over his body, missing teeth, and yet looking at himself, his massive cock started to get hard, the footlong cock that stretched down nearly to his knee he was so short, but his gut was so big that he couldn’t even see it when he craned over. He turned away before he could get anymore aroused and do something he might regret, and ran into the bathroom to run a hot shower and get clean.

There was a pounding on his bedroom door, “Dad? Dad, please–we need to talk–I can explain!”

“Stay the fuck away from me, you fucking freak!” Terry shouted, “What the fuck were you thinking! Look at what you fucking did to me!”

“Look, I know…I know I got a bit carried away, alright? I just–”

“A little carried away?” Terry shouted, “A little fucking carried away?” He stalked over to the bedroom door and flung it open, but when he saw his massive son standing there–or rather, when he found himself face to face with his son’s two foot long cock, words failed him utterly, and his anger dissolved into…pure lust. But before he let it overwhelm him, he stepped back in and slammed the door, but he could smell him, he could fucking smell his boy’s nasty funk through the goddamn door and fuck if his son wasn’t the hottest piece of man he’d ever seen!

“Dad…” Caleb said, “Dad, it’s going to be ok!”

“Stay…stay away from me Caleb, please, just change us back, please…” Terry said, but the anger was gone. He was pleading now–desperate, and he heard the knob twist, and the door start to push open, and he tried to push back, but his son was so much…stronger than he was, god, he was so…so proud of him, and from where he was sitting on the floor, looking up at his massive boy, all he wanted to do was fuck him.

“Dad, Look…I…”

Terry couldn’t even see his son’s face past his massive ball gut, but he didn’t care. He stood up, walked over and just started licking the foreskinned head of his cock, unable to resist, digging his tongue under the folds for his son’s delicious cheese, disgusted with what he was doing, but also utterly unable to contemplate doing anything else.

“Dad, you…you don’t…oh…”Caleb said, and groaned, his cock leaking precum which Terry drank down, but the flow was so heavy a good amount of it just dribbled down into his massive beard. “Dad, please…we…we have to…God damn it, that’s fucking enough!” Caleb said, stepped back, grabbed his dad and hefted him up to his eye level. “Dad, can we please just talk about this?”

“Why, son?” Terry said angrily, “You obviously just want me to be a short, nasty old daddy bear desperate for sex with his son, and now that…that I can’t fucking keep my hands off you, you fucking want me to stop? Just…just fuck me, already. Fuck me, and…and fuck, let me drink your piss, and eat…eat your goddamn shit, and–”

Caleb gave him a good shake, and said, “Enough!” Look, I know I fucked up, alright? I get it! I’d put everything back, if I could but…but…well, I kind of messed up the program…”

“What fucking program? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Caleb heaved a sigh, and fell back onto his ass, the house shuddering under his weight, and then he set his dad down on his big gut, and explained the story as best he could. He had been at the mall earlier that day, but he hadn’t been at the mall with friends. He’d been there by himself, just being a loner, when he’d spotted this new curio shop. They’d had a discount electronics section, and the shop owner had recommended this strange program to him. Caleb had thought it was a photo manipulation program–some photoshop knock off–but it had been a bit more…expansive than that. It turned out to be a program which could completely alter the face of reality, and, well, Caleb had let things get a little out of control.

“Look, Dad, all…all I really wanted was for you to be happy again, and I’d always…well, I’d always thought you were hot, so I thought, well…why not?”

Terry just glared at his son, “So you turn me into all of those…those people? For fun? That wasn’t fun, that was a nightmare!”

“I don’t know, you seemed to have enjoyed most of it.”

“Porky was not–fucking–enjoyable.”

Caleb blushed, “Yeah…I…I don’t have an excuse for that one, that one…that was a mistake.”

“No, this whole thing was a mistake. Just…just turn us back, and let’s get rid of it, and we can pretend like none of this ever happened, alright? Let’s just put everything back the way it was.”

Caleb was silent, and hung his head, “I…well, I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“Look, dad, I…I was running the program so that, however I changed myself, reality would automatically adjust itself to conform to me–that’s why, well, you probably have had a strange afternoon. But what I didn’t know, was, well, when you twist reality too much for the people around you, apparently some strange shit can happen. I mean, when we were down in the basement, you started…you flipped out. I mean, not just your screaming and stuff, but your body too. It looked…I don’t know, like it was stretching and collapsing and…and I just got scared. I got scared, so I ran up and turned off the reality adjustment, and that collapsed everything down together, but…well, I was just looking at it, and the program’s locked down.”

“What?”

“It’s locked down. I can’t change reality anymore, until it normalizes. I took a closer look, and apparently the program won’t unlock until it can purge everything from this reality that doesn’t belong. Like…like our memories, and…and that sort of thing.”

Terry just stared at his son. “Are you telling me that we’re going to be stuck like this?”

“Yeah…I mean, not for too long, like less than a day. The bar says it’ll finish sometime tomorrow morning.”

“Well, we can just change ourselves back then.”

“No, Dad, you don’t get it–we won’t remember what we were like. We won’t even remember that we’ve used the program. None of that will have happened to us…we’ll be who we are now, and it’ll be like that’s who we’ve always been…I’m…I’m sorry dad, but I’m telling you the truth. This…this is kind of who we’re stuck as.”

Terry didn’t say anything for a second, he just let that sink in. “You mean…you mean, I’m stuck as this five foot dwarf, a fucking dwarf who can’t–can’t stop thinking about how much he want’s to have…have filthy, nasty sex with his own son? His…his eleven foot tall son, who’s twice the size of me, and stinks like a fucking outhouse?”

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it, dad! I said I was sorry!”

“Well sorry isn’t going to cut it!” Terry shouted, and climbed down off of his son, “I had a life Caleb, I was…I was…”

He couldn’t remember. He focused really hard, as hard as he could, but it was like staring through a thick fog–he knew what was there, but he couldn’t see it. The more distant the change, the harder it was to see, and his old life, it was gone–he hadn’t always been gay, had he? Had…Hadn’t he? He didn’t want to be straight. that was for sure, but…wasn’t there? Sure,he loved his son…

Terry shouted, and punched the wall in anger, but it was gone–it was gone, and it wasn’t going to come back.

“Dad…Dad, look–I know this isn’t what…what you would have wanted, but we’re going to be happy at least, right?”

“Don’t you fucking say anything–nothing you say can fucking make this right!” Terry shouted at his son, but Caleb didn’t say anything back–he just reached over, grabbed his dad, and pulled him into a tight hug. “God damn it Caleb! Let me go! Let–let me..” he said, but then he was crying, and his big son was holding him tight, and everything…everything wasn’t really so bad, was it? He hadn’t wanted this, no–but he wanted it now, he wanted it…badly, and that scared him even more.

“Look, dad–I…I know I can’t make things right, but…but look, maybe I can make things better, you know? Here, come on. I can’t fix reality, but I can make some limited changes–”

“No–No more changes, I’m done.”

“Well, I was going to make you taller…” Caleb said, grinning, “But if you like being a ‘dwarf’ now, I think it’s damn sexy, myself.”

“But you said you couldn’t change anything,” Terry said, suddenly suspicious that his son might have been lying to him before, “If you can change me, why can’t you just change me–us–back?”

“Because you–the ‘old’ you–could have never existed in this reality. Even if the program let me make the change, which I don’t think it would, by tomorrow morning you’d be back to this, or something close. But, if I just make a few tweaks–some changes that this reality can absorb and integrate–then I think I can make things a bit better. So look–you tell me what I can do to make you better–this you–and I’ll do the best that I can.”

Terry just looked down, “How…How can I trust you? How can I ever trust you again, Caleb? I mean, I can’t…”

“Dad, I can’t undo what I did–if I could, I would. I never…I never meant things to get this out of hand, and I’d…I’d always thought I would just put things back the way they were, eventually. But I can’t, so…so let me make it up to you. Come on, I know you had fun some of the time…tell me what you liked best.” Caleb sat down next to his dad again, reached over and started toying with his cock.

Caleb let out a groan when his son touched him, and all he wanted to do was throw himself at his boy and just fuck, but he held back. Still, he wasn’t happy like this, really, so he might as well take advantage of his son’s offer. What had he enjoyed? How far back could he remember? He…he’d liked how it had felt being fat, actually–as the chef. He’d been massive, sure, but so…confident. How fucked up was that, that he’d actually enjoyed being huge, obese gainer? But it was true. “I…I liked being fat–actually. When I was the chef. And…and I really liked the whole…the whole smoking thing. Not being your cub, but just…smoke. And I gotta say, these tattoos are kind of sexy. Actually, it was probably most fun being that redneck daddy of yours. The accent scared me at first, but…and god, it’s so messed up, I know, but being…being this filthy, and seeing you this filthy, it turns me on so much, and you know, I actually kind of liked shitting myself as Porky, with that diaper and–” Terry blushed and stopped talking, suddenly embarrassed. “But mostly I–I’d like to be taller. Just forget the rest of what I said, I…I didn’t really mean any of that.”

Caleb just looked at his dad for a second, before he said, “You really did enjoy yourself, didn’t you?”

“Just make me taller, would you?”

Caleb grinned and said, “Sure thing dad,” and got up, smirking, lumbering into his room and sitting down at the computer, “One taller dad, coming right up–but not as tall as me,” and then under his breath added, “and…maybe a few other…small details…”

“Wait, what?” Terry asked, but before he could get closer to see what his son was doing, Caleb was already typing away, and suddenly, well, every step threw him off balance as he tried to walk, his legs thickening and lengthening with each stride, and it was all he could do to not fall over when he just stood still. Well, he was definitely taller–if his son was eleven feet, Terry probably capped out around eight, or maybe nine. It was strange seeing everything from that high up, and the sense of vertigo hung around for a few moments until he became more used to his new perspective. It was then that he realized that Caleb was still typing–and that he was still changing. His final body had been mostly muscle–and at his five foot height, he couldn’t have weighed more than 150 pounds, but that was rapidly changing. Looking down, he saw fat start bubbling up under his skin, shrouding his physique, but it didn’t stop there. His gut ballooned out, and then softened into an apron like the one he’d had in the kitchen–except bigger. Hell, he’d been one fat tub of lard then, but at his new height, he had to be over six or seven hundred pounds of blubber.

“Caleb! Caleb, I fucking told you to just make me taller! What the fuck is this–I don’t–” Terry started to say, but Caleb had already gotten up from the computer, walked over and drawn him into a deep kiss, pulling his fat body into his big gut and muscular chest, and Terry couldn’t help but just melt, especially when his son started fiddling with his big nipples, and jiggling his flab, his cock was so hard…

“Dad,” Caleb said, when they pulled apart, “Stop thinking so much. I know what you want, now quit worrying about who you were, and let me make you happy–let me…make you feel good.”

“Caleb…please…I…” Terry started to say, but his son shushed him.

“You know, I think we need to keep that mouth of yours occupied with something else, don’t you?”

Caleb sat back down at the computer, and Terry just watched him. He should stop him, shouldn’t he? And yet, he was…so damn curious, and horny, and excited. He needed something to calm him down. He reached into the front pocket of the massive overalls he was wearing, pulled out his can of chew and started packing it into his lips on both sides, his cock pulsing as he packed himself full. He fucking loved the sensation of a big lipper, and it only got better when he pulled out one of his massive, 70 ring cigars, stuck it in his mouth and lit it up, taking a massive draw, and pulling out as much spit as he could from the leaves in his mouth. “Aww, sheet yeah boy, feel’s damn fine…” he said, and he had to think about it for a second before he realized that the heavy southern drawl hadn’t been there a second before. “Fuck, ya went ‘n changed me again, didn’ ya…”

Terry knew better than to ask his son to stop what he was doing, and if he were honest–he liked what Caleb was doing, and didn’t really want him to stop. Hell, they’d been fucking each other for so long, why should he be embarrassed? He felt like that wasn’t quite right for some reason, but if he couldn’t remember a time when he and his son weren’t desperate to fuck…then was that really true anymore? Sure, maybe at some point, in some other reality, but in this one, well, in this one he was gonna be one hot stinking redneck, with the sexiest son in the whole neighborhood.

Looking down at himself, he saw that Caleb still wasn’t finished. The tattoos on his arms grew together into solid sleeves, and he watched the patterns worm their way over the rest of his body, and under his overalls. He figured that, at this point, most of his body was probably covered. His beard and hair grew out a bit further, and he pulled his thick, greying hair back into the ponytail he preferred, feeling the hair become greasy and slimy as he gripped it. Yep, apparently his boy wasn’t satisfied with his hygiene either, and before too long he just…well, stank. But it was a hot, musky, filthy stink, the kind of stink he loved, and he grinned, squirting some tobacco juice from his mouth, feeling it run down into his beard. “Damn boy, ya sure ain’t foolin’ round none.”

“Nope,” Caleb said, “I don’t think the changes will stick too much–reality will probably reassert itself by the time to program runs its course, but I figure we might as well have a little fun in the meantime, eh Pa?” Caleb stood up, and when he did, Terry say that his son wasn’t just a couple feet taller than him anymore–apparently his son had had a few changes in mind for himself too.

“Gawd damn, son, yer jus’ gonna make me feel short again,” Terry said, taking another massive draw off his huge cigar.

“Hey, you said that ya didn’t wanna be a dwarf–well ya ain’t a dwarf,” Caleb said, his own speech patterns shifting to match Terry’s, “but ya didn’ say Ah couldn’t git taller.”

Caleb was growing taller–probably to about twelve feet–as tall as the already oversized ceilings in their house. He lost a bit of his round gut, but what he lost in fat he made up for in muscle–he was becoming damn ripped, in fact. He still had a big gut, but on top of that were two massive pecs, and his biceps and thighs were making Terry’s mouth water, more tobacco spit dribbling down his beard. He didn’t seem nearly as unkempt as his father, his beard and hair were trimmed up quite a bit shorter, but damn did he reek. Not like Terry, who had a certain lazy stench of filth about him–Caleb reeked of sweat and workouts and…sex. He also gained a substantial number of tattoos, and fuck if he didn’t look like a sexy fucking beast, standing there a few feet away. Terry wondered for a moment what someone would think if they stumbled upon the two of them…but he didn’t care–he just didn’t care one lick. He just wanted to fuck his boy all night–

Terry was suddenly caught off guard by a massive fart ripping out his ass, along with something else. It caught him by surprise, when the stench of shit slammed into him, and he froze, realizing that he had just packed the ass of his overalls with a massive load of shit, and Caleb walked over, reached around with both hands, grabbed his Pa by the ass, smashing the load around as he pulled his obese father into a deep kiss. The two of them spent a few minutes chewing Terry’s tobacco between the two of them, brown spit running down both of them, as Caleb kept working the shit around in the back of his dad’s overalls until it came around the front, coating his balls and cock…and fuck if it didn’t feel amazing. He couldn’t…he couldn’t even be ashamed of it anymore, he didn’t care, it felt so good, so nasty and just so…so right.

“Piss fer me Pa, come on, soak these fuckin’ overalls a yers…” Caleb whispered, and Terry did as he requested, taking a drag off his cigar, before blasting a full load of piss into his overalls, feeling it soak into the shit, and it ran down his legs and into the rubber boots he was wearing. He could feel the shit and piss squishing between his toes, and he let out a deep groan which his son silenced with another long kiss. “You like it…don’t ya Pa?”

“Fuck son, I fuckin’ do–how fuckin twisted is that?”

Caleb chuckled, pushing all of the tobacco back into his dad’s mouth, “Not as twisted as this.” He then gave Terry a shove, and he fell back, landing on his massive ass, feeling the shit squish around with the impact, and then his son was on him, unbuckling the latches on his overalls and pulling down the front. Looking down, Terry could see his cock was coated with piss and shit, but before he really had a chance to think about it, his son was sucking it clean, deepthroating his whole, two foot long cock.

“Oh fuck yeah, boy!” Terry said, twisting and yanking at his nipples as he ground his shitty crack into the floor of his son’s room, “You fuckin’ love the taste a yer Pa’s shit ‘n piss, don’t ya? Yeah, yer just a nasty fuckin’ redneck pig like me.”

“Well, like father like son, ya know?” Caleb said, pulling off Terry’s cock, shit smeared across his face, “Ya really oughta try some a this Pa, I think ya’d love it. Here, I know jus’ what tah do.” Caleb scooted down to Terry’s booted feet, and pulled off one of his boots, still full of his own piss, and took a whiff. “Whoo wee, Pa, ya sure do love yer rubber, don’t ya? When’s the last time ya took these off? Still, Ah think yer gonna love it, though,” Caleb said, and brought the boot up to Terry’s lips, “Open up Pa, ‘n taste yer fuckin’ filth.”

Most of it went down his fat gullet, but plenty of it washed out and down his front, where his hands rubbed it into his fatty folds, and hell if it wasn’t one of the filthiest things he’d ever tasted, his piss, shit combining with the tobacco in his mouth. When he finished, he realized he’d accidentally swallowed some of his chaw, he’d been so eager for his own waste. His son yanked off the second boot and fed that mess to his Pa as well, afterwhich Terry worked up a mighty belch. “Fuck boy, that hit the spot.”

“Ha, don’ tell me that was enough tah satisfy a big pig like you.”

“Satisfied? Hell nah, I could put away plenty more where tha’ came from!”

“Oh is that so, Pa?” Caleb said, grinning, “Well, it just so happens I might have some more…if you want it.”

Looking up at his massive son, over twice as tall as a normal man now, Terry tried to get a grip on himself, but it felt like the entire universe was just spinning out of his control. Of course he wanted to eat his son’s shit–and he quickly realized, it’s not like this would be the first time. He tried to remember that he hadn’t always been this fat ass redneck, but it was easier to remember that he and his son had been each other’s toilets for years now, and they both fucking loved every second of it. Worse–or perhaps better–he couldn’t even be ashamed of it anymore. “Fuck yeah, show me what ya got fer Papa, boy,”Terry said, letting himself smile, his gut giving a hungry rumble of eagerness.

Caleb dropped the grimy gym shorts he was wearing, and saw his son had on one of his filthiest jockstraps, and he gave a little moan when the stench hit his face. Caleb straddled his dad’s chest and shoved the stinking piss, cum and shit stained mesh into his father’s mouth and nose, grinding it back and forth, and said, “You wanna be my big piggy toilet today, Pa? You want me to cram a big load a shit down yer fuckin’ throat?”

Terry wasn’t listening, he was chewing at the jock and his son’s massive bulge, his cock even larger than his erect two foot tool beneath his big fat gut. He didn’t care anymore. He loved his son so much…especially the massive logs of shit Caleb proceeded to feed his father, making sure of overload him faster than he could swallow, to give Caleb some to lick out of his filthy beard afterwards–but not before his father had worked both of his fists up his hole, milking his prostate until he’s shot a gigantic wad all over his father’s fat gut. Still, the two of them were insatiable, and as the timer on the computer continued to count down, and their memories of their previous identities continued to dwindle, the two of them kept on, fucking, feeding, fisting, pissing, shitting and licking the night away, until they’d finally collapsed, exhausted, on the floor of Caleb’s room, and cuddled each other to sleep in their own filth.

The next thing Terry knew, he was stretching in his son’s oversize bed in his room, worming his way out of his son’s grip and pulling himself off his son’s big dick which had mysteriously snuck its way up his ass sometime in the night. The bed underneath him was sopping wet, but he was used to that–both he and his boy had a habit of wetting and shitting the bed in the night, not that either one of them would have it any other way. He sat up and stretched, feeling the dry shit on him crack as he did, and he stood up, giving his hole a scratch and licking off the scum his fingers pulled away. Waddling over to the mirror, he took a look at himself–he could still distantly remember that he hadn’t always been like this, but it was simply an abstract fact–he had no actual memories of his prior identities.

He was shorter than the night before–reality must have not liked him being that tall. Still, he was bigger than the five feet he’d started out with, but had probably dropped back to about seven. He hadn’t lost a pound of fat though, and on his shorter physique he was absolutely massive now, and so fucking sexy, slathered with shit…He reached around in his flab but couldn’t get a good grip on his cock, and gave up in a huff, looking back at his massive, slumbering son. He could fuck his hole of course…but maybe it would be better to let him sleep a bit more. Caleb could be such a bear in the morning, but taking his Pa’s piss and shit down his throat usually improved his mood considerably. That, and a few cups of strong black coffee. Terry let him slumber and lumbered over past the computer and jiggled the mouse, before sitting down at the desk and looking at the program which had made such a mess of everything.

There was a timer in the corner–it had about five minutes left. He took a few moments to stuff a whole can of chaw in his mouth and light up a cigar, before watching as the clock ticked away the rest of his alternate pasts, wondering if he should feel sad about losing them. But why should he? He was happy–his son was happy. However they might have been before didn’t matter to him all that much, in the grand scheme of things, and by the time the clock elapsed, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was contemplating anymore, as the final, fleeting sensation that things might have been different were erased, and then a window popped up, alerting Terry that the reality synchronization had completed, and that full functionality had been restored to the program.

Terry closed that window…and then smiled, and started looking around the program. There was a lot to it, and a lot that he could do with it…and he realized, that there was nothing stopping him. Eager now, his cock hard, he started making changes to his profile and his son’s, but as he was about to activate the changes, he paused. Something told him that he should wait, and let his son look at it too–they needed to do this together, it was too big to surprise someone with. Still, Terry had something else he could use to surprise his son.

He went over to where his son was still snoring, the covers off, and got down next to his ass, licking his lips, and started cleaning out his son’s hole, listening to him moan and mutter as he slept, and just as he was sleepily coming to, his dad stood up and worked his cock into his ass. “Aw fuck, Pa!” Caleb groaned as Terry drove the entire two feet length into Caleb’s ass, “Ain’t it a bit early?”

“It’s nearly noon, son!” Terry said with a chuckle, gripping his cigar in his teeth, “and ya know how Ah git when Ah’m horny, not come on and open up.” Caleb let his Pa fuck his hole, somewhat begrudgingly, given how sleepy he still was, but after Terry came, he was nice enough to give his boy a blowjob and swallow his load of morning piss too. “Alright son, now come ‘ere, I got somethin’ tah show ya.”

Terry had Caleb sit down at the computer, and then showed his son the changes he’d planned while Caleb was asleep. Caleb was at first a bit skeptical, but as his dad explained it, and as his cock got harder, he was finding less and less objectionable about what his dad was suggesting. Still, he had a few changes he wanted to work in first.

“Ya sure ya wanna go through with this, Pa?” Caleb asked, as they put the finishing touches on the changes, “Ah don’t think this is gonna be reversible.”

“Ah don’t give a flyin’ fuck–this is gonna be so god-damn hot!” Terry said, sucking on his cigar, “Ya done with yer changes yet?”

“Hold yer horses, this is…kinda delicate, ‘n ya weren’t all that careful when ya did it the first time.”

“Ha–’delicate.’ Ain’t nothin’ delicate ‘bout what’s gonna happen here today.”

Caleb laughed, and looked over the screens of the computer again. “Alright, Ah think it’s ready. I made sure it’ll load from the cloud too–cause Ah don’ think the computer’s gonna survive this.”

“Whatever–turn it on and let’s git this show on the road!”

Caleb looked at the computer, and couldn’t believe that they were about to do this, but why the hell not? And then he hit the ok button, and felt himself start to grow, but faster than usual.

“Shit–this is gonna hurt, ain’t it?” Terry said, and Caleb looked over at his dad, and saw that between the two of them they were rapidly filling up the bedroom.

“Well you’re the one who didn’t want to turn on the reality adjuster!”

“Well, then it wouldn’t have been a surprise tah everyone else! Come on, we’d better git outside, if we can!”

Caleb hurried out of the room and down the stairs, and barely squeezed his way out of the front door as he grew too big to fit, but his dad was too slow with all of his flab, and by the time he reached the living room, he was too big to fit through.

“Aww shit, yeah, this is gonna hurt…” Terry said, as his bulk quickly filled the living room, breaking furniture and pushing against the walls of the room.

“Hold on Pa, I’ll help ya!” Caleb said. He was taller than the first story now, and he picked up the family car–amazed that his strength was already enough for it to feel like a heavy dumbbell in his hands, and started slamming it into the upper story of the house, and then into the floor, opening up a big enough hole that his dad could work his way to standing. Together, they demolished the house as they grew, and before long Terry was free, the side of the house was little more than rubble, and the two of them were still growing. By the time they were finished, Caleb had grown to six stories tall–more than twice as tall as their house had been–and Terry maxed out at four stories–shorter than his son, but still massive. Terry looked around at what had been a sleepy neighborhood on a Sunday morning, but hearing the commotion, people had piled out of their doors, and now stood gaping at the two giants where their neighbor’s house had been.

Smiling, Terry grabbed one of the trees from their backyard and uprooted it, rolling it between his hands. As he did, the wood shifted in pattern until it formed itself into a massive cigar, and with a snap of his fingers, it lit up, and he took a deep draw on it, exhaling a massive plume of smoke which settled about the two of them like a fog. He made a second one and handed it to his son, and soon enough they were both pumping out a massive amount of smog. “Well son, let’s head downtown. I think we need tah introduce ourselves tah the community.”

“Sounds like a plan tah me, Pa,” Caleb replied, and together, the two thundered off through the streets.

***

Wellington wasn’t a large town, but it was relatively peaceful, especially on a Sunday. Many of the stores that lined the main street had just opened a few hours ago, and business had been slow so far. Still, it started out as a beautiful morning, but around noon, the strangest thing happened–a massive wall of fog started working it’s way into the small town. People who were outside were the first to be affected, and as soon as it swept over them and they inhaled it, they discovered that it wasn’t fog at all–but smoke.

Several people called the fire department, and a few described the smoke as smelling not like a burning building–but like a cigar. It was soon after that the people first exposed to the fog started to change. It affected the women first, usually a few minutes after exposure, as they were suddenly struck by a crippling pain, their breasts disappearing as their bodies changed, their vaginas sealing up as their cliotori expanded into new, massive penises. Men, however, were affected too, most of them developing copious amounts of body hair, their beards growing out of control as well. A few experienced a sudden shift in age as well–often into middle age or even beyond. This was seen most commonly in teenagers and children, as they rapidly aged into their forties and fifties, their personalities and minds changing along with their bodies.

The fire trucks roared past this chaos and deep into the fog, and so the firefighters were the first to be hit with the second smell. It was something between a filthy locker room, day old sneakers, and sweaty towel–the most powerful, overwhelming musk any of them had ever smelled. It forced itself on them, and as the smoke started changing them, the found themselves growing hornier. The truck came to a halt as the driver started ripping at his uniform, desperately trying to get to his cock, but before he could start jacking off, the man next to him, his beard reaching down to his chest, leaned over and started sucking him off. The men found it impossible to think about anything beyond sex, their minds slowly draining away as the stench drifted into town.

As the people recovering from the changes the smoke wrought smelled–and saw–what was happening, the men of the town being turned into sex-crazed beasts, they started to run away from the sirens towards the other side of town, hoping to escape the musk and the smoke, but after a few blocks–on the other side of the train tracks–they found themselves faced with a different monstrosity–a giant man, hugely obese and stinking of filth, stood in their way, straddling the main street, and before any of them could turn and run back in the other direction, they watched the giant smile, squat, and then shit several massive piles of filth into the middle of the street.

The stench was horrific, but the men found themselves unable to turn away. In fact, they found themselves growing hungrier, the more they smelled it. The weaker willed among them almost immediately gave a few snorts and then charged towards the muck, devouring as much of it as they could, as quickly as they could, but in the end the men started swarming into the shit, all of them starved for it, desperate for it, and as they ate, they began to change one again.

It started out as weight gain, fat packing onto them faster than any of them could have ever imagined, coupled with some growth as well–most of them averaging at about a story tall, with some of the first ones several feet taller. Their human features had twisted–their feet and hands becoming hooved trotters, tusks emerging from their now snouted faces, their eyes feral, perverted and starved for lust. The giant sat down and his minions swarmed over him, licking his body clean of any filth they could find, and with a sigh he let loose a fountain of piss, his pigmen fighting over the stream, thirsty as could be, and desperate to serve their new master.

On the other side of town, the men lost to the stench of musk found their minds becoming duller and duller, and many of them didn’t even notice when the huge, muscular giant strode past them, his massive cock half hard and dribbling a torrent of precum. That–however–they did notice, the smell of fresh cum drawing them like flies. The men drank it down, growing hairier, muscular and muskier as they did, their bodies almost devolving into some sort of beastly form, fanged and clawed and ferociously horny. They fought with each other over it, and the giant stood over them, milking cum from his cock, feeding his beasts, until one of them latched onto the head, drinking more than the rest–becoming the pack’s alpha. It roared at the massive giant, ready to challenge it for control, but before it could attack, the massive man sprayed all of the beasts down with a massive load of piss. They fell back then, immediately subservient after being marked by their master, and came forward, serving him, licking away his sweaty musk and serving his cock and his hole eagerly.

When the town had been emptied of people and divided between the two giants, they met in the middle, their hordes following close behind, and tackled each other to the ground, kissing and grinding their massive bodies together in the street, their hordes swarming on and around them. It was a day later when the two of them finally pulled apart, their hordes exhausted and sleeping all over the ruins of the town, and Caleb and Terry looked at each other and smiled.

“Hey, Burisburg is just a few miles down the road–wanna do it again?”

“Sounds awesome to me–can’t wait!”

Curse Cards

by Beardsman and Wesley Bracken

***WARNING*** This has heavy slob TF, incontinence and dumbing down.

***

Three buddies that had just graduated from high school had little to do with their time. College didn’t start until the end of Summer for them, and they had occupied their time with video games, movies, and random events around their small town.

Jae, the oldest of the group (by only two months) was usually the instigator in whatever took place. He had the ideas, the funds, and the knowledge among the three. He looked like your typical jock; blonde spiked hair, hazel eyes, and a decent-enough frame with more of a swimmer’s build. He was rarely seen in anything fancy; just a tank and comfortable shorts.

The second of the group had been Eric. Brown hair that was just curly enough to dub him as the “jew-fro’d-dork” around the town. It didn’t help that his eyesight was impaired and he needed glasses. The only reason he wasn’t pummeled while in school was thanks to his childhood friendship with Jae and Allister.

Allister, the youngest, the most naive. Certainly the prettiest of the group without a doubt. After a long frightful rumor around his senior years that he was gay, he managed to come out strong with a delicate beauty at his arm. The rumors were founded through his impeccable hygiene and sense of fashion. Truly the hipster of the town. He even went through a phase where he grew out a moustache and curled it.

All three were friends since kindergarten, unable to avoid each other even when arguing with how close-knit the town had been. They each had plans to to stay together no matter how old they would become- but those plans went no further than college it seemed. Different career-paths in mind, they would find themselves elsewhere sooner-or-later. Jae was the first to realize this, and decided to make this Summer their greatest before ultimately being tied down with work and social-problems. On this current day, however, he was at a loss for things to do. Netflix didn’t give way for many options as their tastes all varied, and they had gone through the entire collection of B-Horror Films. With rain on the way, it made hiking or even riding their bikes more of a chore than a fun time out.

With all three settling in at Jae’s empty house–his parents being away on a cruise–Jae dug through a collection of older board games located in their family coat-closet. He ran across childhood favorites that gave a surreal effect with the boxes covered in dust and grime, forgotten in the back along with simpler times. He found a smaller stack of decks of cards. Poker decks, Uno, a matching game… but one in particular seemed to catch his fancy. He hadn’t remember a black box with silver trim containing any game before. And while pushed behind the pile, it was devoid of dust like the others.

Upon checking back to see the other two flipping through the satellite channels, he removed the contents of the box. Cards, as expected, with the same black and silver patterns adorning the backs. The fronts–mysteriously enough–were blank. His confusion held, until he saw a folded paper sticking from a slot in the side. It was the instructions.

“Guys, check this out,” Jae called. Their heads turned and looked over the couch to see him raising from his crouched stance, cards in hand, and reading the first part of the instructions.

“What’s that? Collectible poker cards or something?” Eric asked.

“It’s not Yu-Gi-Oh! is it? Kind of got tired of that when they changed all the rules up,” Allister remarked, last to join in.

“No, it’s some weird kind of Tarot thing. I mean, I dunno. It doesn’t say what they are. The instructions are kind of weird and cryptic.”

“‘Cryptic’? How so?” Eric asked, raising from the couch and grabbing the blank cards from the eldest.

“Look at the lines here:

For those who dare to play the devil’s hand

Let caution dwell before demand.

Your life, your choices, your body and soul

Your Mind, you world, no longer your own.”

They each read the top line together, slightly intrigued by the campy warning. Jumanji came to mind, but did nothing to deter them. Before long, they had vacated the living room and made their way to Jae’s room in the basement, setting up his game table for the cards. After the cryptic warning, the instructions stated that the deck must be placed in the middle after being thoroughly shuffled. Each person would take a turn pulling a card from the top, and the rest of the instructions would reveal themselves.

Jae had searched the box for some kind of manufacturer, or date, but came up with nothing. If this was some sort of “magical” deck of cards, it would be interesting at least to see things play out.

“Who should start? Jae?” Eric asked, watching Jae suddenly show some reluctance.

“Maybe Allister. I set the game up, and you look a little scared, Eric.”

“Do not!” Eric shouted back, just before Allister took a turn without questioning.

“Both of you are pansies… First card!” Allister placed the blank card onto the table, face-up, and watched the ink start to appear. Each boy was pleasantly surprised by how realistic it seemed, and wondered if the low-light of the room had anything to do with it.

~~Sexualities Askew~~

Main Effect: All players’ sexualities are inverted. The player who drew the card must then assign one of the following options to himself and every other player.

This player becomes more attracted to men the fatter they become.
This player becomes more attracted to men the older they become.
This person falls desperately in love with the person to their left.

“That’s insane,” Eric said, reading the card again, “I’m not gay!”

“Yeah, well I’m not either,” Allister said, and yet, as he said it, he knew he was lying. In fact, he remembered that the only reason he’d dated that girl in high school at all was as a beard, so people would stop calling him a faggot. She’d been ok with it–she found other guys to fuck, and he’d paid her off with with fashion advice. Looking at his two friends, he saw that similar revelations were working their way through their minds, and they all looked at each other, and then at the cards…

“No way, fuck this.,” Jae said, and tried to stand up from the table, but one of the cards flipped over on it’s own, the ink displaying a new message in a matter of seconds.

No player may leave the game early–quitting will result in a random number of curses from the deck.

“It knows what we’re saying?” Eric whispered.

“Just sit down, Jae. It’s just a trick. Of course people would stand up after reading shit like that,” Al bargained, watching Jae take his seat reluctantly, grumbling defiantly while doing so.

“Fuck- this is some fucked up shit!” Eric said, slightly terrified. He felt as if they had toyed with a sentient Ouja Board. Allister was ignoring him and rereading the curses, hurring, trying to make up his mind. Jae was to his left–he could handle being in love with him, couldn’t he?

“Alright!” Allister declared through the silence, causing them to jump. He continued, “I’ll take the last one,” he said, and then after a moment, added, “And Jae can have the first one. Eric, you’ll get the second.”

“Dude!” Jae said, “I hate fat people, you fucking know that!”

“And people twice my age? That’s like my dad! I mean…my dad…” Eric said, his eyes glazing over for a second. He had always kind of liked how his dad looked. He was about to turn 50, but looked a little bit older actually, because of how much he’d balded, and his tendency to wear a mustache. He’d always liked kissing him, and he’d snuck a few on his dad’s lips on occasion…

Eric shivered and shook his head, clearing it. No, he wasn’t going to be like that, he wasn’t. He concentrated hard, thinking about his girlfriends, but none of them were doing it for him. Well, aside from Jenny, that time Mr Washburn had caught them making out in the chem lab, what if he’d kicked her out, and then his teacher could have…

Jae, on the other hand, was sweating bullets. He hated fat people, he’d always hated them. He’d been big as a kid, and lost a bunch of weight after he’d been bullied for it, but he didn’t find it attractive at all! Even if…even if the sight of a big guy lumbering towards him down the hall was the only thing that seemed to get his cock hard anymore. Oh, he loved big boys, the bigger the better. He always felt bad, watching them get bullied, and more than once he’d stood up for them at school, befriending them, and usually, they’d let him please them too, after a while. Yeah, he’d massage their hot, flab, rub his face in it, suck them off, fuck them…anything to be closer to them.

Allister, however, only had eyes for Jae. He loved him–really, honestly, loved him. They’d both only had girlfriends to cover up the fact that they were gay, but Jae wasn’t the least bit interested in him. It didn’t matter what he did, how many times he professed his love, Jae would end up with some massive tub of lard, and it would make him so god damn jealous. He loved Jae–why couldn’t he see that, he loved him so much, he’d do anything to be with him–anything.

Shivering, they looked back at the table and saw the second card had changed it’s lettering, Next Turn–please draw a card.

His hand shaking, Jae reached out and flipped the top card over–the blank surface swirling to life, and the three of them read it nervously.

~~Unhealthy Obsessions~~

Each of you will pick up a rather unhealthy addiction. The person who drew this card will choose one of the options below for each player.

This player becomes a binge eater, immediately gaining 100 pounds.
This player becomes a heavy smoker, but only smokes cigars. They will age 10 years.
This player becomes a sex addict, and masturbates or has sex at least 10 times a day.

Jae sighed unhappily, looking between his nervous friends. He lingered for a moment on Allister, looking at the faggy twink hipster he always kept close. He always felt that burning desire Al held for him, and felt perpetually sorry that he couldn’t return it. This card, however…maybe..

“Alright.. I’m definitely not into smoking… You okay with it, Eric?” Jae asked, watching Eric shake his head, unsure, but that seemed like the easiest option for him. He was awkward with sex, and his parents were always over his shoulder. He’d hate them catching him in the middle of a wank. The binge-eating didn’t seem any better. What about his clothes? His lithe frame?

“Whatever, Jae. Just do it,” Eric replied, cringing as Jae selected him. Within moments, his brain flooded with information he hadn’t known existed. Cigar sizes, brands, tobacco blends. He let out a hearty cough, feeling his throat burn momentarily. He brought his hand to his mouth, originally to cover it and protect the others from saliva, but found a thick stogie planting itself between his lips. Upon his surprise, he took in a strong inhale. The burning returned, but felt natural; pleasant, even. The smoke he exhaled through his clenched teeth and flared nostrils engulfed his face. When dissipating, it left light stubble on his cheeks, and gone were his curls. His fro had either fallen away or shrunk, leaving patchy growth around the sides of his head and framing a shiny scalp. Smoking the way he did took years off his life, but it tasted so fucking good. “Yeah, made the right choice,” he stated, his voice rough and aged like his appearance, and took another draw on his cigar.

Jae, unsettled by the change, looked to Allister. So hipster and metro, as he remembered, but now just a needy twink. He’d be able to fix that. He selected him for the first option, watching Allister’s frightened eyes while his frame inflated, like a gelatin-filled balloon. His clothing wasn’t part of the change, as Al was afraid of as well, and made tearing noises in several spots. Being a hipster certainly didn’t help this conundrum, the too-tight clothing simply falling away after violently splitting. His jeans were the worst, holding up more than anything else. Al could only groan and pant heavily before the growing thighs burst through.

Jae watched his previously-skinny friend, sweating, grabbing the table for support. The only clothing left on him was his briefs, still somehow holding on, and looked more like a red thong disappearing clean into Al’s ass-cheeks. Well, not for long, as the elastic gave way and the remains of his underpants fell away. Al looked up momentarily to see Jae’s suddenly needy expression, licking his lips and examining the light rolls that were taking shape. Only 100 pounds for now, but maybe Jae could feed him later.

The last option on the card disappeared, the curse adhering to Jae. As if sitting next to the sexiest hipster chub he’d ever seen weren’t enough, his increased desires made things even worse. His hand was already pushed under the waist of his shorts, and he felt his growing bulge. It felt so hot, so hard in his palm. He was trying to remain in control, but he hadn’t cum yet today. It must have been a new record for him, and his balls churned and became enlarged with extra potent seed. They had to get bigger, being used to producing so much and draining so quickly. Jae fumbled with his shorts, his cock begging to be free of its cloth confines while Al drooled with anticipation. His love for Jae and growing hunger aligned, and he wanted to see the cock he lusted after for so long. Jae, however, wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings anymore, losing his battle with his urge to play with himself.

“Fffuck! Guys, just one right now, I have to!” Jae bargained, pulling his dick free of his shorts. The pulsing mass curved upwards and seemed a tad bigger than he remembered, but nowhere near proportionate to the growth in his nuts. He wasted no time in fisting the heavy rod, watching it leak profusely. “Oh shit, so good- so fucking good…” Eric felt only a little weirded out behind his cloud of tobacco, watching one of his best friends tug one out before him, but couldn’t help admire the well-toned frame of the young athlete. He was gay, after all.

Losing himself, thrusting into his hand before them without abandon, it didn’t take him long before he (noisily) sprayed all over himself, moaning like a total bitch. The sheer volume shotgunning from his dick was unreal, painting his abs white and even some on his chin. With heavy panting, he let his arms flop to his sides, and tried to regain composure. It didn’t go down, though. While a little winded from his efforts, his horny nature hadn’t bent in any way. It didn’t help that Al was fulfilling his own needs, either.

Jae cried out in ecstasy as Al engulfed the entire engorged cock into his hungry gullet, suckling it and milking it dry, swallowing leftover globs before pulling himself off and running his tongue over the toned pecs of the sex-crazed jock. The saliva left was sticky, warm, and exactly what got Jae’s motor running. He loved fat fucks drooling all over him, and welcomed Al’s advances this time by placing a firm grip over his head, pushing him down to eat more of his cum.

Eric rolled his eyes, a tad jealous and a little disgusted by what Jae considered sexy, and grabbed the top card of the deck. His turn…maybe they could change back, or maybe he’d get some action this time. He placed the card down:

~~Hygiene Roulette~~

Staying clean isn’t going to be as important to any of you. The player that drew this will choose a non-hygienic trait for each person.

The player will forget about shaving, waxing, or even combing. Let that wild body fuzz spread!
The player will forget about showering, and will quite enjoy his natural ‘cologne’. As will the others.
The player will forget about changing his clothes daily, possibly weekly!

“Aww, that’s gross. Is this game serious?” Jae said, looking over the options. Eric however, was kind of enjoying the idea of Jae not liking it. He was always the third wheel when Jae and Al were together–the two were almost always fucking, and he just didn’t understand what Jae saw in fat guys like Al. Still, maybe he could throw some roadblocks in their way…

“Well, I don’t know about you two yet, but I’m taking the hair for myself,” Eric said, and felt his body start itching almost immediately. However, he’d underestimated just how extreme the card was, and a thick pelt sprouted all over his body–but his face too. A beard he’d never seen the likes of covered his face and descended down to his chest–it looked like he hadn’t shaved once since the day he’d gotten his first fuzz–which he realized was actually the truth. His curly hair, however, was another story altogether. He felt it grow out even bigger, and then it started yanking itself and twisting into enormous, fat dreadlocks–it was disgusting…wasn’t it? But he’d had dreads for as long as he could remember, hadn’t he? Sure, it was kind of gross, but he was so hairy, and he did like how it made him look a bit older…still, he had to work out the other two options for his friends. “Alright Al, you’re going to stop showering, and Jae–forget about changing clothes.”

“Wait, seriously?” Al said, “that’s fucking disgusting!”

“Blame the cards man, do you think I’m happy smoking these cigars?” Eric said. Well, he was, actually. He’d picked up the habit to be more like his dad–his dad was so fucking hot…

Al, however, soon realized that his fate was sealed–he was turning rank. He suddenly couldn’t remember when he’d last bathed, and he didn’t care. He lifted his arm and took a whiff of his rank armpit and gave a sigh, feeling a tingle in his cock as he did. He…liked it. He really did. Other changes swept across him as well–his face breaking out from being unwashed, and grease from his rather large meals could be seen shining down his chest.

Jae was repulsed, but he wasn’t faring much better. His tank top was growing filthy from all of the cum he’d shot over the past week on it, and his shorts were crispy and dry. He smelled like a cum rag, and hell if it wasn’t turning him on as he sat there, smelling his stench and…and Al’s. He didn’t smell so bad now, actually, he smelled kind of…rank, but a good kind of rank. He was jacking off again, and then leaned in, shoving his nose into Al’s pit, licking the sweat and musk from it, and Eric tried to keep himself from retching as the two went at it again, Al jerking Jae’s cock with one hand and his own with the other until they both came. He’d wanted to drive them apart, but it looked like he’d only pushed them closer together.

“Fuck guys, that’s disgusting–can’t you wait until I’m gone to do shit like that? You’re making me gag!”

Al scowled at him, “Hey! You’re the one who did it to us, fucker! Do you think I like being a stinking blob of fat?”

“I like you as a stinking blob of fat,” Jae said, grinding his sticky, but still hard cock in between some of the folds of Al’s body, “I wanna fuck you, fatty, I wanna fuck that ripe ass off–”

Al shoved him away, and Jae snapped out of it, realizing what he’d said, but his cock was so needy, he didn’t know how he’d be able to live like this. Well, alone. If he lived with Al, well–no, he couldn’t think about that.

Al, angry at them both, grabbed the top card and flipped it over, waiting for the lettering.

~~Youth or Experience?~~

Each player must choose between youth or experience! They can either lose points off their IQ, or gain an equal amount in years of age. The person who drew the card will assign values to each player, but they have to divide the amount however they wish.

25 points
50 points
75 points

Al grinned mischievously, but so did Eric. While Al could get his revenge, Eric couldn’t wait to see these fuckers gain some years.

“Alright, Jae? I going to go easy on you- for now. Let’s give you the 50 points,” Al stated, grinning at his love. He didn’t care if he was a little bit older, but certainly didn’t care if he was a bit dumber either. He always felt so uneducated around ‘the thinker’ as they used to call him.

Jae seemed a bit upset that he wasn’t given the lowest one, but was trying to decide how to divide the points while he tweaked one of his nipples through his grimy shirt.

“Um, well, let’s see…I don’t want to be too dumb.. College is soon…” the thought of having a dorm-mate flashed through his head, and how fed up he’d probably be finding crusted jocks and jerseys everywhere. At the same time of feeling worried, he felt a shiver of excitement run through him that he’d be marking his territory with old clothes. Shaking himself of the thought, he returned to his current predicament, “Oh! Uh…yeah..I’ll split it like this…” He took one last look at his younger body, and proclaimed his point usage: “35 points from my IQ, and 15 from my age!”

Jae’s wince was obvious as he felt the 15 years surge through his form. His body hair seemed a tad denser, but still kept short, and his skin was a bit less smooth. Probably the years he’d spent hanging around that smoking asshole Eric… A couple of wrinkled donned his forehead, and some silver hairs sprouted from his chest. In the same sweep, his head began to feel like it was stuffed with cotton. Memories were fuzzy, and the reality of the game was losing hold. He looked at his greasy blob of a boyfriend and felt the complexity of their relationship unravel. Reasons for their being together felt just a tad easier to accept. He was fat, fat is good.

Al was a bit stricken with guilt, watching the intelligence drain from Jae’s face. He didn’t think it would be so obvious, so literal, but the grin Jae was sporting said it all.

“Are you…are you alright, Jae?” He asked tentatively, and caught the horndog’s attention.

“Feeling fine, bro!” Jae exclaimed, quickening his efforts on his dick, close to spurting again in front of them. ‘Bro’ wasn’t a word Jae normally liked using. Even as a jock, it seemed too cliche. Now, he held no qualms about it. He was approaching middle-age, and kept the same vernacular he held in his younger days. Al rubbed Jae’s fuzzy pecs, helping him along with his next orgasm as he declared the next option.

“I’ll take the 75 points…”

“What? Why??” Eric asked, a bit surprised that he wasn’t stricken with such a terrible curse.

“I should have given him the smaller choice, but I acted too fast. It’s only fair. I’ll take 10 years to my age, and the rest in IQ.” Al felt the next warm spray of cum on the back of his hand, and smiled at his ill-clothed lover. Leaning down, taking a nice whiff of the grimy shirt and licking the fresh drips of seed. He felt the curse washing over him.

The aging happened so quick, the soft rolls of fat sagging just a bit further, his hair becoming a little thinner. Eric stroked his brown pelt of fur through his shirt, and lit another of his cigars, enjoying this bit a little too much. While he was particular to much older men, it was a thrill to see youth fading so quickly.

IQ was next, and Al sported the same dopey grin Jae had, only bigger. His eyes held the innocence of a child after that wave, and without his intelligence his inhibitions were drastically lowered. The obese imbecile lowered himself to suckle the drying drops of cum from the crusted cloth. Jae held him down, giggling at the hungry mass that worshipped him and his nasty attire.

Eric laughed triumphantly, gaining the last value, and chose to take off 5 from his IQ, and place 20 years to his age. The filthy dreads had swirls and streaks of silver rushing through them, already previously aged thanks to his intense smoking. He had to feel about 50 at this point, and he sucked happily at his stogie. The IQ loss wasn’t truly enough to destroy him, or impair his judgment in this game. The years taken away from him and gave his smoking quite the effect, darkening his teeth, his nails turning yellow, and his skin becoming a bit cragged.

“Hey, Jock-boy!” Eric called to Jae, “It’s your turn.”

Jae nodded like a cocky idiot, and drew from the deck, careful not to let the fat sack of shit raise himself off his dick.

~~One Big Happy Family~~

All the players are now related, and the youngest in the family has to obey his elders. In addition, as chosen by the drawer:

One player ages 50 years.
One player ages 20 years.
One player regresses 20 years.

“Aww…what?” Jae said, reading the card again, “Dang, that’s…kinda fucked up.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t want to be old do you?” Eric said, “I’ll take the big one, I don’t mind.” He really didn’t mind being that old, in fact, especially if that meant the other two would have to obey him. He was already a bit older, but if Jae did something different…

“No, hold on…” Jae said, “I don’t want to be that old, sure, but I don’t want to get younger. I kind of like where I am…I’ll give it to Al!”

“Wha?” Al said around Jae’s cock, but it was too late, as the fat dude, the youngest at 27, started to age rapidly. Eric could only watch, enthralled, as the binge eating took an even greater toll on his friend’s body, ballooning him up to over 500 pounds, where he plateaued, his fat sagging as his hair balded back, and a light, silver beard filled in over his face. He was…beautiful, and the fact that Eric couldn’t see him any other way now disturbed him, but fuck, if he didn’t want to fuck him now, so badly. Now he was just jealous of Jae more than anything. “Oh fuck, that’s so hot…” he groaned, moaning around his cigar and rubbing his crotch. Jae watched Eric, sizing him up. He didn’t want competition–what had he done? Maybe if he could make Eric like him too…

“Alright,” Jae said, “I’m going to age 20 years then.”

“Eric turned to him, “What? No!” but it was too late. Jae, at 32, quickly aged to 52, just past the threshold of Eric’s compulsive attraction, and suddenly here he was with two beautiful old men, and he was getting younger. Looking down, he lost ten of the twenty years he’d just gained, falling back to 27–a young adult, but half the age of his father and grandfather.

No! No, that was wrong, he wasn’t related to these fat dirty fucks, he wasn’t! But he had been lusting after his dad forever, hadn’t he? Especially now that he was greying and balding more heavily, the two of them would spend afternoons just watching porn together, and Eric always ended up riding his dad’s cock. His dad wanted him bigger though, Jae liked his men big. His stomach gave a grumble, and started to expand, his hairy body blimping out until he was over three hundred as well. Fuck he was hungry, and his dad was massaging his cock like he wanted him.

“Boy, get over here,” Jae said, “Your grandpa’s leaking again–take care of it, would you?”

“Sure Pa,” Eric said, happy to help. He got down in front of his dumb, fat grandpa, dug around for his cock and started sucking, and then his dad got down behind him and shoved his fingers in his fat hole, making Eric squeal a bit.

“Yeah boy, that’s so hot, I love watching you two fat pigs go down on each other,” Jae said, “You want my cock son? You want me to fuck this dirty shit chute of yours?”

Jae didn’t wait for a response–he knew what his boy wanted, and he fucked him rough and quick–he was too horny to make it long, and he managed to cum twice before Al gave a dull moan and shot his load across his grandson’s bearded face. Eric got up, feeling a shadow of humiliation, though he didn’t know why exactly, and then returned to his seat.

“Well son? It’s your turn, draw a card.”

Eric gulped, and drew a card, placing it on the table, and then read it.

~~Key Holder~~

The person who drew the card is the key holder. Of the following options, the key holder gets none, one other player will receive two options, and the last player will receive one.

Chastity device – The player may only cum with the key holder’s permission.
Fist mitts and muzzle – player can be compelled to behave like a dog at the will of the keyholder.
Butt plug – Player can get hard if and only if they are being fucked. The buttplug can only be inserted or removed by the keyholder.

Eric looked at his daddy, a look of confusion at his luck to draw such a card. As soon as control was taken away from him, he had the option of getting it back. Daddy Jae looked his boy in the eyes, still filled with hungry abandon, but was ready for anything that might happen.

“Pa, I have to do what the card says, right?”

“Seems so. You better not fuck this up, boy.” Jae scowled at his good-for-nothing son, drawing such a terrible turn-around card. Allister had no regrets, taking in deep whiffs of his old daddy-pits and rubbing the leftover cum from his last orgasm into his rolls, awaiting the next terrible fate to befall him. “You got your ol’ grandpa worked up for more, so just choose already.”

“Uh, alright, I-…Pa, you like being a top dog, right? A real alpha…”

“You son of a bitch! Give me the Butt-Plug!”

“Son of a bitch, eh? Not helping your case here, Dad… Let’s give you the Mitts and Muzzle,” Eric stifled a grin, watching the black mitts encase his Daddy’s hands. Jae’s fingers pulled in tight and curled into fists inside, unable to move freely from the hand. The wrists wrapped securely with a thick leather strap, fastened with a shiny buckle. Around his balding head, Jae felt the muzzle materialize and cover his nose and mouth- even his ears. He caught his reflection in the mirror across the room, seeing the muzzle as somewhat of a hood, with floppy rubber ears atop his scalp. He shook, trying to break free of his muzzle, but only jostled his brain around a bit. He felt fuzzy, anger lingering and unable to stand. He was at least able to breathe, the muzzle broken in the middle with a fake dog-tongue and a nice opening for inserting a juicy cock.

“Aww, who’s a sexy fuck-puppy??” Eric teased, watching Jae’s anger slip away from his face. A rush of euphoria came in waves through his old body at being called a puppy. The humiliation, the shame, it all translated to pure sex. His mitted hands started toying with his never-ending-erection, trying to grip it as best as possible. In his state, he couldn’t form words. Only whimpers and the frustrated fussing of a horny puppy.

“Cute puppy!” Al stated dumbly, watching his son degrade himself and hump his mitts. He couldn’t resist reaching out to scratch the puppy’s head. Eric almost couldn’t stop himself from laughing out. He was still a sexy old fucker, but he made such a wonderful pet. He’d have to take care of his bad habit, though.

“Now now, Pa. We can’t have a horn-dog like you messing the house. I’m going to give you the Chastity Device, too.”

Jae would have struggled, or protested, but he had to obey the key holder. For the first time since his obsession with sex and masturbation had started, his cock softened, and shrunk into a too-tight chastity device. He whimpered louder, pawing at his dick, and watched the drips of pre leak from the opening in the clear shell. Al was intrigued, reaching down to jostle the sealed crotch, and watched the puppy squirm.

“That leaves you, Grandpa. You get the Butt Plug.” Eric pointed at Al, and watched the slob gain an expression of discomfort. A searing pain pierced his backside, a phantom length driving into his rectum. His greasy fat jiggled and he struggled to reach under himself, finding a hard material poking from between his cavernous cheeks. Eric looked over the table to see clear pink object peeking out, very thick and nearly splitting the old fart in two. “Yeah, old fucks like you need SOMETHING to keep them hard, right Gramps? Why not a rubber man hose to keep you satisfied?”

Al felt the pain starting to turn as he jiggled the foreign object in his ass. Each little vibration made his pudgy dick throb and squirt more fluids under his draping stomach. He never felt so hard in his 72 years of age. He pushed grimy hands under his sagging belly and gripped what he could find of himself, spreading his musky pre into his thighs and slightly bouncing on the artificial cock. Jae was frisky, and annoyed with the attention pulled away from him. He brought his “paws” to his chest, and made begging noises towards his son.

“Puppy feeling lonely? Come on boy, here’s a bone for ya!” Eric pulled his hairy cock from his pants, flaunting it under the table. Jae was quick to retreat underneath the game and crawl on his mitts and knees to his new Owner. Just as the muzzle was supposed to, it allowed Eric’s manhood to slip easily inside. The fake rubber tongue massaged the length, but it certainly didn’t feel as good as his Puppy-Pa’s actual tongue and mouth pleasuring him. Grasping the floppy ears, he skull-fucked the puppy and until he shot thick ropes down Jae’s throat.

The puppy cringed, tasting the tang of tobacco and nicotine on his Master. He couldn’t love it any less, wagging his bare ass and showing obvious joy in obeying. Eric ruffled his receding hair, feeling a sense of pride at owning such an obedient pup. “I think it’s your turn, Big Pa. Flip that card!” Eric had to control the urge to order him around too much, still lusting after the aging slob.

Al was only able to pull his hand away from his cock, still pulling the dildo in and out of his ass, and flipped the card:

~~Auction~~

Each player must put in a bid. This number represents the number of years they are willing to regress, and IQ points they are willing to lose. No one’s age may drop below 17.

The winner of the auction becomes the new key holder after paying their bid. If they were already the key holder, nothing happens. If a new key holder is chosen, they may reassign the gear according to their desires.
The second highest bid gains a number of pounds equal to their bid times five.
The lowest bid receives a previous change of which affected the winner. The winner is no longer affected by that change.

The card started counting down from a minute, the letters swirling as the seconds passed, and each player, to the best of their abilities, came up with a bid that they thought they could manage to pay, and when the card reached zero, it went blank for a moment. They weren’t sure if they were just supposed to say their bids out loud, but the card revealed the first result for them: The second highest bidder was Al, with 47 points. He will gain 235 pounds.

Al watched in horror as his already massive frame started to bloat even further. He had already crested 500 pounds after aging into his seventies, but as he watched, his bulbous gut pushed forward ever further, angry red stretch marks covering his body as it did. The gut pushed his thighs apart, so he was forced to splay them wide, but he didn’t even know if he had the energy to stand, much the less fuck himself. Still, he found that he was able to rock back and forth well enough on the dildo, and his mass of fat actually pressed in on his cock. It felt–surprisingly good, and he soon zoned out, focusing more on his ass than on the cards.

Of course, Eric and Jae knew their bids, and knew their fates before the card even revealed them next. Jae is the winner with a bid of 50. Pay your bid.

“I’ll pay 35 years of my age, and 15 points off my IQ,” Jae said in reply. He had a moment to regret the fact that he’d won–with his already low IQ he was going to be nearly as stupid as Al–who was, he realized, now his father as well as Eric’s. Still, he didn’t have much time to think about it, as his brain drained away. The only thing left, it seemed, was an endless repository of porn stars, sex acts, and the endless compulsion to fuck and masturbate. He drooled a little bit out of the muzzle, but it disappeared a moment later along with the chastity device, and he took the opportunity to jack his cock, cumming in a matter of seconds, relieved to be free again. His asshole older brother–he hated him for that, for making him his fucking pet. Well he’d show him.

“As the new, uh… key guy, I want Eric to have the puppy stuff, Pa to have the chastity device, and Eric can have the butt plug, too!”

Eric tried to object, but he didn’t get a word out before the muzzle wrapped his mouth, and his hands became encased in the mitts that he’d forced on his brother in the last round. He let out something that resembled more of a yip than a shout, when he felt the plug force it’s way into his ass. Looking over his shoulder, from where he was on his hands and knees now, he saw his tail there, and he gave it a wag, panting as he felt the thick, nine inch dildo it was attached to wiggle in his ass, his puppy cock leaking on the floor.

“‘N lastly, I want Eric to take that…that youth or experience point thing from me.”

Nothing happened for a moment, and the card swirled with ink. The game cannot regress you any younger. However, the game can still restore your IQ, and have both the age and IQ drop affect Eric. Is this fine with you?

“Yeah yeah, sure, whatever,” Jae said, “Just make him stupid would you? Whoa, hey, I can…kinda think again…” Jae felt the mental cloud hanging over him lift a bit. His head wasn’t working as well as it had at first, but it was certainly better than before, but his puppy, well, he was simply staring up at him dumbly, panting, wagging it’s dildo tail and whining at him. He had put on quite a few years as well, looking to be in his fifties now. He realized that he was now the son, and Eric his father, but he didn’t mind the change.

“What is it dad, do you need a fucking?”

From the look on Eric’s face, he did, but it was something else, too. He put a mitt up on the table and nudged his cigars, and kept whining.

“Oh, right. Well, how about I fuck you while you smoke, dad?”

Eric jumped up and down, barking, and presented his tail to Jae, who lit a cigar, shoved it in Eric’s muzzle, and then pulled out his tail and went to town. His dad’s hole was so loose, after being plugged up all the time, he loved it, and he creamed it three times in quick succession, before sliding the tail back in and returning to the table. Al, through it all, had just sat there dumbly, his cock now caged. He was starving, and the game had conjured a pile of junk food which he was slowly demolishing, his cock leaking the entire time into his gunt.

“Well, I suppose it’s my turn again, eh?” Jae said, flipping over the second to last card.

~~“What Are You Wearing?”~~

The drawer must choose one of the three options for each player.

The player now wears diapers 24/7. They generally act like a baby, even in public.
The player can only wear clothes made out of rubber or leather.
The player can only wear dirty laundry which has been worn by someone else.

Jae looked down at his puppy-father, still delightfully dumb and messing his legs and the floor with his doggy cum. He was already wearing some nice leather gear, so why let him have all the fun? “I’ll take the rubber and leather one. A pup has to match his owner, right?” The crusty tank he had been sporting nearly the entire game started to smooth out, the yellowing spots dissipating as it became a solid rubber tank. The white sheen glistened in the low light of the basement, and his erect nipples stuck straight through the material. He tweaked them, moaning as his shorts fell away, leaving a leather jock in its place. A solid silver zipper ran down the seam of the pouch, holding in his leaking cock. From there, his forearms became encased in leather bands with thick straps tying the ends closed. Atop his head, he felt a muir cap settle. The feeling was oh-so familiar, as if he’d worn it his entire life. His previous curse of never washing his clothes was still in-effect, and constant fuck sessions and perspiration from activity in his gear filled the room with stank.

Finally, his toes wiggled happily in a flawless pair of pitch-black boots with enormous rubber soles. He looked at his blob of a Grandpa, snickering, remembering the first time he’d dug through the sick old man’s closet and found the gear. Must have been from his younger days when he could play with the big boys.

Yeah, the big boys… “Hey, Big Pa, I think you should sport a fancy diaper, right? Relive some of that lost youth.” Al heard the tell-tale crinkle of the giant diaper forming around his fat form. It was uncanny that such a size of diaper existed, but he felt no different about it than his chastity device. Of course he wore a diaper! It went so well with his binky. He pulled from the remains of junk-food trash a pink rubber pacifier, plopping it in his drooling maw and suckled happily, settling his fat back against the creaking chair. So relaxing, so endearing to just give in to the old days. The younger bears loved cradling him in a reinforced sling, feeding him, and even changing his diaper after he messed himself.

“Nnngg…” Al started to struggled, shifting in his seat, and suddenly remember how much cola he had chugged down. Without another thought (if any remained), he felt the flood-gates open and the delightful warmth spread through him. His thighs were dripping, his crack quickly filling with musky liquid gold. He had been a good boy, relieving himself like that in front of the others. He wasn’t ashamed, not even as he poked his diaper and sloshed the contents around.

Jae wanted to be disgusted, he wanted to retch, but seeing his Grandpa regress so much only made his cock explode inside the jock. He reached under the strap to spread the cum around, only pulling it out to feed to his obedient pup.

“I guess that leaves the recycled clothing for you, boy.”

Eric slurped his Master’s hand clean before tilting his head in confusion, suddenly weighed down by a new sensation. His naked body was covered in the filthy clothes Jae was wearing before turning into the perfect Gear-stud. On top of that, a grimy jean-jacket from an unknown place. All Eric knew was how rank it smelled. He raised an arm to sniff the denim through his muzzle, gagging, but still leaking and needy from the very thought of soaking in someone else’s leftover attire. His feet (or back paws as he began to think of them) nestled into a pair of stiff dress socks.

Jae caught the pup’s attention, shoving his heavy boot into his dad’s balls. The force was subtle at first, slowly increasing, and making the obedient bitch whimper louder and more high-pitched. After spurting once more, dirtying the spotless boots, Jae compelled the pup to clean them right away. The muzzle could open enough for his tongue to reach the delicious leather, cleaning away the dirty globs while he savored the tang of cow-hide. In the same motion, Jae reached over to his Big Pa and squeezed the disgusting adult baby’s chastity cage through the diaper, forcing more piss to leak from between his legs as the pressure was reallocated.

Al could only suck harder on his binky, moaning, writhing, and relishing in the feeling of being so wet and turned on. If only his pudgy dick wasn’t encased as it was, he’d fill his diaper with another surprise.

Jae looked down at his hungry, eager slut-pup, and smirked. “It’s your turn, isn’t it? You able to draw, fuck-puppy? Eric whined and pawed at Jae’s cock with his mitts, barking in excitement. “Yeah, I guess I can draw for you. Be a good boy and hump Big Pa’s leg while I take of your turn.

~~Life Goes On~~

All three players will vote on their new lives. The one with the most votes will be carried out, and the game will end.

Daddy’s Den – Jae is the daddy of a bear bar, his father, Eric acting as his guard-dog and lover. Grandpa Al is a paid attraction for patrons of the bar to visit, babysit, and fuck as they please in a giant playroom in the back.
Hog Wild – The family become the heads of a travelling bike gang, with Jae as the leader. Eric will act as the gang’s fuck-toy, and Grandpa Al is the “trainer” for new recruits.

Like the auction prior, the three of them only had to think about their vote for the card to start writing again, giving each of their votes in turn. and the card started with Eric. Eric: Daddy’s Den. As much as Eric disliked Jae, he thought life would be a bit easier as a guard dog in a bar, than riding around all over the place. The card then added below that, Al: Hog Wild. As much as Al…enjoyed being a baby, he didn’t really find the idea of being a permanent attraction all that thrilling. That made it a tie, and the two of them turned to Jae, who smiled as the card added Jae: Daddy’s Den. He was happy to be 17 again–but to be honest, he’d liked how it had felt to be a bit older. He wasn’t sure how the cards would make him into a “Daddy” of course, but he was surprisingly eager to find out.

His question was answered soon enough–he felt his body start itching a bit as he furred up by an impressive margin–not as furry as his puppy Pa, of course–though Jae noticed that Eric’s hair was actually coming in thicker. In fact, by the time this was all finished, he wouldn’t have been surprised if his body ended up with as much hair as dog’s usually had. However, while Al and Eric remained massive fat–just how Jae liked them both–he was bulking up in a different way–muscles pushing out against his well worn leather gear. He realized he wasn’t actually aging a day over seventeen though, and he realized that ten years down the road, he was going to be an absolute beast, probably like his dad.

The room was vibrating now, at first just slow enough to make him seasick if he tried to keep an eye on it, but soon it was going by so fast it was just a blur, and then he was seated at a table in a moderately sized bar, and Al and Eric were nowhere to be found. Well, Eric was easy–his old dog was right where he’d left him, in the metal dog-house he’d built for his dad to live in. The bar was actually his, but Jae was taking over for him. He’d progressed far enough in his obedience classes that he was ready and eager to live as Jae’s dog full time now, and he couldn’t be more excited. Collared and wearing his master’s filthy cast off clothing, Eric padded out in his mitts, muzzle and collar, picked up a massive dildo in his mouth and crawled over to Jae, setting it down in front of him, whimpering.

“I know you want to play Eric, but I gotta get the bar ready for tonight.”

Eric barked, but Jae just stared him down, and a bit downtrodden and disappointed, he picked up his dildo and padded back over to his doghouse where he laid down in a bit of a huff.

Jae could still remember a bit of what had happened to all of them, but it was fading rather quick, becoming more like a dream than his actual life. He stood up from the table when he heard someone start crying, and he stepped into a back room which had been completely redecorated into a nursery, where in a massive playpen, Al was sitting on his fat ass, bawling his eyes out.

“I know you need your diaper changed Al, but you have to wait. I have you rented out to a biker gang tonight, and they want you dirty tonight–it’s in the agreement,” Jae said, and then he pulled a massive baby bottle over and handed it to his grandpa, “here, drink your gainer shake, it’ll make you feel better.”

He hefted up the bottle and shoved it in Al’s mouth, and the massive man started suckling on it, his eyes dulling and glazing over as he drank down the fattening shake from his grandson. Figuring that would probably keep him occupied, and that the laxatives he’d added would make sure the bikers would be having plenty of fun later, he went out and started setting up for happy hour, but Eric wouldn’t stop whining and looking at him in despair. He checked the clock and gave a sigh–he did need to play with his dog, he hadn’t fucked him all day, and he knew how Eric got when he hadn’t had a load of his master’s cum up his ass in a while. “Alright, alright boy, I’m coming!” Jae said, and Eric started jumping and woofing, before turning around and presenting his ass for his son. Sure, it wasn’t exactly easy owning two slaves and running a bar at 17, but Jae realized as he fucked his dad’s sloppy hole, listening to him yip and yowl, that there wasn’t anything else in the world he’d rather be doing.

Identity Crises Part 2

Commissioned by Scot158f

***WARNING*** This has been pretty cleanish up until now, but it’s only going to get worse from here. In this section: inanimate TF (smoke related), farting, and scat.

Terry watched the eight foot tall man tromp down the stairs, his hair mostly grey, a massive, tangled beard stretching all the way down to his belly button, the rest of his body covered in grey hairs as well. He had a massive, taut get, but the rest of his body was packed full of muscle…and as he came downstairs, Terry caught a whiff of his daddy’s musk and felt a shiver and moan rip through him. He loved how his daddy smelled after one of daily workouts, it was the best.

“Hey son,” Caleb asked, “Whatcha watchin’?”

“Just cartoons,” Terry said, and he looked at the TV, a bit surprised. Sure, he was a teenager, but he still liked watching them, right? Then why had he expected it to be some show about food? It was strange, that was for sure. “Are you done with your workout?”

“Sure am–nice and musky, just how you like me, boy. You want my jock?”

“Aww hell yeah dad,” Terry said, “You know I’ll never turn down your stinking jockstrap.”

“Heh, well, I’ll trade you my sweaty jock for a smoke, boy. Get ready, would ya?”

“Sure thing!” Terry said, and got out of the recliner, but his body just felt odd. He was chubby, like always, but shouldn’t he be…well, fatter? And something about his cock and balls, they were…heavy for some reason, and…hard? He reached down out of curiosity, and peered over his small, soft gut and just gaped at his cock and balls–his cigar and pipes, he meant, of course. He didn’t have a cock and balls like his dad…which was…weird, right? Instead he just had a cigar jutting out from his crotch–a long one, almost nine inches, and below that, swinging heavily and clacking into each other, two massive pipes…but that was how things had always been right?

No…No this was too much. This was all too much, and he pushed back against the wave in his mind, but it was too hard, too all encompassing. He knew this was wrong, that this wasn’t how things should be. He didn’t live with his daddy…he…he was the daddy. And he had a normal cock, and it was small, or was it big? And he’d been–fatter? Thinner? More muscular? But older, definitely older.

“Boy, get smokin’–I ain’t got all night,” Caleb said from where he was sitting in his chair, and Terry blushed, rushing over to his smoking stuff, his worries forgotten in the sudden fear that he might disappoint his dad somehow. He walked over and started packing his pipes full of tobacco, the sensation of the wood and briar both familiar and…so strange. Would it hurt…when he lit his pipes and his cigar? Of course not, it had never hurt before, right? But how would he know–he’d never done this before, but if he’d never done this before, how was he packing his pipes so well, and so evenly, tamping the tobacco down carefully, making sure he could pull an even draw from his lungs once he’d lit them? Still trying to understand what was happening, he walked over to where his dad was lounging back, his jockstrap off, his ten inch cock erect in the air, and before Terry even realized what was happening, his dad had picked him up–all of him, and was dropping him down on his cock. He opened his ass like he’d been trained to, letting all ten inches slide up his ass, making him shiver, and as it did, he saw his cigar grow a bit, like it always did when he was horny.

“Oh fuck dad, that feels so good…” Terry moaned.

“Oh yeah? Well go ahead and smell this jock of mine, and tell me what you think,” he said, and pressed the wet mesh into his son’s face, watching him take it in his mouth and suck some of the sweaty grime off of it, the boy’s cigar cock growing a bit longer still, now about a foot in length, jutting up between them. “Yeah, that’s it–now how about we get you lit?”

Caleb picked up a big zippo off the table next to him, and started with his son’s cigar cock, lighting the end until it had a bright red tip, and then worked on his bowls, the smoke already pouring out of his son’s mouth by the time he had them both lit–and then he locked lips with Terry, the jock caught between them, and he inhaled, drawing the smoke up through his son’s body and into his own through the mesh, cigar burning bright orange as he sucked it down, and the same with his boy’s pipes.

“Mmmm…” Caleb said, when he finally pulled away, “Now that’s a nice smoke.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Terry said, “Your jock isn’t so bad either.”

Caleb laughed, and pulled his son close, taking one of his son’s meaty nipples between his teeth and sucking more smoke out through that, feeling his son gasp and clench his big cock with his ass, and he took a moment to admire his boy’s body. He was growing up to be a beautiful cub–not a furry or muscular as his dad, but with a nice chubby gut and moobs, and a hot set of junk, which Caleb used at every opportunity. He leaned in and took another drag off his son’s other nipple, chewing on his nipple a bit and making Terry groan, before exhaling the smoke into Terry’s mouth, filling him to the brim with it.

They stayed like that for a long while, Terry impaled on his dad’s cock the entire time. Caleb would take a long drag off his son’s cock, and relax back, letting his son spend a few minutes cleaning off his sweaty body, the heat of the pipes and cigar resting between them. As Terry’s cock burned down further and further, Caleb started spitting into his hand, lubing it up with the cooling ash and spreading it up and down his body and his cub’s, streaking them both black, and then Terry would lick it off, hungry for the smoke and anything it made. As horny as Terry was though, his cigar cock couldn’t grow as fast as his dad smoked it, but he did his best to keep it as big as he could.

As his daddy smoked him down, the worries and concerns which Terry had been wrestling with seemed to diminish slowly. This–this here–was important, not those imagined things. Being smoked by his dad, fucked on his massive cock, cleaning off his sweaty body like a good boy–those are what mattered more than anything else in the whole world. His dad was getting more and more excited, and started working his cock around in his ass, and then he wrapped his massive hands under his armpits and started fucking Terry up and down on his massive cock. The sensation of being powerless in the hands of his daddy–it was turning him on so much, his cigar was growing almost as fast as it was burning, and smoke was pouring out of his mouth and tits now. “Oh fuck dad, oh fuck! Fill me up, pump your boy full of your daddy seed!” Terry moaned.

“Oh yeah boy, burn that fuckin’ cigar down–I don’t want anything left but a fucking nub!”

With a shudder, Terry came, smoke gouting out of his mouth, and Caleb locked lips with him, inhaling as much of it as he could, his son’s sweet smoke pushing his own cock over the edge, and he pumped his load into Terry’s hole, his ass milking him as dry as he could, the cigar, now less than an inch long, burning out between their bodies, the pipes below empty as well. Still, Caleb took a few moments to suck his son dry, getting as much smoke out of him as he could, and then he let Terry pull himself up off his softening cock, and get down.

“Thanks son, that was a real nice smoke,” Caleb said, and then hefted himself up off the chair, and stretched. “Damn, I think I’m too old for this,” he said with a chuckle.

“Ha, you’ll never be too old for me,” Terry said, and gave him a hug. He only came up to his massive dad’s chest, but when the big man wrapped his arms around him too, he’d never felt so safe and secure in his whole life, especially since his wife had left him.

Wife? Wait…no, his…mom?

When Terry pulled away, he realized he didn’t know if he had a mom, and he looked up at his dad, and asked, “Dad, who…who was my Mom? I don’t…” The look of surprise that crossed his dad’s face seemed strange to Terry, almost like he hadn’t even been expecting the question. And why would he, really? It was a stupid question, wasn’t it? He just…didn’t have a mom. That was normal, wasn’t it? “I–I’m sorry, just forget I asked.”

“No! No, uh…don’t worry about it. Look, I have to go do something upstairs for a bit, but then I’ll come back down, and we can talk about it, alright? Why don’t you just get your pipes cleaned out?”

“Sure, dad,” Terry said, and blushed as his dad’s big hand tousled his hair.

The big man tromped off and squeezed his way up the stairs, and Terry thought he heard him say something as he left, “Man, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a dad–that was way harder than I thought. Being old kind of sucks–I don’t know how he does it. Still, it’s better than being a teenager.”

Terry just watched him go, wondering what in the world he was talking about. But those creeping doubts came back, and when he reached down and knocked the last bit of ash from his cigar, and worried for a minute that he’d destroyed his cock–but that was silly. All he had to do was get horny, and it would grow back, like always. Always–had it always been like this? Had he always been a teenager, with his big manly dad? With pipes and cigars where his cock and balls ought to be?

It took Terry a second to realize that he was having a panic attack–nearly hyperventilating–and all he wanted to do was run upstairs and find his daddy and make sure everything was ok, but he got a grip on himself, and walked over to his smoke gear, and focused on cleaning himself out, knocking the ash out of the bowls of his pipes, before running big pipe cleaners through them, shivering a bit. He wished he wasn’t so ticklish, but it just felt so strange, running the fuzzy wires up his pipes. It took quite a while for him to get it all clean, and he was just about done with his second pipe, when he heard his dad coming back downstairs. Good, maybe they could talk–Terry had…some questions for him, and he really wanted some answers.

The reality wave hit him again as his son turned the corner, but he barely even noticed it. One second he was cleaning out one of the big pipes stuck to his crotch, and then the next he had the pipe up in his hand. The sudden shift caught him off guard, and he just stared at it for a second, then at himself. Hell, he was normal sized–he wasn’t a short cub anymore–in fact, he seemed to be about seven feet tall now, and the sudden vertigo caught him off guard, as he wobbled a bit, rebalancing to counterbalance his massive gut with his fat ass. Wait, he was fat again? Wait, fat…again? And a cub?

It had happened again, he was sure of it now–things were changing, but how? Why? He looked down at himself, but everything seemed right…didn’t it? The brief moment of clarity was already gone, and he couldn’t hold onto any of what had just happened–this was how he’d always looked. His massive gut ganging down past his waist, several inches falling down below the food and ash stained wife beater he wore all the time, and he reached around and gave his ass crack a good scratch where it popped up over the top of his ratty boxers, and then itched one of his hairy pits for good measure. What had he been thinking about again? He shrugged his shoulders and went back to packing his pipe, and as he did, let off a big belch.

“Hot damn Pa, that was a good one. Taste as good comin’ up as it did going down?” Caleb asked, picking a cigar out of a humidor, before biting off the end and lighting it up.

“Ha, sure as hell did,” Terry said, and then looked a bit puzzled, when he heard the deep twang of his own voice, “What in tarnation…” he muttered, trying to figure out what had happened to his voice.

“What’s up, Pa?”

His son had it too, but he hadn’t noticed…but why should he have? It was normal for a son to talk like his Pa, right? Where else would he have picked it up? “Nah, nothin’, just bein’ thick I guess. Ya know yer Pa, I ain’t too bright.”

“Ha, that’s alright, ‘cause yer damn sexy,” Caleb said, taking a deep drag off his cigar.

Terry went back to packing his pipe, and tried to remember what had been bothering him, but couldn’t find it. His head just wasn’t quite working fast enough to keep up with what was going on, but hell, it didn’t matter–he was just horny! He lit his pipe still chuckling, when he let loose a loud, wet fart that surprised both he and Caleb. “Well damn,” he said, “Guess it needs tah come outa both ends, eh son?”

“Sounds like it,” Caleb said, walking over and wrapping his big arms around his Pa and taking a deep sniff of the air. “Damn, it’s a hot, stinky one too–I fuckin’ love those.”

His son still was the same size as his dad had been–wait, his dad? No, he was…well he was big, that was all that mattered. Big, and hairy, and musky…Terry growled low and started grinding his big ass into his son’s legs–feeling the bulge of his son’s cock pressing into his flabby back, as Caleb grabbed both his flabby tits in his massive hands and started squeezing them. His boy wasn’t relly a “boy” anymore, Terry knew. Hell, he hadn’t been a boy in years now. At 27, he was one hot bear, and Terry was just happy to have him in his life. They’d been fucking for so long Terry didn’t think they would ever be apart–he could still remember their first fuck on his son’s eighteenth birthday–that had been one special fucking day. He was so happy to have a son as gay as he was. He reached around and gripped his son’s beard–he was too short to reach much else, and pulled him closer. “Ah fuck son, ya sure know how tah git yer Pa ragin’ horny.”

“Oh yeah? Well ya know what I want Pa?” Caleb asked, “I want a taste a this big, fat ass of yours.” Caleb set his cigar off in a nearby ashtray and shoved his hand down the back of his dad’s boxers.

“Fuck…aww damn boy, ya sure? It’s pretty filthy back there…”

“Just how I like it,” Caleb said, yanking down the back getting down on his knees. He kneaded his dad’s wide ass a bit and then spread the cheeks and started rubbing his greasy, tangled beard up and down his dad’s crack, listening to the fat man moan. Terry leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall and spread his legs apart, still puffing on his pipe, giving Caleb better access to his crack, and felt his son’s tongue start cleaning out his sweaty crack, probing up his shithole, and he moaned, feeling his own large cock start pressing up against his gut.

Again, Terry found himself distracted. Big cock? He hadn’t had a very big cock last time he was this big? Last time? What last time? He’d always had a cock this size…right? Or had he…had he had a tiny cock before? No, he’d always had a cock this size, this big foot long cock. Yeah, a massive foot long cigar sticking out between his legs. How else was he supposed to fuck his son, with this big gut in the way? Yeah, he might not be smart, but he more than made up for it downstairs. Caleb sometimes joked that he did a better job of thinking with his cock than with his head, and he was probably right. Thinking with his cock was a whole lot more fun too.

“Aww yeah son, that feels so good…git that tongue up there.”

“Fuck dad, yer hole’s so fuckin’ nasty–I love it,” Caleb said, and he groped for his cigar, took a deep drag off of it, anf then locked lips with his dad’s hole, pumping his ass full of smoke, the warm air making Terry shiver. He did it a few more times, pumping Terry good and full, and then, when Terry couldn’t hold any more, he bore down, a loud, long, smoky fart streaming right into his son’s face, who inhaled as much of it as he could.

“Aw fuck…fuck that’s nice…” Terry said, smelling it himself, “Yer smoke gives me the best goddamn gas, boy.”

“Sure as fuck does, I fuckin’ can’t get enough of it.”

Terry grinned. “I know somethin’ else a pig like you can’ git enough of,” he said, and stood up, stepping out of his boxers and plopping down into his recliner, putting it up so his feet were level with his son’s face, “Go on, I know how much mah filthy feet turn ya on, boy.”

With Caleb on his knees in front of him, Terry was oddly struck by just how…big his son was. He was big, like…just really damn huge. Even on his knees, his face was still level with Terry where lounged in the recliner, and he had to hunch down to press his nose between his dad’s toes and take a good whiff of the nasty funk that had built up there. Wide too–his son was so big they’d had to keep building out the doorways as he grew up. Even now, he had to fit through them sideways, or else his shoulders would get stuck. It was lucky their house had ten foot ceilings, but he had the curious thought that his son still wasn’t done growing, even though he was probably one of the biggest men on the planet. He was definitely one of the hairiest too–his entire body was covered with curly brown body hair, which was usually matted down with sweat and grime, since he worked out close to eight hours a day. Still, Terry didn’t mind–he loved his sweaty, filthy boy, and when they went to bed, he’d usually give him a nice long tongue bath, before his son took his turn, licking the sweat from between his fatty rolls…

Terry groaned as Caleb ran his big tongue up the sole of his foot and then started sucking on his toes. In his recliner, Terry tensed up for a moment, and then let loose another fart, the stink wafting out right into his son’s face, and the look of desire that shot across it and he smirked. “God, I can’t believe I raised ya tah be such a damn stinkhound.”

“Well, yer so fuckin’ nasty dad, what else would I have grown up tah be?” Caleb said, “Hey dad, ya know, why don’t ya wear those big boots ayers fer the rest of the weekend? Even when yer fucking sleepin’? Then I can clean ‘em out and yer nasty feet too on Monday, after ya git home from work.”

Work. Where did he work again? Wasn’t it…wasn’t it doing like…cooking or a chef? No that wasn’t it, where in the hell had he gotten that idea? He was a forklift operator at a warehouse–sitting on his ass all day in the hot building–his son loved how nasty and sweaty he was after a long day of work, and his booted feet would be absolutely howling by the time he took them off. Just imagining his son sucking on his grimy feet after a long day of work was enough to raise his big cock to over half mast, and Caleb reached up and wrapped one hand around it, so he could worm a finger under his thick foreskin and collect the cheese, which he then smeared on Terry’s feet before licking away.

“Alright dad, I think yer good ‘n clean. I got somethin’ I wanna try though,” Caleb said, standing up to his full height, “Now don’t move, I want tah see if this’ll work.”

Terry watched as Caleb walked around to the side of the recliner, and then in one fluid motion, kicked his foot over so he was straddling the entire recliner, his ass towards his dad’s face. “What’cha doin’ boy?” was all Terry had time to ask before Caleb reached down and yanked on the lever, the chair ratcheting back and slamming Terry’s fat face between his son’s muscular, sweaty ass.

He didn’t have time to breathe, and as soon as he was firmly planted, Caleb let loose with a fart of his own right in Terry’s face, and he gulped it down, his ten inch cock now absolutely rigid, and Terry was lapping up the gunk from his son’s crack and probing down the hole with his tongue, listening to Caleb moan, relishing the sensation of being slammed up his son’s ass.

Then Caleb bent over at his waist, and Terry felt him start sucking on his cock, and the dual assault was enough to send shivers all over his body. It felt like his head just shut down, and all he could think about was how hot it was to clean out his boy’s crack while he got his big cock sucked off. The ten inch monster would have been rough for a normal person, but Caleb’s throat was as big as the rest of him, and he took it without a single gag. Terry waited until he had his face against the base of his cock before he let off another giant fart, listening to Caleb groan in stinky pleasure, and his son followed suit, sending him another fart of his own right into Terry’s face.

Terry was close, and Caleb could tell–his father’s big cock was gushing precum like it always did when he was about to shoot. Terry started to shake, his fat belly jiggling and shuddering as he came, burst after burst of jizz shooting into his son’s mouth, and he swallowed all of it down, and then when he finally relaxed, he let out another massive fart…except it wasn’t just a fart this time.

Terry felt the shit squirt out of his ass and squish between his cheeks as he tried to hold it back, but he wasn’t able to do anything about it, because he was still trapped between the chair and his son’s ass. He groped for the lever and was able to push himself back so he was free, and Caleb unstraddled himself from the recliner, and then took a sniff and said, “Damn that one was stinkier than usual.”

Terry just blushed, and without saying anything, raised the recliner back up and hefted himself out of the chair, and when Caleb saw the brown streak on the chair, he realized what must have happened, and he just looked shocked. Terry didn’t notice, he had waddled off immediately, unable to believe he’d lost control like that, and hurried into the downstairs bathroom, where he lumbered over and sat down on the toilet, unable to believe he’d just shat all over his favorite chair. The same damn chair his dad had fucked him on, and smoked his cigar cock…right?

Terry tried to figure out where that memory had come from, but he just couldn’t. It didn’t make any sense at all. I mean…Caleb had been…his dad? And he’d had a cigar and pipe…

His head was hurting, but instead of retreating, he pushed in further, trying to separate out what had happened to him over the last few hours. He could…remember cooking dinner, but his son hadn’t been as big, and fatter. And before that, upstairs, hadn’t they…fucked? But none of those things actually seemed real–what was real was his massive, hairy and filthy redneck son, and he, his fat, sweaty equally filthy redneck dad…right?

He did his best to wipe his ass, but gave up pretty quick–he was just too big to reach around well enough, and why was he so embarrassed by what had happened? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d shat himself on accident–he and his son were trading farts so often that things had a way of slipping out on occasion, he thought with a chuckle. But then why couldn’t he ever remember doing it in the past?

“Hey Pa,” Caleb said, knocking on the bathroom door, “You alright in there?”

“Yeah,” Terry said, jus’ cleanin up.”

“Oh…” Caleb said, and after a pause said, “You…you uh, need any help?”

“No Caleb, I got it,” Terry said.

Then, the bathroom door opened anyway, and Caleb was there in the doorway, a grin on his face that Terry didn’t like the look of…and a massive hard on sticking straight towards Terry. “You sure? I think I know how to help out.”

Before Terry could do anything, Caleb had grabbed him by his fat gut, swung him around, and bent him over the bathroom counter, before slamming his cock up his dad’s ass. “Caleb! What the fuck, I’m not in the fuckin’ mood boy!”

Caleb, however, wasn’t listening, he was just fucking, and from the look on his face…he was down right enjoying the sensation of fucking his dad’s still shitty hole, and all Terry could feel was..disgust. “Caleb! Caleb, get the fuck off of me!” He screamed, and shoved himself back against his big brute of a son, who stumbled back, his shitty cock coming free of his dad’s hole.

“What the hell dad? What the fuck’s up with ya?”

“I fuckin’ said no, boy!” Terry hollered, “Now git up in yer goddamn room!”

“Why the fuck should I?” Caleb shouted back, “You’re not the fuckin’ boss a me!”

“I am yer father, boy, ‘n if I git anymore fuckin’ lip from you, yer gonna fuckin’ regret it.”

The two men glared at each other for a moment, before Caleb relented, and left the bathroom, squeezing his way up the staircases to his room, and slamming the door behind him, and then Terry let himself collapse to the floor. He honestly hadn’t expected him to stop–and Terry knew that his son was big enough that if he’d really wanted to keep going–he would have. Fuck, Caleb hadn’t always been like that, what happened to the sweet chubby loner he’d been when he was a teenager? Now, he was this hulk in his mid-twenties, still living with his dad–he needed a damn job, and a life!

Something he’d thought stuck out to Terry though–Caleb hadn’t been a chubby teenager–he hadn’t been chubby ever in his life. But still, he had a…clearish image of a son–his son, sweet hairless face, pudgy body, on the short side…but he couldn’t actually say when the image was from, because…well, it had never happened, right?

No, it had happened–it must have. But when? Again, Terry found himself looking through these impossibly tinted glass walls at the edge of his vision, like if he could turn his head fast enough and squint, he’d see something different, some other reality than his own, just as real as his…but impossible to access. But this wasn’t really right was it? He hadn’t always been this fat, filthy redneck, had he? Fuck, he needed a smoke. He got up and returned to where he’d set his pipe, finding it had gone out, and he relit it. He didn’t sit in the recliner, but just paced the room, puffing his pipe, wondering what to do about Caleb.

They needed to set boundaries–he needed to reassert himself as the father here. Sure, he loved having sex with his son–of course he did, but if he said no…well, Caleb had to respect that. There just weren’t any ifs, ands, or buts about that. And he needed to get a job–no more working out all day every day. And he needed to start picking up after himself, he figured, looking around at the cluttered den–the place was a sty. Sure, neither he nor Caleb were the cleanest guys on the planet–hell, hardly so–but they could still make an effort to improve. He smoked the rest of his pipe down, and then cleaned it out. He’d let Caleb sweat it out enough by now, he figured. Hopefully he’d had a chance to jack off, think about what he did, and realize what he’d done wrong, and they could have a conversation like real men, instead of a tantrum or argument.

He set his pipe back up on the rack, and then sighed, letting out a big belch. There wasn’t any use putting it off any longer. He hefted himself up the two staircases, pausing at the top of the second to catch his breath, before heading to his son’s room, and knocking. “Caleb, are ya in there? I’d like tah have a talk wit’ ya.”

“Sure thing dad, come on in.”

To Be Continued

Identity Crises (Part 1)

Commissioned by Scot158f

Down in the den, Terry heard the front door open, and his son Caleb call out, “Dad! I’m home!”

“Hey Caleb,” he called back, “I’m down in the den,” His son appeared at the top of the stairs in the kitchen with his backpack, looking down at his dad lounging in his recliner, relaxing on his Saturday. “How was the mall?”

“Oh, good–you know, just hanging out with some friends…nothing too big.”

“Sounds good. You want dinner soon? I can order some pizza or something.”

“Nah, I’m not really hungry right now. I’m gonna go upstairs for a bit.”

Terry raised an eyebrow and shrugged, but Caleb didn’t see–he had already bounded off and up the stairs to his bedroom, and Terry knew something was up. Caleb was always hungry–hell, the kid was fat, though Terry wasn’t exactly one to talk–he was plenty big himself, and only seemed to get bigger these days. He sighed, knowing that the pretty constant diet of pizza and soda was the main culprit for them both–he’d never been a very good cook, and ever since Fran had left–

No, he didn’t want to think about that right now. The wounds were still a bit too fresh, even after all these years, when she’d run off with some other man and left him alone with Caleb. It had been hard, raising a teenager all by himself, but he was a good kid–still, Terry knew his son was lying about something. He didn’t have any friends for one thing, or at least no friends Terry had seen over at their house, and he knew Caleb hated the mall. He’d obviously been out somewhere, but where, and with who? His son was keeping secrets, and Terry wasn’t sure whether to try and pry them away, or let Caleb have his private life. He was seventeen after all–old enough that he could make his own mistakes, but Terry still worried about him–how could he not? Dads worried about their sons–it was natural. Still, he needed to talk to Caleb about something else too, he just wasn’t sure how to broach the subject yet, which made it worse.

A couple weeks earlier, while he’d been digging through Caleb’s clothes, putting together a load of laundry, he’d jostled his son’s computer by accident, and seen that Caleb had left it on–and the site on the screen had shocked him a bit. He’d expected his son to have discovered porn by now–hell, he’d had quite the stash of pilfered magazines by the time he was seventeen, but the site wasn’t what he’d expected, and it had taken him some research one night to understand what exactly gay bears were, and what a chub was.

Now Terry didn’t have any real problem with his son being gay–he didn’t understand it, that was for sure, but he was still going to love him just the same. Mostly, he wanted to make sure that Caleb knew that he could talk to him about anything–and the fact that Caleb hadn’t talked to him about it at all worried him more than anything. But how exactly was he supposed to broach the subject now? “Hey son, I accidentally got a look at the porn sites you’ve been looking at–funny how the guys you’re jacking off to kind of look like your dad, eh?” For some reason, he didn’t think that would go over very well with his teenage son.

The show he was watching came to an end, and he decided that even if Caleb wasn’t hungry, he was–so he was going to go ask him what he’d like for dinner. He hefted himself up the first flight of stairs and into the kitchen, angry that he’d let himself go. He’d been quite the looker back in the day, but since Fran had left, he’d slacked off big time. He was afraid to weigh himself, but the last time he’d gone to the doctor, he’d been nearly three hundred pounds, and he was fairly certain that he’d gone past that point of no return by now, and unlike his son, he didn’t really find being this size all that attractive. He hefted himself up the second flight to the bedrooms and down the hall to his son’s room at the end, where the door was shut. He gave it a knock, and immediately his son called out, a bit panicked, “Hang on a sec!”

Terry rolled his eyes–great, and now he’d probably interrupted him masturbating. He gave him a few seconds to get himself together and change the screen, and then opened the door–only to run right smack into–something. It was the strangest sensation, like he was at the ocean, and a massive wave was rolling over and through him, but while he felt the pressure of it, it didn’t push him back–it just folded itself around him, and for a second he was encased in something that felt like a crush of air, but it wasn’t air–it was like reality itself was bending around him, pulling him into it, and then it eased away, leaving him trying to catch his breath right inside his son’s room. Only an instant had passed, the amount of time it took him to open the door and step into the room, but it had felt like ages. He blinked a few times, sorting himself out, and then looked up and saw his son at his computer.

No, it wasn’t his son, it was a stranger. No, it was his son, of course it was his son, it was just, his son didn’t look like his son…should? His head hurt, like he had too many brains trying to occupy the same space, and he let out a grunt. No, it was his son–of course it was. Why had he thought otherwise? He just felt so…weird, all of a sudden. He looked over at where his son sat at the computer wearing a tanktop and boxers like he always did, but even though he knew it was his son, it was almost like he was looking at someone completely new. In his memory, he almost remembered his son as being pudgy, probably over two hundred and fifty pounds, well on his way to where he was at three hundred, but now…well, his son was still chubby, sure, but most of the mass packed on his frame was muscle. He almost had the look of a power lifter, thick arms and legs with a tight gut, but on top of that, his son was hairy. Terry was relatively smooth himself–he couldn’t even grow a very good beard–but his son, well, hirsute was nearly an understatement. His arms were covered all the way down to his palms, he had a thicket emerging from the top of his low collar, which crawled up his neck to join the thick, half inch long beard covering his face. When Caleb reached up to scratch his armpit, he saw it was equally dense there as well. It took him a second to break his gaze, when he finally realized that his son was talking to him.

“Dad? Hey, you alright?”

Terry shook his head, still trying to sort everything out, but his head seemed to be settling down a bit. “yeah, yeah–sorry, I guess I just, uh, spaced out there for a second. Um, I…what did I come up here for?”

He scratched his head, but couldn’t remember. He’d been down in the den, thinking about…about that bear site he’d found…but he hadn’t actually come up here to talk about that, had he? There had to have been something else…but he supposed there was no time like the present. “Look, do you have a few minutes, Caleb? There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Sure dad, what is it?” Caleb asked, spinning his chair around to where his dad took a seat on his bed, and Terry saw that something else was new too–his son’s crotch was bulging–hell, the gaps in his buttoned boxers were straining to hold it in, and for some reason, Terry couldn’t take his eyes off it…and his cock was getting hard. He shook his head–what was he doing? His son was hot, sure, but that was just wrong. “Look, I was in here the other day, picking up your gym clothes for the laundry, when I accidentally knocked your computer. You’d left it on, but the screen lit up, and I saw…well…I saw the kind of porn you were looking at, son, and I just wanted you to know that I love you no matter what, and if you want to talk about it, I’m here, alright?”

He’d expected his son to blush, or yell at him, or run from the room, but what he didn’t expect was Caleb to raise one eyebrow and smirk a bit, “Talk about what? That I’m gay? Dad, you’ve known I was gay for years–I told you when I was thirteen.”

“Yeah, I know, but…wait…” Terry said, “I…no you didn’t…”

“Yeah I did. You were downstairs, and I came home, and I told you in a rush, and then you told me you were gay too–as for bears, hell, most of the sites I browse I got from you anyway,” he said with a smile, and Terry just gaped at him.

But it was true, it was all true. How could he have forgotten that? Still everything his son had just said, it just felt so…wrong. He wasn’t gay, he’d always liked girls, but then why was it that the only porn he could remember looking at all these years was men–bears and chubs in particular. Hell, no wonder he was so attracted to his son–he was fucking handsome as fuck, but he couldn’t cross that line–he knew that.

“Are you sure there wasn’t something else you wanted to talk to me about, dad?” Caleb asked, leaning back, one hand drifting down and squeezing his crotch, “You haven’t taken your eyes off it since you sat down you know.”

“Caleb, look, you know how I feel, but I’m your dad, alright? I just…I came up to ask you what you wanted for dinner.”

“Fuck dinner,” Caleb said, and leaned forward, giving Terry a deep kiss, pushing his dad over and climbing onto him, pinning his hands to the mattress as they kissed. Terry fought him for a moment or two, then just sighed and enjoyed the feeling of his son kissing him, of his son’s beard on his own stubbly cheeks, and he ground his crotch against Caleb’s, and he was so fucking horny he could barely stand it. “Fuck dad, I’ve wanted you for so fucking long, I can’t wait anymore,” Caleb said, pulling away, reaching down the front of his dad’s boxers and pulling out his cock, “Now I want a taste of this cock of yours.”

“Caleb, no–we can’t…” Terry started to say, but his protests dissolved into groans as soon as his son swallowed his cock to the hilt in one fell swoop, and he struggled to keep up with what was going on. He’d just come up to ask about dinner, hadn’t he? Or had he come up because he’d finally decided to go all the way with his son? Had he always been gay, and if he had, then what about Fran? The name was there, and yet all of the memories which should have been attached to it weren’t. Fran was just some hooker he’d had sex with on a drunken dare, and when Caleb had been left on his doorstep all those years ago, he’d raised him happily. He was thankful his son was gay too, actually–plus he’d apparently been practicing, because he was giving Terry one of the best blowjobs he’d ever gotten…but still, this was wrong. It almost hurt him physically to do it, but he pushed his son away and crawled back up the bed away from him. “Caleb, I can’t we just can’t–it’s wrong, ok?” He saw the hurt in his son’s eyes, and turned away and left the room without another word, shutting himself in his bedroom, and trying to put his thoughts back together.

Everything was a jumble, and it had all started when he’d stepped into Caleb’s room, and that strange—wave had hit him. He couldn’t quite remember it happening, it felt like it was right at the edge, like a dream that desperately wanted to fade, but the more he clung to it, the more real it felt. He began to feel like that memory, that wave, was a wall, a wall of glass that he couldn’t budge, no matter how hard he fought it, but if he tried hard enough, and looked long enough, he could see bits beyond it, still hanging in the blackness. Fran was one thing, and his old son’s fat frame was another, and his heterosexuality, and yet they all felt imagined, like they simply couldn’t possibly be real. He sat down on his bed, cradling his head in his hands, ashamed that he’d lost control like that. He’d told himself many times that he wouldn’t do it, even if Caleb asked him to, and he’d broken that promise–how could he have done that? He sighed, not wanting to leave the room and confront it, but he had to–but it could wait until his hardon went away, he thought, blushing.

He sat there for a few more minutes, trying to relax and think about what he was going to say, when there came a knock on his door. “Hey dad? Are you in there? Can we talk?”

Terry covered himself up, and said, “Yeah Caleb, come on in.”

The door opened, and as soon as it did, he saw the wave come rushing towards him–it pushed it’s way across the room, the walls almost bending out from the force of it, and then it hit him again, engulfing him once more, but this time it worked…faster. Like it knew him, knew what to expect, what sort of defenses he had, and before he could even really register what had happened it was gone, and there his son was, standing in the doorway, buck naked. He strode into Terry’s room, ducking and turning to the side since he was a little too wide to go through them normally, and smirked, “Well dad, my birthday’s finally here–that was the deal, wasn’t it?”

Terry didn’t know what his son was talking about for a second, but as soon as he started trying to figure it out, the memory was there, like it had been all along. At thirteen, when his son had first come out him, when he’d first tried to convince his dad to have sex with him, Terry had made him promise that he wouldn’t ask again, but that when he turned eighteen, if he still wanted to, well, then Terry would be all for it. He couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to something like that, but looking back, he’d known his son was going to be one hot piece of bear beef by the time he came of age–why wouldn’t he make a promise like that? Hell, at fifteen, Caleb had had a full beard going, though it had taken him a few more years to rival his dad’s, Terry thought, stroking his beard which had grown down to his chest. In the back of his head, he thought that he shouldn’t be this hairy–that he’d been smooth just seconds before, but he’d been growing his beard ever since he’d gotten his first whiskers…right?

“Yeah, that was the deal. And from that hard on of yours, I think I know what you’re looking for,” Terry said, stroking his own cock.

Caleb didn’t reply, he just strode over and started kissing his dad, running his massive hands through his thickly furred chest, their beards tangling together as they made out roughly. Caleb ran his hands over his dad’s muscular body, and something about it just felt wrong–not the fact that he was about to have sex with his son–he’d wanted that for years now–but his body. It just didn’t feel…right. In his minds eye, for some reason, he kept picturing himself as being fat, and over three hundred pounds. Well, he did weight over three hundred pounds, but most of that was muscle, like Caleb. Hell, the two of them spent tons of time working out together, smelling each other’s musky sweat, jacking off together on the benches, fantasizing about Caleb’s eighteenth birthday, which was finally–finally here…he’d waited so long for this, the last few months had been torture for them both, but now they were together, and Terry didn’t think that would be changing for a long time.

Caleb wrapped his hand around Terry’s thick, long cock–nine inches long and nearly the thickness of a beer can with a thick foreskin. His head was already wet with precum, and he growled, “Don’t just play with it boy, swallow that fucking cock–taste the seed that made you.”

“I thought you’d never fucking ask,” Caleb said, got down and started sucking on his dad’s cock, like he had a few minutes earlier…or had he? Whatever, it didn’t matter. Terry wrapped both hands around his son’s head and started fucking his face, grunting, Caleb taking all nine inches down his throat without a single gag. Fuck, his son was such a hot lay, they were going to have to do more of this…in fact, Terry thought, it might be easier for the two of them to just share a bed from now on, and then the two of them can fuck all night long.

Caleb broke his dad’s grip and pulled up, smirking, precum clinging to his beard, “Not yet dad, I want to feel this cock of yours deep in my ass.”

“Oh fuck son, are you sure? I got a damn big tool for your first time.”

“First time? Come on dad, I’ve had half the football team’s cocks up my ass, and I’ve fucked even more of them back. Did you really think I was going to go into my birthday without a little experience under my belt? Hell, most of the guys can’t wait until the party tomorrow–I hope you’re ready for a massive fucking orgy.”

“Aww shit boy, that sounds fucking fantastic–you know how much I love those hot teammates of yours. Well go on then, climb up here–I want to see you plow yourself on my fuckstick.”

Caleb climbed up on the bed, the mattress sagging under their combined weight, and Terry figured that he was going to have to get a new mattress for both of them this week. A bit gingerly, Caleb squatted down and started working his dad’s cock into his ass, and Terry did his best to resist the urge to grab his son’s hips and ram his cock home in one pound. Still, Caleb did good–he had had some practice, and before too long he was bouncing up and down on his dad’s cock, both of them groaning and grunting together, and Terry started working one of his big fingers under his son’s own massive foreskin, watching his boy shiver in pleasure. He started stroking it then, and Caleb didn’t last more than a minute, shooting a massive load of cum up and down his dad’s hairy chest and face, before Terry gave a roar and unloaded into his son’s ass.

Caleb collapsed onto him, the two of them rubbing Caleb’s cum between them, Terry’s cock slowly slipping out of his son’s hole as they kissed. “Happy birthday, son,” Terry whispered.

“Thanks dad, it’s the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

Terry laughed, “well just wait until you see what I’m getting you for Christmas,” he said, smirking, “You’re gonna be sore for weeks.”

Caleb laughed too, and then groaned as Terry’s cock finally popped out of his hole, his cum seeping out after it.

“Well, how about the two of us hit the shower, and then go make some dinner?” Terry said, “We’re pretty ripe after that, I gotta say.”

“Heh, I kind of like it,” Caleb said, burying his nose in his dad’s pit and taking a whiff, “Like how you smell after a hard workout.”

“Ha, you mean how I reek?” Terry said, “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

“No, come on, later–it’s my birthday after all.”

Terry rolled his eyes, “Oh alright, if you want me stinking like a bathhouse than so be it. I’m going to go make dinner anyway, are you coming?”

In a second–I think I have do some work in my room first,” Caleb said coyly, and got up off his dad, “I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.”

“Alright,” Terry said, a bit puzzled, but the two of them went their separate ways in the hallway, and he headed downstairs and into the kitchen, where he opened the cabinets, and perplexed, realizing that there wasn’t much in there to eat. That was odd, since he and Caleb had to eat pretty much non-stop, day and night, in order to keep their bodies putting on weight. The sudden shock was enough to make him think back on the other strange things that had been going on since Caleb had come home from the mall, and now this? He could still remember himself down in the den, an obese, middle aged man, not this massive, muscular bear he was now. And how his son had tried to seduce him, but that wasn’t right, since they’d had sex moments later for his birthday present. Nothing seemed to line up at all, almost like he’d been stepping into different dimensions where everything was a bit different each time. Still, he was starving, so he went to the stairs and shouted up, “Hey Caleb–we’re, uh, out of food? I think we should go out, and maybe go for a shopping run after.”

He didn’t hear anything for a few moments, and then Caleb shouted back, “Uh…alright. Hmm…I’ll be down in a second.”

Terry went back into the kitchen, and stared at the empty cabinets again. Was it really all that strange? He didn’t really cook all that much, after all, but on the other hand, he knew he and his son were on a massive diet to make sure they kept packing on muscle. Nothing was making sense, or lining up quite right, almost as if he was looking at some other kitchen that wasn’t actually his.

The wave struck him from behind this time, but this time he almost welcomed it–it was a familiar sensation now, reality pressing in around him, propelling him forward, and when his head caught up to him, he was at the stove juggling the massive amount of food that he was cooking, and he looked over his shoulder at his son in the doorway–his massive, butch boy–fuck, he was so sexy with that massive pelt of hair, and that big firm gut of his. “Sorry Caleb, dinner’s not for a few more minutes. Go ahead and have a seat, and you can snack on the bread I baked earlier.”

“Sounds good dad,” Caleb said, ripping off a thick chunk of one of the baguettes Terry had baked earlier, and grinned, “Fuck it’s nice having a gourmet chef for a dad–have I ever told you that?”

“Only once or twice a day…” Terry said, and then stopped stirring his sauce for a second. Something still seemed off, but everything his son had said was right…wasn’t it? He was a chef, after all, and he had the nicest, and biggest, kitchen in the entire neighborhood, and he loved feeding both his son and himself. That’s when he actually bothered to look down, and saw that the muscled, strongman physique he’d been expected wasn’t there–instead, he just saw flab–pounds and heaps of it, a massive, smooth apron hanging down past his crotch, two huge moobs sagging there as well with massive nipples. He was naked, of course–he always cooked in the buff at home, where his son could watch him and admire him. He loved having a fat ass chef for a dad, almost as much as Terry loved being a fat ass chef, and yet…had he always looked like this?

As he worked, something about this just didn’t sit right with Terry, almost as though he wasn’t quite used to the size of his belly, but he avoided doing anything disastrous–even though he did get close to burning his moobs on some steam when he leaned over too far. He kept checking back, admiring his son, who’d already plowed his way through half the bread Terry had set out, and then he started laying out the spread. All of his son’s meals were carb and protein heavy–everything a growing boy could ever need to keep up his physique, and Caleb tore into the feast that could have easily fed ten or twelve people, including a roasted turkey Terry pulled from the oven…even though he couldn’t quite recall ever stuffing it and setting it in there to cook. Still, all the food was finally out and on the table, and Terry joined in the meal, neither of them talking, but as they ate, they kept stealing glances at each other, and Terry soon realized that gorging on his meal–and watching his son stuff himself, was turning him on big time.

“Hey dad,” Caleb said, “Could you pass the gravy?” Caleb asked, and Terry grinned. He had a better idea.

He picked up the massive gravy boat and instead of passing it, started pouring the thick sauce over his own body. “If you want it, why don’t you come over here and get it?”

Caleb didn’t need any more encouragement than that, and he tackled his father to the ground, licking him clean as Terry moaned, but that couldn’t pull them away from the table for long. Pretty soon, the two were simply standing next to the table, shoving food into each other’s gaping mouths, both of them covered in food, before long, but for some reason, Terry just couldn’t get over how amazing his son smelled–musky and sweaty, like he hadn’t showered in a few days, and he spent a lot of time licking his son’s armpits clear in between bites.

“Oh fuck son, you’re so goddamn ripe, I love that.”

“I know dad–you’re the one who asked me to stop showering. I’m good with that as long as you keep me clean.”

“Fuck yeah son, I’ll lick your salty pits and ass clean any day, you know that.”

Caleb couldn’t hold off anymore, and he pushed his dad face down on the table, lubed his cock with some spit and started fucking his dad’s ass with his ten inch cock, watching the fat ripple and jiggle, but Terry simply couldn’t stop eating. On one hand, he could never remember being this hungry ever in his life, but on another–this was what he and his son did, wasn’t it? Three massive meals a day? Hell, he was almost never out of the kitchen with the way they ate, but he loved cooking as much as he loved eating–but not as much as he loved having his son fuck his fat ass. He realized that he was getting close too, his fat apron massaging his two inch cock which he couldn’t even reach anymore, but it was enough for him to cum with a violent shudder, groaning through a mouthful of food, feeling the massive load from his big balls dribble down between his fat thighs. “Are you ready for dessert, dad?” Caleb said, panting.

“Oh fuck yeah, give it to me son,” Terry said, and Caleb pulled out, stroking his cock quick as his dad got down on his knees in front of him, and then he shot, covering his dad with another load…wait, another load? They hadn’t fucked earlier, Terry though, he’d been cooking all afternoon, and Terry knows better than to fuck which he’s cooking…but he could dimly remember fucking his son’s ass…hadn’t he? But how? His cock was too small to fuck anything–it was a good thing Terry was a power bottom, or he would have hated it. Whatever, it didn’t matter, he figured, as he scooped up his son’s massive load and shoveled it into his mouth, Caleb getting down to lick up some that he fed to his dad through some kisses. One hand snuck between his dad’s fat legs and probed his open hole with a few semen slick fingers, listening to the fat man moan and beg. “Fist me, fucking shove it all in there son,” Terry begged.

Caleb smiled, and slipped his fist in easy, Terry widening his stance as Caleb started milking his prostate, and after a couple of minutes, Terry gave another shudder and shot another load, this one dribbling down and puddling on the floor below him. “Damn dad, you have such a slutty hole.”

“Ha, only for my boy, you know that,” Terry said, kissing him, clenching on his son’s fist for a few more moments, before allowing him to pull it out. Caleb helped his dad stand shakily, and the two of them surveyed the table, finding a few bits and pieces they hadn’t finished off, but they’d eaten pretty much everything in sight, like usual.

“Alright dad, I’ll get the kitchen cleaned up–why don’t you head down to the den and relax?” Caleb said.

“Sounds good to me,” Terry said, stretching, “I need to get off my feet for a bit anyway,” he gave his son a kiss as he cleared the table, and then hobbled down the steps, careful not to trip, and settled down into his recliner, kneading his full belly and moobs a bit as he watched the food channel, trying not to drool at the food they were showing. As he sat and watched, however, doubts were beginning to creep in, which the meal and cooking had kept at bay. He was a gourmet chef, his head and memories told him that…but he couldn’t remember ever working in a restaurant, or even getting training. Just, as far back as he could remember, he’d been cooking these huge meals for his son, helping him grow big and strong…and that was good, right? But…what about that memory of him fucking his son that he’d had earlier? And…

His head was hurting again, and it felt like too many things were vying for the privilege of existing. It was better just to focus on the here and now. He’d just had a fabulous dinner with his son after all, and a real good fucking. He could relax for a bit, and start thinking about what he was going to make for breakfast. Fuck, he loved breakfast–maybe pancakes. His stomach gave a growl, and he jiggled it happily, loving the sensation of his massive body, like always. He couldn’t imagine ever not being fat…right? But hadn’t…hadn’t he worked out with his son before? No, that couldn’t be right, he’d never lifted a weight in his life. He wasn’t even sure how to do it. And he knew for sure he’d never fucked Caleb–sure, Caleb had sucked him off before, a couple of times, but in the end Terry always preferred a rough fuck from his son’s massive cock–it was just so much hotter and better–and required a lot less effort on his part. Hell, he had a hard enough time getting up the stairs, how would he ever have the energy to fuck his son?

And yet…and yet, hadn’t he laid back on his bed, his son on his big cock, both of them a bit smaller than before, and more muscular…and hairier…

Maybe it was just a dream–that seemed like the most reasonable possibility. He could hear Caleb working in the kitchen, but then he stopped suddenly and headed upstairs for a few minutes. Terry wasn’t sure what he was doing up there, but when he heard him coming back down the stairs, he sounded…bigger. Or at least heavier than usual, which was strange. From where he was sitting in his recliner, he looked up, curious, but before he could get a good look, another wave washed over him as soon as his son turned the corner at the top of the stairs.

Wait, his son? No, not his son, that was silly, that was his daddy at the top of the stairs…wasn’t it?

To be Continued

Smoked

–Day 1–

I woke up, and I couldn’t see anything. It was terrifying, that first time, when you open your eyes and you still can’t see a thing? And even worse, when you try to talk, and say something, and you find something in lodged in your mouth? I could scream–and I did scream, that was for sure, and did my best to escape, but my hands had been locked behind the chair I was sitting on, and my legs were tied to the chair, and the chair must have been bolted down, because my flailing didn’t move it an inch. Where in the hell was I? I didn’t know. I mean, I remembered the smoke shop, the one that everyone on the forum had been talking about, and I remember going in and asking for his special smokes, and the burly man behind the counter had given me one to try, and then…nothing.

I kicked and fought for a few more minutes, but I couldn’t get loose–all I did was tire myself out, and make it even harder to breathe through the tube in my mouth. I could breathe through my nose still, but the air was stale inside the mask, while through my mouth the air was clean. I sat there, panting for a bit, trying to figure out what to do, when I heard him speak.

“Ah, so you’re awake then. Good, that means we can go ahead and get started. Well, you fucking prick, you asked for one of my special blends, so here you go–we have a long week of changes ahead of us, so we might as well get started, eh?”

I couldn’t breathe as well, suddenly, and then I heard the sound of a lighter being lit, and then smoke started flooding my mouth through the tube. He must have stuffed a cigar in the other end or something, and I tried to just breathe through my nose…but this smoke, fuck, you don’t understand, whatever blend it was, it was…irresistible. Before long, I couldn’t get enough, I was inhaling deep off the tube in my mouth, sucking down as much smoke as I could, and he was chuckling, encouraging me to take as much as I needed.

I don’t know how much I smoked, but I know it was at least three cigars in a row. The guy’s special blends, the ones I had wanted, they could…change people, or at least that’s what the rumors claimed. But what in the hell was the guy talking about? I hadn’t acted like a prick! I mean, maybe I had been a bit rude…and maybe a bit of a snob, but fuck, I think I’ve been a weakling long enough to earn the right to be a fucking man, right? I mean, sure, I was impatient, but I didn’t give a shit about how to use the fucking product–you just smoke it–how hard could it be?

Well, not as hard as my cock. Fuck, by the time I’d finished the first cigar, my cock was aching in the chastity device he must have put on me while I was asleep–I mean–I was horny as fuck, and by the time I was through smoking it, I just wanted to cum, but there wasn’t exactly anyway for me to make my desire known, aside from moaning like a fucking whore. Still, eventually the smoke cleared away, and I could breathe again–for a moment at least.

He fiddled with the tube leading into my mouth–I could feel it being yanked around–and then something new flooded my mouth. It was the consistency of a shake, and it came so fast that I nearly choked–I didn’t exactly have many options beyond swallowing it all down. My gut felt like it was going to burst by the time the flow stopped–I don’t think I’d ever eaten anything as massive as that meal, but then it was back to the smoke. He kept it up, and he hasn’t said a word to me. I’m on my fourth feeding now, and I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep though, I have to keep eating. I’m…I’m so hungry, and so horny. The flow’s easing up, thank god–I think I have to try to sleep. There…there’s the smoke again, fuck, that feels good on my gut. Maybe…maybe I’ll sleep for just a little bit. I have to keep my wits about me, and the smoke…so good…horny though…so horny…

–Day 3–

Goodness, he’s looking good already, and we aren’t even halfway there–of course, I’ve been pumping him full of more smoke than any of these guys usually get–I usually only supply them with a dozen “special” cigars for a week of changes, but this guy, well, he’s already gone through a dozen, and I’m going to put another dozen more in him by the time we’re finished. The feedings and immobility are having the desired effect too–he’s plumping up nicely. Of course, he might have been slim walking in here, but he’s not going to be slim walking out. He’s probably at 250 pounds right now, but hell, we’ll see how big we can get him over the rest of the week. Still, I think it’s time for something new.

I’ve been waffling, I admit it. A dumbass redneck? A cock-starved retiree? A piss guzzling trucker? I mean, I have a lot of options, but I think I’ve settled on something. I want a fist pig–a preference for leather, but with more personality than a leather bear. Still, leather is a fine place to start, I think. I have him on a round of cigars at the moment, but lets go ahead and get him all dressed up. First, a harness, but we’re going to have this one spiked, I think. Yeah, I’m definitely feeling a certain punk vibe off of him–this is going to be hot.

Now, chaps? No, I don’t think chaps…hmm…how about. Yeah, I’m going to have to undo his feet for a second, but he’s so smoked out I doubt he’ll even notice. Hell, even I untied him, I don’t think he’d want to leave at this point. Besides, I still have his key–not that he’s going to give a shit about his own tiny ass cock by the time we’re done here.Still, I think some jeans…but distressed. Yeah, lets rip up the knees here a pit, and rip out the ass and crotch of course–he’s a fucking slut after all–no shame there, and then we’ll just…slip these babies on…yeah, that’s looking good.

Now, how about a beat up biker vest, and a bandanna–deep red of course. His hair’s growing out nicely, after all–and I kind of like it–though maybe a mohawk…mmm, yeah, that’ll be fuckin’ crazy. Now then, just add some of these old combat boots and tie his feet up again, and we’re all done–perfect.

Let’s see, how about that last accessory though? I’ve been stretching his ass out nicely since yesterday–aw yeah, look at how easy that plug slips in and out now–that’s so damn hot. We’re going to give this punked out bear the loosest hole in the city. I wonder…hell, why not? I’ll just give it a try. Pull it out and start out with a few fingers…aww fuck yeah, he’s fucking eating my hand with his hole, that’s so hot–but can he…yeah, he’s moaning, it hurts, but he wants it, he’s opening up perfectly–just a little more…fuck yeah, take my fist you fucking cunt, that’s so fucking hot. Feels good, doesn’t it? Having my fist pummel that prostate of yours? You like it, I can tell, but we’re not done yet, not by a long shot. Still, that’s enough of that for now. I’d give you a proper fucking, but I can’t get to your hole, so we’re just going to have to give you a bigger dildo for now. How about nine inches and as big as my fist? Still, even that isn’t going to be enough for a hog like you, just you fucking wait.

–Day 5–

Holy fuckin’ shit, this music is really starting to get on my fucking nerves now. Fucking metal? And fuckin’ Screamo at that? It’s just a bunch of dumbfucks playing guitars as badly as fucking possible, and some dude screaming his fuckin’ lungs out. What’s the fuckin’ point? It’s been playing non-stop since yesterday, and I mean, sure, I think it was even worse then. I dunno, maybe I’m just gettin’ used to it or somethin’.

Ow! Fucking hell, it fuckin’ happened again! My right fuckin’ ear this time, somethin’ fuckin keeps poking me every few minutes. I swear, like fuckin’ needles or somethin’. God damn, if it don’t make my fuckin’ cock ache every damn time though. Who knew a chastity device could feel so damn good though, eh? I’m so horny, but damn, if it don’t make my piggy hole feel so damn good. Aw yeah…yeah, he’s pumpin’ the dildo, oh yeah, fuckin’ righteous man, feels so damn nice, gettin’ reamed like that. Wonder how big it is–feels like a fuckin’ two litter bottle. Yeah, I’m gonna have to give that a try when he let’s me out–I bet I can take it. Hell, I’ve already taken both of his fuckin fists, I wonder…wonder if I could take three? Oh yeah, bet that would feel so damn good…

Fuck I’m hungry. I could eat a fuckin’ horse. Gotta keep this big gut a mine fed after all, gotta get bigger too–just…just a fat ass metalhead…yeah–ow! Fuck, again? and my tits this time? What the fuck is up with that? And this fuckin’ burnin’ that’s gettin’ on my nerves too. First it was just my arms, but now my whole gut feels like it’s on fire or somethin’. All itchy and shit. Man, my head…just feels so fuzzy all the time, gettin’ harder to think ‘bout anythin’ other than my…hole…yeah…fuck, feels so good, getting fucked like that…

…Shit, think…I think I zoned out for a bit there. Yeah, fuck, I remember this album, he played it yesterday. Man, it made me so angry yesterday…and…and I’m still angry, but also…kind of…kind of pumped up. Yeah, what a fuckin’ amazin’ solo, listen to that fucker shred! Man, if I didn’t have this fuckin’ smoke tube halfway down my throat, I’d be totally into this, I wonder if they tour. I bet…bet their mosh pits are fuckin’ out of this world, man. I’d love…love to find some big fucker in there, drunk off his ass, and just get down and dirty with him in the mud, get him to fuck my sloppy hole right there in front of everyone, like a fuckin’ punked out pig!

No–No, that’s not me, I don’t mean it. Did I really just think that? What in the hell is happening to me? I can’t even remember what I used to look like. I mean, all I see is this fat, tattooed and pierced thug, but that’s not me, it’s not. I–I mean…it would be…kinda hot if that were me. Yeah, with “SEXXXPIG” tattooed across my gut, and massive fucking gauges in my ears. Big doorknocker hangin’ from my septum, just…just a dumbass, punked out, bear whore.

Oh is…he fuckin’ is, workin’ both his fists in there with the dildo now. So damn full…of fuck yeah, the food’s starting! Yeah, I’m fuckin’ starved, fucking stuff me full at both ends, I’m such a hungry pig, just a hungry ass punked out piggy bear…yeah…feed me, stuff me, smoke me…that’s what I need, that’s what I was made for…

–Day 7–

Hot damn, what a fucking whore. As soon as I let him out, he’s on his knees, cigar clamped in one jaw, and he’s begging me to fuck him. Of course, his hole is so damn loose that I can’t feel a thing–I end up jacking my cock off with my fist inside his ass, and he fucking loves it. You should see him, he’s a fucking freak. Piercings everywhere–and I mean everywhere. When I took off the chastity belt, his cock and balls, they looked like a god damn pincushion. And even with the device off, I saw he’d chastized himself already–the massive PA through his three inch cock was padlocked to a ring in the massive ball stretcher he wore, pinning his cock against his massive sack. I asked him if he wanted to cum, and he told me he’d lost the key years ago–he could still cum on occasion, sure, but he loved how it felt when he got hard, like the ring was going to rip out of his cock head.

Well, he’s definitely a man, I’ll say that. The cigars put on a massive amount of hair–but it’s…well…manicured in some interesting ways. The hair is thick except for on his gut, where it accentuates the tattoo–SEXXXPIG–on a completely bare patch of skin, and his arms, where a riot of tattoos, some of them from metal bands, most of them sexual, form full sleeves to his shoulders. His beard is down to his gut and thickly tangled–he stinks like he hasn’t showered in a week, which I suppose he hasn’t. And his long hair has been spiked up into a deep red mohawk. I sent him on his way, and promised him cigars for life, so long as he stopped by for a rough bondage and fisting session once a month–like he’d turn down an offer like that. Still, he apparently had some metal festival to get to or something–he was going to see if he could turn to mosh pit into a metal orgy–and with that ass of his, I bet he’ll do just fine.

“Sit down–it looks like you could use a bite to eat,” the man next to you says as you pass by on the way to the table where your friends are already sitting.

“Excuse me?” you ask, looking over at the portly gentleman in the chair at the restaurant, “Uh, but I came with friends.”

“No you didn’t–you came in alone. Now sit down and eat, I ordered too much,” he said, and added after a short pause, “On accident.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but after what feels like a blink, you’re suddenly in the chair across from him, and helping yourself to the piles of food on the table. He eats as well, and doesn’t talk to you much at all, only encouraging you to take more, and occasionally calling for the waitresses to bring the two of you, or rather just you, more food–and you eat it–all of it. And by the time you’re done, or rather, when the restaurant stops bringing you food, you are stuffed way past anything you could have ever imagined, and you sit there, groaning for a few minutes. When you do sit up and look, you see the check is paid, and the man is gone, leaving you to heft yourself up and head home, exhausted, where you fall asleep.

Things don’t feel much better when you wake up. Your gut still feels packed solid, and for some reason you just ache all over. You managed to fall asleep in your clothes, and you peel them off–they seem so much tighter than usual–and head for the bathroom, but not before you catch sight of yourself in the mirror…

No–No, that can’t be you, can it? That disgustingly fat, old…sexy, bearded man, fuck, you look so damn…hot.

“Breakfast is ready!” You hear a familiar voice call out, “Come and get it, big boy!” You don’t know what’s going on, but it looks like that wasn’t the only big meal the man from the restaurant would be shoving down your throat.

Do you know that little voice in your head, the one that tells you that you can’t do things, or shouldn’t do things? That little voice just tell you to stop, and give up? Well, that’s not you–you see, there are spirits that exist all around us, and for the most part, they’re harmless. But that one, I call them Slothsen–they feed on ambition. For the most part they just eat little bits of our desires and our energy, nothing too bad–but occasionally, well, let me tell you about Rich.

Rich was an ambitious guy–a mover and a shaker in the financial industry, and well, he made some enemies. One of those enemies happened to get his hands on a very, very hungry Slothsen–and unleashed in it Rich’s house. It started slowly–he stopped showering, stopped going to the gym, started eating tons of food, but it got worse. He stopped going to work–he just stopped caring.

I found him six months later–and five hundred pounds heavier. I banished the Slothsen–but it was probably too late for Rich–his brain is pretty much gone, he won’t be doing much of anything with his life ever again. Still, I like to level the playing field, and I figured out who released the Slothsen in the first place–and I happen to have a few spirits of my own up my sleeve.