(Caption) Dale’s Divorce

October Caption Challenge (15/31)

The divorce had been rough. Sure, he’d made mistakes, but now he was losing the house, he could only see his son on the weekends, and he was going to have to pay her alimony? It had just been a fucking prostitute–ok, a few prostitutes, usually while he was out of town on business. If she’d just put out more, none of this would have happened.

Dale wound up in a two bedroom apartment not too far from work, but it was hard not to resent the whole mess. Frustrated, he ended up befriending one of his neighbor’s Max, and the two of them would stay up drinking, talking about their respective problems. Or at least, Dale would talk, and Max would listen.

One evening, Max interrupted Dale’s usual diatribe to suggest something. “You know, I have this little app on my phone, maybe it can help you out a bit, move past this a little.”

“Oh?” Dale asked.

Max pulled out his phone, loaded it up, and the flashlight in it began to strobe. “Yeah, it’s just a little trance program. Puts you in a relaxed state. All you have to do is look at the light. Might help you settle a bit, sleep better. I could help you push some of this stuff out of your head for a bit, get past it.”

Max looked up, and saw that Dale was already staring at the flashing light, mouth open and drooling a bit.

He smiled. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Don’t you worry buddy, I know just the thing to help you get over that bitch ex-wife.”

And so, Dale found himself developing a new relationship, this time, with Max’s feet. It was just a few suggestions at first, and Max went barefoot for a while, watching Max’s eyes track his footsteps all over their apartments. Soon enough, he got him drunk, and Max was more than happy to worship his feet, love them, kiss them, and each sniff helped him forget his ex-wife a little more.

Once Max was certain the new footpig was well under his control, he told him that he wanted to make a deal. After all, Dale shouldn’t just get to worship these wonderful feet for free–no, there was something else that Max wanted. He wanted his son. Dale had introduced them, of course, and Max was just a few months shy of turning eighteen, which meant he’d be able to visit his dad all he wanted. Except Dale was going to help Max out, wasn’t he?

So the next weekend, they pinned his son down, tied him up, and after a few hours, he was already sniffing the inside of Max’s sneakers, moaning and groaning like the little foot slave he was going to become, just like his dad.

Since Max was going to be busy, and Dale wouldn’t be able to service him as much, Max had a surprise for him–he’d started renting him out as a footwhore online, and he already had his first client scheduled today.

Sure enough, a motorcycle pulled up, and an old, grungy looking chubby biker got off, and headed for where Dale and Max were standing in front of their apartments. “Hey Dale, this the pig?” he asked.

“Yep–you’ll show Willis here a good time, won’t you Dale?”

Dale gulped–but once the biker got his boots off and he got a whiff of his road funk, Max’s reservations melted away. Soon enough, his son didn’t even visit his dad, he just went right to Max’s apartment. Not too long after that, Dale and his son forgot that they were even related. He was Max’s dirty little footpig, his obedient, sexy son, and Dale was just the nasty, perverted footwhore who lived next door.

My Uncle’s Amulet (Part 7)

We went to the other room in the cabin, all three of us, and Gabe was in much the same position he’d been in when I’d left–lounging on one of the twin beds, smelling his pits, and jacking off. As soon as we entered and he saw that me and my uncle were gripping the talisman together…the look on his face chilled me, and I remembered what he’d told me about my uncle…but what choice did I have? It was cooperate with him, or live the rest of my life as daddy’s whoreboy–and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any of this, but maybe if I just cooperated, I could try and put a few things right.

Besides, my uncle loves me, doesn’t he? I certainly loved him. He won’t…hurt me, not if I do what he wants.

“Alright boy,” he said, “Your tour of duty as my idiot son is done. I have a new job for you now.”

He looked at me, pleading silently, but I don’t know what to do–then, he’s gone, eyes blank and dull. He…I can tell now that I’m touching the talisman, that he’s been under my uncle’s thrall for a long time–long enough that he can’t resist it much at all. My uncle walks us over, and he barely needs to speak, Gabe is so receptive to his power, and as he lays there, I can almost…see him changing, and my father too, whenever I look back at him by the door to the room.

My uncle is tell Gabe that he was wrong–that Gabe isn’t his son at all. No–Gabe is the son of my father instead, and always has been. But they have a very, very special relationship. Gabe is a hedonistic slob, sure, but he’s also got an eye for faggots, and he’s known his dad’s a true fag ever since he started climbing into bed with him as a teenager, begging his son to let his dad suck him off, and Gabe never was one to turn him down. No–if anything, he encouraged him, teased him, led his father deeper and deeper into his depravity, until at last he accepted himself for what he was. Pure faggot. Nothing but a receptacle for the fluids of other men, destined to give them pleasure with his holes and nothing else. It’s been years now, with Gabe renting out his father’s holes to all the men in the trailer park, and training him himself, of course. See, his dad sometimes got ideas. Ideas that he wasn’t really a faggot, that he was a person. That’s why he had to wear the shock collar. That’s why his cock was locked up in a steel cage, ready to get poked with the cattle prod. That’s why he’d had all his teeth pulled out with pliers, and all the tattoos covering his body–especially the word faggot across his forehead. So he wouldn’t forget, ever again, that he was nothing more than a worthless, piece of faggot trailer trash, and his son’s whore to boot.

I’m listening to my uncle describe all this, seeing it all form in my mind’s eye. I’m horrified, sure, but the rush of it–it’s intoxicating, and all I want to do is ride my uncle’s cock again, to feel him inside me, feel him love me again. The talisman is glowing, and I sense that things are coming to fruition–as my uncle finishes, there’s a wave of light, and it strikes us all–but I see it sinking mostly into Gabe and my father, and they collapse–Gabe back onto the bed, and my father to the floor. It’s done–and all the changes I could see, they’re happening. My father wasting slightly, colorful ink appearing on his body. Gabe losing some of his fat as he beefs up into a proper bruiser, always prepared to put his father in his place.

Our father, I mean.

I realize then that there was one thing my uncle didn’t change. He didn’t change me at all. I can…feel the light in me too, and it’s making me kind of woozy as we leave the room and return to the living room. I tell my uncle that I’m not feeling good, and he just nods, pulling the talisman from my hand.

“That’s because you still belong with them, with your daddy and brother in there, Evan,” he said, “You’re still their whore, but if you thought your daddy was bad? Just wait until Gabe gets a hold of you.”

“That…That wasn’t the deal!”

“No–the deal still stands, boy,” my uncle said, and handed the talisman to me. “All you have to do, to get out of that? Make me your dad–your real dad. If you do it before the last spell affects you, you’ll be free of them both. We’ll have our own life together–a good life. Make me your rich, smart, suburban dad, and I’ll give you the life you’ve always wanted.”

It had been a trap. I could feel the dizziness washing over me more now, but I fight it–harder, and focus on my uncle, and the talisman. “A-Alright. I will. But you…you need to sleep…”

I’m not as practiced as my uncle, but soon he’s snoozing on the couch. The talisman, it’s helping me stay awake, and keeping that last spell at bay, but if I don’t act quickly it will sweep me up into it too. Still…Gabe had been right so far, about everything. How could I really trust my uncle? Hadn’t…hadn’t he done this? To all of us? I have to know. I can’t do anything unless I know for sure.

“Uncle Max…in this trance, you have to tell me the truth, do you understand? The entire truth, you cannot lie.”

He nods, slowly, and I brace myself.

“Uncle Max, do you love me? Really? Like I love you?”

He shakes his head no, slowly, and it…it crushes me.

“What were you going to do to me? Were you going to make me happy?”

He shakes his head no again, and this time mutters a few words, how he was going to turn me into his little leather slave whore, once I’d given him the life he wanted.

“Sleep–you’re going to stay asleep until I wake you up, no matter what,” I said, choking back tears–but at least I know now. I know I have to fix this, and put it all right…somehow.

My Uncle’s Amulet (Part 6)

He’d done this to me. It wasn’t my dad, not really. It was him, my uncle. He’d done this to both of us. I tried to tell myself that, but…but it rang hollow. My uncle wouldn’t do this to me–he was the only man I’d ever met who treated me like a person, who I believed, deep down, genuinely loved me. He took a cloth from over the mirror, came over, and cleaned the makeup off my face while I leaned on him, and then kissed me. I could…taste the smoke on him, and I loved it–I craved it, I was tugging at his fly as quick as I could desperate to have him inside me, because he was the only man who could fuck me…and it felt amazing. It was like my ass was made for his cock, and nothing else–and he was more than happy to give it to me.

The next forty-five minutes flew by–he fucked me in every direction, from every angle, and I lost count of how many orgasms I had–both in my ass and in my cock. By the time he finally filled me up with his own load, I was quivering and aching and so full of pleasure I never wanted him to leave, I never wanted it to end. I asked him to hold me in bed, and he did, caressing me gently, my head on his chest listening to his heart beat.

“I wish…I wish we could stay like this,” I said.

“We could have, boy–but yer the one who said no. Yer the one who wouldn’t cooperate.”

The memory came back again, fainter than before, but their all the same, and I pulled away from him, horrified. “No–No, you did this. This was you, not him.”

“Ya know that ain’t true, boy–I’m the one who loves you, you know that.”

It was a lie, he was lying…I knew it, and yet I wanted to believe it. I couldn’t believe that the man I’d just been with, the only man in the world who treated me gently, who treated me like a person, would also be the one to put me in this position to begin with. I was the stupid one. I should…I should have agreed to do it, I could see that now, and yet…like an echo, Gabe’s voice was still there in my mind, warning me not to trust him…and I didn’t. I loved him, I wanted to be with him, but I didn’t trust him an inch, no further than I trusted my daddy. “I…I don’t…can’t you just…put everything back? I can’t think like this, I don’t know what I want anymore.”

There was a pounding on the door, and his daddy burst in, “Time up, fuckers–come on. Whore needs to eat, get a bit of rest, ‘n then we got the night shift.”

“Last chance, boy,” my uncle said quietly to me as he got up, “Because I know yer daddy’s only gonna get meaner from here on out–trust me, and I’m not gonna make the offer again.”

He headed for the door…and I could see the look in daddy’s eyes. He was horny, and when daddy was horny…that meant I was in for a beating. I…I knew I didn’t want this, I knew it, and my uncle was the only way out–even if I couldn’t trust him. “Wait! Wait–fine, I’ll do it, but…daddy first, and then I’ll…I’ll help you.”

My uncle looked back at me and smiled. “Sounds like a deal, boy.”

My daddy was just confused, looking between us, and asked what kind of deal we were even talking about, but my uncle interrupted him, told him he was getting sleepy and tired, and before I knew it, daddy was standing there, a bit of drool hanging from his mouth. “Alright Evan–come on. You want revenge on yer daddy here? Then you get to have the honors. Besides–you should have a chance to practice.”

My uncle pulled the amulet out again, but this time he pulled it off–but kept his hand looped in the gold chain, holding it out to me. I walked over, slowly, one eye on my daddy…still convinced he might snap out of it and beat the shit out of us both, but I got there, and took the amulet in my hand…and when I did, fuck, the power of the thing, it’s impossible to describe. I’d felt…powerless for so long, but with this thing, I could do anything I wanted…but what did I want? I knew what my uncle wanted, I could see it in him, but I was so confused now. Still, my daddy…he was bad. He’d done bad to both of us, and he deserved to be punished. I could do that–no, we could do that, together.

“Say it Evan–say what you think would be a good…punishment for your daddy here.”

“I…I want him to be a whore. A faggot whore, like he made me. I want him to spend all day getting fucked by dirty fat fucks like he makes me do.”

My uncle laughed, and beckoned my daddy over to us, “You hear that bro? Hear what your bright, magnificent son thinks about you know? Get on your knees fucker, you fucking whore, and get to work.”

My daddy dropped between us, and started sucking on our cocks, while my uncle worked the magic over him, telling my daddy what his new life was going to be like–and I added a few things in there too, but mostly…mostly I was just enjoying the sensation of being in power for once. I felt like all my life, this fucker, he’d controlled me, and now I had a chance to get even. I could make him love the taste of a filthy ass, like that disgusting biker I’d rimmed. I could make him a urinal for hire–offering men a place for their piss at ten dollars a bladder.

“Alright Evan, good work,” my uncle said, “But every whore needs a pimp right? And I know the perfect guy for your daddy to work for–let’s go see how my idiot nephew i doing.”

My Uncle’s Amulet (Part 5)

I didn’t know what time it was when I woke up next–all I knew what that I hurt. Every part of my body hurt, but especially my throat and my ass. A moment later, the door to the room where I was banged open, and my father stomped in–but it wasn’t the father I remembered, or at least the one I thought I should remember.

The lights were out, and all I could make out of him was his silhouette–but it was massive. Six feet tall and a few inches, broad of shoulder and broader of gut, but with plenty of muscle packs into his chest and arms–I should know after all, since anytime I did something daddy didn’t approve of, I’d get a backhand across the jaw, at least. “Alright cunt,” he said with a snarl, and flipped on the light, “Have a good nap? Get the fuck ready–we got clients in fifteen minutes.”

“B-But…dad, I…” I stammered, but even as I spoke, I realized I should have known better. Daddy stomped over to me and gave me a solid smack, hard enough to make my teeth shake a bit. I’d…I’d been really good lately, he hadn’t knocked a tooth out of my head in almost a year, and I wasn’t going to start making him do that to me again. If I lost many more…he said he’d just pull them all out. The clients would pay more for a toothless whoremouth anyway, as he called it.

“Did you say something, cunt?”

“No daddy.”

“Didn’t fucking think so,” he said, and spit on my face, “Now clean up and put yer makeup on. These country fucks were promised a pretty city faggot, and that’s what yer gonna give ‘em, right?”

I nodded, and my daddy stormed back out the room, slamming the door behind him. The room…it had changed since the last time I’d woken up, mostly with the addition of a small vanity against the wall, which I made my way over to, sat down at, and looked at my face–my new face. I was…small. So fucking small, and chubby, with two soft breasts and a hairless body. I still had some makeup on from my earlier clients, but I went back in and touched myself up, a little blush, a little lipstick, a little shadow. The roughnecks out here…daddy found it easier for them to pay if I was more feminine. I found the pair of panties I’d been wearing earlier, which one john had tore off me eventually, and tucked my puny, two inch dicklet in the front, thankful my daddy still hadn’t followed through on that promise. If I didn’t have a few regulars who liked sucking on the puny thing, he probably would have cut it off years ago.

I was trying to fight it. I was trying as hard as I could, but this one–the change was so much larger than the last, and somehow that made it even more real. My daddy–as soon as he’d realized I was a little faggot, he’d started whoring me out–at home, around the city. He’d made a deal with my uncle to work out of the cabin a couple weeks a year, to give the roughnecks and truckers around here a shot at my faggot holes…and I hated them. I hated these weeks so much, they were so much rougher, so much dirtier…but it meant I got to see my uncle too, if he had the cash for my dad…and that almost made it worthwhile.

I got back up on the bed, sitting there, waiting. I heard daddy talking to some other gruff voiced stranger outside my door, and a second later it opened, and an old man entered, a leer plastered on his face, skin tight and wrinkled from years in the son-and then he was on me, licking me, tasting me, forcing me over onto my belly, ass up, and he was inside my tight hole–my forever tight hole. Men loved it–they came from miles around for a chance at it. Tighter than any pussy, and I wouldn’t mind if…if it didn’t hurt, every time. Every time it felt like my guts were being split apart, but I craved it all the same, because…because I liked it.

Deep down, my daddy was right–he’d always known me better than I’d ever known myself. I was a whore, I wanted cock, all day and night, and I wanted it rough. I fucking deserved it. My little dicklet had tented out my panties while the roughneck pistoned into me, and after a minute he gave a groan and came deep, filling my guts up, and as soon as he was out of the room, another one came right in after him.

Truckers, farmers, old fat fucks and young bucks–I took them all. It lasted hours, and my ass was leaking cum by the end of it, makeup smeared on my face again. I’d cum twice–once when some old biker had come in and made me eat out his ass while he jacked off. I…it was so fucking humiliating, that it turned me on, and he wanted to see me blow my load, he wanted to see my little clit while I chewed on his hole. The other time was some old farmer, maybe seventy, with a ten inch dick that worked like he was twenty. He hammered my guts so hard that I was spewing in my panties before I even realized it, begging him for more while he grunted and groaned, on the edge of a heart attack, probably–but he lived. I lived. I was so…tired by the end of it. Tired and humiliated, and…and wanting more, as much as I hated admitting it, but no one else came in, until my dad opened up the door.

Alright slut–that’s all for the evening, but my bro bought an hour with you.”

My heart skipped, but I didn’t dare show it–if my dad knew how much I liked seeing my uncle–and how much he liked seeing me, he’d probably double the price. I looked over and saw my uncle step into the room, closing the door behind him, and he smiled at me…and when I saw him, I remembered. I remembered, and through the desire, all I really felt was terror.

Commission: Cory Finds His Coach

Commissioned by: @goodboymusclejock

Cory watched the scrawny guy over at the free weights, bench pressing the unweighted bar, face red and straining, and worried the guy might hurt himself, he went over. “Do you need a spotter?”

The guy on the bench just kept going. Cory repeated himself, and the guy finally noticed him standing there, and a bit surprised, he lost control of the bar. Cory grabbed it and helped rack it back up.

“You really should be more careful–you should start with the machines until you have more muscle control.”

“I’m–I’m fine,” the guy said, “Just leave me alone.”

Cory insisted on spotting him through his reps on the bench, and then left the guy to his own devices. If he wanted to hurt himself, then Cory couldn’t do anything to stop him. However, Cory noticed the guy was at the gym every day after that, as well. Cory liked to stay fit, and so he went five days a week, but that wasn’t a schedule someone new to the gym should be able to keep up with. Even stranger, the guy was usually there when Cory arrived, and still on the floor after he left. One night, a week later, he hung around long enough to follow the guy into the locker room. He was covered in sweat and obviously exhausted, but in a week, Cory could already see that the guy’s body was growing a bit larger.

His suspicions were confirmed, when he saw the guy pull a pill bottle out of his bag. He took a capsule out and swallowed it down, and Cory stocked over. “You know, if you’re going to take steroids–which you shouldn’t–at least be smart enough to get the shots. Those pills will wreck your liver.”

The guy stared up at him. He was several inches shorter than Cory, but he slipped the bottle back into his bag. “They’re not steroids–and, and even if they were, just mind your own business.”

“Those things can kill you.”

The guy didn’t answer, he just left the locker room without changing. Cory shook his head, and figured there was nothing he could do about it.

Cory didn’t have much time to think on the stranger however–he was busy planning a month long business trip across Asia at work. He left the next week, and when he flew back into town a month later, he was happy to see that the scrawny guy had obviously abandoned his foolish plan, since he wasn’t at the gym when he got there.

There was, however, someone else new that Cory didn’t recognize. He was hanging around the free weights, primarily, a brutish looking guy, heavily muscled, with a hairy chest and a thick beard coating his chin and neck, and lank, greasy hair that kept falling in his face as he lifted. He was quite the nuisance, actually–he never wiped down his equipment, and so everything was coated with a sheen of his sweat. Still, something kept bothering Cory about him…something about the guy’s clothes. They were so small on him! In fact, later that week, he heard a loud rip of fabric across the gym, and saw that the guy had split open his shorts doing deadlifts. Even with everyone staring at him, he finished his reps, and then stared stupidly down at the shredded fabric around his feet, and the yellowed jockstrap he had on containing what looked like a huge package.

Cory was close by when it happened, and he found himself unable to look away. Sure, he was gay, but this guy was disgusting…right? He’d never really been interested in brutes like that before. The guy retreated from the floor and left the gym without any apparent embarrassment, but when Cory saw the ripped shorts of the ground, he realized that he had seen them before–they were the same one’s the scrawny guy had been wearing a month earlier!

That couldn’t be possible. No one, even on steroids, could grow that fast, or like that. But he had to know. He got a chance to confront him a few days later in the locker room, and he went up to the man as he got his bag from his locker. “What…what the hell are you taking?”

The brute just smirked, “I jus’ wanna bulk up man, is all,” he said, “Mind yer own business.”

This close to the brute, Cory felt his breath catch in his throat. That stench–when was the last time this guy had showered? He smelled…he smelled…Cory shivered. His cock was rock hard in his pants. The brute took a step closer. “Thanks for spottin’ me that first day though,” he said, “I didn’ know what I was doin’.”

“It…it was nothing,” Cory squeaked out. The brute lifted his arms up over his head in a stretch and then rested one arm high on the lockers, staring at Cory as he did. The bush of air in his armpit was sopping wet, and reeked. Cory couldn’t believe how tall he was–had he just remembered him differently? He’d been shorter before, but now he was taller, so much bigger than him now. The smell was so strong…so fucking nasty…

Cory stepped forward and buried his face in one of the brute’s hairy armpits, grinding his crotch against the man’s thick thigh. He came almost immediately, and the Brute shoved him down onto his knees, whipped his cock out, and after a couple of strokes unloaded his cum all over Cory’s face.

“Fuckin’ hot man…” the brute said, “Might need yer help a bit more often.”

He left Cory quivering on his knees in the locker room, trying to understand what had just happened. He wiped the cum up with his gym towel, and then started sucking on it, unable to help himself. He tried to shower when he got home, but he couldn’t bear the thought of washing off the stench of the brute’s cum. He jacked off all night long, towel pressed to his nose, imagining the scene over and over, and the next day, he was at the gym before the brute arrived, hungry for more. They met in the locker room, Cory immediately licking up the brute’s filthy body–he dragged Cory back into the shower, shoved him up against the tile wall, and wormed his cock into Cory’s ass dry. It hurt, but he needed it, he needed it so much. The brute came quick, and then pulled out, but it wasn’t enough. Cory followed him around all day in the gym, rubbing his body into the sweaty benches, losing himself in the brute’s stench, cumming twice in his own shorts just from the smell alone. They stayed at the gym all day, and when they went back into the locker room, the man pulled out the pill bottle, shook out a capsule, and held it out to Cory. “Take it.”

Cory just stared at it.

“Take it. You wanna be big like me? Stink like me? Take it, you’ll love it.”

“No…No, I can’t,” Cory said, “Look at you, this is crazy. Just a month…a month ago, you were…”

“I was weak,” the brute said, “Weak, ‘n clean ‘n smart. Now I’m big ‘n dumb ‘n filthy, it’s so fuckin’ hot…You’ll be so hot too, man.”

Cory stepped back.

“If you don’t take it, you don’t get my cock no more,” the brute said, groping himself through his shorts.

Cory whimpered.

“You don’t get to smell me no more. No more sweat, nothin’.”

Cory shook his head no, but watched the brute drop his shorts, and let his cock slip out of his filthy jock strap. It was half hard and leaking; he coated the pill in his precum, then pressed it against Cory’s lips. Shivering, he opened his mouth, letting the brute slide the pill in along with his finger. Cory swallowed the slick pill and then sucked the brute’s finger clean. It wasn’t enough, he pressed in closer, closer to the reeking pits, pressing their hot sweat together.

“I don’t even know your name,” Cory said.

“You can call me…Coach, Sport.”

Something was wrong with him. He was suddenly too hot, and sweating profusely. His body was shaking with energy, not only erotic, but overwhelming motion. He needed to work out, he needed to move and lift and shove and fuck! Coach shoved him up against the locker, they started making out, groping each other openly as men passed by, trying to ignore them, and then Cory dragged Coach into the sauna and fucked himself up and down on the rigid cock, feeling his legs start to burn from the exertion, desperate for the burn. He hadn’t worked out nearly enough, earlier, but when he tried to tell Coach that, the brute told him they were done for the day, and going home instead. He could barely contain himself as he followed Coach home to his apartment a few blocks from the gym, even though they sprinted all the way there, and the next morning, still wearing his workout clothes from the day before, rings around his eyes from not sleeping but desperate to work out, he accepted another pill from Coach without hesitation and they lifted together all day, pausing for the occasional fuck in the sauna, Cory feeling cum leak from his raw ass, sliming the leather seats of the benches that he would lick up, eager for Coach’s approval. However, close to ten hours later, when they were back in the locker room, Coach pressed two pills on him, and as much as Cory wanted to take them, he hesitated.

“This can’t be safe.”

Coach pulled him close, “Trust yer coach man, ya got lots a catchin’ up to do.”

“No–no, I can’t, I can’t do this. I missed work today, I can’t do this anymore.”

“You didn’t miss work man, you got work later tonight,” Coach put the two pills right in Cory’s mouth, “Need you good and energetic, you see. Everybody’s gonna wanna piece a yer hot ass.”

Cory felt the bitter pills dissolving in his mouth, but he didn’t spit them out. He swallowed. He raced his coach back to the apartment, and by the time they got there, time seemed to be moving too fast, he couldn’t quite keep up with what was going on. Coach stripped his work out clothes off of him and then started dragging out a bunch of leather gear from the closet. “Benn makin’ enough as a top, Sport, but the real money’s in bottomin’. Lucky we met, eh? You’re gonna be my dumb little muscle whore slave.”

Cory couldn’t quite seem to make his mouth work right to form anything other then a series of grunts and moans. His cock was so hard, he couldn’t keep his hands off of it. He let Coach put the leather gear on him, cinching the harness tight against his muscles, a thick plug in his ass, leather boots, a collar, a black hood. Coach said he looked so hot, and couldn’t resist giving him one fuck to loosen him up before they hit the clubs.

The night was a blur. Cory was never entirely sure where he was. Coach had him on a lead, and he soon found that it was as much needed to keep him focused and safe–protected from wandering astray. The only time Coach let him loose was on the dance floor–he ground his way from man to man, hot for all of them, his musk attracting them like flies. They all begged the Coach for the opportunity to fuck his slave, and at a hundred bucks for ass and fifty for head, there was a price everyone could afford. Cory knew this was wrong, knew he had been tricked, but his mind was running so slow–he couldn’t keep up with Coach, he couldn’t keep up with the parade of cocks rammed in his ass and throat. He couldn’t do anything beyond allow himself to be dragged all over town until the bars closed, when a few wealthy patrons joined them back at the apartment for an extended fuck session.

Cory woke around noon, and found the apartment empty–Coach was apparently at the gym already, and had left him to sleep off the night before. The double dose still had him reeling. His mind was shattered, and it took him an hour to pick up the pieces and figure out what was had happened. He stared at himself in the mirror. Was he already hairier? Already more muscular? Probably not, but how long until the pills started working on him like they had on Coach? How long until his mind dissolved, and all he could think about was fucking, sucking and lifting in between? He stank of sweat and musk and cum; he thought about showering, but ended up jacking off instead, his nose snorting in his own aroma. On the table, he found a scrawled note with two pills and a glass of water.

“Good job last night Sport. Got us enugh drug this morning to last a month. a few more nights like last night, and we can start buyin r own equipmnt. And rent a big apartment too. Move you in with me where you belong. Take yor pills n come to the gym. I’m waitin.”

Cory was shaking. He couldn’t take them, but he needed…he needed to feel that again. He needed that energy. He didn’t want to be a whore. He didn’t want to be some dumb, hairy, muscle bound brute. But Coach…but Coach was right…right? He’d done a good job last night. He’d enjoyed himself, even, as much as he hated admitting it. He picked up the pills in his hand, and stared at them for a moment, before swallowing them back with some water. Coach was probably getting impatient, waiting for him–he’d taken too long. By the time he’d sprinted to the gym, the world was a blur. All except for Coach, his Coach, waiting for him in the back. He smiled, and went to work out.

They were having another crazy party across the cul-de-sac, those fucking faggots over there, I fucking hated them. So yeah, I called the cops on them, and I watched the officer arrive from my window and go up to the door, figuring everything would be settled, but a few minutes later the party started up again, louder than before, and I heard a knock on my door. I got up and answered it, and found the cop on the other side of the door–except he wasn’t quite the same cop. He was chuffing on a massive cigar, and looked to be quite a bit burlier and hairy than I’d thought he’d been across the street. “Sir, I’ve been receiving reports that you’re a complete faggot pervert in hiding–I’m here you administer your punishment,” the cop said, and shoved me back into the house, and slammed the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not–” I tried to say, but the officer took the cigar from his mouth and shoved it into my mouth, plugging it shut, and then ripped my shirt off my body, and did the same with my pants. I tried to pull the cigar from my mouth, but it had somehow grown so large that it stretched my jaw to the limit, my teeth digging into the tobacco, forcing me to draw almost all of my breath as smoke. I immediately felt woozy, and while I tried to fight the cop off, he shoved me over onto my hands and knees and started working his nightstick into my ass.

Fuck, my cock was so hard, knowing this hot cop was violating me in my own living room, and he started regaling me with a litany of all of my perverse acts that he was punishing me for. They started innocently enough, some public indecency and drunkeness where I’d jacked off and urinated in public, but slowly grew more sinister. How I’d gotten lewd and obscene tattoos all over my body. How I’d cruise cubs in public spaces before begging them to come home, abuse me and fuck my lights out. How I went from gay bar to gay bar, keeling in the bathrooms as a urinal and cumdump, until my belly was taut and bloated with beer piss. How I could take two fists up my loose cunt, and had to keep it plugged at all time. How I was obsessed with sex, leather and men, unable to think about anything else, forced to earn money by selling my mouth and ass in back alleys and at house parties like my hot neighbors liked to throw most nights.

The cop finished me off with his ten inch cock, and I begged him to fuck me rough and hard, and he was even nice enough to fill my sloppy hole with a load of piss after he came, and plugged me up with the four inch diameter plug I wore almost constantly now. He deemed me sufficiently punished, dropped a couple wrinkled twenties by my head and left, and I hefted myself up, discarding the butt of my huge cigar and lighting another one, admiring my freaky, hairy and tattooed body in a mirror, before throwing on some leather gear and hurrying across the street, feeling the officer’s piss leaking out my hole and down my legs as I went, eager to join in with the party I couldn’t believe I was missing.

“Aww fuck dad, that feels so nice, you really were paying good attention during that cocksucker hypno lesson I just played for you, weren’t you? You can’t fucking resist cock anymore, and from the way you’re moaning, I bet you are getting hard just from the taste of my precum. Damn dad, you’ve actually got me leaking, even if you keep using your teeth like a fucking novice. We’re gonna have to give you lots of practice I think, before you’re ready for customers.

“Now smile for the camera, or better yet, give me that sultry look of all those fucking whores you used to bring around here, the whores you spent all of our fucking money on, you fucking sex addict. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out that you spent my entire college savings fund? That was from mom’s fucking death benefit, you sick fucker—still, I have a feeling I’ll be able to use those holes to recoup some of the costs.

“Yeah, that’s good—just a few more. I can’t wait to start advertising your services. Too good for jobs eh? Not anymore—you’re gonna be my bitch, my fucking manwhore for the rest of your fucking life. You’re gonna be sucking cocks from now until I decide you’re too fucking worthless, until your ass can’t close anymore, until nobody wants you, and then maybe I’ll put you out to pasture in some rundown nursery home. Still, that’s a good thirty years away, if you’re lucky. For now, go ahead and smile like you love this—oh hell, who am I kidding, you do love this, don’t you? You never thought sucking cock could be so amazing, right? Well have I got some news for you.

“You know Bill? Of course you know Bill—he’s our neighbor—did you know that he’s a fag? A total pervert too, when I told him what I was going to do to you, he wanted to be the first one to rent you, and you know what, he paid me 1000 bucks for one week. He’s gonna keep you in his dungeon dad, and he’s gonna open up that cunt of yours with both his fists. He’s gonna lock your cock up, shave off that beard of yours, and fucking humiliate you day and night—sounds like fun, right? How about another lesson then? After all, he’s gonna pick you up in two days, and I need to make sure you’re a compliant little whore by then. How about Ass Whore: Volume One? That sounds good to me.”

Sometimes Rudy hated the subway at night. He was a member at a twenty-four hour gym, and with his work schedule it was just easier to work out late at night or in the early morning. On occasion it was wonderful–an empty car maybe, or just a couple other people, being quiet or reading a book. At worst, in was a group of young hooligans or creepy homeless guys, or old faggots leering at him–and tonight that was what he was dealing with. Some old retired guy–saggy body, wrinkled skin–sitting across from him on the subway, just eyeing him up and down as they rode. Rudy did his best to ignore him, but there was one thing he couldn’t seem to ignore–the light on the guy’s phone kept blinking like a strobe light, and he couldn’t…quite seem to look away…it was getting hard…to…

***

What was he doing here?

“Just give me one more moment, you stud–I’m almost up and ready.”

He looked around at the shabby old apartment he was in, and then looked down, and realized he was naked. “What…what the fuck?” he shouted, and a moment later, the old man from the train came through the doorway, his cock the only thing solid about him.

“Oh, a strong willed one, eh? Don’t worry, we have all night to wear you down,” the old man said, and then his phone was blinking again…he tried to look…away but couldn’t…

***

Why did his ass hurt? What was happening?

“Say it–say you’re a whore for old man cock!”

“No…” Rudy managed to squeak out, but why was he so weak? The light…just look at the light…so…

***

Rudy moaned and rolled over in the bed, and found himself looking at one of the hottest geezers he’s seen in his life. The saggy skin, the wrinkles, the lecherous smile–everything was just right. The man was standing up at the side of the bed, his cock hard as a rock, and Rudy licked his lips.

“Hungry, boy?”

“You know it, daddy.”

“Then get over here and suck me off. And make it quick, I have five more old guys coming over who want to fuck you, so that hole of yours had better be ready slut.”

The man reached over and started probing Rudy’s tight hole, and he groaned. God, he was such a whore for old man cock, and he fucking loved it. Riding the subway can be the fucking best.

(This is sort of a sequel to this caption and story)

***

LttlPig3: Do you want a pic? I can send one.

TrkrFkr11: Sure.

TrkrFkr11: Wait, seriously?

LttlPig3: What, you don’t like it?

TrkrFkr11: No I don’t fucking like it, it’s fucking ridiculous. You’re not a fucking pig at all.

LttlPig3: Who fucking says?

TrkrFkr11: Nah–here, let me fucking help you out. Let’s see…first, a screen name.

NstySemiHog18: Screen name?

NstySemiHog18: Wait, NstySemiHog18? How the hell did you do that…wait, I…what’s going on? My hair’s fucking growing!

TrkrFkr11: Hell yeah it is, I love a furry fucking pig. See, you aren’t going to be wasting your time with rubber or shit like that. A pig like you–well, a trucker pig like you especially. All you fucking care about is getting your next dose of cock. You’ll take it anywhere, begging random guys at rest areas to pump you full of cum in the woods.

NstySemiHog18: No, I don’t. I mean, that sounds fuckin’ hot actually, but I’m not a trucker. I mean, I wait

TrkrFkr11: Sure you’re a trucker–an old redneck like you is too fucking dumb to do much else.

NstySemiHog18: I have a beard. A long ass beard n I cant head hurts

NstySemiHog18: What the fuck r u doin? Im truckin sure but I coulda sworn I wasnt tho. Fuck im horny where u at?

TrkrFkr11: Outside of Cheyenne, Wy.

NstySemiHog18: Noshit? Im bout to cruse thrugh their. Wanna fuck my sloopy piggy hole?

TrkrFkr11: Love to. Just tell me where.

Up in his room, Quentin was reading a book, his window open, and every once in a while, he could catch a whiff of Oscar’s cigar smoke as it wafted in on the breeze. Funny, when he’d come home from college to discover who had started renting the other half of the duplex his parents owned, he’d scared Quentin half to death, with all of his tattoos and his smoking, but now he’d gotten used to it, and…whenever he caught a whiff of the smoke, his cock always got hard–it was the strangest thing.

“Quentin, I’m going to yoga,” his mom called up the stairs, “I’ll be back in a few hours–I’m going to pick up stuff for dinner on the way home. Anything you need from the store?”

“No Mom, I’m good,” Quentin called back, and a few minutes later, he heard the garage door open, his mom pull out and drive off. As soon as the sound of her car disappeared, Quentin’s eyes glazed over, he set down his book and marched out into the backyard, where Oscar was smoking in a lawn chair, shirtless.

“Master,” Quentin said, “my parents are gone sir, I’m yours.”

“Good boy,” Oscar said around the cigar, “Smoke for me while you fuck yourself on my cock, and we talk some more about what you’re going to do with this life of yours.”

Oscar had plans for his new bitch after all–there was no way he was going to be leaving for college in the fall. No, by then, he’d be a tattooed thug, just like Oscar. Well, not just like Oscar. He’d be his total bitch, a whore he’d make bank renting out to the rest of his hoodlum friends, but that would come later. “So, let’s talk about the tattoos you’re going to start getting bitch,” Oscar said, “The very first one is going to say ‘Property of Oscar,’ and I want it on the back of your neck, got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, I’ve made you an appointment already–you’re going to get it on Friday. What do you say, bitch? "Oh, and I talked to your parents last night–we had a good long discussion about your future–they both agree that college was a dumb choice for a dumb thug bitch like you, so they’re having you move in with me this weekend.”

“Thank you sir–I can’t wait sir.”

Source: gregenti