A collection of gay erotic fiction with mind control and various transformation themes. Photo captions are updated four days a week, Monday through Thursday, with a vignette or long story posted each Friday.
“What the fuck did I tell you about talkin’ back, bitch?”
The large man in the back seat heaved himself forward between the front and passenger seat, breath stinking of tobacco. He reached forward and began kneading the driver’s cock through the ratty camo shorts he’d forced him to buy off the redneck they’d met at the truckstop fifty miles back. All it they had cost was one blow job, no teeth. They were grungy and a few sizes too big, but with a belt they stayed up.
“How about we remove a couple of inches, eh? Make you a tiny dicked little piggy? Maybe I’ll give them back when I’m done pissing.”
It was curious sensation, feeling his cock retract back into itself. Four inches? Three? Smaller. He signaled and pulled off the highway and into the rural rest area. It was early evening on a weekday, and aside from a few trucks in the other lot, largely empty.
The huge redneck he’d picked up a few hundred miles back as a hitchhiker hefted himself out of the backseat. He said it was more comfortable back there, where he could stretch his legs a bit. Plus, it let him keep an eye on his captive in the driver’s seat. “Well come on then, I need yer fuckin’ help.”
“What the fuck kind of help do you need to piss? Please, just let me go.”
“Bitch, do you want me to leave you here with a fuckin’ nub?”
He really didn’t want a nub. He got out of the car and followed the man into the bathroom at a lumber. Inside, it was all stainless steel and none too clean. His hitchhiker passed the urinals and went for the handicapped stall, and when the driver tried to wait, he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in with him, locking the door behind them both. The man dropped his shorts and stood in front of the steel toilet.
“Aim for me—I can’t fuckin’ see past my gut.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d had to dig around in the man’s gunt and fish out his thick, short cock, but aiming it proved to be a challenge. For one thing, the man started pissing even before he had a good grip, soaking down his hand. Piss flew everywhere for a few moments, soaking the floor and the seat, before he got it pointed into the water, and waited for the big man to finish.
“Shitty job—someone’s gonna have tah clean that up, ya know?”
The driver wiped his wet hand on the camo shorts, a bit disgusted, “Did you have to piss on me? That’s fucking disgusting.”
The hitchhiker stared him down, “Ya know, I’m gettin’ real sick a yer attitude boy, we really need to find something more productive for ya tah do wit’ yer mouth. Get down there ‘n lick up the piss ya spilled.”
“No! That’s fucking disgusting!”
The man spit a wad of tobacco juice into the toilet, and then grabbed the driver’s wrist. “Get down there and lick up my piss, or the next thing you know, you’re just gonna be a toothless beggar sucking dick at this rest stop for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?”
It wasn’t. The driver got down and tentatively licked the cool rim of the toilet, and as he did, a shot of pleasure coursed through him. He licked it again, and soon he was licking happily. Not long after that, he had his cock out of his shorts and was jacking his three inch dick while the redneck stood over him, supervising and suggesting.
“Yeah, see? Doesn’t that taste good pig? Make sure you get everything you spilled on the floor too. Fuck, look at that nasty concrete, I can’t believe you’re actually gonna put your tongue on that thing.” He slid a boot between the driver’s legs as he lapped up the piss and started tapping the pig’s balls, making him groan. Before he’d finished all the piss, he’d already shot his load across the bottom of the toilet and the floor—he licked that up too, when ordered to do so.
They left the bathroom together, the driver shaking with terror and rage at what he’d just done, but when he went to tackle his passenger, he felt a curious warmth in the front of his shorts as he pissed himself. Fuck, it smelt great, maybe he could just whip out his cock for a quick wank out in the open, but he was able to control himself long enough to climb in the car. The next rest stop was fifty miles down the road, and his hitchhiker promised him they’d find a couple nasty truckers willing to give him a good soaking. He let out a quiet sob as he drove off, but the anticipation was building in him. When the sign came, he pulled over eagerly—what a thirst to quench.
“Sure kid, I can give you a ride home I guess, as long as we’re heading in the same direction. Sure, that little trailer park there? I know the place, in fact, I have a friend who lives there too—one of my workmates. Climb in, and we’ll get going. What’s your name, kid? Ben? Nice to meet you, Ben.”
“Heh, yeah, I guess it does reek a bit, sorry. I still have my gear from the job site back behind the seat—the smell doesn’t bother me anymore. Nothing I can really do about it—I don’t get a chance to wash it very often—laundromat’s all the way in town, and I don’t have a washer at my place. How about you? Where do you work?”
“You don’t have a job? Seriously? How old are you, twenty? twenty-two?”
“Only nineteen eh? Still, your old enough to vote. Old enough to get a bitch pregnant. Old enough to hold down a job. That’s the problem with your generation, you boys don’t know how to work like men. Hell, you probably think you’re too good to work in construction, something where you get sweaty and dirty by the end of the day, something that involved actual work.”
“Heh, college? Seriously? In the fall. Whatever, college is for fuckin’ pussies, I think. Are you a pussy?”
“Hey boy, calm the fuck down already, I’m just yankin’ your chain is all. Still…I didn’t need no college. And a boy should learn how to work is all I’m saying, you know?”
“What do you mean you feel funny? The smell? Well I told you there’s nothing I can do about that. Can’t even roll down the windows—they’re broke. You’ve just probably never smelled a real man like me before, is your problem. Sweat and dirt and grime—fuck! Nothin’ better than a day in the hot sun, working up a sweat. Makes you feel like a real man. Here, yeah, my fuckin’ hard hat. Been wearin’ this thing for years now, smell that! Don’t screw your nose up at me! Fuckin’ smell it, boy!”
“Yeah, that’s it—nice deep breaths now. Get it deep in those lungs of yours. Smells better now, don’t it? Like a man? You still smell like a boy, all fresh ‘n flowery ‘n shit. Fuck. Go on, put it on if you want, I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, I know it smells good. I’m just glad I’m givin’ you a proper education in manhood.”
“Oh…good…oh, you mean good…as in sexy? Well, don’t worry none about that. That’s just natural. Hell, I remember when I was twenty, I was horny all the fuckin’ time. I remember the first time I got a good whiff of a real man—my uncle, fuck, now there was a man. Big gut, huge fuckin’ uncut cock. The fuckin’ cheese he’d get up under there, tasty. You ever tasted cock cheese boy? Nothin’ better—food of the god for real men like me.”
“A faggot? I’m not no faggot you little mouthy fucker! I’m pullin’ the fuck over…Does a faggot smell like this? Yeah, get the fuck over here boy, smell these sweaty pits. No faggot can reek like this, I’ll tell you that. Quit fightin’ boy, yeah, that’s it…smell those pits. Those are real men’s pits. Hold on, let me get this shirt off…yeah, there we go, look at these hairy fuckin’ pits boy, look how soppin’ wet they are. Now lick it. Get that fuckin’ tongue over here and lick boy!”
“Yeah, that’s it. I remember my first taste too. Like a fuckin’ light bulb went off in my head. Couldn’t get enough of my uncle’s sweat. Damn boy, that cock of yours is hard as a rock! Good size too. Let me see here…Oh, what the fuckin’ hell, your parents cut yer fuckin’ skin off! Too fuckin’ bad, but no wonder you’ve never gotten a taste of cheese before. Man, I was eatin’ my own once my uncle taught me how great it tastes. Guess you’ll just have to taste some of mine.”
“I know you’re not a faggot boy, you don’t have to be a fag to appreciate a real man like me. This is your fuckin’ education. Yeah, look at that—got a huge skin on my cock, get your mouth over here, taste this shit, fuckin’ delicious. Yeah, that’s it boy, get your tongue down in there deep, where it belongs. I hear you moanin’ now, see? See how good cheese tastes? That’s the shit a real man makes, you remember that. Now keep suckin’, I gotta get back on the road.”
“Cheese is just the appetizer though, boy. Don’t feel bad ya ain’t got none a your own. What really matters is cum and piss—not every man has a cheesy cock, but I’ve met some men, no skin, but damn was their piss rank! Fuckin’ hot men, every single one of ‘em. Let me give you a taste boy, here it comes, som real fuckin’ man piss for you. Don’t fuckin’ sputter it out! This is a fuckin’ gift of the gods, boy! Do you want to be a real man or not!”
“You don’t know? You don’t fuckin’ know if you want to be a real man like me, or some fuckin’ college pussy boy? Some college faggot? I got something else for you back here, something else for you to smell, something that’ll change your mind. Fuckin’ boots. Yeah, look at these, been wearin’ ‘em for years. In fact, they were my uncles—he gave them to me when I told him I wanted to be a real man like him. And here, I’ve been wearin’ these socks for weeks now, suck the sweat out of those.”
“Yeah, look at you go, boy. Rank, right? Shove that boot over your face, get a good whiff of my feet. Get that cock out of your jeans, I know you wanna jack off, go on, jack off while you drink in my boot stench. This is what real men do. Real men enjoy each other. Real men get off on stench, they drink piss, they fuck, suck and swallow.”
“Fuck yeah! Look at that load you just blew. Damn, and your cock’s still hard. Go on then, keep jacking boy, but tell me again. Tell me you don’t love this. Tell me you don’t want to be a real man…Louder boy, I can’t hear you through that boot over your mouth…Yeah, that’s good, that’s what I want to hear. You’re gonna be a real man just like me, aren’t you?”
“Now, you wanna drink the rest of my piss, or do you wanna be a pussy boy? Yeah, I didn’t think you wanna be a pussy. Get down here, that’s it. I’ll start a bit slower this time…that’s it, that’s real good man, drink it all down. Fuck, like a fuckin’ champ! Now suck my dick man, suck it, I’m gonna blow a load of cum down your fuckin’ throat! Fuck yeah, here it fuckin’ cums!”
“Shit man, that fuckin’—ran me off the road, I should know better than to pick up men like you. Heh, hell yeah you’re a man! Take a fuckin’ look at yourself in the mirror there. Look at that nasty face, look at those dumb fuckin’ eyes. That’s not the face of some pussy who’s goin’ to school. Smell those pits of yours—yeah, see how they reek now? You worked up a fuckin’ man sweat in here. You gonna go home and shower that off? Heh, I didn’t think so. In fact, if you’re unemployed, why don’t you come work for me? I got a few opening on the crew, and all of us are real men like you, you’ll fuckin’ love it, I promise.”
“Now, how about we celebrate man? Go on, piss those fuckin’ jeans of yours, I want this cab to reek of your piss for days. Don’t be shy, I piss myself in here all the fuckin’ time—why do you think it smells so bad? Just relax man, relax and let it loose…yeah, that’s it, look at that stain. Damn, you had a full bladder too, didn’t you? Let me have a fuckin’ taste man, I gotta taste your piss…Oh fuck, this is some of the nastiest piss I’ve ever had! You’d better fuckin’ save this for me at the job site, put it in a fuckin’ thermos for me if you want. Shit man, fuckin’ hot.”
“Come on, we’d better get you home—you start work in the morning. Oh? You don’t want to go home? You want to stay with me? Look, I know parents are a drag, but I already got a couple of men at home to keep happy, and I’m not looking to bring in another. The four of us have a good thing goin’ already…sorry man, maybe…maybe you can come on over and play sometime, but that’s pretty quick.”
“Hey man, don’t look so fuckin’ bummed. Look, how about…how about I take you to Todd’s place? He’s a bit of a loner—fuckin’ loves to jack off more ‘n anyone I’ve ever met, but you might like him. If nothing else, it’s a place to stay for a while until you can get a place of your own, right? Yeah, his pits reek, trust me on that, you’ll like him. He lives in the same park as your parents, let’s turn in here.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty run down, I know. Oh? You like that? Yeah, it does look like a real man lives here, don’t it? Wait here in the truck, I’ll go talk to him.”
“Hey Todd, I got a new friend of mine waiting in the truck, his names Ben. He needs a place to stay for a bit, and I thought…well, I know you like bein’ alone, but here’s the thing, Ben’s new to manhood, and I was thinkin’, well, he’s pretty open minded, you know? Some of that porn you watch, man, that shit’s filthy, but Ben, man, I think he might be open to some of that nasty shit you like so much.”
“Yeah, I know he’s skinny, but then feed him up! He’d look fuckin’ hot if he got as fat as you.”
“Look, if you don’t like him, it’s just for a little while. I’m not tryin’ to set you up with anybody, I just think, you know, you just seem lonely sometimes. I’m just tryin’ to help. Just give him a chance to get out on his own at least, eh?”
“Alright Ben, he’ll let you stay. Yeah, he is fat, isn’t he? Still, I think you might like that—he gets so fuckin’ sweaty man, all those fuckin’ rolls of fat. He’s a filthy fucker, and I know how you like us filthy men. Besides, it’s better than your parent’s right? Now be a good man, and do what he says. He’s letting you stay rent free, so you gotta be amenable, alright? No, nothing in particular, just keep an open mind, and keep him happy, is all. He works with me too, and he’ll give you a ride into work.”
“Oh, no need to thank me man, I’m just helpin’ you out like my uncle helped me…but wait. Before you go, here, I want you to have these, take the hard hat…and take the boots too. No, I want you to have them, they’re yours. Treat them well, like a man, alright? I’m just helpin’ you like my uncle helped me is all. I’ll see you tomorrow? Be good to Todd. He’s a bit rough, but once you two get to know each other, I think you’ll hit it off just fine. I’ll see you in the mornin’ and you better save that fuckin’ piss of yours for me, I fuckin’ mean it. Thanks man, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“All it costs is one blowjob, and I’ve seen you staring at my crotch all night. Boys like you, only one reason they come here. The rest of it…well, I can tell just by looking at you. I’ve seen you two around town, seen how you look at him. This could help.” The older man turned the cigar over in his hands, “but, if you just want to follow him around, be the best man at his wedding to some fat skank, suck him off once, and only when he’s drunk as hell, then that’s your choice.”
The older man was hardly a looker. Probably from somewhere out in the sticks, missing teeth, big gut, stinking of cheap beer and stale smoke, grey beard to his chest. Still, he was kind of Ben’s type—though he wasn’t really a fan of sucking…This was probably how the guy always got laid though. Magic cigars? Control anyone who you smoke around? Still, for a bunch of closeted queers, lusting after their straight friends…it was tempting. Ben bargained him up, the man promising him a blow job too, and he followed him out to the man’s truck, where they blew each other in the parking lot, and then Ben left, cigar in his pocket, still feeling like he’d been a bit cheated.
Chet was his one weakness. Friends since they were babes, Ben had been lusting after his friend for so long, but he was as straight as could be, and was a big fan of bashing queers. Chet was also an alpha through and through, and as much as Ben chafed at submitting to anyone, he’d learned to let Chet get his way to keep the friendship going. But now…well, now nothing was going to change, but at least it was a nice cigar. He usually stuck to cigarettes, while Chet preferred chewing, but he’d bought a cigar now and then for fun. An opportunity to light up didn’t come for a few days, when he and Chet were hanging out at his little trailer, watching B movies. Heart beating fast, he lit up the cigar, blowing it off in Chet’s direction, watching as he inhaled the first couple whiffs. He sneezed, and rubbed his nose, eyes a bit bleary. “Dang man! That cigar’s strong as fuck. Where the fuck’d you get it?”
“Strong? Nah, this…this is pretty smooth. In fact…” did he dare? “In fact, I don’t think the smoke really bothers you at all. I think you like how it smells.”
“No way, I mean…sure, it’s not botherin’ me as much…” Chet said, fidgeting. He always fidgeted when he lied.
Had it actually worked? How in the hell could he really know? Then again, the man had said it gave him complete control, body and mind. He muttered something under his breath, quietly so Chet couldn’t hear, and a few seconds later, a thick beard sprouted across Chet’s stubbly face. He just gawked for a moment, and Chet reached up to feel it, and yanked his hand away. “What the fuck!”
“Hang on Chet! Calm down…”
Chet grabbed the side of the chair, and his breath slowed down.
“Fuck, it actually works…”
“What fucking works? What…what’s going on?”
He’d never heard Chet scared before. He liked how that sounded, actually. His cock was getting a bit hard, in fact. “Looks good on you, but you know? I just think you’re a bit too young to pull it off. Now, how about we age you up a bit? Say…fifty? Yeah, make you a sexy, submissive, chubby, daddy bear.”
Chet stood up calmly, but the changes were already starting. He watched his smooth stomach balloon outward into a gut, hair filling in across his arms and under his shirt, speckled with grey. “How in the fuck!” he wheeled towards Ben, and blinked. Fuck…fuck, his friend was one…sexy cub. He licked his lips, feeling his tongue brush through his new beard. Ben undid the fly of his pants and let out his cock. “See something you like, Chet?”
“Fuck…fuck you. Fuckin’ faggot. You did…something to me.”
“You’re right Chet…you’re right, I am a faggot. Been one as long as I can remember. And you know what? I’m fuckin’ sick of ya bashin’ us, and I’m fuckin’ sick a yer fuckin’ jokes. Now get the fuck down here and use that nasty mouth of yours for something useful, bitch!”
Chet tried to resist, but all he could do was get down, suck his faggot friend’s cock, and listen to Ben describe their new life together. Ben, the master, and Chet the useless, small cocked, bear slave. Incredibly turned on by pain and humiliation, he started leaking when Ben ground the toe of his boot into his tiny balls. The cigar burnt out, and exhausted, Ben led the collared and harnessed Chet to his cage for the night, and filled his slave bowl with his piss. Chet thanked his master and lapped it up obediently.
“Hang on, I just gotta take a quick piss,” Nick said to his friend Doug waiting by the truck, smoking a cigarette, heading home from their summer road trip. A biker smoking a cigar watched Nick head into the rest stop bathroom, and followed after him.
At the urinal, Nick felt a hand cup his ass suddenly, a plume of smoke blowing across his face. He looked up, still pissing and saw the biker staring at him. The hand slid up the butt of his jeans and down the back, the biker groping his ass. “Wanna be mine, boy?” the biker asked, leaning in close, “Could make this hole of yours happy as fuck.”
Nick was frozen in place, the man’s hand sliding down his crack, one finger at his hole, “Say it boy, all you have to do is say yes.”
Nick’s breath was quick and shallow, and all he could get out was a stammered, weak “No.”
Still, the biker, chuckling, slid his hand back out, sniffed his hand, and clomped out of the restroom. “Suit yourself. I always get what I want though.”
Alone again, Nick collapsed against the urinal, nearly crying. What in the hell had just happened? A couple of minutes later, Doug popped his head in. “Are you still pissing? Come on, let’s get home before dark.
On the ride home, Nick was silent, and Doug could sense something was wrong, but couldn’t drag it out of him. How could Nick tell him he’d just been molested by an old biker in the middle of his piss? Doug hated faggots—-and he didn’t want his friend to think he was a faggot.
Doug dropped him off at his dad’s doublewide and drove off. Nick did his best to forget that anything had even happened, and went inside, told his dad he was tuckered, and went to bed without dinner. Down the block, a motorcycle idled, and the butt of a cigar burned in the dark.
It was a couple of days later that Nick came home from hanging out with Doug, and found his dad on the couch, home from work, smoking a pipe. Nick found this odd—his father always preferred to chew, and when Nick asked him about it, his dad didn’t seem quite able to tell him where the pipe had come from, or why he was smoking it. The smoke smelled familiar, and Nick was uneasy all evening until he finally realized it had the same stink as that biker’s from the restroom. Still, it was probably just tobacco from the same brand, right?
His dad was acting strange. He kept…staring at Nick, and not in a normal way. In a…hungry way. When he thought Nick was out of the room, he kept seeing his dad grope himself in his camo pants, but never when Nick was around. His dad broke out the whisky early, and was out on the couch by midnight when Nick went to bed himself. It was several hours later that the door to his room opened, and his dad staggered in, pipe lit, cock hanging out the fly of his pants. He threw the covers off Nick, waking him up, but forced Nick onto his stomach and climbed on top of him. Nick tried to scream, but his father shoved his face into the pillow as he rammed his cock into his hole raw and unlubed. It was quick—four thrusts, and his father exploded in his ass, before collapsing on him, breathing hot smoke and whisky breath onto his son’s neck. Without speaking, he got up and stumbled back to his room.
Nick couldn’t move. At first, he thought he just didn’t want to move, but then he realized, he actually couldn’t move. Another man was in the doorway—the biker, his room full of smoke, but he didn’t say anything. The room was full of smoke now, and Nick realized he must be dreaming. Not all of it was a dream. He woke up, feeling his father’s cum dried down the crack of his ass, but that was normal, right? His dad always liked fucking his hole when he got too drunk. Nick stopped, realizing what he’d just thought. His dad had never done anything like that to him before—so why in the hell had he thought…
The door opened, and it was his dad, morning wood jutting straight out. Nick lipped his lips as his father climbed on him and skullfucked him, blowing his load across his son’s face before getting dressed in his workgear and heading to the construction site. Nick got cleaned up, everything feeling more normal suddenly, and then left and started walking to Doug’s house, when a motorcycle pulled up next to him, the biker smirking at him.
Nick went to run, but the biker grabbed him and pulled him close, one hand twisting Nick’s nipple. “How about now, boy? You’d rather have your hole fucked by your dad, or by me? How about a nice ‘yes’?”
Nick was frozen, but again said no. The biker released him, and drove off, saying once again, “I always get what I want boy!”
Nick arrived at Doug’s place, knocked on the door, and was his friend opened it, cigar planted in the corner of his mouth. Nick just stared at him, and asked him where the cigar had come from. Doug told him he always smoked cigars, and pulled him inside. Doug suggested that they take a walk in the woods, but when Nick told him he just wanted to stay in today, Doug instead insisted. His friend had never been so forceful before, and something in Nick…something made him feel compelled to obey.
They hiked out into the woods, and Nick swore that as Doug smoked, something was happening to him. He was getting…bigger. In fact, by the time they reached the river, his friend, who had been an inch or two shorter, was now six inches taller, his body filled out with muscle, and his eyes. His eyes were cruel. They reached the river, and Doug turned to him, “Kids at school—you know, they’re saying your dad’s a faggot.”
“He’s…he’s not a faggot,” Nick said.
“They say he’s a faggot, and they say you’re a faggot too. That you let your dad fuck your ass, that you want him to fuck you.”
“That’s not fucking true!” Nick shouted, but Doug grabbed Nick’s groin in a huge hand and squeezed it until Nick let out a groan.
“Not true? Then I suppose that the thought of your dad’s old cock won’t get you hard eh? I suppose that the thought of him coming in your room doesn’t get you all excited, that you don;t get hard at the thought of sucking his scummy cock? Of taking a load of his in your asshole? I bet you started it. I bet you’re the one who begged him to fuck you, you made your dad into a fucking faggot for your hole.”
Nick was listening, but there, across the river, was the biker. The smoke was flowing over the water like a fog, about to envelop them. He was hard. He was hard, thinking about his dad’s cock, thinking about how he’d gotten his dad drunk and sucked him off that first time, how his dad hadn’t wanted to, but Nick was so fucking horny, he was such a fucking faggot for nasty cock…
“No shit—I’ve been friends with a faggot this whole fucking time.”
Nick nodded, and was unprepared for Doug’s fist to slam into the side of his face. There was so much smoke, and yet his view of Doug was perfectly clear, the biggest guy at school, he’d wanted his cock forever. He could see the bulge, probably close to nine inches—how would that feel buried in his ass?
“Please…please, I just want…I just want to serve you, please…”
The words were him, but he couldn’t imagine himself saying them.
“Clean my fucking boot, faggot.”
Doug smashed his boot onto Nick’s face, and he licked at the dusty tread, anything for his friend’s cock, anything, he was just a worthless faggot for cock. He licked both boots clean, and only then did Doug reward him, shoving his giant cock deep into his hole, making Nick scream, but it felt so fucking good. Doug came in his ass and tromped off into the forest, telling him he never wanted to see the faggot again, and Nick looked down between his legs, and saw that he’d shot his own load on the dirt trail.
The smoke had cleared. He stood up, and started out of the woods, pleased with himself. Sure, Doug would tell everyone at school he was a stupid faggot, but he’d finally got that massive cock in him. It was worth it. Besides, he was just a worthless faggot, after all, right?
Waiting for him at the head of the trail, he found the biker, cigar burning. Nick approached him, hesitantly, felt the leather jacket—it was too cold compared to the summer air. “What do you say now, boy? You want to be mine? Be my little cubby faggot?”
Nick reached down and felt the biker’s cock through his jeans. Big, but not as big as Doug’s. And he liked his dad. He liked getting fucked by him. And maybe…maybe more guys at school would want to fuck him now. And he knew Doug would want to fuck him again, sometime. No one could resist his faggot ass. “No, no, I don’t think so,” Nick said, and walked on. The biker looking at him as he left, a bit perturbed, but he got on his bike and drove off.
Nick found his dad’s truck in the driveway when he got home, and was excited for an afternoon fuck. He went inside, but the father on the couch was not the one who had left home that morning. The pipe…it was much bigger now, as was his father. Sometime during the day, he’d packed on close to three hundred pounds, and now, heaps of blubber cascaded off of him. Nick could smell him from across the room, the stench of cum and sweat and…piss? He stood in the doorway, not noticing the tendril of smoke curling in from the kitchen.
“What the fuck are you waiting for, faggot? Get over here and suck daddy’s cock.”
Nick wanted to ask what had happened, he wanted to resist. He didn’t want to serve this fat, disgusting man, but the smoke curled around his feet and drew him closer. He knelt down, feeling the smoke wrap around his body, dissolving his clothes, leaving him naked aside from a set of manacles on his wrists and feet, chained together so he couldn’t walk upright, only crawl. He shoved his face under his father’s apron, searching until he found his short, three inch cock, and started sucking. He hated his father’s cock—mostly because it meant on fuck was satisfying, and his father said his slave’s ass was reserved for him alone. Most fucks were just his father grunting and grinding his tiny cock up Nick’s ass crack until he came—it was miserable. It was difficult breathing as he sucked, but he’d learned some tricks in his years of service, ever since his father had enslaved him. It took some work, but he managed to suck out a load of cum, but he remained, waiting for…something. He didn’t remember until his father released a load of piss for him to swallow; only after could Nick extract himself.
“Footrest,” his father said.
Nick crawled over dutifully and allowed his father to set his booted feet on his hunched back. He remained perfectly still for hours, eventually cramping in his tight position, but he didn’t dare move. Eventually, he heard the grumble of a truck outside; it was Doug’s. What would his friend think if he saw him like this?
That thought struck him as strange. Doug was no longer his friend….Doug was….something else to him.
“Sounds like your trainer’s here,” his dad said, and removed his feet, allowing Nick to uncurl slightly. “Gonna work on your pain tolerance tonight, he said. I do love hearin’ my bitch scream, so be good and loud tonight.”
Doug tromped up and let himself in—now even larger, his body packed with hair and muscle, wearing leather pants and a vest, tattoos covering his body. “Into the dungeon, slave.”
Nick crawled after Doug into the room which had been his, but which now contained a large selection of dungeon gear. He was paddled and whipped until he bled and sobbed. His balls and nipples were stretched, Doug telling him how, soon, his father might let Doug castrate him, and replace his balls with a couple of heavy, iron eggs instead. Doug taunted him with his ten inch cock, telling him he’d never let a slave as worthless as Nick serve it. How Doug would only be serviced by real men, not faggots like Nick.
The room was filled with a haze of smoke, and in the doorway, the biker. Nick pleaded with him silently, begging him to be merciful. The biker simply regarded the scene in silence, until Doug finished training and left, leaving Nick restrained on the table, balls stretched out to the wall, nipples dragged up to the ceiling. Only then, did the biker approach.
“I think…I think I will only ask one more time. Would you rather this be your life? A worthless, castrated pig for your father and his sadistic friend’s twisted pleasures? Or would you rather be my cub? What do you say boy, can I have a yes?”
“I need to hear you say it.”
“Y—yes. Yes, please.”
Nick blinked, and when he opened them again, he was back in the rest area bathroom. But now…now things were different. His master leaned over, watching his leather biker cub piss in the urinal.
“I like the look of that PA, cub. Makes you even sexier than you already are.”
“Thank you sir,” Nick said, looking down at the thick ring in the head of his cock, the piss spraying out around it, some of it splattering against the leg of his leather chaps. He took a drag off his cigar—and shared the smoke with his master as he shook piss off the head, and then the biker grabbed his boy by the thick chain collar he wore, dragged him into the stall, and fucked his hole.
Outside, Doug finished his smoke, and felt like he was forgetting something. With a shrug, he climbed back into his truck and started home, but saw a biker and some disgusting fag leave the restroom together. He rolled down the window and shouted, “Faggots!” as he rolled past.
The biker smirked, “Nice friend of yours.”
Nick looked over at him, confused, “I don’t know him, sir.”
“Well, what do you say we follow him, and when he stops next, we turn him into a nasty trucker, who cruises for piss as truck stops?”
“Only if I can make him four hundred pounds with a tiny cock and a hungry hole I can fuck,” Nick said smiling, and they climbed on their bikes, smoke trailing behind them as they drove off down the highway after Doug.
Why work? That was the question Jack had asked himself one day, and he’d realized that he didn’t have a good answer. And so, he decided to just not work. Well, he had been working in one fashion—figuring out every way he could to get money from the government. Hell, he’d even pretended to have a pregnant girlfriend to pick up an extra 200 a month. For years now, he’d been living alone in the old single wide his uncle had died in, where Jack had just started squatting while the rest of the family didn’t actually care. He’d even kept collecting his uncle’s social security—since no one had bothered to let the government know he was dead. It wasn’t a comfortable life, but he didn’t have to work. He could set his own schedule, drink beer, smoke, and watch TV, which is everything that made him happy anyway. Still, he always figured that one day people would catch on—it just didn’t quite lead to the result he was expecting.
One day, instead of his usual check from welfare, he received a large package on the doorstep. Inside, he found a letter: Congratulations! You have been selected as a candidate for our new Eager-to-Work! Program. This pilot program is tailored to those members of the long-term unemployed who have shown a reluctance to find work for themselves. As part of this program, you have already been accepted to work at a local small business in need of labor. Inside this package, you will find your uniform for your new job…
The rest of the letter had information about where he would be working, and said he would be starting the following Monday after the weekend. Of course, he had absolutely no intention of starting any kind of job. Besides, he was “disabled” anyway. Couldn’t these organizations figure their shit out for once? He got on the phone with the welfare office, but the woman he spoke to, while very congenial and apologetic, informed him that for as long as he was a member of this pilot program, he would be ineligible for other forms of public assistance. Furious, he hung up, and decided that he just wouldn’t go at all. No one was going to make him work, especially not after this long. He went to throw out the package, but decided to take a look at what the office had sent him for a “uniform.” Nothing in there was at all clean, and along with a set of grubby red coveralls, there were even socks, some boots, and even a grey stinking jockstrap. Really stinking, actually. He put the jock to his nose and took a deep breath of the fabric, smelling the sweat imbedded in it.
He stripped off his boxers and pulled the jock on instead. After a moment’s hesitation, he went and pulled on the rest of the gear as well, and when he was done, the grungy, sweaty smell had his cock rock hard in the jock, and he couldn’t stop himself from jacking off. In fact, that was all he could do all weekend long. He never once removed any part of the uniform, even sleeping with the boots on. As the weekend passed, he found himself imagining all sorts of new fantasies. How he could be working for eight hours, come home all sweaty, smelling absolutely disgusting. Fuck, it would be amazing. He still remembered his sworn promise to never work another day in his life, but for the first time he actually found himself regretting it, and wondering if he’d made the right choice. The idea that he might actually enjoy working scared him—and on Sunday he took off the uniform, but before he could throw it away, he felt something strange happening to his body. In the mirror, he noticed that his hair was suddenly starting to recede and turn grey, his goatee turning grey as well, as his body softened and began fattening up. In a panic, he threw the uniform back on, which halted the aging, but back in the stinking sweat, he found he actually kind of liked how he looked. Older, a bit weathered—like a man who’d spent his life working rough, sweaty jobs.
He was back on his bed then, jacking off, smelling his pits, wishing they were even nastier. Hopefully the job would be one where he could work up a good sweat every day—then he could spend his whole weekend smelling himself and jacking off, before doing it all over the next week. He shot his load up onto his stomach and rubbed it in there, feeling a bit of clarity well up in him. This was insane. This couldn’t possibly be legal, but he knew that if he kept this up, he would definitely be going to work tomorrow. Then, he realized that he still didn’t know where he was even going to be working! Sensing an opportunity, he rummaged around in the clutter until he found the sheet from Eager-to-Work! and burnt it to ashes with his lighter before he could see his new place of employment.
That Monday, he soon realized that there were other good reasons for him to go to work. All day, he had so much energy he was practically bouncing off the walls, but the one thing that wouldn’t cooperate was his cock. It was completely soft, and wouldn’t get hard for anything, even as he grew increasingly horny. Tuesday was even worse, but he refused to give in and call the unemployment office to get the information from them. It was Wednesday that a new package arrived, unbidden, along with another letter:
Due to your continued attempts at unemployment, you have been selected for Eager-to-Work!’s mentorship program! Included in the package are some things that will help you get to know your mentor a little better, before he arrives for your first meeting Wednesday afternoon at 4 pm at the following location.
All that was in the package, however, was another pair of boots and a jockstrap. But these…as soon as he smelled them, he knew that they weren’t his. and yet…he picked up the jock, and he could smell the cum soaked into it, and his cock was hard again, and he was jacking off, unable to even help himself. Then, he started smelling the boots, and he nearly retched, but he could handle it, he could take it all in. The feet that were in those boots, fuck! They must be huge, and stinking, and he could just image them smashed against his face, against his cock, shoved in his mouth sucking on their toes. He came three times on the floor by the door, the jock stuffed in a boot covering his nose and mouth, while he shot multiple loads across the other boot’s toe and laces, which he then licked off, tasting the dirt and grime of work. Yes, this was a man who worked! This was a man who worked like he could work, if he could just stop being such a lazy dumbass! He had to meet this man, he had to, he could help him be a good worker.
The clock moved so slowly, but finally it was time to leave. He drove to a small house not too far from the trailer park where he lived, and he found the garage door open, a squat man sitting in the back of his pickup. “You must be Jack,” he said, “Come on in here—I’m gonna be your mentor.”
Jack couldn’t get into the garage fast enough, the door closing down behind him as he hopped up into the bed of the truck, and found himself face to face with his mentor’s huge feet. He started slobbering all over them, wildly jerking his cock, and listened to everything his mentor had to say about the thrill of work, about how hot it was getting dirty and grungy with other men, smelling them on the worksite, begging them to let him lick them clean and suck their cocks and massage their feet. Jack promised his mentor that he would go to work tomorrow like a good man, and once the mentor was satisfied that Jack was telling the truth, he finally let Jack suck the cum from this thick cock, before sending him on his way.
Jack discovered that he was going to be working for a construction company, and it was everything he could have hoped it would be. Sweaty, hard work with a bunch of other men who had been selected for the Eager-to-Work! program like him. It was hard containing themselves for eight hours of hard work, but it was all worth it after closing time, when Jack and the rest of his co-workers would all stick around and fuck each other’s lights out for several hours. Jack would still have doubts on occasion, but at his bi-weekly fuck sessions with his mentor, there was nothing he couldn’t get past. Soon, he was just another happy worker, wearing his stinking coveralls day and night, eight hours of work, eight hours of rest, and eight hours of fucking.
“Please wait while neural interface is established…”
The screen of his computer froze while the small box plugged into the USB port flashed. Lucas sat at his desk, cock hanging out of the fly of his slacks, massaging himself half hard, eager for the session to begin.
“Participant: Nathan Oberlik, has been uploaded, transferred.”
Nathan was one of Lucas’ coworkers—or rather, one of his subordinates. When Lucas had discovered that Nathan was gay, he’d invited him to have a shared session with him through The Network, and Nathan had been his playmate ever since. It helped that Nathan was naturally submissive—he was perfectly happy to allow Lucas to select the bodies they would inhabit for a few hours of sex. There was a buzzing in his ears growing louder, and suddenly his vision faded to static. A moment later, he was sitting on some ratty couch in what looked like a single wide, wearing a ballcap, wifebeater, and some shorts that he shucked off immediately.
Lucas was staring, inhabiting the body of some bearded roughneck, licking his lips. The additional request seemed to have been honored—The Network could, in the process of a download, alter the thoughts and fantasies of the people it was processing. Nathan had requested that Lucas be implanted with an insatiable desire for cum, and the perverse desire lick clean filthy, sweaty bodies—like the one Lucas was now residing within.
“Don’t just stand there, pig,” Lucas said, rubbing his new body’s cock to full mast, “Get sucking.”
“F—Fuck…” Nathan said, and got down, “I…I must have been hornier than I thought, cause…” but he never finished his thought, focusing on swallowing Lucas’ cock to the hilt. While he sucked, Lucas took a survey of his borrowed body, running his hands through his furry chest, feeling the young muscles flex. It was a pity that it was only temporary. He shoved Lucas off his cock and back onto his ass.
“What gives man? I’m fuckin’ thirsty!”
“Beg for it.”
“Go on pig, beg for my cock.”
Lucas’ face turned a bit red. “Please…please can I have your cock?”
“Network, pause Lucas.”
Lucas froze suddenly, his pupils flickering with static.
“Please give Lucas’ voice a southern inflection. Also, make him turned on by verbal humiliation.”
Sparks shot out of Lucas’ body for a moment, and then he unfroze. “Please, can Ah suck yer cock, man? Fuckin’ hungry fer some cum…”
“Tell me your a horny pig for my cum.”
“I’m…I’m a horny pig fer yer cum man…fuckin’…please…”
Lucas stood up and began skullfucking Nathan, calling him a cocksucking faggot pig, listening to his coworker grunt and jack off his own cock while Lucas humiliated him. They both shot their loads, and they spent the rest of the session in a pleasant afterglow, Nathan happily cleaning off Lucas’ sweaty body with his tongue, and he made sure he spent extra time on his body’s asscrack.
Their two hour session was coming to a close, however, and they began to prepare for departure, watching the clock, a bit eager to get back into their own bodies. However, two hours passed and nothing happened. Then, two hours and five minutes. “Network,” Lucas asked, “End session.” No reply. “End session!” he shouted, and then added, “This wasn’t part of the fucking deal, and you know it!”
“Deal?” Nathan asked, “What fuckin’ deal, man?”
Lucas was silent, but Nathan just stared at him.
“What the fuck did ya do?”
“I…I didn’t have the money to pay them, alright? They were going to come after me, and I threatened to out them to the Justice Department.”
Nathan just gawked, “Wha the fuckin’ hell man! ‘N ya thought we could jus’ continue on as fuckin’ normal?”
They offered a free session on the house!”
“Yer a fuckin’ idiot, I oughta—”
Before Nathan could finish speaking, he froze in place, his pupils full of static. His mouth opened, and a voice which was not his own came from his mouth. “I know this wasn’t part of the deal, Mr. Henderson, but Chuck and Trent are so happy in your bodies, and they were more than happy to agree to a payment plan to cover your debt. I’m afraid this session will not be ending anytime soon, for either of you.”
“No, you can’t fucking do this! I’m the vice president of a huge company! They’ll know it’s not me.”
“Yes, which is why I will be needing to download your memories, like I have for Nathan here. It’s a pity you had to drag him into this. Still, I think he’s going to enjoy his new life with you, once I finish these personality alterations. Oh! And we have a new process which is currently in testing, but you two will make such good subjects. Did you know that we have discovered how to alter the bodies of our clients now too? The central nervous system is so full of wonders. It takes several hours for the changes to fully manifest however. Now, I’m almost done.”
“Please, I’ll do anything, please don’t do this to me, don’t take my mind.”
“Oh, Lucas,” the voice said, “While I am deleting Nathan’s mind, I have a feeling yours…well, you’ll just have to wait and see. But how about this? Let’s play a game. When I’m finished with Nathan here, he’s going to be very, very horny, and I have a feeling he’s going to want to fuck your ass very badly. If you can keep your hole virginal for, say, ten minutes, I’ll give you your freedom.”
“Just fucking let me go.”
“Oh, but then who will Nathan—I mean, Chuck here, his name is Chuck now—fuck? Alright? Ready, set—go!”
Lucas watched Nathan stumble on his feet, before he caught himself, blinking, trying to figure out what had just happened. “Fuck—fuckin’ horny, man…” he looked up and saw Lucas standing there, and smirked, “Oh…hey Pigg, when did ya get here? Eh, who fuckin’ cares—turn the fuck around, I wanna plow that greasy hole a yers.”
“Nathan,” Lucas said, backing up a few paces, “Nathan, you have to listen to me, it’s the Network, they fucked with your head. You just have to trust me, I can get us out of here.”
“Nathan? Who the fuck’s Nathan? My name’s Chuck, but you can just call me sir, Pigg.”
Chuck advanced on him, and Lucas looked around, spying a baseball bat leaning against the wall. He grabbed it and swung it right into the side of Chuck’s head—he crumpled to the ground, eyes blank, blood leaking from an ear.
Lucas panted and dropped the bat to the ground—at least his hole was safe. It was too bad about Nathan. Still, he could figure something out.
“Oh Lucas,” a voice said. He looked down, and saw that The Network had taken over the body once more, “You’re so violent! So vicious. Murdering your friend here. Well, don’t worry, I can fix that. Still, I don’t think Chuck is going to be too happy about that, right Chuck? Heh, Chuck can’t say anything right now, but he agrees. Now, how about we try that again? You still have…nine minutes and fifteen seconds.”
Chuck groaned and started picking himself up off the floor. Lucas went to grab the bat, but Chuck beat him to it, wrestling it from his grip. “Bat…” Chuck muttered, his mind still knitting itself back together, “Bat…P-Pigg, yer gonna get a fuckin’ beating, I fuckin’ swear.”
Lucas turned and ran the length of the single wide, but realized the door out was the other direction—past Chuck. With nowhere else to go, he locked himself in the bathroom, and in moments, Chuck was hammering on the cheap wooden door with the bat. “Open up Trent! I’m comin’ in there to get your hole!”
The door cracked apart, splinters flying into Lucas’ face. Chuck ripped open the door, grabbed him by the neck and dragged him out, Lucas fighting for breath. He tried to fight Chuck off, but his friend landed one solid punch to his eye, sending him reeling back and crashing to the floor, and then he was on top of him, Chuck’s hard cock pressed against the small of his back, one hand with a vice grip on the back of his neck, pinning him to the floor until he could find his hole and start working his dry cock into it. Lucas let out a weak scream, unable to catch his breath. Tried to claw himself away, but Chuck was inside him, he’d lost, and he felt his body freeze in place, his vision static, but a voice, he could hear a voice in his head.
“Oh Lucas, that really was a good try. Well, I shouldn’t call you Lucas anymore—you’re new name is Pigg—with two G’s—it really was smart of your parents to give you a name like that, eh? It’s almost like they knew from the time you were little, that the only thing you’d want is to serve a nasty roughneck like Chuck here as his filthy pig slave. So here’s what I’m doing. I’m going to hardwire you with all sorts of new, wonderful instincts. The instinct to serve men, the instinct to sniff out and eat cum, the instinct to drink and bathe in piss. And as for that whole bat incident earlier, well, let’s just say you’re going to have a very different relationship with pain from now on, Pigg.
“Oh, and this body of yours? Well, I don’t think it’s very pig like, do you? I’ve already slowed down your metabolism—so in a few hours, well, I think you’ll find yourself quite a bit more curvy. As for Lucas—well, how about this? I’ve already copied your memories off for Trent back in your old body, but I’ll go ahead and leave these with you, to think about. And I mean that you should think about them. I went ahead and rewired your brain here, so that your long term memory is more like a sieve than a bowl. Why, if you don’t pay attention, you might just go ahead and forget everything! You might end up an empty headed pig slave, operating on instinct alone, no thought, no memory, just an empty shell. I know that must scare you. Goodbye Pigg—it’s a pleasure to know we’ll never meet again.”
The voice and the static was gone—he was alone, Master Chuck ramming his huge cock into his piggy hole, and Pigg pushed back, hungrily, unable to stop. The motion was simply bypassing his head—he had no control over himself. Instead of thinking about the pleasure coursing through him every time his master smacked his ass, he tried to hold onto his memories, these memories that weren’t his, but he had to keep them. His name Lucas, his job, his old life, but things were slipping away faster than he could hold onto them. It didn’t help when Chuck, after blowing his load, took the bat Pigg had assaulted him with and worked the head deep into Pigg’s asshole. It hurt so good that Pigg forgot to keep thinking for a moment, all he could do was grunt and snort and squeal and feel his shrinking cock shoot load after load of cum onto the bathroom floor.
Later, after slurping his own cum mindlessly off the floor, the bat lodged deep in his ass still, as he licked and cleaned his master’s feet, feeling his gut growing as he knelt there, rubbing it with his hands, toying with his sensitive nipples, he tried to sort through what remained of himself. The hazy face of some old man. A flickering, frozen computer screen connected to something called The Network, but that probably wasn’t important. A name, “Lucas”. That’s not his name though, his name was Pigg. He decided to just let them all fall through. Thinking was too hard. Better to just serve, and fuck, and eat like a good piggy slave for master Chuck.
Rick took another drag off his cigarette in the alley behind the club. Tuesday, and a slow night even for a Tuesday, and another three hours before his shift was over. Hopefully someone in there would get drunk and rowdy, give him something to do. As boring as bouncing could be, when it was fun—well, it was fun. He thought about his little pet project back at home that he’d been working on for a couple of weeks now, and massaged his half hard cock through the denim of his jeans, when he heard some voices coming down the alley towards him.
“Dude, this is a gay bar though!”
“I fucking know that, but this is where he’s been going.”
“So wait, Max—big butch defensive line Max has been a closet fag this whole fuckin’ time?”
“Look, let’s just try and find him, alright?”
Rick watched the two kids from the local college some down the alley towards him. They were well built. Probably athletes, and at this time of year, most likely football. They were probably looking for his project. “Something I can help you boys with?” he said, “The alley’s off limits.”
The two football players were big—but neither of them were a match for Rick as he stood up from the steps, all six foot five and two hundred and seventy five pounds of muscle staring down at them both.
“Oh…fuck. Sorry man, it’s just…we got a bit turned around, and—hey…uh…do you work here? In the bar?”
“I’m a bouncer—why?”
“Well…a teammate of ours. His name’s Max. He was coming here off and on, and well, we haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks. Coach said he dropped out of college, but…well, he won’t even answer his phone, and his parents think he’s still at school. We’re worried something happened to him.”
The bouncer slipped a hand into his pocket where his phone was. “Huh…well, what’s the guy look like?”
“Well, he’s on the defensive line, so he’s kind of chubby. Redhead. Bushy beard.”
“He’s really loud, and he can get pretty rowdy when he gets drunk.”
Rick thought for a moment, and then shook his head, “Nope, can’t say I’ve seen anyone like that…hey, hold on, I’m getting a phone call.”
Rick pulled his phone out of his pocket, and the speaker was emitting a high pitched whine. The two students winced at the sound, but within thirty seconds, their eyes had gone blank, and both of them were swaying where they stood. “Now boys—what’s your names?”
“Alright Alex and Trevor. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to forget all about Max—he did drop out. In fact, you both talked to him last week, and remember him telling you that, don’t you?”
Alex and Trevor nodded.
“Good. Now, I’d like both of you to give me your phone numbers please, so I can call you if I need anything.”
He entered their numbers into his phone, and then turned off the noise his phone was making. Both of the students shook their heads like they were waking up, Rick finished a fake phone call and hung up the phone. “Now, you boys wanted to know something?”
Alex and Trevor looked at each other, neither of them sure what they were doing in this alley with the huge bouncer, shook their heads and retreated, trying to figure out what had just happened. Rick chuckled—the meatheads were always so easy to fuck around with. His break was over, so he stamped out his cigarette and headed back into the club to finish his shift. It was as boring as he’d hoped it wouldn’t be. Finally, the club closed for the night, Rick climbed into his truck, stopped by the local pizza shop (it stayed open late just for him) picked up his five pizza standing order, and headed home.
He let himself in, setting down the pizzas by the door, and walked over to where Max was tied to a chair, eyes blank, earbuds stuffed in each ear, playing a loop of Rick’s homemade hypnosis tracks and subliminals, but he took a moment to admire his handy work, especially after seeing Alex and Trevor earlier. One of his first tasks had been to get rid of all the fucking hair on Max’s body—and now, after some special treatments, his body would be completely smooth for the rest of his life. Tonight was going to be special though—the mix he’d put on for Max to listen to had a new track he was excited to test out—finally, he pulled out the earbuds, and after a couple of minutes, Max shook his head in a daze, and looked up at Rick. The look was dread. Week one had been anger. Week two had been fear. But now, Max was learning to dread. Rick always liked that look—but he really liked what would happen in a few more weeks, when Max would start to enjoy it. When he’d look up at him eagerly, excited to find out how Rick had chosen to twist and warp his mind that day.
“How are you doing, slave? Hungry?” Rick asked.
“Still fighting that one, eh?”
“N—No sir, sorry sir…I’m not fighting anything sir.” Max had learned that resisting the hypnosis would only lead Rick to entrance him further, usually with some extra suggestion as punishment. Max had fought calling him Sir and Master at first—and so, as extra incentive, Rick had hypnotized him to feel someone squeeze down on his balls everytime he forgot. He’d figured it out pretty quickly after that.
“Well, I have dinner for you, pig, but first, I want to see how today’s files worked out. See, I thought of something special to do to you today, and I’m curious to see how it worked. So, shall we?” Rick reached down and grabbed a hold of Max’s limp cock, and Max got an odd look on his face, and then just stared at Rick.
“Well? How does it feel, pig?”
“I can’t…I don’t…what did you do to me sir? I can’t…it’s just…numb.”
“So, if I start stroking it, you mean you can’t feel any of this?” Rick said, as he toyed and stroked Max’s cock, but it stayed perfectly limp the entire time. “That’s good—very good. Just what I wanted.”
Max sniffled, holding back tears, unable to believe it. He couldn’t feel his cock at all—as far as he could tell, it’s like he didn’t even have one.
“Don’t worry pig, it’s not that I don’t want you to feel anything—I just want your attention focused somewhere else, is all,” Rick said, then reached up and ran his finger over Max’s nipple. It immediately hardened, and Max let out a sigh of pleasure. “See? A nipple pig—well, nipples and something else too.” Rick wormed a hand between the chair and Max’s ass, a finger sliding against his hole, and again Max gasped in pleasure. “Very nice, very nice indeed. I’m very happy.”
“Please…please sir, just let me go, I’m sorry…”
“Oh piggy,” Rick said, and set his hand on Max’ shaved head. Max shivered and groaned, feeling immediately submissive, his thoughts suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to serve his master. Rick unzipped his fly with his other hand, letting out his hard cock, and allowed Max to suck it. “Oh piggy, I will let you go, eventually. You’ll be your own man, although very different from the man you were. But that old, closeted Max will be gone, and instead you’ll be a horny, kinky pig bitch, begging for cock, happily tugging on your nipples all the time. But I have some news to share, pig. It’s my day off tomorrow, you know, so guess what? We’re going out on the town—you’re gonna be getting your first tattoos. Isn’t that exciting?”
Max wasn’t really listening. He was too focused on sucking his master’s cock, on serving him. The sensation of a hand on his shaved scalp—something about it made him so docile. He couldn’t help but obey whoever was palming his skull.
“But here’s what I’m really excited for. See, I’m so happy that file worked as well as it did, because I have plans for that cock of yours, pig. I’ve already made an appointment with the plastic surgeon even—we’re gonna cut this cock of yours down to size—by the time we’re done, it’s gonna be a one inch nub, permanently soft and numb. Not even a clit—cause you aren’t going to be feeling anything down there.”
Max could sense Master was getting close. His own cock was soft though—still, that didn’t matter. His cock was worthless after all. Why, he didn’t even need a cock, really. What good was a cock that couldn’t feel anything?
“And when we get to the office, if you ask me real nicely, I might ask the surgeon to go ahead and throw in a castration, turn you into a proper hog. Maybe put some steel balls in there instead to weigh down that sack of yours, keep you weak and docile for the rest of your life. Oh fuck yeah—you’re gonna fuckin’ beg me to take your balls—that’s gonna be so fuckin’ hot!”
Master was cumming, and Max sucked it all down. He was starving—he hadn’t eaten all day. Between his master’s hypnosis and his nightly binging, he was already packing on the pounds. Rick removed his hand, and Max felt some semblance of freedom return to him, but it was too late to spit out Master’s cum—not that he wanted to anyway…right? He…liked how cum tasted.
Rick stripped down to his underwear, and then pulled a chair over beside Max, and fed him all five pizzas, slice by slice, and as he did, he told Max about Alex and Trevor, and how they’d been looking for him in the alley. He wasn’t sure which one he’d start with once he was finished with Max—in fact, he might do them both together. He hadn’t made many tops lately—he kind of liked the idea of turning them into identical muscle twins. But before that, he’d be sure to invite them both over a few times so they can fuck Max at both ends for fun. Max didn’t want to think that was hot, but he did anyway.
Finally, the pizzas were gone, and Rick yawned. “Alright pig, it’s time for me to go to bed, and for you to listen some more. I have another new track for you tonight—I hope you’ll like it. I’m very excited to see how it works in the morning.”
Max begged him to not do it, but both of the earbuds were back in his ears, and in less then a minute, the pig was zoned out, listening to his master’s voice. Rick went over to his computer and adjusted the playlist, and then went to bed. He was going to have a nice day tomorrow, at least—he always liked giving these pigs their first tattoos. And with Max suddenly feeling pain as pleasure—he had a feeling Max would enjoy it quite a bit too.
Mr. Jackson wasn’t quite sure how he felt about his new tenant—in fact, he couldn’t quite remember why he’d even agreed to let him stay here in his house in the first place. To keep the bills paid, he liked to rent out his son’s old room now that he had moved out, but he generally tried to rent to someone more respectable than Randy. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he had a job, and he can’t remember ever doing an employment or a background check on him. Still, it probably wasn’t worth worrying about, right? He did need this month’s rent payment though—it was already two days late. He hadn’t really wanted to say anything about it, mostly because he wanted to interact with Randy as little possible. He heard the front door open and Randy tromped in, looking like trash, and smelling a bit like it too.
“Oh, hey Randy. Do you have this month’s rent? You’re two days late, but if you just forgot—”
“Oh, I didn’t forget, I was just waiting for you to come collect. I’ve been waiting every night, faggot. Did you forget about our deal?” Mr. Jackson looked up from his checkbook, a bit taken aback. Randy walked up to him at the kitchen table and tweaked one of his nipples. “I do like the view though, teasing me, walking around shirtless all day, showing off that old hairy gut. Pig. You’re the one who’s late though—so how about we head up to my bedroom and settle up?”
“I don’t…I think I might have missed something…” Mr. Jackson noticed that Randy was still speaking, but he couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Still, how stupid was he? Of course they’d made a deal. Randy was unemployed at the moment, but Mr. Jackson agreed to accept his nasty cum in lieu of rent. And if Randy had been storing it up for two days now, fuck, he must have quite the payment to collect!
“I’m….sorry Randy. Let’s go settle up right…right away.” The world was lurching, and everything felt like it was moving too slowly.
“You’re already at the table though—why don’t I just feed you here?”
That…that made sense. Mr. Jackson licked his lips, watching Randy drop his muddy jeans to the kitchen floor. The briefs he had on underneath were crusty, but his uncut, seven inch cock slipped right out a whole in the front, and Mr. Jackson swallowed it down. He’d never sucked cock before, and he gagged. Randy took control, grabbing his hair and ramming the stinking shaft down Mr. Jackson’s throat. He looked up, and saw that Randy was still talking, but Mr. Jackson couldn’t understand any of it. It didn’t matter, he was just a stupid pig anyway. Yeah, just a stupid worthless piggy, and when Randy fed him his first month’s rent, Mr. Jackson begged him to pay him last months too. And since it came at the end, it only made sense to pump it deep in his piggy asshole, right?
There on his hands and knees on the kitchen floor, Randy drilling his dick into him, Mr. Jackson found himself able to hear again, hear himself snorting and grunting like a pig, rutting with his tenant. Fuck, the first time he’d seen Randy, he’d had to have him. He loved renting to nasty fucks like him. Real men who knew how to treat piggies like Mr. Jackson. His cock was leaking on the tile—Randy behind him calling him all sorts of filthy names. So many hot, filthy, piggy names.
He came, his old cock pumping out a load of pig cum onto the tile. When Randy was finished making payments, he pulled up his pants and headed up to his room, while Mr. Jackson crawled back and lapped up his own cum off the floor. Might as well pay himself too, right? He got up and sat down at the table again, sweaty and panting, but he couldn’t seem to get his head back to where it used to be. He couldn’t stop thinking about Randy, about his hot nasty tenant, and finally he got up, panting, rock hard, and went to Randy’s room, and knocked.
“Sir…I was wondering if we could maybe renegotiate the terms of your rent?”
Randy opened the door. He had on his sleeveless shirt still, but was missing his pants and underwear entirely. “And what might you have in mind pig?”
“I don’t…well, I think I’m going to have to raise the rent. Perhaps you could make a payment every…every week?”
Randy smiled. “Oh Mr. Jackson, you’re underselling yourself here. You’re too generous. I’d be happy to pay a pig like you much more than that.”
“Oh yes…” Randy said, “How about this. I’ll give you two payments every day, one at each end. And as a bonus, I’ll save all my piss for you in jugs, and you can do whatever you’d like with it. Bathe in it. Drink it. Just think of it as a tip for being such a good piggy landlord. But…well, if I’m going to be paying you so handsomely, I might need a few…well, perks myself.”
“That sounds amazing, sir…but…but what kind of perks?”
“Well, you see….I like my pigs to look a certain way, you see? And I have some ideas for you that might make you an even better piggy than you already are,” Randy stepped to the side, “But why don’t you come on in here and we can negotiate?”
It was a couple hours later, when Mr. Jackson emerged, smiling, Randy’s cum splattered across his face, knowing he had definitely gotten the best deal through some hard negotiation. He was up to three payments a day, all of Randy’s piss (which he’d had the pleasure of sampling to test it’s quality) as well as all of his filthy cum and piss stained underwear, and he would even get to give Randy a tongue bath once a week! All Mr. Jackson had to do was agree to wear leather gear at all times in the house, stop trimming his beard and hair, and go get some nasty looking tattoos.
Still, he had better get going, he had some leather gear to buy. Randy had told him about a friend of his looking to sell some spare gear, and even better, he liked getting paid in blowjobs too! It would probably require a long payment plan, but Mr. Jackson didn’t think he’d mind. He belched, tasting cum on his breath, and hurried out, already eager for tomorrow’s rent.
I can hear him in his room, jacking off again. I don’t really want to get involved—I mean, what father wants to talk to his son about masturbation? But it seems like it’s all he’s been doing lately, and I think he’s stopped showering too. It’s so strange. I mean, he’s going through a rebellious phase, sure. There’s that tattoo he got with his friends a few months ago, but he’s just a senior eager to get out from under his parents. I was the same way, after all. Still, how can I not worry about him? Besides, he’s so loud, I’m worried the neighbors might hear, especially the freak next door. In fact, Ben’s room shares a wall with him, doesn’t it?
Ben had his hand down in his filthy jockstrap that he hadn’t changed for a week, and through the wall, he could hear his perverse neighbor whispering through the small hole he’d drilled through the wall, the one Ben had covered up with his dresser to make sure his dad didn’t find it.
“You smell good jock pig, fuck yeah. You like how you reek, don’t you?”
Ben shot his load up onto his stomach and rubbed it in there, groaning loudly. He hoped that his dad hadn’t heard him, but he couldn’t stop from making these humiliating groans any longer, licking the rest of his tacky cum off his fingers.
“Got something for you piggy, come on piggy, I know you want it.”
Ben got up and shoved the dresser to one side, and the pervert’s crusty, uncut cock popped through the hole. Ben was on his knees with it down his throat as fast as he could move. Piss came first, faster than he could swallow, and it ran down the front of him, where he rubbed it into his skin, grunting, his cock hard again already, the old man’s cock growing hard, and he sucked until he got a reward of sour old cum, and then he pushed the dresser back and tried to keep from smelling his filthy pits and getting started all over again.
I’m getting really worried now—it’s only getting worse, and now he’s gone most of the day too. I’ve been getting calls that he’s missing school, but he doesn’t listen to me anymore. In fact, it seems like he doesn’t listen to anything I have to say, like he’s a zombie when he’s here. In his room, he jacks off and snorts and grunts, and then he leaves and doesn’t come back for hours. I don’t want to invade his privacy, but I have to find out what’s going on—just a quick investigation while he’s gone won’t hurt, right?
I don’t find anything, but what the hell is that pervy neighbor doing next door? It sounds like he’s fucking someone, but who in the hell would have sex with someone as nasty as him? I don’t feel real good all of a sudden though…there’s this…smell in here, but what…what is it?
Dirty laundry everywhere…it smells…fuck. So fucking sweaty, damn…and kind of like cum. A bit stiff…too, makes me want to gag, but it smells kind of good. What the fuck am I even thinking, and why am I hard? This is ridiculous. Can’t stop though, smells so fucking good…fuck yeah, oh fuck just one quick jack, that’s all.
“Who’s my nasty jock pig?”
“Me sir,” Ben moaned, his filthy neighbor’s cock buried deep in his filthy ass.
“Who’s my piss drinking, ass licking piggy?”
“Oh fuck, me sir!”
“That’s fuckin’ right!” he spanked Ben’s ass, the jock groaning and unloading a fifth load from his balls into the grungy carpet beneath him. The pig had no control anymore—one sniff of his filthy master’s pits was enough to have him cumming sometimes.
The perv was speeding up now, getting close himself. He unloaded into his pig’s loose hole, and then pulled out, watching his cum dribble down Ben’s crusty ass crack. “Fuckin’ sexy pig.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Now get going—I’m done for now.”
Ben stood up and left his master’s apartment, slipping back into his father’s apartment next door, returning to his room, one hand wiping his master’s cum out of his crack and licking it up, when he saw his father naked on his bed, surrounded by his filthy laundry, his cum rag shirt pressed against his nose as he jacked off, body sweaty.
Ben went to the hole in the wall, “Master, my father’s pigging out sir, what should I do?”
“Oh really? How about you feed him my cum from your nasty hole, pig?”
“Oh fuck sir, I’d love to do that…” Ben got up on the bed and squatted over his father’s face, and unable to stop himself, his father ate the pervert’s filthy cum from his son’s hole. Unable to fathom what was happening, but unable to stop for the life of him.
Oh fuck, look at them go! My pig son’s so fuckin’ hot, especially now that he’s working out almost constantly. Fuckin’ ripped, and master just reams his ass with that fist of his. Wish it wasn’t so hard to jack my cock, but I’m just a fat pig, gotta keep eating, so fuckin’ hungry. Master wants me at least 400 pounds here soon, and I’m gettin’ so close. So fuckin’ nasty, fuck.
Gotta piss, yeah, pissin’ my son’s nasty jockstrap. Smells so good, I’ll suck it out of the carpet later, I don’t wanna miss this. Love watching master fist my pig son, almost as much as I love feeling his fist up my fat ass, maybe Ben will fist me when he comes home, fuck that’d be hot.
Master says he’s gonna start training me to be a proper toilet pig soon, gonna have me eating my son’s filthy shit before too long. Can’t fucking wait to be honest, I already love having my tongue buried up filthy shit chutes, tastes so fucking good. I’m gonna be such a good toilet for master and my pig son, fuck yeah. Where’s my fuckin’ dildo? Wanna cum, gettin’ fuckin’ close, gotta get fucked to cum though, such a fuckin’ pig. Yeah, that’s it, nine inches stuffed up in me, fuck! Fuck I’m fuckin’ cumming, such a nasty fuckin’ pig, fuck, fuckin’ love being a pig, love my master, I love my fuckin’ pig son so fuckin’ much, fuck yeah…
CJ pulled the truck into the driveway, being careful to back it in like Bud had instructed him to do, and he saw the dings in the garage door behind him where he’d backed into it a few times before, but he wasn’t going to do that today—he’d had a good day at work, he hadn’t fucked up at all—not even once, and he wasn’t going to fuck up this either. He took his time, probably a bit more than he needed to take, and remembered to double check that he’d put the stick in park before letting his foot up off the brake, which was how he always seemed to mess up, and then turned off the engine and climbed out, taking a moment of satisfaction at his parking job, before he slapped his forehead, climbed back in and set the parking break too.
So many things to do! It left CJ a bit exasperated, but he would get it, he would. He’d promised Bud he would do his very best, and he would. He’d done really good at work today, Ellis, the foreman at the construction site had told him so personally, while CJ was between his legs sucking on his balls after the rest of the construction site had cleared out, “You did a good job today pig, I was watching. I was real worried when I took you on that the only thing you’d be good for was sucking my cock, but you did real good. Now tongue my hole, pig, yeah, that’s it…”
He licked his lips, remembering the sweaty taste of his foreman’s cock and crack, and then hiked up his jeans and headed up the front steps and into his brother’s house. As soon as the door was shut behind him he took a deep smell of home and gave a sigh. Cigar smoke, beer, pizza, junk food, sweat, musk, it was wonderful. He took off his hi-viz vest and discarded it by the door on the floor, then pulled off his sweaty, dusty shirt and dropped his pants and grimy boxers which he’d been wearing everyday to work for the past three weeks, ever since Bud had told him he’d had to get a job to help pay the bills. He’d been nervous the first week, mostly because he’d never had a job like that before—hell, he’d never really had a job like that ever, and he’d fucked up a lot. He knew a lot of guys on the crew didn’t trust him or particularly like him, but he tried his hardest to fit in and it was getting better. Not to mention he got to suck Ellis’ cock every day after everyone else had left. Maybe things were finally getting better, he thought, maybe he was finally becoming a little less of a fuck up. Maybe he could even be more of a real man, like his brother—like his master.
CJ was forbidden to wear clothes in the house by Bud, but now that he had stripped and stepped out of his boots and socks, he walked through the piles of dirty laundry and trash littering the room to where Bud was on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table, and without having to be told, got down next to him, kneeling on the ground, head bowed, while he waited for his first orders of the afternoon. Bud let him stay there for a few minutes, watching his fat brother fidget a bit nervously. He could tell he wanted to say something, but he was curious to see if CJ was finally learning some discipline. If CJ couldn’t even behave as his slave, how in the world would he ever stop being such a fuck-up?
“Clean off my balls, slave,” he said finally, and CJ moved between his legs and started licking and sucking at his brother’s balls, occasionally looking up at him lovingly, and when Bud grabbed the back of his head and slid his hard cock down his throat, CJ let him control the speed of the fuck, taking breaths when he got the chance, but he knew that when Bud wanted his throat, he didn’t want a face—he wanted a hole, and that was ok with CJ. He loved being a hole for his master.
Bud yanked CJ’s face off his cock by the bit of grungy, shoulder length grey hair he still had on his head and then shot his load across his fat face, thick globs spattering across CJ’s open mouth and coating his thick, horseshoe mustache, his nose, his eyelids. When Bud released him he just stayed on his knees and didn’t touch it, knowing better than to start eating the cum until he’d received the order from Bud. He fidgeted again, and Bud smiled and nodded, and CJ licked the cum from his mustache, wiped it from his eye and then ate that from his hand, before kissing the head of his master’s soft cock in thanks.
“Now, I can tell there’s something you want to tell me pig, you have permission to speak.”
“Thank you sir,” CJ said, “I did a really good job today sir, I did! Even Ellis said so, while I was servicing him after work today, I did really good, and I didn’t fuck up at all. I was even extra careful parking, so I didn’t fuck that up either.”
Bud laughed, and then leaned forward and gave his brother a deep kiss, “That’s good to hear—maybe you aren’t hopeless after all.”
“I love you sir, thank you…thank you…Bud…for everything.” CJ said, knowing it was against the rules to use his brother’s name, but he wanted him to know how much it meant to him, and then nuzzled his brother’s belly with his face, and Bud thought about punishing him but decided to let it slide just this once, because CJ had had a good day, and he needed good days like these sometimes. “I think I’m going to order pizza tonight, how does that sound, pig?”
“Sound’s good sir.”
“You ready? I want you two eat four all by yourself, you fucking glutton. If you eat four, then I’ll give you permission to cum, got it? So don’t fuck this up either.”
“I won’t sir, I swear—thank you sir.”
Bud got up off the couch and walked to the kitchen where the phone was, and added over his shoulder, “Oh, and put in a dildo, slave. The nine inch I think. Fuck yourself on it until I get back.”
CJ nodded, “Yes sir,” and then started scrounging through the trash by the couch until he found a set of scummy dildos, and finding the one Bud had asked for, CJ set it on the floor and squatted over it, moaning a bit as it slipped into his hole. He’d gotten really good at opening up now, and Bud could fuck him raw without CJ making so much of a complaint, but he loved seeing CJ take things bigger than his cock too, and lately Bud had been hinting that he wanted CJ to learn to to take his fist and forearm, and while that scared him a bit, it also got him really horny, but he didn’t touch his hardening cock—he knew better. If he came again without permission, than his brother would lock his cock up and he really didn’t want that. He loved jacking off—he just needed to learn some self-control is all. He just needed to be less of a fuck up.
With the dildo in his ass, he laid on the couch and started fucking himself with the dildo, listening to his brother ordering pizza, and he heard him request Garrett as their delivery driver and he smiled. He loved having Garrett deliver his pizzas—the guy had a huge cock, and he much preferred using CJ’s mouth as a cumdump to getting a standard cash tip. Bud hung up the phone and came into the living room where CJ was fucking himself and took over the dildo, ramming it hard and fast, in and out of CJ’s hole, listening to his slave brother moan in pleasure, watching his cock harden and begin to drip, and CJ fell back into the joy of the moment.
This, he realized, this is what he wanted. This was the life he’d always wanted—why had he ever let that strange fantasy overwhelm him at all? Why had he ever thought all of those things, and fought Bud so much? His brother knew what was best for him after all; he should have just trusted him from the beginning. The fantasies had become a bit of a game to him now, and he would try and see how much he could remember from them, but as he delved into his memory, his brother pounding his hole, he realized that he couldn’t recall anything of substance. A few brief images—a computer screen, a clean living room, a muscular body, but that couldn’t have been his. How stupid could he have been, thinking that any of that had been ever been real? And what in the hell had he called himself? Chris? No, that wasn’t right. He couldn’t even remember his stupid name—good riddance. He shoved the thoughts away, willing the rest of them to disappear—they didn’t matter anymore.
This is what mattered, his brother fucking his fat, disgusting hole with a huge dildo. Getting ready to serve Garrett when he arrived with dinner. Eating everything his brother told him to eat, because Bud knew best. Bud handed him a thick, lit cigar to suck, and CJ took it gratefully, taking a huge drag off of it and letting the smoke float out over his fat, jiggling belly and past his hard cock. Look at me, he thought, look at me go, and laughed. He looked up at his brother—his keeper and smiled dumbly, and Bud looked down at him, and smiled back.