July 20, 2014

wesleybracken:

Sketch #9 - Mark and Jerry

Mark furrowed his brow, not entirely sure what to make of the email he’d just received from his boss down the hall. Part of it he could understand, but about halfway through it all just sort of…became a bunch of gibberish. Looking it over again, he didn’t want to have talk to him about it. Jerry had been acting strange all day, and he’d seemed a bit meaner than usual lately, and Jerry already hated Mark—he’d rather hire someone younger to replace him for half the wage, but Mark was too good and Jerry knew it. Any sign of weakness could become an excuse.

Still, he did need to know what in the hell Jerry was talking about. He got up, and brought up the email on his phone as he walked down to Jerry’s office, knocked on the door and stepped in before he could hear Jerry warn him not to. He gaped at the sight of his boss, naked aside from a pair of filthy looking, oversized underwear, tattoos coating his body that Mark had never seen, and was he jacking off?

“Get out! Get out, you fucker!”

Mark got out. He got out and he left work and he headed home before the shit could hit the fan, but something wasn’t right, a smell he couldn’t get out of his head, a buzzing at the base of his skull. He arrived home and immediately lit up a cigar—it was an old habit, but one that kept his nerves under control all the same—but this wasn’t the usual brand he smoked, was it? It was sharper and foul and…and…

Mark groaned and started rubbing his cock in his pants, his suit was changing, morphing around him into a pair of overalls that started out clean, but quickly became grubbier and full of holes, his beard whitening and growing long and tangled, his head balding aside from a thin horseshoe, but all he could think of was Jerry, that brief glance he’d gotten at the office, he couldn’t even remember what his face had looked like, but he wanted that filthy cock. He fumbled with his phone, snapped a pic of his dirty old cock and sent it to his boss.

horny wanna cum over

It was a few anxious minutes that he waited, until he got a reply.

still at office, cum fuck me daddy

Mark grabbed a couple extra cigars and climbed in his old, beatup truck. He had a boy to pick up, and they were going to have a wild night together.

He stepped out of the elevator and found a bear fucking a young, chubby cub on the carpet right in front of them.

"Fuck dad, you’re cock is so fucking big, I hope my cock is as big as yours when I grow up."

"Well, if you want to get bigger, yer gonna have tah eat a whole lotta protein son," the bear panted, biting and licking at the boy’s neck. "Good thing daddy’s got plenty tah feed ya."

Mark was really fucking turned on watching them, but he had another date with Jerry. All through the office he could hear the hoots and hollers of rednecks fucking each other’s brains out, and in his boss’ office he found Jerry still in his chair, and he was even filthier than Mark remembered. Tattooed from head to toe, he reeked from across the small room, it was humid with his sweat and musk. He wasn’t alone—some overly buff brute with a shaved head and vacant eyes had his nose suffed in Jerry’s armpit, snorting and licking, jacking his cock wildly, his hairless muscles covered with a sheen of sweat.

"Fuck boy, yer even hotter ‘n I remember," Mark said.

"Shut up ‘n fuck my filthy hole," Jerry groaned, putting his legs up on the armrests of the chair.

Mark already had his cock hanging out of his crotchless overalls, and he worked it into the hole. It felt loose and sticky—he wasn’t the first in, but he didn’t care.

"I always hated you most of all, Mark," Jerry said, and Mark immediately felt his balls tense up and shoot a huge load into Jerry’s ass. He couldn’t stop fucking though, he had lost all control of himself suddenly. "Fuckin’ hated you so much." Another massive orgasm, it nearly crippled him but he had to fuck, had to fill the hole up, had to keep going. Jerry was in his head now, he could feel him there, and he came a third time, his balls shooting dry now, blue with pain, he couldn’t think straight, and finally Jerry let him pull out. But his cock was small now, and his balls had shriveled up.

"Bet you’re hungry Mark. Come on piggy, I got some food for you right here," Jerry said, and let loose a wet fart, cum leaking out of his hole. Mark just stared at it, knees collapsing, crawling forward, lapping up the sweaty, shitty crack, eating his cum out of his boss’ hole, eating all of the cum out of his hole.

"Gonna be my cumpig Mark, fuckin’ hate you, always fuckin’ hated you. Hey, Devon," he added looking at the muscle brute beside him who had been the office intern, "You hate Mark too now. Fuck Mark’s nasty pighole, fuck it rough, and make him scream, big boy."

July 16, 2014

Troy’s Shopping Trip

(Based on an idea and photo submitted by kenai88.)

He tried to play it cool and ignore him, and thankfully it didn’t seem like he recognized him. Instead, the older man just offered him his cart, and Troy took it to be gracious, thankful the guy hadn’t screamed at him. He’d been certain that his son’s injury had been no accident, and while Troy hadn’t been the one to do it, he’d been the one to suggest him as a target. Still, what’s done is done, right? The snacks were closest, and Troy parked the cart in the middle of the aisle and started grabbing bags in twos and threes off the shelves and dumping them into the cart, making sure to grab the favorites of each person on the team. When he was satisfied, he headed back to the cart—only to discover that it was empty.

Had someone taken it? He looked up and down the aisle, but there was no one there—just him and an empty cart. Fuck, he was thirsty all of a sudden. His mouth felt like he’d taken an entire shaker of salt and dumped it down his throat. Unable to help himself, he let out a big belch and patted his gut, feeling it jiggle a bit.

Wait, gut?

He looked down at himself, and tried to figure out what had happened. One part of his head was telling him that he should look like this, and another part was screaming in terror. He was fat! He hadn’t been fat when he’d come in here, had he? He groped his gut, feeling it’s heft, and underneath he felt his cock start to harden, and he blushed. Playing with his fat always seemed to get him hard, but it wasn’t something he was particularly proud of. He reached under and readjusted the front of his shorts, and tried to figure out what he had been doing. He was thirsty—better head for the pop and the beer—he could get the snacks later.

Something about his body felt strange today, like he wasn’t used to taking up this much space. He went to the pop and started loading two liter bottles of several varieties into the cart, but again, when he turned around to survey what he’d put in, the cart was completely empty.

Another belch—this one massively loud. God, he was such a pig, and he secretly loved it…didn’t he? He looked down at himself, and the same terror struck him—he wasn’t just fat now—he was fucking obese. His shirt could barely cover the gut overflowing past the waistband of his shorts, and his second and third chins wouldn’t let him get that good of a look. Fuck, he was hot though. Hot fucking fatass pig, fuck yeah. He checked up and down the aisles, but he was alone. He gave his huge apron a shake, feeling it reverberate around him, and he shuddered. His cock was hard, but he had another problem—he had to piss like a fucking racehorse. He hadn’t even had anything to drink lately either, but apparently his bladder disagreed. Still, he might as well go now before he had a full cart to deal with, and he lumbered off to the back of the store and the bathroom there, leaving his empty cart outside it.

He stepped inside, and found someone there washing his hands—the coach of the rugby team across town. How did he even know that? He didn’t play rugby. All he did was lounge around all day, stuffing his face and jacking off like a nasty pig—fuck! He was so fucking horny now. The coach finished washing his hands and turned around to look at Troy, sneering. “Lose some weight, you nasty fucker,” he said, and left the bathroom. The words somehow managed to shame Troy and turn him on at the same time. He was a nasty obese pig, and he loved the looks he got, he loved how much people were disgusted by him. He stepped up to the urinal, aiming blind, and pissed what felt like several gallons, before wrapping one chubby hand around the shaft and jacking off into the urinal, grunting as he did. “Fucking nasty pig, fuck yeah,” he said to himself, “Massive, nasty fat fucker, fuck *grunt*,” and he came, accidentally coating the underside of his apron, but it felt good there, being such a fucking slob felt great. He left it and hiked up his shorts, only to realize someone was in the stall and had heard every word that he’d just said. He left quickly, embarrassed to death, licking the cum off his hand absentmindedly.

Outside, the position of his cart had shifted, but he didn’t think much of it. He went and grabbed some beer since it was near the bathroom, vaguely fearful for some reason that it would disappear when his back was turned, but nothing happened. The same with the snacks and the pop, and he finally checked out his massive cart and headed out into the parking lot, but as he was loading the food into the back of his SUV, he saw the man from the bathroom leaning against a truck, away from the storefront, his cock hard and jutting from his jeans.

Troy drooled. He could totally use a cock right now, drinking down a load of cum would feel so damn good. “Sooooeeeyyy!” The man shouted, shaking his cock and staring Troy down. He couldn’t just…just suck him off in the parking lot, could he? It turned out that he totally could. He waddled over and dropped to his knees, feeling his bulk settle around him, and swallowed the man’s cock down into his gullet. “Yeah, how’s that taste you fucking pig?”

It tasted amazing. Troy didn’t know why he’d never sucked a dick before, but he kept glancing around, sucking fast, eager to get the man to swallow before someone could see him. He wasn’t fast enough—an older man walked back and saw what they were doing and froze. Troy wanted to die, knowing someone had seen him like this.

“Pig’s got a hot mouth,” the coach said, “Want to fuck it after me?”

The man glanced around nervously, and then walked over to the truck, set down his groceries, and waited. The coach finished quickly, hauling his cock out and spraying his cum across Troy’s fat face.

“Your turn man.”

Troy wanted to object, but what could he say? The man pulled his cock out of his jeans and Troy swallowed it down as well, and then the coach got down next to him, slid a hand down the back of his pants and began fingering his hole. It felt so good, and Troy began grunting uncontrollably, cumming in the front of his shorts before the stranger came down his throat. His ordeal over, he heaved himself up, only remembering halfway home that his face was covered with spunk. He wiped it up with his hands, licked it up, and then jacked off again at a stoplight.

That night, the rugby team didn’t seem to know what the huge fat man was doing there, but they all knew him somehow. Troy sat at the bar, shirtless in the hot, humid house of dancing men, watching their guts balloon as they devoured his snacks, soda, and beer. Thirty pizzas arrived which no one ordered, but they were demolished by morning, eaten up by the huge group of gainer pigs who had replaced the rugby team in the campus house.

July 13, 2014
wesleybracken:

"I just don’t see why all of this information is necessary."
"I assure you, Mr. Kilward, that we use all of the information on those forms in the hiring process."
"Well yeah, but isn’t it just, a little too…personal?"
"If you’d like to leave, no one is stopping you."
Zach looked at the door, and then at the interviewer across the desk. He really needed this job, but sexual interests? Number of previous sexual partners? When do you feel the most sexy? He didn’t want to answer any of this.
"Here, I’ll tell you what," the interviewer said, "Go ahead and leave blank any questions you don’t feel comfortable answering, alright, and we can fill them in later."
That sounded fair to Zach, and so he hurried through the forms, generally leaving the more probing questions blank, before handing the papers back to the interviewer, who started putting the information into his computer.
"Hmm, well, it looks like you left out the number of previous sexual partners you’ve had, Mr. Kilward, I’m just going to ballpark it, and say…1700."
"What? 1700, but—" Zach said, but his head was suddenly crushed with memories of hundreds of sexual encounters he had somehow forgotten.
"Yes, and I think you made a mistake here, under sexual orientation. You marked ‘straight,’ but you seem 100 percent gay to me."
Men, all of them men. How many men had he been with? What was happening?
"Hmm…preferred position? I think, ‘bottom.’ Oh and I love this one—‘When do I feel the most sexy?’ Hmm… that’s a hard one, but if I hazarded a guess, I’d have to say, ‘When I’m humiliating myself, acting like a fat pig and begging men to use my like the fat slutty cumdump I am.’"
"No, no what are you doing? Please, please stop!" Zach said, but let out a loud snort of pleasure when the interviewer reached over the desk, pinched his nipples through the shirt and gave them a twist.
"Tell me what you want little piggy, don’t be shy."
"Oh fuck, can…can I suck your cock *grunt* please sir, I haven’t had a drop of cum in hours and I’m so hungry…"
"Then get under my desk and suck me off bitch, but take it slow—you left so many blanks, it’s going to take me hours to fill it out for you."

Zach tried to resist for a moment, but who was he fooling? He got down on his hands and knees and squeezed his way into the small space underneath the desk, his bulk not fitting very comfortably, but he didn’t care much at all when he saw the interviewer let his cock out of his fly, and he started licking at the head, hornier than he could remember being ever in his life.
"So Zach? What should we fill out first, do you think? Let’s see, there’s this whole section on medical history here, maybe we should look here. Now, weight and height…just keep sucking piggy, I’ve got some work to do here."
Zach sucked happily, distantly aware that as he did his body was shifting in ways that he couldn’t explain, but which felt completely natural. After half an hour of sucking, the interviewer stopped writing, reached under the desk and wrapped his hands around the back of Zach’s head, ramming his cock deep into his throat. He expected to gag on it, but it slid down his throat so easily. He reached under his gut to try and touch his cock, but for some reason he couldn’t. He could feel his cock there somewhere, but he was so big. Cum erupted down his throat and he swallowed it down hungrily, grunting and snorting as he did, and the interviewer rolled his chair back, allowing Zach to crawl out.
The Zach that emerged was very different from the one who crawled under. Now in his fifties, his head had balded entirely, but his body was covered with massive amounts of hair, along with a thick beard reaching to his huge moobs. He’d lost over a foot in height, standing just over five feet, but was even larger, the fat rolling off of him, making him pant and sweat as he stood there, hornier than ever, yanking at his too tight collar, trying to pull his polo down over his huge gut.
"Let’s get those off of you, I have a new uniform for you to wear anyway," the interviewer said, and stripped Zach down. Then he pulled out the leather and chains, boots and fist mitts first before shackling his Zach’s feet and hands together, a leather hood, and then the interviewer circled around him and started slipping a finger into Zach’s ass.
"Shall we continue the interview, you fucking pig? I have a special chair for you here," the interviewer said, and showed Zach a simple stool with a thick, ten inch dildo stuck on it. "Your ass is hungry, right? That enlarged prostate and sloppy bladder of yours desperate to be fucked?"
Zach couldn’t stop himself, and he started working the dildo into his old ass. As soon as the tip hit his prostate, he felt his cock spurt into his fat pad. He didn’t know what it was—cum or piss—but it had felt wonderful, and he kept fucking himself, only barely listening to what the interviewer was saying now.
"I made a few alterations to your work and education history. After all, a sex pig like you doesn’t need a college degree, or even a high school diploma."
"Trashman? Nah…hmm….I think janitor. Yeah, a janitor at a gay bath house, that filthy one downtown."
"Must have been hard, finding work with all those tattoos on your face, but hey, you have to let the slut shine, right piggy?"
"Zach, what a dumb name. Your name’s Crud now, bitch. And no fucking last name for you—you don’t need a fucking family being embarrassed by you."
Piss, he was dribbling piss—he could smell it. Hell it leaking down his huge legs and onto the floor, his nostrils flaring at the scent. Crud wanted to get down, lick it up, but he had to fuck himself first, he was such a fucking whore.
"Still, we’re going to find you some steady work, just trust me. How would you like some slave work? It doesn’t pay well, but you can have all the cum and piss you’ve ever wanted. A rough, filthy biker gang is looking for a pig like you—how’d you feel about meeting them, and seeing if it’s a good fit?"
"Oh fuck, I’d love that sir, thank you!" Crud said, and he felt the tingle of his tiny cock which had been building finally release, and a piddle of cum spurted out along with the piss leaking from his worthless cock.
"Oh yes, I think you’ll be perfect for the job. First though, let’s see if that worthless hole can take both of my fists, and then you’re going to have to suck the piss from this carpet. I have another interview in three hours, and if I can smell one whiff of piss, I’ll take your balls.
Crud pulled himself up off the stool and immediately got down and started sucking at the damp carpet, while the interviewer started working one gloved fist into his slutty ass. He’d get it perfectly clean—he was a great pig. He was so happy the agency had found him a slave job! It’s just what he’d always wanted.

wesleybracken:

"I just don’t see why all of this information is necessary."

"I assure you, Mr. Kilward, that we use all of the information on those forms in the hiring process."

"Well yeah, but isn’t it just, a little too…personal?"

"If you’d like to leave, no one is stopping you."

Zach looked at the door, and then at the interviewer across the desk. He really needed this job, but sexual interests? Number of previous sexual partners? When do you feel the most sexy? He didn’t want to answer any of this.

"Here, I’ll tell you what," the interviewer said, "Go ahead and leave blank any questions you don’t feel comfortable answering, alright, and we can fill them in later."

That sounded fair to Zach, and so he hurried through the forms, generally leaving the more probing questions blank, before handing the papers back to the interviewer, who started putting the information into his computer.

"Hmm, well, it looks like you left out the number of previous sexual partners you’ve had, Mr. Kilward, I’m just going to ballpark it, and say…1700."

"What? 1700, but—" Zach said, but his head was suddenly crushed with memories of hundreds of sexual encounters he had somehow forgotten.

"Yes, and I think you made a mistake here, under sexual orientation. You marked ‘straight,’ but you seem 100 percent gay to me."

Men, all of them men. How many men had he been with? What was happening?

"Hmm…preferred position? I think, ‘bottom.’ Oh and I love this one—‘When do I feel the most sexy?’ Hmm… that’s a hard one, but if I hazarded a guess, I’d have to say, ‘When I’m humiliating myself, acting like a fat pig and begging men to use my like the fat slutty cumdump I am.’"

"No, no what are you doing? Please, please stop!" Zach said, but let out a loud snort of pleasure when the interviewer reached over the desk, pinched his nipples through the shirt and gave them a twist.

"Tell me what you want little piggy, don’t be shy."

"Oh fuck, can…can I suck your cock *grunt* please sir, I haven’t had a drop of cum in hours and I’m so hungry…"

"Then get under my desk and suck me off bitch, but take it slow—you left so many blanks, it’s going to take me hours to fill it out for you."

Zach tried to resist for a moment, but who was he fooling? He got down on his hands and knees and squeezed his way into the small space underneath the desk, his bulk not fitting very comfortably, but he didn’t care much at all when he saw the interviewer let his cock out of his fly, and he started licking at the head, hornier than he could remember being ever in his life.

"So Zach? What should we fill out first, do you think? Let’s see, there’s this whole section on medical history here, maybe we should look here. Now, weight and height…just keep sucking piggy, I’ve got some work to do here."

Zach sucked happily, distantly aware that as he did his body was shifting in ways that he couldn’t explain, but which felt completely natural. After half an hour of sucking, the interviewer stopped writing, reached under the desk and wrapped his hands around the back of Zach’s head, ramming his cock deep into his throat. He expected to gag on it, but it slid down his throat so easily. He reached under his gut to try and touch his cock, but for some reason he couldn’t. He could feel his cock there somewhere, but he was so big. Cum erupted down his throat and he swallowed it down hungrily, grunting and snorting as he did, and the interviewer rolled his chair back, allowing Zach to crawl out.

The Zach that emerged was very different from the one who crawled under. Now in his fifties, his head had balded entirely, but his body was covered with massive amounts of hair, along with a thick beard reaching to his huge moobs. He’d lost over a foot in height, standing just over five feet, but was even larger, the fat rolling off of him, making him pant and sweat as he stood there, hornier than ever, yanking at his too tight collar, trying to pull his polo down over his huge gut.

"Let’s get those off of you, I have a new uniform for you to wear anyway," the interviewer said, and stripped Zach down. Then he pulled out the leather and chains, boots and fist mitts first before shackling his Zach’s feet and hands together, a leather hood, and then the interviewer circled around him and started slipping a finger into Zach’s ass.

"Shall we continue the interview, you fucking pig? I have a special chair for you here," the interviewer said, and showed Zach a simple stool with a thick, ten inch dildo stuck on it. "Your ass is hungry, right? That enlarged prostate and sloppy bladder of yours desperate to be fucked?"

Zach couldn’t stop himself, and he started working the dildo into his old ass. As soon as the tip hit his prostate, he felt his cock spurt into his fat pad. He didn’t know what it was—cum or piss—but it had felt wonderful, and he kept fucking himself, only barely listening to what the interviewer was saying now.

"I made a few alterations to your work and education history. After all, a sex pig like you doesn’t need a college degree, or even a high school diploma."

"Trashman? Nah…hmm….I think janitor. Yeah, a janitor at a gay bath house, that filthy one downtown."

"Must have been hard, finding work with all those tattoos on your face, but hey, you have to let the slut shine, right piggy?"

"Zach, what a dumb name. Your name’s Crud now, bitch. And no fucking last name for you—you don’t need a fucking family being embarrassed by you."

Piss, he was dribbling piss—he could smell it. Hell it leaking down his huge legs and onto the floor, his nostrils flaring at the scent. Crud wanted to get down, lick it up, but he had to fuck himself first, he was such a fucking whore.

"Still, we’re going to find you some steady work, just trust me. How would you like some slave work? It doesn’t pay well, but you can have all the cum and piss you’ve ever wanted. A rough, filthy biker gang is looking for a pig like you—how’d you feel about meeting them, and seeing if it’s a good fit?"

"Oh fuck, I’d love that sir, thank you!" Crud said, and he felt the tingle of his tiny cock which had been building finally release, and a piddle of cum spurted out along with the piss leaking from his worthless cock.

"Oh yes, I think you’ll be perfect for the job. First though, let’s see if that worthless hole can take both of my fists, and then you’re going to have to suck the piss from this carpet. I have another interview in three hours, and if I can smell one whiff of piss, I’ll take your balls.

Crud pulled himself up off the stool and immediately got down and started sucking at the damp carpet, while the interviewer started working one gloved fist into his slutty ass. He’d get it perfectly clean—he was a great pig. He was so happy the agency had found him a slave job! It’s just what he’d always wanted.

(Source: paintchipsforpyromancers)

July 9, 2014

The Smoker Tapes (Part 4)

[Pictured: Above, Eric and his favorite jockstrap. Below, the man who lives in the apartment.]

***

Eric: I’m just here for my things.

<Footsteps approach the recorder, and then stop.>

Eric: What is that?

The Smoker: That’s a pipe. What did you think it would be?

Eric: No, no this isn’t fucking happening, this isn’t—fuck!

The Smoker: Why don’t you have a seat, Eric?

Eric: No, I’m not staying here. I’m not going to sit here, and listen to this, I’m…I’m just going to grab my things and leave.

The Smoker: Here, take a seat here for a couple of minutes, and just calm down.

<Sounds of a brief scuffle, someone sits down hard, most likelt Eric T. The other sits down more gently.>

The Smoker: There, isn’t that better Eric?

Eric: Wait…How…how do you know my name? I never gave you my name. I gave you a fake name, even.

The Smoker: You don’t have any secrets from me Eric, not right now. Why, I even know about that yellow jockstrap you keep in the back of your dresser. The one you only pull out when you’re really horny? The one you try to throw out once a month or so, but you never manage to make it happen?

Eric: How—I don’t….

The Smoker: How’d you get that jockstrap again? You bought it online, right? A private sale? Well use by the previous owner, his handle was PissCumPiggy I think, said he’d worn it for six months, he’d jacked off into it three times a day, pissed through it the entire time too. Quite a steal, at thirty bucks. That’s what? A dime a cum shot?

Eric: I’ve never told anyone about that, there’s no way you can possibly know about that!

<The sound of a zipper, a rustling of cloth.>

Eric: That’s…how…

The Smoker: I knew you wouldn’t bring it along, so I slipped in yesterday while you were at work and grabbed it.

Eric: But…

The Smoker: Goodness, it is rank. And damp too…have you been adding to it? Oh why am I asking, of course you have. Like you could resist.

Eric: I’m getting out of here, I’m done with this. This is crazy.

<Eric stands up and walks to the door.>

The Smoker: You’ve left your things behind again.

Eric: I don’t fucking care! I’m done with these fucking games, I’m fucking done!

The Smoker: This will all go much smoother if you just admit to yourself why you’re here, Eric. You aren’t here for a story. You aren’t here out of some journalistic curiosity. You aren’t here because you’re interested in the truth. You’re here because you want what I can offer you. You’re here because I have this pipe here on the table, and I know you want it to be yours. It can make you the man you’ve always wanted to be, right here and right now.

Eric: This is a fucking joke, it’s just a fucking prank, isn’t it?

<Silence.>

Eric: It’s…it’s not a joke, is it. It’s…all of it…

The Smoker: I told you I would offer you a demonstration, Eric.

Eric: Yeah, on the fucker who lives here!

<The smoker chuckles. The rustling of papers.>

The Smoker: Here’s the copy of lease, if you’d like to see it. Or, what the lease could look like. It just needs a signature.

Eric: But…but my names on all of these!

The Smoker: I hope you don’t mind the decoration—I was just trying to think of what kind of place a nasty, raunchy pig like you’re going to be soon would want to live. Run down, greasy, dirty laundry all over the place, ashtrays brimming. I even put a pipe rack in the bedroom for you, since you’re going to have your own pipe collection soon enough. A sling too, so all the guys you bring home can have easy access to that slutty ass of yours.

Eric: Please—please this is just a mistake. I’m sorry, I—we can just destroy the tape, alright? No one has to know.

The Smoker: Goodness, look how hard you are. Are you leaking even? You are…look at that stain growing there. I guess I got a few things right at least.

Eric: Please, I don’t want this, I don’t.

The Smoker: You do want this, don’t lie to me, Don’t think I can’t tell you’re lying.

Eric: I don’t want to want this.

The Smoker: Now that! That’s the truth. You don’t want to want this. But you do want it, don’t you? You’ve always resented your intellect. Your perfect track into the bland middle class, its suburban boredom. You’ve tried to sabotage yourself, I know. Coming out at work to your homophobic boss, but that didn’t get you fired like you’d hoped—you were just banished to the style section, and now here you are, chasing me. And now that we’ve found each other, maybe you should sit down here and take a look at this pipe here, that I picked out just for you.

Eric: Don’t make me do this.

The Smoker: I’ve been very precise. I can’t make you do anything without your consent, Eric. Now why don’t you at least come over here and pick it up. That can’t do you any harm.

<Footsteps approach the recorder, the clack as the pipe is picked up off the table.>

Eric: It…it feels really…It feels so right…

The Smoker: I do know how to pick them. Would you like me to fill it for you? It doesn’t have the right heft unless it has a packed bowl.

<Rustling for a few moments.>

The Smoker: There, now hold it. Feels good, doesn’t it? Put it in your mouth—yeah, fuck that looks hot on that face. Would look even better with a big, bushy, grey beard.

Eric: I’ve always…I’ve always wanted one, but it never came in right.

The Smoker: Well, you could have a huge one. Thick, all the way down to your chest. Wiry and grey, crusty with cum and spit, your mustache yellow from the decades you’ve spent with briar between your lips.

Eric: Don’t…stay away….

The Smoker: Yeah, imagine how dirty you could be. No more desk jobs, just a union laborer, thirty dollars an hour, plenty of money to waste.

Eric: Fuck…

The Smoker: You could retire in two or three years. Big fat pension Spend the rest of your life hooking up, drinking piss by the gallon, stuffing your fat gut full of food and cum and whisky, smoking like a chimney until the day you die.

Eric: Please…

<Silence.>

The Smoker: “Please” what? Please, yes? Please no? I know what you want. I know what you want to want, even. So say it. Fucking say it already.

Eric: Yes. Please. Please, fucking light it up, before I think about it, please.

<The sound of a struck match. Some groans.>

Eric: Fuck, that…that shit’s fuckin’ dank…man…

The Smoker: That’s the way you like it though, raw and nasty.

Eric: Fuck yeah, feel…fuckin’ strange though.

The Smoker: Shut up pig, feed me some of that smoke.

<Nothing is said for a few minutes, there’s some groaning and muttering on the tape.>

The Smoker: Fucking look at you already. Look at that fuckin’ beard! And I love a big belly on a man. Let’s get this shit off of you. You don’t wear office shit.

Eric: Fuck….fuck no…why the fuck ‘m I wearin’ this shit anyway?

The Smoker: Don’t fucking worry about it. I got your favorite jock though.

Eric: Fuck yeah, I love this thing!

<A deep snort, some panting.>

Eric: Had it for years now, fuckin’ nasty as fuck.

The Smoker: Put it on, pig.

<Nothing spoken for a moment, a few grunts.>

The Smoker: Looks like it’s meant to be on you.

Eric: Course it is. Get o’er here, I’m not done with that hot mouth a yers.

<Nothing spoken. Grunts and moans for several minutes. A slam, likely someone shoved against a wall. A few mutters determined to be indecipherable.>

Unknown Speaker: Go on, you nasty son of a bitch. Piss yourself, fuck yeah.

Unknown: Fuck, oh fuck yeah, so fuckin’ nasty…

<Nothing spoken for a several minutes. Grunts and groans. Heavy footsteps, a loud thump.>

Eric: Fuckin’ put it in me! Shove that cock up my filthy shit chute, I’m fuckin’ horny as fuck.

The Smoker: Yeah, look at you, you old fucking pig. Look at that sloppy fuckin’ hole. So fuckin’ loose, I can slip my fingers up in there, no fuckin’ problem.

Eric: Come on, gimme yer cock man, ram it up my piggy hole, make it hurt, motherfucker!

<Grunts, a loud groan.>

Eric: Oh fuck yeah, fuck me rough, fuck me hard…

The Smoker: Fuckin’ sloppy in here. I’m not the first guy who’s fucked you today, am I?

Eric: Fuck no, some guy cruised me at the construction site, he plowed me in an alley behind a dumpster on my lunch.

The Smoker: You’re such a fuckin’ whore.

Eric: Fuck yeah! Been a whore ever since I was suckin’ cock in the department store bathrooms when I was a teenager! Fuckin’ love cum, nothin’ better.

The Smoker: Fuck…fuck, getting close…

<A loud smack, a snort in response.>

The Smoker: Who’s my new pig whore?

Eric: I am!

The Smoker: Who’s my pisss swillin’, pipe smokin’ bitch pig!

Eric: Me, fuckin’ fill me up, come on!

The Smoker: F—Fuck!, Fuck, you feel that? Breeding you piggy.

Eric: Give it to me fucker, pump me full of yer fuckin’ seed…

<Nothing spoken for several moments. Audible panting. A grunt.>

Eric: Fuckin’ let me clean it, I love a scummy cock, fuck…

The Smoker: Well you sure scummed this one—fuck, you don’t kid around do you, pig? Yeah, look at you take that down your throat, no trouble at all.

<Nothing spoken for a few moments. Grunting.>

Eric: Tasty as fuck…

<The recorder is picked up, and the tape stopped. It resumes an unknown time later, recorded at an unknown location.>

The Smoker: So, what do you think? Eric’s happy now, just a sexy fuckin’ pipe smoking pervert. How about you? Do you want me to help you be happy? Then come find me, I’m ready for you. Just keep an eye out for The Smoker.

***END TRANSCRIPT***

July 7, 2014

Anonymous said: Do you think you could continue the story about a hitchhiker turned into a cum hungry derelict? It would be so hot to see him turning random people who offer him a lift into domineering horny trucker tops :3

I’d actually had an eye on that one, but wasn’t sure what to do with it, and I like this idea a lot.

July 7, 2014

Anonymous said: Got any favorite TV shows?

I just finished watching the first three seasons of “Scandal” and I would highly recommend it. Beyond that, I’d say “American Horror Story” is my other favorite. 

July 7, 2014

Anonymous said: Man. That latest story is so hot!! Doesn't hurt matters that you used a pick of that hunky bear with the pumped up cock and the nasty jock! I My dick gets so hard when I come across that pic, now I'll always associate it with this story. Thanks for writing and sharing your great stories with us :)

You’re very welcome. That pic is definitely a great one.

July 7, 2014

zimdogva said: it-was-supposed-to-be-a-gag-gift-i-know-that-i & sir-im-gonna-have-to-give-you-a-pat-down-the would both be wonderful if expanded. Thanks.

I’ll keep both of those in mind, thanks!

July 7, 2014

Anonymous said: Some others I'd love to see continued /post/31230250811/so-superboy-what-do-you-think-of-your-new-look /post/25957530751/image-vignette-a-bad-case-of-slutitis /post/32216045370/jared-received-the-suit-a-week-ago-and-put-it-on For the slutitis one maybe someone else could contract the disease. Maybe the doctor accidentally passed it onto one of his sons And for the suit one Id just like to see where it would go next Maybe some nipple and cock piercings?

Yeah, I have a feeling that Slutitus could be “very” contagious, lol.

July 7, 2014

Anonymous said: Id love to see more of this caption /post/28786579840/growing-older-sucked-now-forty-roy-was-fighting

Suggestion noted :-)

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