Vignettes 6-10

By Wesley Bracken -
published September 22, 2011

More short (and rough) vignettes

Vignettes 6-10

by Wesley Bracken


Over the years, I have devised a number of porn games, all of which essentially serve as random character generators. Recently, I’ve decided to start taking some of these characters and writing short vignettes about them, something between 2000 and 2500 words, mostly as a warm up, and to practice new techniques and ideas, etc. I won’t post them regularly, but will put them up in groups as I work on new ones.


The stories that follow can be extremely graphic, including scenes of rape, violence, incest, watersports, scat, hate speech or whatever else wants to come out of my head. Before each story, you will be warned of what fetishes you can expect from it. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Also, the writing is crappy, but these are all fairly unrevised, so live with it. The author does not necessarily condone or agree with the actions of his characters.

#6 (kidnapping, raunch, uniform)

Derek cursed under his breath, when he saw the light start flashing behind him, glanced down at his speedometer, and saw that he wasn’t even going over sixty. What in the hell was he even getting pulled over for then? Still, being the good citizen, he pulled off to the side of the rural highway, the squad car pulling up behind him, light still flashing as the officer got out of the car and walked up to Derek’s window. “Evening buddy,” the cop said, grinning. “Nice night, ain’t it?”

Derek immediately felt that something about this whole situation was just…wrong. He couldn’t see the officer very well in the dark, but the occasional flare of the red and blue would highlight a face which looked almost crazed. “Uh…yeah. Nice night, I guess. How can I help you officer?”

“You mind stepping out of your car for me?”

Derek didn’t know what to do. Something about this just felt wrong to him, but if he didn’t get out, then what? He was a police officer after all, what could he do? Derek didn’t want to go to jail. He had a wife and two kids at home, and a good job. If he sped away now, wouldn’t that just make the officer think he had something to hide, and give him more reason to arrest him? No he should just get out, and see what the officer wanted. It was all just a misunderstanding, and he’d be on his way home before too long.

Derek popped open the door and stepped out of the car, giving him a better view of the officer as he did. The guy was massive and heavily muscled, like he spent most of his time off patrol working out at the gym. However, there still was something wrong. The cop had a wild, tangled beard on his face, and his hair looked to be very long and unkempt, not to mention the wild eyes and evil smirk he’d noticed in the car. The officer stepped closer, and a horrible stench washed over Derek, making his eyes water. It smelled like the officer hadn’t had a bath in ages, and had spent his nights sleeping in a dumpster. Derek gagged, and tried to avoid puking on the side of the road, when the officer spun him around, shoved him up against the car, and handcuffed his hands behind his back. “Hey! What the hell? I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Hush now little piggy,” the officer said, bringing his mouth close to Derek’s ear, his grungy beard scraping across his neck, sending shivers down Derek’s spine. “I know where you’ve been all evening–what you’ve been watching.”

Derek’s stomach dropped out from under him. How in the hell did he know anything about that?

“Yeah, I know about that club you go to, where you watch those men dance, and pay them to give you lap dances, so you can go into the bathrooms, and fantasize about them as you jack off, all while your wife stays up, thinking you’re working late at the office. I know you’re a pig. That’s why I followed you out here, and that’s why master is going to love you…” the officer said, and ran his tongue along the nape of Derek’s neck.

“You fucking freak! Let me go, it isn’t illegal, you can’t arrest me for that!”

The officer started laughing then, and pulled Derek close to him, massaging the older man’s gut. Derek wasn’t exactly in the best shape of his life–working in the office and snacking on junk food all day had made him pretty chunky. “Yeah, you’re already a pig. Master won’t have to work hard on you at all. Just get rid of those last walls, make you realize how much you want to be a pig, and there there’s no going back for you. Yeah, can’t wait to see you as a pig, gonna be so sexy…” The officer moaned, and started rubbing his cock up and down Derek’s ass crack, causing him to struggle more, but the man just gripped him tighter. With a loud grunt, the officer came in his uniform, and Derek could feel the cum soaking through their clothes and touching his skin, making him want to vomit. “Yeah, can’t fuckin’ wait till master breaks you, gonna be so damn hot…” the officer grumbled, as he dragged Derek, kicking and hollering back to the police car, which wasn’t a police car at all, just a grubby old station wagon with a flashing light on top. This guy wasn’t a cop at all, just some freak in a uniform. Derek fought, but the man pulled out a roll of duct tape and slapped a strip across Derek’s mouth, bound his legs, and then tossed him into the back of the station wagon, leaving Derek’s car by the side of the road as he sped off down the rural highway.

They didn’t drive very long, twenty minutes tops, before the cop pulled off the highway into a dingy looking trailer park, and came to a screeching halt in front of a rundown double wide. The cop leapt out of the car and hurried up to the door hollering, “I got him sir! I got the new pig, just like you told me to!”

The door opened, and Derek heard a gruff voice scold the officer, “Shut up pig! Do ya want all the neighbors to know about it? Now shut yer trap and get him inside.”

“Yes sir,” the cop said, quieter, but with the same manic energy. He hauled Derek out of the car, who struggled against the muscle bound cop, but it was no use, and he was eventually hauled into the filthy living room and dropped on the floor next to what looked and smelled like a pile of garbage. Looking up, Derek identified the source of the gruff voice, a massively fat, disgustingly dirty man standing over him wearing a set of ratty boxer shorts and nothing else. The cop locked the door behind them, and then charged the fat slob, getting down on his knees and burying his face in the man’s fat crotch. “I brought him sir, just like you said I should, can I have your nasty cum now sir? Can I? Please sir, please feed your filthy pig cock your cum!”

“Git off!” the man said, and shoved the cop back onto his ass. “Go stand at attention pig, til I ask fer ya, got it?” The cop, whimpering with need and lust, got up and stood rigid by the door, the outline of his hard on obvious in the tight uniform pants he was wearing, allowing the fat man to inspect Derek where he lay on the ground. “Yeah, he’ll do. Ya got a good one this time pig, he’s gonna be real easy, this one.”

“Thank you sir. Please can I suck your cock sir? Please, I need it, sir, I need it so–”

“Shut it, and don’t speak again unless spoken to. Now then, Derek, it’s so nice tah finally meet ya face tah face,” the man said, as he ripped off the tape from Derek’s mouth, “And such pretty blue eyes you have there. We’re gonna have tah do somethin’ about that real soon here.”

“Who the fuck are you? How do you know my name?” Derek asked. He looked up at the man and saw he had the same grungy eyes as the officer–almost identical really, and they gave him the same unsettling feeling as before. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t. They’d locked eyes, and something was keeping him locked there, unable to turn away.

“I’ve had my pig cop here followin’ ya fer a while now. Seemed like ya were a good choice fer another pig to add to my stable. I see that yer lookin’ at my eyes Derek? What do you think of them?” The fat man bent down lower, then got on his knees and started bringing his face closer to Derek’s, who could smell the man’s rancid breath. He tried to look away again, but he couldn’t.

“They’re disgusting. I can’t…I can’t look away though. God, what is this?”

“Shush Derek, look deeper now. See inside of them. They’re gonna be your eyes too soon enough, we’ll get rid of all of that nasty blue and you’ll be a pig just like me and my cop here, and trust me, you’re gonna love it, yes you are.” He bent down closer, and Derek could hear the cop begin moaning in excitement, “You hear that officer over there? He was a pig, just like you, but he didn’t know it either. He liked making derelicts in the alleys suck his cock, and would rape prostitutes on his busts with his buddies, but he knows he’s a pig now, don’t ya officer?”

“Yes sir, I’m a pig sir, I’m your pig sir…”

The man’s eyes were now inches away, and Derek began to see…things…The flecks of brown were now figures, dancing in front of him, involved in horrific acts of filth, but still Derek couldn’t look away. It was disgusting, but so…enticing. He needed to see more. He needed–

Something like an electric shock shot through his body, beginning at his eyes and drilling it way into his brain, radiating out to his fingers and toes. Still, he didn’t break eye contact. “That’s it pig, take it all in, take as much as you’d like, I have plenty to spare. We’re gonna have you well on your way before the night is through, I can guarantee that.”

After what felt like ages, Derek managed to wrest his eyes away from the slobs, panting as he did, exhausted. The man laughed, and cut through the duct tape binding Derek’s feet, and undid the cuffs around his wrists, allowing him to roll onto his belly and heft himself up. “What…what did you do to me?”

The fat man didn’t respond, just grabbed Derek by the hair and twisted his head so that he could see the officer still standing at attention by the door, and his cock immediately sprang to attention, and Derek let out a low moan.

“Yeah pig, look at the dirty officer over there. Doesn’t he look like one of those muscle men you slobber over every night at the club? The men you fantasize about worshiping as you jack off in the bathroom stalls? Hey officer, why don’t you start stripping for our new pig here? Really give him a show.”

The officer panting and groaning, began rubbing his dirty body with his hands, slowly undoing a button at a time, revealing a hairy, muscular chest, and Derek was transfixed. “Fuck yeah, so fuckin’ dirty…” he mumbled, “So dirty, yeah, gotta be dirty, dirty…fuck…” He shoved one hand down the front of his pants and started rubbing his cock, the officer swaying and gyrating, the shirt falling away, undoing his pants and showing off the yellowed jock he was wearing underneath. He needed to taste it, taste him, clean him up and get all the dirty off of him. Derek tried to crawl over towards him, but the fat man grabbed him and shoved him back onto a couch covered with filth.

“You only get to look, pig. You don’t get to touch yet. That comes later.”

Derek groaned. “But, oh god, he’s so dirty, and…and…” Inside, Derek tried to rein in the desires and impulses raging through him, but he couldn’t. It felt so good to let go and be dirty now, like he was meant to be.

“Oh alright, I can see that you’re jonesing. Officer, give the newest pig a present, would you? How about that jock of yours?” The officer complied, pulling off his ripe jock and throwing it to Derek, who immediately shoved his face in it, licking and sniffing at the fabric, his cock immediately releasing a massive load of cum into his pants as he did. “That good, pig?” the fat man asked, and Derek nodded quickly. “Tell me what you want to do to the officer over there.”

“I wanna suck his cock, and clean his nasty body, and eat out his ass, and suck on his toes, and oh god I gotta be dirty! Fuck…please, I can’t take this, please change me back!”

“Now why would I go and do a thing like that? I think you’d much rather go all the way, be a filthy pig like the officer here, isn’t that right?”

“Yes! I mean, I shouldn’t, but oh god, he’s just so nasty! Can’t I have just a taste, please…” Derek again lunged for the officer, but the fat man shoved him back, pushing his hairy belly into Derek’s face, who groaned and started licking at it, another load of cum shooting into his pants as he did. “Yeah, that’s it pig. I’m happy to take you all the way, but first, you need to sort out some things, tie up some loose ends, right? Make sure that life you were trying to live is good and over. So here’s what you’re gonna do. The officer here is gonna take you back to your car. Over the next day, you are going to quit your job, withdraw all of your money and cash it, tell your wife that you’re leaving her, and then return here, where we’ll finish you off good and proper, alright?” Derek didn’t answer, he was so focused on cleaning out the man’s massive belly button. He grabbed Derek’s hair and shoved him back, the man’s tongue stretched out, moaning in need. “I asked you whether you understand, pig!”

“Yes! Yes, please let me clean you, please…”

“How do you address a superior, pig? I’m your master now, got it?”

“Yes sir…master, please…”

The man let Derek resume his licking, and tossed the jock back to the officer. “Get dressed, and take the pig back. Leave him with the address so he knows where to come when he’s finished his tasks.”

The officer got dressed, and the master led them out to the squad car, giving both of them final orders for the ride back. He was nice enough to let Derek ride in the passenger seat on the way back to his car, and he spent the whole ride with his face buried in the officer’s pit, or sucking on his nipples, but every time he tried to suck his cock, the man would push him away, reminding him that when he finished his tasks, he could have all of the cock he wanted. They parted with a rough, spit filled kiss, and then Derek climbed into his car, but before he could start it, he caught a glimpse of his eyes in the mirror, and stared at them spellbound for a moment. There was still blue there, but the brown, the dingy brown he had seen in his master’s and the officer’s eyes–it was in his now too, and it was beautiful, and filthy. He was a pig now, not a real one yet, but close enough, and there was no going back.


#7 (age gap, muscle growth, public sex, exhibitionism, mental AR)

Tom couldn’t help but feel some butterflies in his stomach as he waited outside the restaurant for his date to arrive. Forty-seven years old, and it felt like he was in high school again. Of course, he’d never been on a date with a man before–so that was something, still, he felt a bit silly. Of course, no one could be gay in the small town Tom grew up in–hell, he didn’t even know he was gay when he married Elisa after graduating high school. But, well, he learned soon enough, and had done his best to keep it hidden, mostly for the sake of his daughter and son, but everything comes out eventually. Now he saw them one weekend a month, and they never quite look at him the same way anymore. He sighed a bit, knowing the divorce had been the right decision, but still wishing things could have happened differently. Who knows? maybe this date would be a fresh start.

Certainly the guy he was meeting seemed promising. They’d met online, on a site for bears, something Tom had only learned the existence of in the past couple of years, though he certainly fit the bill. Coming from a rural youth, Tom worked in the construction industry, and had always worn a beard, and flannel and denim were already his standard wardrobe. Ryan was a bit younger than him, in his late thirties, but very handsome, and with quite a bit of experience in gay life which Tom definitely didn’t have. Thinking about the pictures on Ryan’s profile made him blush a bit, and gave sent his dick to half mast, especially the leather. But that was for later. Now it was dinner, and maybe drinks afterwards. Tom didn’t think he’d be able to handle much more than that. He was so lost in thought, that it took a couple of taps on his shoulder for the man behind him to catch his attention. “Hey, Tom? That is you, right?”

Tom spun around, expecting to see the lanky, slender frame from Ryan’s photos, but took a step back when he saw the man standing behind him. It definitely wasn’t Ryan, or at least not the Ryan from the photos. The man was short, and quite fat, with a round face wrinkled with age. His hair was nearly all white with a large bald spot poorly covered by a comb over. Definitely not Tom’s type. “Ry…Ryan?” Tom stammered, hoping it was just a mistake.

“It is you!” Ryan said, “Good to meet you finally. So, shall we go get some dinner?”

Not certain what to do, Tom followed Ryan into the restaurant, but was checking for any escape route he could manage. This couldn’t really be Ryan, could it? Trying to be inconspicuous, as Ryan talked to the hostess, Tom pulled the dating site up on his phone and looked up Ryan’s profile, only to find that the entire thing had been changed since he’d looked at it that morning. The pictures no longer featured a sexy, furry cub posing in leather, but a chubby old man taking pictures with his webcam. Even all of the profile info was changed, but he didn’t have a chance to read it before the hostess escorted them to their table.

"So how are you doing tonight?’ Ryan asked.

“Oh, uh…pretty good, I guess. Sorry, I’m just…sorry.” Tom said, not sure of what to say, trying to focus on his phone and avoid conversation.

“Sorry for what? For being such a young, muscular stud? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Young muscular stud? Sure, he was in decent shape, but Tom certainly didn’t think he qualified as a young, muscular stud. As they walked to the table, Tom had to suddenly grab the waistband of his belt to keep his pants from dropping to his feet, and his flannel suddenly felt very uncomfortable–loose at the stomach and tight at the shoulders.

“And another thing–I know I asked you to wear what you had on in your profile picture, but I wasn’t expecting you to actually wear it. Still, with that massive body of yours, I suppose you can walk around in spandex and not mind the stares people give you. And dang are you smooth. Do you shave?”

“Uh…wax, actually, though I’ve never been very…hairy?” Ok–Tom thought–now something really strange is going on. He looked on his phone again, except this time he surfed to his own profile, and found that his entire page had been changed as well! His age was listed as twenty-one, and his build as muscular, but that definitely wasn’t right. He scrolled over and saw his profile picture, and suddenly everything made more sense. The picture definitely wasn’t of him–but of some massive body builder dressed in an electric pink, sleeveless spandex top which clung to his pecs and washboard abs, and a pair of bright yellow bike shorts which left even less to the imagination.

He wanted to get a better look at his apparently hacked profile, but before he could, the hostess reached their table, seating them, and after giving Tom a wink and a smirk she left. What was that for exactly, he wondered, sliding his massive frame onto the chair and hearing it creak. He hoped these were sturdier than the last place he’d been in–one of them had actually broken under his 270 pound mass of muscle. Without thinking about it, he ran one of his big hands down his chest and abs, loving how the spandex clad muscles felt under his hand.

Wait…what? Hadn’t he just been a forty-seven, year old daddy bear dressed in denim in flannel? How had he suddenly become this muscular Adonis barely dressed in this brightly colored spandex? And why wasn’t he more freaked out about this? He looked around for something reflective so he could see himself, and settled on his spoon, using it to gauge his appearance. He looked damn nice, actually, he had to admit, and adjusted a few stray hairs back into gelled perfection on his head, Ryan snickering.

“You know, you said you were obsessed with your physique in our conversations, but I guess I didn’t realize how much?”

“Oh, sorry…” Tom said, and put the spoon down, “I get carried away sometimes.”

“Well, you are a model, so I suppose knowing how you look is part of the deal.”

Model…that sounded right. He’d always been obsessed with looking good–modeling had just seemed like a natural extension of that after he’d graduated from high school. “That’s true. It’s still a bit rude.”

“Rude? Maybe, but you’ve worked hard for that body of yours–you should be proud of it–flaunt it. Well, who am I kidding, you already do–your profile says as much. How much you love showing off your body in public. No wonder you like wearing spandex all the time.” Tom flexed a bit, giving Ryan a wink as he kept talking. He liked having people look at him. He liked it a lot. “Yeah, you’ve invested so much energy in that body of yours, I don’t even mind that you’re a complete dunce. What does your profile say, that your IQ is 85? And your bio reads like it was written by a child, right Tommy?”

“Yeah, I’s never been too good at thinking ‘n stuff,” Tom said, flexing more openly now. Had Ryan called him Tommy? For some reason he felt like he should hate that name, but he kind of liked it. It made him sound like a kid, and he did act like a kid sometimes. He flexed again, loving how his muscles bulged, and checked to see if anyone was looking at him. It made him feel really sexy when people watched him flex.

“Now, your profile said you were looking for a daddy, right? An older man to take good care of you, and help you out, right? Old men like me turn you on, don’t they?”

“Yeah, I loves older guys like you. Could you be my daddy? I’d like that, like, a whole lot.” Tommy said, grinning a bit. He did like Ryan–he was really hot, especially the white hair and balding head, and those wrinkles. Something about older men just drove Tommy wild.

“Sure, I can be your daddy. But remember, like our roleplaying online, if I’m your daddy then you need to do what I say, and if you don’t then you have to be punished. But if you’re good, then I’ll fuck you with my big daddy cock. That’s what you want, right? To feel a hard daddy cock up your ass?”

Tommy blushed, and felt his cock harden as the remembered the conversations he’d had with Ryan over the past couple weeks. Ryan loved having Tommy on webcam, and giving him orders like a good daddy should, and Tommy always obeyed them without question. “Mmmm, yeah daddy, I liked the part where I fucked myself with that big dildo, and pretended it was your hard cock. That was so fun.” Tommy reached down with one hand and started massaging his cock, feeling it grow and bulge out in his spandex shorts, a blotch of precum staining the front for everyone in the restaurant to see.

Ryan grinned, and started massaging his own prick. “Yeah, that’s a good boy, jack your little boy cock in public. It’s too bad it’s so small–but you’re just a little boy, so it isn’t too bad. Besides, you’d rather suck cock and have your ass fucked anyway, isn’t that right?”

Tommy felt the cock in his shorts shrink back, until it was just a couple inches long, but jacking off still felt amazing, partly because his daddy had told him to do it, and also because there were so many people around looking at him. He loved having people watch him jack off, and have sex. The waiter came to the table, and Tommy didn’t stop for a moment, Ryan ordering for both of them like daddies should. He made sure to thrust his crotch up into the air, making sure the waiter knew what he was doing, the young girl blushing and looking away, taking their order as fast as she could and leaving immediately.

“It’s gonna be a while before our food comes. How about we have some fun, boy?”

“What kinda fun, daddy?” Tommy said, wide eyed, scared, but also excited beyond belief.

“How about we go into the bathroom, and I fuck that muscular ass of yours? Would you like that, boy?”

Tommy could barely contain his excitement. He stood up quickly, accidentally knocking over his chair, which he picked back up, being sure to show off his spandex clad ass to the rest of the diners, and followed his daddy to the bathroom. There, Ryan shoved him into the handicapped stall, not even caring that some guy was shitting in the stall next to them. Tommy started gyrating his ass, thrusting it back as Ryan undid his pants. “Hurry daddy, my muscle ass is so hungry for cock, fuck me, fuck me hard!”

“You little boy-slut, you’re gonna get it…” Ryan said, pulled down Tommy’s spandex pants and started running his own cock up and down his boy’s crack. “Time to make you mine, boy. You may have come in here looking like some ugly ass bear, but you’re much hotter now, almost perfect. Now take daddies cock like a good boy!” He rammed his cock up Tommy’s ass in one thrust, and Tommy groaned. He’d long since learned how to take a cock in the ass–it was how he landed half of his modelling gigs. With one hand he started massaging his cock, but knew he couldn’t cum until his daddy did.

“Yeah daddy, fuck me with your hard cock!” Tommy exclaimed, and heard the man next to them hurriedly pack up and leave the restroom as fast as he could. Ryan wasn’t speaking now, just grunting, slamming his cock in up to the hilt every time, until with a load moan, he came, filling Tommy’s ass with his spunk. A moment later, Tommy’s own cock let loose a torrent of it’s own, filling the front of his shorts, leaving a massive dark spot which would be impossible to ignore. Ryan spun him around and pushed him up against the wall, making out with Tommy, tugging on the muscle boy’s nipples through the spandex, making him swoon. He was so big and strong, but he loved how Ryan took control and shoved him around like a little kid. After a couple of minutes, Ryan backed off and pulled up his pants, Tommy pulling his shorts back up, and they exited the stall.

Tommy caught a look at his reflection in the mirror, and the well-tanned, bleach blond, baby faced, body builder model looking back at him seemed perfectly natural. He adjusted a few stray hairs back into place, flexed a couple of times, admiring his size and smiling. All the photographers liked his smile–they said it was so beautifully innocent. They always asked him to smile like that when they fucked him after photoshoots.

“Come on boy, we don’t want to miss dinner, do we? And then you have to get to bed–you have a very important go-see tomorrow, don’t forget.”

“Sorry daddy,” Tommy said, and hurried to catch up. He loved his daddy–he didn’t know what he would do without him.


#8 (slavery, smoking, feet/boot play, hypnosis)

It was that damn flicker again. Jerry cursed, and tried to resist throwing his remote across the room, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Just two months earlier, right after breaking up and moving out of his girlfriend’s apartment, he’d decided to treat himself to something manly for a change–a new TV. And not just any TV, he wanted the top of the line, flat screen, 72 inch, 3D TV, the best money could buy. Sure, it meant taking on some debt, but hell, he only lived once, right? But sure enough, he’d gotten the thing home and set up, and the very first time he turns it on, the screen had this annoying ass flicker! It wasn’t enough to disrupt what he was watching, but he’d paid good money for the TV, but of course, the store claimed that the flicker had been caused by user error, so they weren’t liable, and he hadn’t purchased the extended service whatever, and so frustrated, he’d just looked online for a repairman to come out and look at it.

Zane, the repairman, had been nice enough, but a bit on the sketchy side. He was very tall, probably close to six and a half feet, with a big beard and longish hair which made him look kind of rough and wild, but he’d been nice enough, and by the end of the day, he’d said it was fixed, and charged Jerry next to nothing for the service, when he had been expecting to get fucked over big time. Zane had only asked that he recommend him to his friends, if they had TV problems of their own, and Jerry was only too happy to agree.

Things had been fine for a few weeks, but then the damn flicker came back. Furious, Jerry had called Zane back and yelled at him, but Zane calmed him down and told him he’d come out and look at the problem again. This time, it stayed fixed for a bit longer, but the flicker kept returning. By this time, Zane was doing the service for free, all Jerry had to do was give him a call and he’d come by and fix it up for him, so it wasn’t really a problem. Jerry was just frustrated, because he knew that if he’d been doing everything Zane told him to do to keep the thing fixed in the first place, than the flicker wouldn’t have come back at all, so it was most likely his fault more than anything. Jerry grabbed his cell phone and dialed Zane’s number, and after a couple of rings, a deep voice answered, “Hello, this is Zane’s TV repair, how can I help you?”

“Hi Zane, this is slave 0-1-3. My TV is flickering again, is there any chance you could swing by today and take a look at it again? It’s really annoying.”

“Today? Man, I’m sorry, I’m booked pretty tight. Any chance it could wait until tomorrow or Saturday?”

Jerry felt his heart race a bit faster. He needed Zane to come now though, or else he’d have to put up with that damn flicker for days! “I’m sorry to ask, sir, but it’s just so annoying, and you’re the only one who can fix it right. Is there any chance you could swing by today? I’m home all evening, so you can come late if you want.”

“Alright, it sounds pretty serious. I have a couple more stops to make, and then I’ll swing by later this evening, probably around seven. Will that work?”

“You can’t come any earlier?”

“Nope, I’m sorry slave, I can’t.”

“Alright,” Jerry said, a bit dejected, “I’ll see you at seven, sir.”

“Seven it is, slave. Make sure you prepare like you’re supposed to.”

“I will. Goodbye sir.” Jerry hung up the phone and checked the clock. It was only four in the afternoon–he was going to have to wait a whole three hours. He thought about going to the gym, but he wasn’t sure he could get in his entire workout and still make it back in time to prepare for Zane’s arrival. He watched TV instead, trying to ignore the flicker, but spent more time watching the clock. He had some dinner to pass the time, and then at six thirty, went to his room to get ready for his appointment. He put on his leather thong, chaps, harness, metal collar and boots, found his favorite butt plug for his hole, and then grimaced as he walked over to the humidor. This was still his least favorite part. Zane had said that one of the best ways to keep the flicker on the screen from coming back was to smoke cigars, but Jerry hated the taste of them, the way they made his head swim, and it seemed like he would cough for hours after having just one. He did his best to do as Zane said, but he tried to smoke them as rarely as possible.

Now that he was dressed and smoking, he went and unlocked the front door, and knelt in front of it, waiting for Zane to arrive. The minutes crept by, and Jerry started to get nervous as it passed seven and crept towards seven thirty. What if Zane had forgotten? Then he heard the tell-tale grumble of Zane’s truck rumbling down the street, and felt his entire body relax. He was coming after all–he thought–everything was going to be just fine.

The truck came to a stop, and a moment later, the front door swung open and Zane stepped in, ducking under the doorway given his nearly seven foot height, dressed in leather pants, vest, and a muir cap, with a huge cigar jutting from his massive beard, but Jerry’s entire focus was on the master’s boots. He crawled forward, as Zane had instructed, and kissed both toes before licking them clean, which is the customary way to greet anyone coming into your home. He ran his tongue lovingly across the leather, his cock hard in his leather thong. When he finished, he sat back on his heels until Zane signalled that he could stand up. “Thank you slave, now, what seems to be the problem?”

“The flicker, sir, it’s back. Can you fix it again, please?”

Zane scowled a bit, obviously unhappy, and Jerry felt his stomach drop out from beneath him. “I’ve already given you all the tools you need to keep the flicker away,” he said, “So you’re obviously not doing everything I’ve told you to do, or the flicker would still be gone. Follow me.”

Zane tromped his way into the living room, Jerry following behind, his head bowed, suddenly worried. He didn’t want to disappoint Zane, but it looks like he already had. Zane walked over to the TV and began hooking up his repair device, asking Jerry some questions as he did.

“Have you been exercising like I told you?”

“Yes sir, I go to the gym for two hours four times a week. My BMI is 28, and my body fat percent is 14 percent.” Jerry knew he was doing well with that–he’d been in pretty good shape even before Zane fixed his TV. But now, he had but one quite a lot of muscle over the past couple months, and he ran his hands over his harness and muscles unconsciously.

“And have you been fucking yourself regularly as well?”

“Yes sir, at least four times a day.”

“Have you kept all of your shoes clean?”

“Yes sir, I clean them with my tongue when I get home, and spit-shine my boots every other day.”

“I want you to shine them every day from now on.”

“Yes sir.”

“And when men call you, asking to come watch TV at your house, have you been treating them with respect, as I instructed?”

“Yes sir. When they call, I put on whatever gear as ask me to wear, and then kneel at the door, awaiting their arrival. I clean their shoes or boots when they arrive, and then we go watch TV. I service their feet first, usually, and then either suck their cock or let them fuck me, whichever they prefer, and then wait on them, bringing them food and drink like a good host, or whatever they ask, until they want to leave.”

“Very good, slave. All of that sounds good, but one last thing. Have you been smoking as I instructed?”

Jerry didn’t answer, but fidgeted when he was standing, until Zane looked over at him, glaring, forcing a weak, “No, sir,” from his lips.

“I see. And how often have you been smoking your cigars then?”

“Only when someone coming over asks me to, or in preparation for your arrival, sir. I…I don’t like smoking them, sir, they make me sick.”

“That’s very bad, slave. No wonder the flicker came back so quickly.”

“I…I’m sorry sir, I really did try, I swear, but I just can’t seem to like them.”

“Hmm…Take a seat on the couch slave, while I fix this again, but I’m getting tired of constantly being called over here to fix this thing, when you’re perfectly capable of keeping it fixed yourself.”

Jerry gulped, but took a seat on the couch, put on Zane’s special 3D glasses, and watched the screen as Zane finished plugging in the cords on his repair kit. Checking to see that Jerry was in position, he flipped a switch, and the screen flipped to a hypnotic swirl of colors, intensified by the 3D glasses, sending Jerry into a stupor.

“Alright slave. Tell me why you don’t like smoking.”

“I don’t like the smell, or the taste of them, and they make me cough a lot.”

“But last time I was here, you told me how much you like the taste of cigars, and how you wanted to smoke as many of them as you could. You said they actually made you feel healthier, right? Didn’t you say that to me?”

Jerry nodded. He did remember saying that, and for a day or two, he did enjoy smoking them, but then, they just didn’t turn him on like they had been, and he stopped smoking them.

“When did your feelings change, slave?”

Jerry took a moment to think back. He’d just finished fucking himself with a big dildo on the couch, smoking a cigar and cumming all over himself, and was on the way to put the dildo away, when he’d caught sight of himself in the mirror in the hallway. For a moment, he hadn’t looked like himself–instead, he’d seen… “I saw myself smoking in the mirror, and it reminded me of my uncle. I don’t want to be like him.”

Zane nodded, understanding a bit better. Slave 013 had been quite receptive–it had seemed odd that he would get stuck on this detail, but the fact that there was some history that he had suppressed would explain everything a bit better. “Tell me about your uncle. What was he like?”

“He was my father’s brother, and he lived in a small apartment, alone. I remember my parents went on a few vacations when I was little, and I would always stay with him while they were gone. He was big–not as big as you, but he’d been in the army, and was always working out. He hated me. He forced me to do all of these chores for him, and make him his microwave dinners, and he was always berating me and my dad. He always smoked cigars as he watched TV, and I hated the smell. I hated him, but he told me to never tell my dad that, or I’d get into really big trouble, but I hated him so much, I don’t want to be like him.”

“Do you remember these events often?”

“No sir, I try not to.”

Zane didn’t think he’d be able to get Jerry to forgot this entirely, but maybe he could find a more creative solution to this problem. “Alright slave, I want you to listen to me very carefully. You see, you’ve been remembering your time with your uncle all wrong, so I’m going to help you remember what really happened, alright? I promise it will make you feel much better.”


“First, your uncle was never mean to you. He might have been strict, but he was kind too, and you enjoyed going over to see him. Part of this was because you idolized him, and wanted to be just like him when you grew up. You especially liked his smoking, and one time, you actually snuck a cigar and tried smoking it in the bedroom, but he found you out. You thought he would punish you, but he smoked it with you, giving you tips and telling you how good you looked smoking a cigar. You loved your uncle very much, and wanted to please him more than anything. He didn’t force you to do those chores, you offered to help, because you wanted to please him, a man so much stronger and better than you were. In fact, as you grew up, you found yourself fantasizing about your uncle and serving him sexually, though you never acted on these feelings, or told your uncle how you feel. That’s what really happened, right?”

“I…I guess so…”

“You’re going to forget the old version, the wrong version of events, and only remember this one from now on.”

“Yes sir.”

“The fact that you remind yourself of your uncle will no longer bother you, but please you greatly.”

“Yes sir.”

“You will not recall this conversation when you awake, and these memories will remain suppressed, but you will retain how they make you feel.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, how do you feel when you smoke a cigar?”

“I love them sir. They make me feel so masculine, and I don’t know why I felt so odd smoking them before. I’m going to smoke as many as I can from now on, all the time.”

“Good slave. When you awake, the TV will no longer flicker until one month from today, or when you fell yourself resisting my programming.” Zane flipped the switch again, the pattern shut off, and Jerry blinked a few times, looked at the screen, and grinned.

“The TV’s perfect, sir, thank you,” Jerry said, and took a deep suck off the cigar in his mouth, relishing the smoke.

“It should be much better now,” Zane said, strutted over to the couch and hauled out his cock, “Now suck it.” Jerry happily swallowed his master’s cock to the hilt, and stopped only to take another hit off his cigar, blowing the smoke through Zane’s pubic bush as he sucked. After a couple of minutes, Zane rammed his cock in as far as he could and shot a load directly into Jerry’s stomach, his slave reeling, in awe of his master. When he withdrew, He took out a lead and clipped it to Jerry’s collar. “I wasn’t planning on coming here tonight, but I thought it might be nice to take you out tonight, slave. I have some new clients that I’d like you to meet, who might be interested in coming over and watching TV with you sometime.”

Jerry grinned, and followed his master out of the house, smoking happily, but mostly glad that he’d gotten his TV fixed again. He’d paid a lot of money for that TV, and he was thankful he’d found a master capable of keeping it working for him.


#9 (incontinence, watersports, scat, mental AR)

“Ya sure ya ain’t gotta go before we head out? It’ll be a while ‘til the next rest stop.”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure. Would you quit asking me already?” Dave snapped at the trucker next to him, before going back to his book. Hitchhiking across the country had certainly sounded like a cool idea when he was telling all of his friends about it at his college graduation, but now that he was actually doing it, he was realizing that there were aspects of the country which were better left unseen. Jake was one of them, the trucker who he was riding with at the moment. He was from the deep south, if his accent was any clue, and he didn’t seem to have even a high school diploma, much less a full set of teeth. Obese, clothes which didn’t look like they’d been washed any time recently, and those damn cigars he was always sucking on were disgusting. Dave was beginning to regret even agreeing to ride with the slob, but he was in the middle of bumfuck Kentucky or West Virginia or someplace, and nothing better had come along in hours. Jake was headed all the way to St. Louis, which would be a good place for Dave to regroup with some friends he knows there, if he could stand being in Jake’s company for that long. He didn’t like how the older redneck kept looking over at him and grinning. It was starting to creep him out.

“I don’ mean tah pester. I just know you young boys always think ya can hold it, ‘n then before long, ya gotta go, ‘n then ya piss yerselves. Happened loads a times, trust me.” Jake said as he put the truck in gear and headed for the on ramp to the highway. Dave thought about answering, but didn’t. He wasn’t some god damn kid, like Jake seemed to think. Suddenly though, there was a tremendous pressure on his groin, at first only a bit uncomfortable, and then Dave realized that he really needed to go. “Fuck…you know, on second thought, I could use a bathroom…” he said, as Jake picked up speed and merged onto the road.

“Shoulda spoke up when ya had the chance. Guess ya gotta hold it, boy. Though I bet a little boy like you probably can’t hold it for very long.”

“Would you quit calling me a little boy? Fuck, I’m twenty-two–” Dave said, but was quieted by a slap from Jake, a light one, but one which made Dave flinch all the same, given that it was coming from a stranger.

“Mind your god damn manners, boy, apparently they ain’t got no sense in raisin’ kids where yer from. Down in the South now, there we bring our boys up right.”

Dave grimaced, but kept his mouth shut, and focused on holding his bladder for the moment, and looked at Jake again. Raised right? Yeah, if you wanted your kids to be disgusting, idiot slobs, then I guess he was raised right. The pressure on his bladder was increasing, and Dave was actually becoming worried that he might piss himself. He pushed the seat belt off his waist, just to relieve some pressure, but he was squirming in his seat, trying to hold it.

“Would you fuckin’ sit still boy?” Jake said.

“God damn it, I am not a little boy! Quit calling me that!” Dave cried, now angry, but the outburst caused him to lose focus on his bladder, and he released a massive load of piss into his jeans. “Shit!” he shouted, and tried to stop himself, but for some reason he couldn’t. Jake just shook his head in disappointment.

“See, you little boys, all the same. Pissing yourself right and left.”

Dave had no idea how something like this could have happened. He hadn’t pissed anywhere but the toilet since he was a toddler! And yet, now, a college graduate, he had just pissed his pants uncontrollably. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to cry. More than anything, he wanted to know how in the hell this had happened to him.

“Well, guess we’d better get you into something which might offer some more protection. I don’t want my whole seat soaked with piss by the time we reach St. Louis.” Jake said, reached back behind the seat and pulled out a thick, disposable diaper. “Good thing I’m used to riding with little boys like you, so I keep a large supply of these handy just in case.”

Dave just gawked at the man, to see if he was serious, but Jake just stared back. There was no way he was going to put something like that on. The freak probably just wanted to get a look at Dave’s cock or something. “I’m not wearing that.”

“It wasn’t a request, boy. Put it on.”

“Fuck off!”

“That’s it, I’ve had it up tah here wit that attitude a yers,” Jake said, and abruptly pulled the truck off onto the shoulder. Before Dave could open the door and run for it, Jake grabbed him by the collar and hauled him over onto his lap, where he began smacking Dave’s ass as hard as he could, making him yelp in pain. “Yer nothin’ but a god damn little boy, who pisses himself, and I’m yer fuckin’ daddy, so yer gonna do whatever the fuck I say, ya got that? So yer gonna put on that damn diaper, like I said, because I fuckin’ told ya to, ‘cause doin’ what yer daddy says makes ya happy, right?” he said, Dave barely able to focus on the words due to the pain. Jake paused when he finished speaking, as if waiting for a response, but Dave didn’t know what to say.

“Well? Am I right?” Jake asked again, adding another smack for good measure.

“Yes, yes you’re right, fine!” Dave said, but Jake smacked him again.

“Yer gonna address me right from now on boy, say it again.”

“Yes…sir.” Jake muttered, but Jake smacked him again. “Yes! Yes, uh..daddy. Yes daddy.” Jake blurted out suddenly, not even knowing where the word had come from, but Jake finally let him up.

“That’s a good boy, now take those big boy clothes off and put on your diaper while I git us back on the road.”

Dave knew he should run, but…he needed to do what his daddy said, right? He shucked off his wet jeans and briefs and threw them in the back, and then began fastening the diaper on himself. When it was all finished, a wave of relief washed over him. He did good now, he did what his daddy wanted him to, and that made Dave feel good. This was all wrong, he thought. He was dressed in a fucking diaper in some strange redneck’s truck, and all of this was so strange, and unable to stop himself, Dave started to cry. He hadn’t cried in ages, but the emotions overwhelmed him suddenly and uncontrollably.

Jake, now back on the road, looked over and saw Dave sobbing. “Aw, I’m sorry boy, I don’ mean tah be so rough wit ya. Here have a suck on this here pacifier, it’ll make ya feel loads better,” he said, and stuck the cigar he was smoking in Dave’s mouth, who immediately began sucking on it. Between the nicotine flooding his system and the simple comfort of having something to suck, the tears dried up rather quickly, leaving him feeling relaxed and calm. Wasn’t there something he should be worried about? Wasn’t something strange going on?

Jake reached over, grabbed Dave around the shoulders and pulled him close. “There, ain’t that loads better boy? Now it’s just you ‘n yer daddy on the road, like it should be. Ya do love yer daddy, right boy?”

“Yes daddy, I love you bunches,” Dave said, cuddling up closer to his big, strong daddy.

“You were quicker than most are, little boy. Usually takes the others a few miles before they realize they’re nothin’ more than dumb little boys, pissin’ n’ shitting their diapers, learnin’ that they need a good daddy like me tah help ‘em grow up right.”

Dave nodded. He sure was a dumb, little boy, he thought. Without even noticing, he filled the back of his diapers with a load of shit. Jake took a whiff and grinned. “Guess ya don’t need much encouragement either. You’re a dirty little boy too, by the smell a things. Ya like fillin’ that diaper a yers with big loads a shit, don’t ya?” He reached over and squished the back of the diaper in his hand, making the shit squish around and making Dave moan in delight. He was such a dirty boy, just like his daddy said, yes he was. He took another drag off his cigar, but the butt was too small and it fell out of his mouth.

“Daddy, my pacifier broke,” Dave said, sounding like a little kid, “Can I get a new one?”

“I think a dirty little boy like you would rather have a bottle to suck on,” Jake said, unzipped his dirty jeans and pulled out his cock. “You wanna drink from yer bottle every chance you get.”

Dave didn’t need any more prompting. He started sucking on Jake’s cock, and a moment later, piss streamed out and he swallowed every drop, like the dirty little boy he was. “Yeah, dirty little boys like you love their daddy’s piss almost as much as you love my manmilk, don’t you?” Dave moaned in agreement, drinking down as much as he could, feeling a bit sad as the flow ebbed and stopped, until his daddy’s cock started hardening in his mouth. He started sucking on it, and he could hear Jake moan. “Yeah, you’re gonna be great boy. I mean, I’ve helped lots of little boys grow up, but I can already tell, that when you’re a man, you’re gonna be so hot. You wanna know what kind of man I’m gonna make ya into boy?”

Dave nodded as best he could, and kept sucking. He could taste his daddy’s manmilk start flowing, and it was delicious. He drank down as much of it as he could, and sucked harder, desperate for the real thing.

“Well first things first, yer damn puny boy. I mean, I ain’t seen no boy as skinny as you are. We’re gonna have tah put some good meat on yer bones, like yer daddy here. Pretty soon, you’ll have a big ol’ gut, and maybe we’ll have ya work out yer arms a bit, just tah bulk ya up some, and cause I like boys that are good ‘n musky. Speakin’ a musk, yer too dang clean. If ya want tah be a real dirty boy, we’re gonna have tah fix that.”

“I am a dirty boy daddy! The dirtiest!” Dave said as best he could around Jake’s thick cock, making the redneck laugh.

“Really boy? The dirtiest? Then I suppose the mere whiff of my pits is enough to make that boy cock a yers rock hard, right? Ya love drinkin’ piss, and I bet ya’ll even be willin’ tah eat shit too, ain’t that right? Ya dirty enough tah be yer daddy’s toilet, boy?”

“Yes daddy, if that’s what you want,” Dave said.

“Fuck boy, just thinking of ya as a fat ass redneck pig, with shit caked in the massive beard yer gonna have, aw fuck, I’m cummin’ boy! Drink that manmilk!”

The semi swerved a bit from side to side as a massive orgasm wracked Jake’s body, Dave sucking as hard as he could on his daddy’s cock, drinking everything down that he could suck out of it, but he wanted more, but Jake hauled him up off his cock, despite Dave’s moaned protests.

“Sorry boy, but daddy’s gotta drive fer a bit. Why don’t ya squish that shit around in there, cover yer cock in it ‘n jack off? Don’t touch yer cock though, just rub it through that diaper a yers. Bet a dirty boy like you would love to do that.”

With a stupid grin on his face, Dave did just what his daddy suggested, all memories of college and his road trip shoved from his mind. He looked over, and where he felt disgust before was only admiration of Jake’s filthy, massive body. When he grew up, he wanted to be a filthy, dumb, redneck trucker, just like his daddy.


#10 (gaining, incest, hypnosis, humiliation)

Billy almost drove by his father’s house, he didn’t recognize it. He’d been away at college all year long, and was just now returning for summer break, and gone was the overgrown lawn and peeling paint. Instead, the entire house was looking rather well taken care of. His mom had died when he was only ten, and his dad had never really bothered taking care of the house–so did that mean he’d found a new woman? He hoped so, his dad had been single for far too long, but then why hadn’t he mentioned anything in their talks while he was at school? Granted, Billy didn’t call very often, and his dad almost never spoke about himself in the conversations, so if something had changed, he probably wouldn’t have known. Anyway, he’d gotten back early, so his dad probably wasn’t home from the construction site yet. He was unloading his bags from the car, when a stranger’s voice came from behind him, “Hello sir, you must be Master William. Master Patrick told me to expect you today, though I anticipated your arrival for a bit later, so I’m not fully prepared.”

Billy swung around, surprised to hear someone addressing him, especially so formally, and found himself face to face with a large, slim man dressed in an extravagant suit, standing in the doorway to his father’s house. He had a full white beard, and his balding hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail. “Who are you?” Billy asked.

“I am Marco, your father’s butler. I was in the service of Master Patrick’s Uncle Matthew, who left Patrick the remaining years of my contract to him in his will. Now please, stop unloading–I will be happy to carry in your bags for you.” Marco came down the walk, and despite Billy’s insistence that he could manage, Marco soon had all of his bags under both arms and was hauling them into the house, Billy following behind him somewhat sheepishly. The inside of the house was as immaculate as the exterior. His father had always been a bit of a slob–but the place looked neat for the first time in Billy’s life. “Your father should be home shortly–he wanted to take a short day at the office since you were arriving. He had hoped to beat you home–I hope he won’t be too disappointed.”

“Office?” Billy said, mostly to himself, but Marco answered him anyway.

“Yes. He quit construction at my suggestion and is currently working as a manager for a local branch of a bank.”

That didn’t sound like his father at all. Had he even come to the right house? His thoughts were interrupted by the garage door, and a minute later, a man Billy barely recognized as his father burst through the door and swept him up into a big hug. “William! I’m so happy to see you! How are things?”

It was his father’s voice alright, but the man he was looking at didn’t bear much resemblance at all. He was fat, for one thing. His dad had always worked out often, and the construction work gave him a very muscular figure, but this man looked more like a butter ball. He also had a big moustache which was a bit white, was wearing an expensive looking suit, and Billy couldn’t take in much more than that before his head started to swim. His father pulled him into the living room and sat down with him while Marco finished cooking dinner, peppering him with questions, which Billy answered as best he could. He tried several times to figure out what was going on, but his dad always avoided the question, steering the topic back to college.

Finally, it came time for dinner, and Marco laid out a massive spread for them, which Patrick plowed through, stopping only for breath or to answer one of Billy’s questions, though before he did, he always looked over at Marco for some reason, and would only nod once he gace a curt nod. Apparently, Marco had a long contract set up with Patrick’s uncle, and rather than allow the contract to expire with his death, the remaining years were passed to his nephew. Marco was the one keeping the house clean, and had also gotten his father a job at the bank, changed his wardrobe, his personal style, and almost everything about him. It actually creeped Billy out a bit, especially the weight gain. His dad had always hated fat people, but now he was rubbing his belly and stuffing himself silly–it was kind of disgusting, really.

Finally, dinner was over, and despite his attempt to eat lightly, Billy was still stuffed beyond belief. His father had work the next day, so he retired early, but not before giving Billy a big hug and telling him how much he’d missed him, and then Marco showed Billy to his room, which had been cleaned and organized in preparation for his arrival. Before he went to bed, Marco told him that he had a relaxation track which he had been giving Patrick to listen to while he slept, and suggested Billy try it as well. Already too drained to care, Billy agreed, and so he fell asleep to the sound of a gentle brook in the background, and he had the best sleep of his life, at least until Marco awoke him right at seven the next morning, throwing back the curtains and searing Billy’s eyes with light, making him roll over and moan.

“Time to wake up,” Marco said, “We have a big day ahead of us.”

“What the fuck?” Billy asked, bleary eyed, “It’s summer man, let me sleep…”

“Alas, those are not the master’s demands. Your father wants to make sure you keep up on your school work, and so I have secured several DVD series which you will need to watch over the summer, to make sure you keep up. Now, get up–that’s an order.”

Billy thought about resisting, but before he could get further than a thought, he was up and getting dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing the night before.

“Clean clothes, sir. I will not have such slovenly habits while you are in your father’s house.”

Sheepishly, Billy answered, “well, everything’s dirty. I never did laundry at school. I brought it all home in my bags…”

Marco looked disgusted for a moment, then regained his composure. “Humph. Well, I suppose we’ll need to go get you a new wardrobe, and fix your hair as well. Still, breakfast first. Now let’s go.”

As Billy ate another meal just as large as the dinner the night before, Marco put on one of the DVDs, and Billy found himself quickly zoning out, watching the video and shoveling food into his mouth, Marco replacing it just as fast. Before he knew it, an hour had passed, and his stomach was so bloated, it didn’t feel like he would be able to move for a week. He also had no idea what he had been watching. Something told him that he had been watching something about economics, but for the life of him, he had no recollection of any details. Before he could think about it too much, Marco whisked him out the door for a day around town, first to the barber, where he had Billy’s shaggy hair and college beard shorn off, leaving him with a conservative crew cut and a clean shaven face, and then to the tailor, where he was fitted for several suits to be picked up the next day. Then it was back home, where Marco had him watch a few more videos and eat almost constantly, lunch merging with dinner when his father arrived home, and then Marco allowed him to fall back into bed, exhausted despite having done almost nothing.

The next few days progressed similarly. He was woken early, and Marco helped him into one of his new suits before breakfast, and then it was videos throughout the day, with the occasional outing with Marco, but always he was eating something. He felt full all the time, but didn’t complain. He needed to do what Marco told him to do–that’s all that mattered.

Thursday night Billy had an amazingly vivid dream. In it, he was in his house, but it also wasn’t his house. Rather, it was a mansion, but he knew it was where he lived. He was wandering the hallways naked for some reason, but also he looked different. He was fatter for one thing, massively fat. At least three hundred pounds, with big tits, and a huge belly which jiggled as he walked along corridor after corridor, looking for his father somewhere in the massive house. Finally, he found Marco, and asked him where his father was, but for some reason, what came out was “Master, do you know where fuckhole is?”

“You mean master Patrick? Yes, Whoremouth, I can take you to him, follow me.”

The butler led him along the halls until they reached a large dining room, where his father was bent over a table stuffing himself, and Billy swooned. He, unlike Billy, was dressed in a suit, though he had no pants, but Billy didn’t mind. Behind him was a line of burly men dressed in leather, the one in front fucking his father as he ate, but Billy didn’t pay much notice to them. His father was so handsome, even fatter in his dream than in real life. Billy walked over, entranced, crawled under the table and began massaging his father’s burgeoning stomach through his shirt, licking at the flesh emerging between button holes. Soon, he couldn’t resist diving into his father’s gunt, finding his father’s cock and sucking for all he was worth. He woke up just as his father tensed up to cum, and he flailed awake in his bed, sweaty and panting, his sheets soaked with his own load.

The relaxation track was still playing, trying to lull him back to sleep, but he needed a drink of water first. He got up and went into the hallway, when he heard a series of grunts coming from his father’s room. Curious, he crept over, cracked the door and peeped through, where he could see his father bent over the bed, Marco behind him, fucking him with the same stern, even manner he performed every task. “Come on, fuck me harder! My ass is so hungry for cock!” Patrick cried, bucking back.

“Yes sir,” Marco said, thrusting harder, satisfying Patrick a bit, but it was obvious he needed more.

“Fuck, I knew you should have taken me to the club tonight. Master Weston said he was going to be there, and man is he a rough fucker…oh fuck yeah, god just thinking about his massive cock…ugh!” Patrick bucked at the bed, his cock spasming, while Marco continued fucking him, the hint of a smirk on his face. Billy came back to awareness, enough to realize he’d been jacking off, and shot a load of his own all over the floor in front of him. Terrified that someone might see it, he quickly got on his hands and knees and cleaned it up with his tongue, enjoying the taste enough to lap the remnants of his hand as well, before returning to bed.

Friday morning, Billy woke up with the intention of taking what happened the night before to the grave with him, but before breakfast, had spilled the entire story to Marco, who accepted it with the same even demeanor he always exuded, though their Friday was spent running about town once again, though this time to shops of a very different flavor. Billy was fitted for a leather harness and shorts, and then taken to a tattoo and piercing parlor, where his cock, nipples and tongue were pierced, and Marco had a large tattoo placed on his back, across his shoulder blades, though he refused to tell Billy what it was.

Afterwards, though, there was a change in the routine. His father came home early, and immediately left with Marco to go get changed. A moment later, Marco returned and retrieved Billy, brought him upstairs where he got him dressed up in his new leathers, and took the bandage off his new tattoo, though Billy still had no idea what it said. When they returned downstairs, he found his father on the floor, fucking himself with a massive dildo, groaning and moaning, a tattoo across his back reading “FUCKHOLE.” Of course, that was his father’s name–Fuckhole. Almost in a trance, Billy walked over, pulled the dildo from his father’s ass and plunged in his own cock, his father moaning in delight as his son brutally fucked him, always begging him to fuck him harder. As he fucked, Marco came over and straddled Fuckhole, his pants undone, revealing his own massive cock, which Billy immediately swallowed to the hilt, fucking and sucking at the same time. “Yes Whoremouth, that’s very good. You’re a quick learner, you know that? Just like your father.”

Yeah, Whoremouth. That was his name. Instinctively, he knew that was what Marco had had tattooed on his back. He knew that should scare him, but at least that away, everyone would know who, and what, he is. A whore. He needed cock in his mouth all the time now, just the thought of not having his face buried in someone’s pubes was unsettling. As Marco shot his load down Billy’s throat, he set off a chain reaction, Billy cumming up his father’s ass, and then his father shooting his own load into the folds of his massive belly, which Whoremouth was happy to lick clean for him. When they were all somewhat satisfied, Marco put on his slaves’ collars and took their leads, escorting them to the car where he would introduce them to the leather bars down town. He hadn’t had a father and son pair in a long time, and was eager to show them off. Marco still missed Fuckhole’s uncle, Cumpig, on occasion, but he was thrilled to still be a family servant. Well, a servant of sorts, but really, in the end, all of his employers learned who the real master was.

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Mind control
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