Previously, in Chapter 3:

He buttoned his pants. “Back alley off 91st St. Take a left. Look for the blue button, press it, and a green scanner should appear. After it scans you, tell them Chance sent you. Passphrase is ‘The Milky Way.’”

He walked away from me, back up the alley. I lay there for a few moments on the hard ground. I looked around, then used my fingers to gather up my cum and eat it, then the side of my shirt to wipe the rest up. Nothing else to do with it. I pulled my pants up and got my bearings. Slightly more sore, I started to walk back to the main street and back towards the transportation hub. Before getting there, I’d need to turn on 91st St.

The Milky Way. What a weird passphrase.

91st was a 15 minute walk on a good day, I did it in 18. I had to pause a few times to adjust myself in front and in back. In front because I was hard thinking about what might happen in just a little bit – all my dreams cum true. And in back because now Chance’s cum was starting to leak out and I was having trouble keeping tight enough so it didn’t leak too much. It’s not that he was even that big, just, I guess my body after even Marvin’s recovery cum was maybe interrupted by Chance’s fucking?

I don’t know, but I was trying to focus on that rather than crossing the glitz and glamor of the main street and down to 91st. I walked, then saw the alley and turned, and like all the side streets, the neon and fluorescent lights quickly gave way to dim street lights with several deliberately out. My hole tried to squeeze again as I looked up as I passed the fourth out of five lights that were out, and my brain shuddered a bit. The cognitive-body dissonance was making me shiver in the warmer night air, it’s like my body somehow already knew what it would get, while my brain was trying to figure out what I could possibly offer in exchange.

A few fragments of words echoed in my head: Marvin’s warning – “the price is different for every person” – and Chance’s – “most leave empty-handed and empty-headed for their troubles.”

I thumbed my card. With Marvin’s payment and others, I had maybe 11,000? 12,000 saved up? If the price is different for everyone, maybe it was just how much each person could afford.

Or, sacrifice.

I’d sacrifice anything to get enhanced. Once enhanced, I could get it all back and then some.

I just had to make it through this next step.

I scanned the walls as I walked, peering in the dim light. Finally, I saw it: A small, blue button. I pressed it, and my finger went through the button, touching hard wall underneath. The button disappeared, and a green laser scanner passed across my entire body; I stayed as still as I could. After a second it was done, and a few seconds later I breathed. Then, I heard a voice, “What’s the passphrase?”

“Chance sent me. ‘The Milky Way.’” I shivered a little again, but I faced forward and tried not to show any concern.

There was a pause, then I heard several locking mechanisms click, the sound of metal grinding, and the wall in front of me shimmered into nothing but a hole. It was hologram. Not as fancy as Marvin’s portal, but still, it figured that a place like this would have some of the latest tech. I didn’t hear anything further, but a door opening is usually an invitation – especially in my line of work. I walked through.

I heard metal grinding again and turned just as the hologram shimmered back and a large, thick, heavy door shut. Lots of locking sounds echoed after the close.

A man appeared from the side. He was a little taller than I, with dark hair and features, in stark contrast to my pasty skin and red hair. I gulped and put my hands in my pockets, hunching over a little. The man was not slim, but not muscled, either. He didn’t look like he’d been enhanced at all, making me wonder: Was I in the right place? But then again, Chance didn’t look enhanced but I’m pretty sure something about him had been.

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“How did you hear about us?” he asked.

“Um, a guy. Marvin? He told me to find Chance, and then Chance told me how to get here.”

The man nodded, but his face was expressionless. I could usually read people, it was a requirement. This man gave nothing away so far.

He turned and started to walk. “Follow me.”

I did. The corridors were dimly lit like the alley, and after several turns I wished for string like Theseus, but I didn’t turn back. I was too close ... so close I could smell it. And the metallic scent permeating the halls; there was no sound except our footsteps, so the stale air was unsurprising.

The corridor grew darker until finally I couldn’t see anything. I only heard his footsteps continue, and they were now joined by the pounding in my chest.

We kept walking, and now I half-expected a minotaur’s roar.

Instead, I heard a door handle, and I had to cover my eyes as light poured out. I heard a small, brief chuckle from the man, and I squinted through the light. He was sitting in a room, maybe 10 ft across, at a table, with one empty chair. He gestured to it. I sat.

“What did you hear about me?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

His eyebrow arched. “Then why are you here?”

I looked around the room, but there was nothing to help me, some hybrid metal-stone-textured material staring back at me with my own faint, distorted body, the table, and the other man.

“I’ve seen your work.” Hopefully it was worth being bold.

His face didn’t shift. “What do you mean?”

“Marvin. Chance. Others.” His lips were flat. “You know ... enhancements.” I whispered the last word.

A single eyebrow raised, his mouth unchanged.

I tried again. “You know ... muscles. Enhanced eyes or ears or things. Brains. Bigger, um ... dicks. Everything anyone could want.”

His face still didn’t shift, but his mouth finally opened. “Let’s pretend I have some idea what you’re talking about, and let’s pretend I can actually do what you’re talking about. Surely you know that you don’t get something for nothing.”

I nodded so hard my head hurt.

“And what would be the something you would offer?”

I gulped and pulled out my card. There goes rent on a place for me and Jay for a few months. I put it on the table and slid it over to him.

The man with the straight face broke. He burst out laughing, his head back, and tears poured from his eyes. “You think someone like you has anywhere near what I would want in terms of money?” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and finally looked at me. “But thank you, I haven’t had a good laugh like that in a very long time.”

When a man laughs at the price you’re willing to pay, that’s never a good sign.

“But, maybe I’m wrong. Let’s just see ...” He took my card and pressed two thumbs to it, and saw the balance: 12487. He passed it back to me, smiling. “Yeah, no.”

I looked at the card and put it back in my pocket, shaking.

“What else you got?”

I looked at him and took a deep breath. His hands were still on the table, and I reached over, put my hand on one of his, and stroked it with my thumb. I looked in his eyes. “I’ve been told I have other very good, useful qualities.”

He looked at me and pulled his hand back. “No offense, no. Again, if I have access to what you think I do, do you think I’d give it away for a simple fuck?”

I looked up at him and saw the phantom number “21” turn into “22” in front of my eyes, clouding the man’s face. I saw me and Jay on the streets, starving. Nothing but Death’s sweet kiss to embrace. And I began to sweat.

“Anything!”

He looked at me, face flat again but for a small curl in the left corner of his lips.

“What do you have?”

I shrunk back down. He’d rejected the credits. He’d rejected ... me, what other men hadn’t. “I uh, I have my clothes, shoes, some food, uh ...” I looked up into his eyes, and they said nothing.

“What about real estate?” he asked.

It was my turn to look blankly at him. “I don’t understand.”

“You live somewhere, right? I don’t suppose you own it, or inherited anything, or ... anything?”

“No?” I was still confused. “I’m in government housing with my friend, Jay. We just ... we exist. Trying to find work, anything, because we’ll be kicked out in a few months when we turn 22. I found work he doesn’t know about, but you rejected that. Everything in the place is government-supplied. I– I don’t ... I mean, I’d give you anything to get enhanced but I don’t have anything.” I felt like I was about to cry, but I forced my eyes to stay dry.

“Anything?” The other corner of his mouth curled up.

I nodded.

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He reached into the wall – another hologram – and pulled out a pad. He pressed something on it and handed it to me. “Look this over, it’s just a standard non-disclosure agreement. I have an idea, but you need to sign that first.”

I pressed my thumb to it and nothing happened.

“You have to at least scroll to the bottom first. Pretend like you read it.”

I zoomed to the bottom and pressed, and it flashed white and I handed it back to him. He put it back into the wall.

“Very well. You realize that if you tell anyone any of this now, I will find you, and you will never ever see freedom again, right?” His face was dark as he looked towards me.

I nodded. I didn’t realize it – because I didn’t read the contract, but he knew that, so what was the point in not agreeing?

He smiled, and it was scarier than the previous face. “I can provide enhancements, yes. My methods are ... let’s just say, they’re ‘different.’ No nanotech, no weird machines that can break down or do something you don’t expect. I can provide, I’ll call it a different ‘flavor’ for whatever someone may want, or, at least a few different varieties. The things you named, a few others.” He looked directly into my eyes and added, “I can make sure that after tonight, you will be exactly what you want and your life will be made. With the kind of body I can give you, you can do anything you want. Now, what do you think that’s worth? You said ‘anything,’ but what does that mean? I can tell you that the men who work for me are all very happy.”

Work for him? I looked around quickly. I mean, it would solve the finding the job issue. But ... there was something behind his eyes. And the setup. And the seediness of Chance versus how warm Marvin was. If I got enhanced, I could be like Marvin. Maybe not at the start, but I could just ... I could find a job that paid well and let me do that, and let me be what I dreamed. On the other hand ...

“Jay.”

“Sorry?”

“Jay.”

He looked at me.

“My friend. Roommate. He could work for you. I’ll send you Jay to work for you, and be happy, and you give me the enhancements.”

The man sat back, and he steepled his fingers. I looked around again, sweating, then back at him.

“No one has ever offered me someone else. Much less their best friend.”

“Are you lying? The men who work for you are happy?”

“Oh yes, they are, one could say their only thoughts are happiness and pleasure ... with life.”

I swallowed hard. At least Jay would be taken care of. “Then that.”

He looked at me, his eyes studying, searching, and then he smiled. He held out his hand. “Shake,” he said. I shook it.

He reached into the wall and pulled out the pad. He pressed it again, twice, then held it out.

“Standard contract. You agree to be modified in the fill-in-the-blank way and agree to give me the fill-in-the-blank price. You should really read it this time. There is no going back. If you don’t deliver your end, I will drain you. Not just you, but Jay. Marvin. I will find everyone you’ve ever cared about and make sure they know why they are being punished before I do it. And you should trust me: I can do what I say.”

I gulped and with a shaky hand took the pad. Then he sat back and smiled calmly, like he’d just been a satisfied client.

I read it. I filled in the blanks. I pressed my thumb to it after really reading to the end. He took it back, read what I’d filled in, and he nodded. He pressed his thumb to it, it flashed white, and he put it back into the wall.

He stood up, and he offered me his hand. I took it, and I stood, and he let go. “Alright, Kent. You might think you asked for a lot, but it’s pretty standard. Basically giving you what Marvin got, few small modifications from there, but I have what will do it. This way.”

He turned and walked out of the room and into the dark hallway. I paused for less than a second, then tripped to catch up to him. I silenced the worrying, crowded voices in the back of my mind. This would work. I could get what I wanted, what I needed. And Jay would be happy. It was those thoughts that I forced to the surface as I followed the man through the halls.

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Author’s Post Script: The moral question … do you think Kent is a good person? Maybe good but shaped by circumstance? If you’re not 100% sure what I’m talking about, you should read the three chapters of Part 1 (starting here).

Previously, in Chapter 2:

“Thank you.”

He laughed, dryly. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do anything. And I told you: The price is not cheap. You won’t like what it is, whatever it is.” He cleared his throat, and he put his arm that was closer to me up, behind his head. “Look, like I said, you seem like a nice guy. I’m going to guess that you haven’t had a bed like this in a long time – if ever. I know I bought your ‘services’ until sunup. But, it’s okay: We’re done, but if you want to sleep here, that’s fine. I’ll even give you a good breakfast, and then you can go do whatever you do.”

Right. Whatever I do. “Thank you.” I shifted, cuddling up next to his side, my head to his skin, drinking him in. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep, dreaming of a better life.

I woke up because something sizzled. I looked around, and it took several moments of panic to realize where I was and what had happened. It wasn’t my first time waking up in a stranger’s bed, but certainly the first in one this nice.

I leaned over the bed and grabbed for my pants, my card. I checked: 10,000 credits deposited several hours ago. I relaxed. I put on my pants, shirt, and walked in the direction of the sizzle because the smell also grew with the noise. It smelled like food. Real food. I had some vague memory of that.

Marvin. He was shirtless, wearing some designer-looking underwear that probably cost more than should be legal, but that’s capitalism and it’s how I also survived: If there’s a void, someone can fill it, or in my case, I was the void they were filling. For a price.

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I dared to sit in his kitchen, and I winced. I felt back to my hole, and it was so tender and sore. And wet. I was leaking. What did he promise me? I’d be leaking for days? I thought he was just bragging like they all do, but with a dick and balls like that, I’d believe it. I felt used, but not in the normal way I did after this, like the guy who felt my pubic hair for an extra 5 before Marvin found me. Used, but kinda cared for at the same time, if those opposites could possibly connect into something coherent.

I shifted, my hole sent another soreness shock through me, and I winced and dribbled out more at the same time.

Marvin turned around. “Oh, you’re up.”

I nodded. He looked at me, appraisingly, while I looked at his massive pecs.

“I’m gonna guess you don’t get this often. You’re off the clock, you can leave at any time. But, if you want real food, it’ll be ready soon. You have enough time to shower. A real shower, water, and new clothes if you want them. Well, slightly used. They were mine. Might be a bit big on you, but better than what you’re wearing.”

I didn’t answer, I just nodded and walked in the direction he nodded to. The shower was bigger than my own kitchen with Jay. I used it without trying to act like I was using it, but I still spent at least 10 minutes in there. My fingers drifted down to my sore asslips, and I massaged them with my tips. I shuddered at the sensation. Used – again – but somehow a good form of used. I didn’t understand how my body felt this way.

The towel was like being folded in clouds and smelled floral instead of like mold, and the clothes actually almost fit. Maybe me if I had another 10–20 lbs of anything on me. I walked back out, and something was being put on plates and one put in front of where I’d sat.

I looked at it warily, and as if reading my mind, Marvin took the first bite and smiled. I looked at it and ate the food so quickly I’m not sure I breathed or even chewed. I looked up and his was maybe 3/4 still there.

He blinked at me. “Um, okay. Do you want more?”

Past niceties, I nodded. He gave me some more from the pan, and I ate a little more slowly this time while he ate, too. Watching me. I’d be self-conscious if it wasn’t normal for men to watch me.

When he was done and I was on thirds, he remarked, “The clothes look good on you. Or, would, if you had a little more meat on your bones.”

“About that ... ?”

“I told you what I can. The rest is up to you and them. I probably told you too much as it is.”

I looked at my scraped-clean plate, resisting the urge to lick it.

“Okay. Thank you. For everything.” I stood up.

“You’re welcome, and thank you. Thanks for letting me put this all to the test.” He brushed his hands up and down his torso, then grabbed his still-massive package, and he smiled. “Are you feeling okay? No weird digestive, intestinal, mouth/throat issues?”

Not sure what any of those would feel like, I just said, “Yeah, good.”

“And how’s your butt? Leaking?”

I squeezed it and felt wetness. I nodded. He smirked. “I promised you. At least you knew what you were getting in for.”

I nodded, and I looked to the door.

“Yes, just walk through the door like normal. Where do you want to arrive? Give me the address and I’ll put it in.” I told him, but made sure it was a few blocks from me and Jay. Never can be too careful. He did something on something, nodded, and I walked through the door.

I was exactly where I thought I’d be, and I walked the rest of the way. Three flights of stairs later, my butt was leaking again, and after putting the key in the lock I entered my place with Jay.

“He still lives!”

I rolled my eyes and shut and locked the door. “Yes, rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.”

“There were no rumors. If you or I died we might be a footnote on decreasing the surplus population.” Jay didn’t even look up, he was looking through the job ads. “There’s still nothing for guys like us,” he sighed. I was walking to my room and then, “Hey Kent! Did you sit in something? Your butt looks wet.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll get out of these clothes.” I kept walking to my room.

“Oh Kent?”

“What?”

“How big was he?”

Fuck.

A few minutes later, we were sitting at the small table together, and I had a small towel in my pants at the butt that I’m pretty sure he didn’t see.

“Kent, what you do with your free time is none of my business.”

“Right.”

“So, how big was he?”

“I wasn’t doing that, I was looking for things.”

“Things?”

“You know, the rumors. Enhancements. I found a guy, I think it’s legit.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“No, seriously. He was huge, muscles like crazy, the whole ‘package.’” Jay just looked at me, so I tried again. “Whatever man, I’m going out tomorrow night to find him. It’s real, I’m sure of it, and if I’m wrong, then it’s no worse off than we are now.”

“Unless he knifes you and you’re dead.”

“Then that’s one less mouth to feed and the government food allowance can give you some bulking vittles.”

“Not funny.”

“I know, sorry. Look, I’ll be careful.”

“Why not go out tonight then?”

Because my ass is still leaking cum from hours ago. “Because I’m tired, I didn’t sleep much last night. You said there aren’t any job prospects, so it’s not like there’s anything else to do. Wake me up before tomorrow afternoon.” I stood up and went to my room. I closed the door, stripped off the clothes and towel, and gently fingered my ass again. The lips were puffy and moist, and when I lifted my finger to my nose, it smelled like him. Like Marvin. And like his cum.

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The transit to Central City took an hour, like always. Like clockwork. Because it was. Everything factored in, every variable, a regularity that sang of the underlying structure of the colony’s government, and what they claimed in every bit of propaganda. “Perfection.” “It just works.” “Every citizen is cared for.” “Your money at work.”

At work for those who could afford it.

It was almost two days later and my hole had managed to settle down, and the leaking of Marvin’s cum had almost stopped. I would’ve worn my clothes but, honestly, Marvin’s were nicer. If this Chance guy didn’t work out, maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total loss and I could get more food money.

A solid half-hour walk down the glitzy main promenade and I looked up and saw the sign for 109th. Turned right, and within two minutes the neon and lights faded for sterile white street lights that sometimes flickered dimmer just a bit. It was like the light from the main street just didn’t want to come this way, and even the cleaning drones were on a reduced schedule. Save the resources for where the rich people go. It’s what made sense. It’s what I would do if I knew who was buttering my bread. If I had butter. Or bread.

A little farther and I saw the sign for McKizlick. And just to the right of it was a man. Tall, thin, spider-like if spiders had two legs and two arms. Wearing a trench coat of all things.

I approached and then stopped. He didn’t even look at me. “Chance?”

He still didn’t look at me.

I gulped, and I tried again. “Marvin sent me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the shadow from the light shifting under it. Without turning his head, he said, “Prove it.”

Prove it? How did he mean that? I stared, not sure what to do, and then I figured it out. Marvin gave me a promise. A promise that was also a receipt. It was the one thing I could think of. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, and when I was sure, I turned around and bent over. I pulled down my pants, and I bent over and pulled my cheeks apart. I could tell the lips were still distended and sore – sore so good – and I felt more of his cum leak out. I stood up, pulled my pants up, and turned around. “A normal dick doesn’t do that. That was two days ago, his cum is still leaking.”

Chance nodded, and he gestured to walk. We walked three blocks to an area I didn’t even want to think about, and he stopped.

“What do you want?”

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“All the rumors. The enhancements.”

He rolled his eyes and said, “Look, you know the answer to that if you really were with Marvin. I’m not saying anything else.”

I nodded. “Marvin said he was the first step. You’re the second.”

“And did Marvin say anything else?” he asked, wryly.

I shook my head. “So how do I get what he got?”

For the first time, it seemed like Chance really looked at me, directly in the face. “Straight and to the point. I like that. Most people spend an hour to get there.” He looked me up and down, a gesture I knew far too well. “You just need the address and the passphrase from me. That’s all. And I have to want to give it to you. What can you offer me that would make me want to give it to you?”

This was something I could do – and had done – in my sleep. I looked up at him and batted my eyes. “Please, Sir. I’d do anything to know the next step, to make you want to give it to me.”

“Fuck. Cut the corny. Drop the pants, if you’re a good fuck I’ll do it. This isn’t an audition for a porno.”

Whatever he wanted, I’d deliver. I was so close I thought I could taste it, and it tasted like Marvin’s cum.

I turned around and pulled down my pants. I lifted my shirt up a bit, pulling from the front, so my slightly leaking bubble showed for him. I felt his warmth as he took a few steps closer and then his hand smacked one cheek, then the other. I yelped. Because I knew that’s what he wanted.

He drew a thin, long finger across my hole and I shuddered. Because I knew that’s what he wanted, and because my hole was still raw and sensitive and engorged. His finger felt cool against it, I was still giving off heat from Marvin’s dicking. And cum.

“He did a number on you, didn’t he.”

“Yes Sir.” I was on autopilot by this point.

I felt the finger withdraw from my opening and then three plunge in me. I pushed back against them and moaned. He thrust them in and out a few times, and wriggled them around. They felt big and long, but my hole felt normal again, or almost normal. Not like a massive cave from when Marvin hollowed me out.

He pulled them out, and I thought that this is what would make me, this is worth it because if I got enhanced, I’d have it made. So many opportunities for a guy like that.

Chance thrust his cock in and I remembered to moan at the right time. 10,000 credits from two nights ago, plus breakfast and a shower and almost-new clothes. I rocked back and forth on Chance’s moderate-sized cock. I clenched at the right times and he moaned. I shoved my ass back while he grabbed at my hips. I could be a fitness model, a politician, a teacher, a salesperson. I leaned back as he fondled my chest. Maybe I’d be able to see the other color lights that people talked about. He grabbed my dick, and stroked it a few times. I responded by getting hard and leaked.

“How bad do you want it?” Chance asked as he thrust.

“SO hard, Sir!”

“You think he’ll give it to you?”

“Please, Sir.”

“A little whore like you,” he thrust extra hard. “What do you think you have that he’ll want?”

“Anything, Sir.”

Chance laughed as he somehow flipped me around, onto the ground, and started fucking me while staring me in the face. Had he just done something—

“I’ve sent lots of men his way,” he thrust harder and ran his fingers along my thin chest, then drew them through my fiery pubic hair and then gripped, squeezing, pulling, and I yelped. “And most leave empty-handed and empty-headed for their troubles.”

“I won’t!”

“Then here it cums!” he yelled as he thrust again, harder, and then stopped. I could feel his dick pumping his load into my ravaged hole, and I came on instinct at the same time.

He panted just a little, and I lay there and smiled up at him, legs splayed open, dick leaking.

He pulled out. He was still fully clothed, trench coat and all, he shoved his dick in my mouth and I opened and took it all, licking his remaining cum and Marvin’s off it. He pulled out and I smacked my lips from habit.

He buttoned his pants. “Back alley off 91st St. Take a left. Look for the blue button, press it, and a green scanner should appear. After it scans you, tell them Chance sent you. Passphrase is ‘The Milky Way.’”

He walked away from me, back up the alley. I lay there for a few moments on the hard ground. I looked around, then used my fingers to gather up my cum and eat it, then the side of my shirt to wipe the rest up. Nothing else to do with it. I pulled my pants up and got my bearings. Slightly more sore, I started to walk back to the main street and back towards the transportation hub. Before getting there, I’d need to turn on 91st St.

The Milky Way. What a weird passphrase.

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Previously, in Chapter 1:

“Sunrise is hours away. You ready for the next round?”

I was right. I knew my johns.

I reached around and smacked my own ass. I kissed him again. His body was magnificent, a work of art, and I was going to understand it so well before we were done. That was my goal tonight, besides the money. He might want my holes, and I was going to use that to plan my next move.

His tongue landed in my mouth, pushing in. I kept my lips pursed just a little, he seemed like the kind of guy who wanted a tiny bit of fight. He pressed on, breaching my mouth, and he tasted like sex. I moaned around him as his hands held my back and I groped his front. I couldn’t get enough of his pecs, and they flexed under my thin fingers with every motion of his arms behind me. Was that— were those ... muscle fibers? He was so fucking built and lean I could feel the muscle fibers under the skin.

I kept sucking on his tongue, his saliva turning me on more than I thought possible. His hands drifted down to my ass. His fingers were light, like he was afraid to break me; little did he know what I’d done, or could do, or what had been done to me. This was paradise in comparison, a gentle giant tasting of sex and muscles as his fingers started to probe my hole and I moaned into his mouth.

He was like that for minutes – I was good at measuring time. I had to be. Nothing’s free, my time and my body’s time are worth something. And if I could figure out how he got enhanced, I’d be worth a lot more.

He pulled off me, and he looked into my eyes. By this point, I could feel three fat fingers wiggling inside my hole, and my own dick was leaking precum onto his cobbled abs.

He smiled. “Damn you look hot. Your pupils are dilated like you’re just ready to shut that brain off and take whatever I give you.”

I wriggled my butt back on his fingers, and he snorted. He looked past my chest and down to his monster, pressing against my stomach as I knelt across him.

“I’m not sure you can take it.” His face was slightly worried. “They said anyone could, but ...”

My eyes still fixed on his, “I can take anything you wanna stuff me with, Sir.”

He rolled his eyes. “Marvin. Don’t call me ‘Sir.’”

“Yes S— yes Marvin.” I sat slightly back on his fingers, then forward, rocking on them to get my hole ready for the fight of its life.

“And you are ... ?” he asked as he slipped his pinky in.

“MMMmmmm-Kent.”

“M’Kent?”

“Kent.”

“Good. I like to know guys’ names before I fuck them. Makes it seem a little less transactional.”

“Whatever you say, Marvin.” My eyes had lost their fix and were rolled up as I kept rocking back-and-forth on his fingers.

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“Okay, I say, turn around.” He pulled his hand back, fingers popping out of my now-empty, wanting hole. On hands and knees, I rotated, my hole near his face and his own dick reaching well past my lips and to somewhere part-way down my chest. It was warm and throbbing, and precum tingling.

I fished for it, working it out from under me so I could play with it while he—

“Fuck!”

He pulled back. “You okay?”

“Y-yes! Keep going!”

His tongue returned, dancing across my hole that twitched and quivered under his prehensile muscle. Even his tongue was huge. It pushed me forward into his cock as he licked my hole, leaving behind a trail of cool, tingling wetness. I was already pretty open in general, doubley-so from his fingers, but with his tongue working me over my hole felt like it was desperately trying to close but couldn’t.

I felt like I was a flower, blooming open for him to do whatever he wanted. I’m not entirely sure how I knew what a flower felt like, but maybe it’s just how I imagined it.

I felt a throb on my cheek. Right! My fist couldn’t encircle it, so I licked up and down and slobbered all over it as much as I could, rubbing my hand up-and-down its length. My other hand reached around to feel the weight of his balls, and I swear they were moving in the sack, churning, and waiting to pump another load into me. They were smooth, the silky skin complementing the heated smoothness of his shaft.

Precum trickled down from the tip towering above my head, and I worked hard to slurp it all up: no drop left behind.

My body was tingling like a circuit from the hole of my mouth to the hole of my ass, running between Marvin’s cock and his tongue. I was afraid I really might run out of conscious thought soon based on how I was feeling.

I started to pant, and I turned my head. “Fuck. Your cock is huge. I bet everyone was jealous growing up.” Smooth. Not obvious at all.

He loudly slurped and my hole quivered again. “Yeah, something like that.” Damn.

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I went back to his cock, and when I was afraid I was going to explode from how he was making me feel, his hands withdrew from my cheeks, and his tongue stopped lapping at my hole. My hole that was now gasping in the air, it felt like it was gaping open.

He let out a low whistle, and he blew just a bit, and I shivered from my ass to my head and back.

“There’s the view I wanted.” He smacked my ass cheeks and gently pushed them away. I crawled off him, staying on all fours on his plush bed.

He pulled two pillows over and put them under my hips, my butt aimed up at him. I felt his huge cock smack against my cheeks. Then a third pillow under me so I was higher. I clenched. Or, I tried to. My hole was still weirdly open, and it felt greedy. More than it had ever felt before.

I wiggled my hips at him. I didn’t even think about it, the performance part of this was gone, the part that I made sure was always in place so I could give them what they wanted. I wanted this, whether that thought originated in my brain and told my body, or my body just knew it.

I felt his cock smack my butt again. Home in on my hole. He rubbed it up and down my crack, and it tingled. It was still wet, and his copious precum was now mixing with his spit. I pushed back against it.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

I just grunted and pushed back against him again.

Then I felt the head. I thought it was still the shaft, it was so big. It pushed against my hole, and my blossomed flower tried to accept it, the fat bumblebee into my dripping honeypot, wide open – or so I thought – to accept it greedily.

He pushed, and I kept opening. He pushed and I opened more. I gritted my teeth: I had to do this. I could do this. He pushed and I yelped.

He stopped immediately, I could feel the heat radiating through my stretched opening. “Are you okay? You’re my first since I ...”

Through shallow breathing, my brain latched onto the phrase. “Since what?”

“Never mind,” he mumbled. “Are you okay? My spit and precum should’ve lubed you up well and made you ... I mean ...”

My breathing had calmed, but I was afraid to wriggle back again. “Yeah, just, slow. Let me figure it out.” My hole was tingling again, like everywhere else he’d touched, and I could feel it trying impotently to clench around him. It hurt, but the hurt was a dulling throb as it just started to feel stretched and good. “Don’t worry about me,” I added.

He smacked my butt; I yelped and my body tried to shift, but his rod held me in place. “I don’t know who you’ve done ‘stuff’ with before, but I’m not like that. I’m not here to hurt you, that’s not a turn-on for me. You enjoying yourself is.”

I melted. Or, I tried to; his massive cock still impaled me.

I moaned. “I ... I am. I just ... go slow. It’s feeling better. I trust you.” I didn’t tell him that I felt like what a condom going over an eggplant must feel like.

“Okay...”

I felt every single bit of his pole slide through me. It kept getting bigger and bigger, and I grunted but didn’t tell him to stop. My hole gave up trying to be anything but what it was, or what was going through it, and when I felt like it couldn’t get bigger and he’d split me open, more came. And then I snapped closed. The head was in.

I panted. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I panted some more. “I’ll tell you if I’m not. Just ... just give me a moment.”

I felt his dick throb inside me, and I felt liquid dribble out, and I tingled more. I felt more open than anything, and when I was ready, I pushed back. He started to slide in again. And slide. The tingle kept going, dribbling through me, and I don’t know how the human intestines work but surely this was impossible, but he kept going and it kept feeling so good at this point.

I don’t know how. But eventually, somehow, the sliding stopped, and I felt the flatness of skin and muscle against my butt. He’d bottomed out.

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I could feel his heartbeat through me, like I was a sleeve for his massive arm.

He sighed, shakily, and I felt it through me. “Wow. I never realized how intense it would be. Look– just, just look at you. You took it. You took it all, all of me, up inside you, rearranging you for this, but you’ll be back when I pull out. I don’t know how, I don’t know why ... I don’t know how it feels this good!”

I tried to wriggle back, but I was long past being able to move, so I just let out a contented sigh. It felt amazing, and it felt more amazing-er when he started to pull back. I whimpered and looked back at him, and now I really did manage to summon the strength to shift back. I felt my hole do a flippy thing, like he was pulling it out, the skin of my ass following his massive dick and when I pushed back it inverted.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it again. I’m just getting warmed up.”

I sighed and relaxed back, and he kept drawing back until I felt the bulb and flare of his head against my hole, and stop. And then begin the agonizing journey back in. And bottom out. And back out. And in.

My entire sheath was tingling, my insides feeling so good as he spread them and they contracted as he left, over and over again. He never got fast, it was always slow and gentle, but he was shaking above me, and his breath was starting to grow ragged.

I had enough conscious thought to shift into milk mode, and my body tried to contract around him. And then it remembered it couldn’t. I let him pull and push me, shift and stretch as he kept going through me, until he pushed just once more, just a little harder, and he gripped my hips just a little more, and he grunted, moaning loudly.

The feeling of his balls unloading against my ass was something I’d never felt in all my years doing this. I could feel them draw up, I could feel the semen pulse through them, I could feel them shrinking just a little in size as their load was emptied, carried through his system.

His cock throbbed and somehow grew even thicker. My hole had given up ages ago trying to do anything but passively participate, but it still tried to protest as the massive load of cum started to travel from the base through his cock. I didn’t think it possible that I could feel it travel down his cock, through my canal, and then spray into my cavity. I don’t know where inside me my cavity was at this point.

If I wasn’t impaled on his dick and the friction and the pressure keeping me in place, I’m sure I would’ve launched into space. I felt it spray inside me like a hose, filling me more than I already was in a way I didn’t understand but yet felt so good at the same time.

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And something about it triggered my own limp cock. It shot up against the pillows, and somehow in the space of a few seconds went from limp to shooting a massive load onto the bed. Massive for me ... nothing in comparison to Marvin.

He kept going, holding me, shaking, grunting and moaning.

And finally, somehow, he started to grow softer. I didn’t realize he’d stopped shooting. I don’t know how much time had gone by, but the sun was still down. He started to pull out, bit after agonizing bit, and my hole practically whimpered as he managed to pull the head through, I’m sure only possible because it was softening.

I lay there, ass up, hole wide open.

“Oh, right.” I felt him shift. He knelt down and licked my ass, and the tingles he sent through me made me shoot again across the bed. I didn’t think that was possible. The autonomic clenching of my orgasm caused my hole to clench, and somehow, what had been open more than I think I ever wanted to really know, closed back up under my orgasm and his tongue.

I rolled off the pillows, panting. He smiled down at me. “Was that good?”

I tried to answer, but words wouldn’t come. I just nodded.

He looked at my stomach, and he rubbed it. I felt his cum jostle. “Heh. Sorry about that. You’ll be good as new soon, it’ll be good. Trust me.” He smiled. “Though you will be leaking some cum for a while, just like I promised. Dripping for days, a reminder of me.”

“How?” The word just came out.

“I don’t know the details.”

“I don’t understand.”

He lay back on the bed, arms behind his head. His scent started to make me hard again. He looked, and put his arms down, patted the bed next to him. I came up, I knew the drill. Some guys like to cuddle.

“You seem like a nice guy.”

“I am!”

He rolled his eyes, visible in the mirror above us.

“You’ve been fishing for hours.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He looked at me, and I looked up at him, the most innocent expression I could muster while I still felt his phantom cock inside me, my lean torso felt like a water bag.

“Right ... . As I said, you seem like a nice guy. I’ll give you the first step. What you do with that is up to you. And if you get to the step after that, you have to know: It’s not cheap. The price is different for every person, and it’s always money. I’ve heard two different things, and then there was what I paid. I can’t tell you what it would be for you.”

I stayed still, perfectly still, waiting.

“109th & McKizlick. Thin guy, spindley, tall. Chance. Or, that’s the name he uses. Tell him ‘Marvin sent me.’ If you don’t, he won’t talk to you. Or, it’ll be worse.” He cleared his throat. “He hangs out there usually around dusk. He’s Step 2.”

I nodded. I felt more tingly, this time in my head. Step 2. And the price? I’d do anything. I had to do anything. A few months, I was out, Jay was out. The money from tonight would get us by a few months after that, but then ... who knew? This was a way out.

“Thank you.”

He laughed, dryly. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do anything. And I told you: The price is not cheap. You won’t like what it is, whatever it is.” He cleared his throat, and he put his arm that was closer to me up, behind his head. “Look, like I said, you seem like a nice guy. I’m going to guess that you haven’t had a bed like this in a long time – if ever. I know I bought your ‘services’ until sunup. But, it’s okay: We’re done, but if you want to sleep here, that’s fine. I’ll even give you a good breakfast, and then you can go do whatever you do.”

Right. Whatever I do. “Thank you.” I shifted, cuddling up next to his side, my head to his skin, drinking him in. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep, dreaming of a better life.

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The man on 88th paid up front. He still wanted to talk after.

I hated that.

I wiped my mouth from his salty dribble and got my pants on. He asked to touch my pubes once more. “Five credits,” I replied. Because if he was asking he wanted it, so I could make some more money.

He complained. I batted my eyes, and he muttered “Such a pretty face.” I buttoned my pants. He put out his hand, put it on mine, stopping me from the last button. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his card, pressed his thumb, and I felt mine vibrate. I stopped buttoning my pants and let him undo them. His hand traveled up my thin frame, the tiny hint of abs showing through my pale skin, and then the digits quickly sank. He ran his fingers through my short but tangled mess, and muttered, “Fire bush.”

The tips of his fingers traced the top of my cock root, and then he let go. I finished getting dressed by buttoning my jeans and slipping on my tattered white t-shirt, trying to decide how to get the taste of cum out of my mouth. It’d have to be back home, I didn’t have mouthwash with me. I kept telling myself to remember to bring it, and I kept forgetting.

Outside the alley, Central City’s air was cold. People who could afford long sleeves or coats wore them, it was another silent way to separate them from the rest of us.

Outside the alley, Central City’s streets were so clean they looked wet, a sharp contrast from the side street I was just in.

Outside the alley, Central City’s lights glittered and shone in wondrous colors, even some I couldn’t see but had been told that people who’d been enhanced could – another secret message to people with means.

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I trudged, hunched over, to the transit hub. Back to the housing with Jay. I don’t know what he’d think if he knew what I’d been doing, but I could – I wouldn’t – let myself be discarded. Months left until I turned 22 – same as Jay – and I’d be out on the streets, out of the government housing, out on my ass and turning it upwards to survive. Though was that much better than what I was doing now?

My eyes were on the nearly threadless knees of my pants when an arm shot out from the side, pulling me in. I yelped. No one looked. Why would they?

His hand went over my mouth, and he continued to pull, then he just picked me up like I weighed nothing – which was partially right – and carried me like a sack of sand. The alley grew darker, lights that should’ve been lit or repaired dark, so someone here had them dark for a reason. I shivered, and not from the cold.

And then when he set me down on the hard material, I shivered again. He was huge.

My mouth started to water as I was eye-level with something else huge. Part of me wondered if the government secretly toyed with our genes while we slept or something, because the amount of drool I was producing right now was insane. This guy was everything that turned me on. His shoulders strained at his long-sleeve shirt that appeared thin simply because of what it was trying to contain, and his pecs jutted out in a squared off way that defied even this planet’s weak gravity. The points of the nipples crowning them were begging to be licked and flicked, while his cobbled core and bulging arms made it obvious why he picked me up so easily. He didn’t skip leg day, either, and his neck was just thick and corded. By the time I made it to his face, the smirk told me I wasn’t in any danger. I’d seen it before. I started to drool.

“Your last guy told me I might find you here.”

I was distracted.

He snapped at me, and I looked back at his face. “My eyes are up here.”

“Sorry?”

“The guy you just blew? Said if I was looking to get my dick wet you were pretty good. I like gingersnaps.”

I swallowed hard. This guy was too much. Wait -- too much?

There were rumors. Jay and I had tried to chase them down, but we hadn’t found any leads. Rumors of places that could get you the enhancements. For a price. If I looked like this guy, I wouldn’t have to worry about finding a job when I was 22. Anything would be open to a man that beautiful. That big.

I scrambled back against the building, managing to stand. He looked down at me, I only came up to his perky nipples, and he was still smirking. “How much do you charge?”

Damn. Normally? 100 for a blow, 500 for a fuck. But for him, I’d give it away, and my ass squeezed tightly like a chef’s kiss on that idea. But if he was what I thought, and he had information ...

“You have a place we can go?”

“Forward little fucker, aren’t’cha? I want to know what this is gonna cost me first. Not that I can’t pay.” He stretched an arm over his chest, everything shifting and bulging and I had to swallow the drool my mouth was producing.

“Depends on what you want.”

“I want to try your hole. I expect to bury my log in your ass so deep that you’ll have trouble walking home after this. You’ll be dripping my cum out of your wrecked cunt for days.”

I felt faint. Maybe the government really had been altering me – stuff in the food? – because that should’ve freaked me out but instead my hole clenched and I drooled again. I thought fast. “2000.”

“Done.”

Damn! I should’ve asked for more.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder and led me down the ally more and my heart started to pound. We got to a door and he pushed his hand on it, it opened, and we walked through and I felt disoriented. Just for a moment. I blinked hard and shook my head. In front of me was a panoramic window showing Central City in all its glory, like we were hundreds of feet up. But we were just on the ground. This didn’t make any—

“Transporter. Latest tech,” the guy was already walking towards a bed off to the side, stripping his shirt off and his back was a work of muscular art. I’d never heard of tech like that, this was crazy.

“Coming?” I looked over, he was sitting on the bed, eyebrows raised. Right. I had a job to do, and my mind did the little switch flip it does when I’m working. I straightened, I smiled, and I walked over to him with a tiny sway.

Instead of rubbing himself, he rolled his eyes. “You already got the job, just get your ass over here.”

I shrugged and walked over, and I sat down on the bed next to him. Stiffly.

He turned to me and pulled my shirt; I raised my arms and he lifted it off my head. “Damn, what are my taxes going to if they don’t feed you well?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but his mouth pressed against mine, and his arms wrapped around my back as he kissed me. This was different, most guys don’t like to kiss.

He pulled back and it looked like his tongue was feeling around his mouth. “Tastes like cum.”

Curse my pale skin! I reddened, almost as much as my hair, before he laughed and smacked me on the back, sending me almost off the bed. “It’s fine, I’m just playing with you. You don’t have to be scared of me, I’m a gentle giant, still getting used to my own strength though.”

My ears perked up. Gotta play it cool ...

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He unbuttoned my pants, and I let him. Like the last guy, his fingers played through my red pubes while his thumb stroked to top of the root of my cock, and I shuddered involuntarily. The moan was all me, though.

He smiled. “Stay like that, but take off my pants. Don’t undo yours yet.”

I shifted and fiddled with his button and zipper. He moved his weight and I pulled the pants over his butt, then tried to get them down his legs. Something was in the way.

The something grew.

And grew.

And my mouth got wetter and wetter.

And my hole clenched with need, even though I think it was bigger than humanly takeable.

I looked past his slabs of muscle and into his eyes, and they were so crystal blue they sparkled. “Need help?”

I shook my head. For 2000 credits, I could take his pants off.

There was no straight path over his thighs with what was in the way, so I worked the waistband in bits. It was hard. ... to take my eyes off his dick, but I managed to look up at him to make sure I wasn’t hurting him. Rule 101 of this job is don’t hurt the client.

Unless they like that. And you get it in writing.

When the fabric finally cleared, it just kept being there. It fell against his leg, longer than my forearm and somehow still a bit squishy – half hard. Seriously? The head fat and shine at the slit captivated me; his balls hung below it, each one bigger than any I’ve seen before (and that’s a lot). After some time, I felt his thumb on my chin and I looked up at him.

“You’re drooling.”

Fuck!

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

He laughed, and the sound reverberated through my bones and I wanted to get fucked so badly.

“It’s fine. I’ll take it as a compliment.” He leaned back, hands on the bed, arms supporting him, making the muscle fibers of his pecs stand out and the upside-down U of his triceps beg to be licked or felt or ... anything he wanted, really.

“Go on,” he said. “How long does 2000 buy me?”

I shook my head quickly, on the inside, a moment of clarity like I’d just shot my load. “Upsell!” I thought.

“One fuck, one hour, whichever finishes first.”

He looked down at me, and his face was unreadable. Did I just screw this up? Then I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Up.

“You’re high-priced, aren’t you?” I opened my mouth to say ... “But it’s fine.” I closed my mouth. “I can afford it, and I want to test this body out.”

Those words again. The body. And the rumors I’d heard, the rumors Jay and I had been chasing ...

“How about this? 10,000. I get you until we’re done or the sun comes up, whichever comes first.”

I nearly fell backwards. That was months of housing after I turned 22. Months. And this guy was tossing it around like it was nothing.

“Deal!”

The guy grunted, and he pulled out a card and pressed his thumb. I felt mine vibrate. I could look to make sure what he said was what the card read from his thoughts, but this looked like the kind of guy I didn’t need to verify.

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I sat back up on my knees and slid my hands up his legs, inside his thighs, and ran my fingertips along his balls. He threw his head back and moaned, loudly. They felt heavy and taut, and I swear I felt them churning. I moved them up and down, around, and under, and I tried very hard to ignore the bat that was throbbing and growing and threatening to tickle my noise.

I felt the heat radiating from it near my face, and finally I couldn’t help it. I licked the tip that was staring at me, and he moaned again. Tt throbbed, and even though neither of us moved, it entered my mouth, like a magnet drawn in it just rose to the occasion.

I couldn’t even get the head in.

I tried. So hard.

His precum was mixing with my drool, and it started to tingle, but that was probably my imagination. It was sweet and salty like an old-Earth stir fry, a mixture of flavors that tasted so good as I tried to get more and more of it and the faucet into my mouth. I felt his foreskin retract, held back by my lips, and the musk sent me into overdrive. I didn’t even notice him shift, but I felt his hands gently on the back of my head, pulling just a bit, and I looked up at him.

I could just imagine how I looked, lips as wide as I could get them, stretched by his massive cock, my faint blue eyes staring into his crystalline azure irises surrounded by an unblemished face.

And it popped in.

I felt the corona get through my lips, popping in like a buttplug and I didn’t know how they’d get out. My mouth was still tingling with his flavor, my tongue impotent, pinned down by how large he was.

And, he slid. In. Somehow.

My eyes started to water and he stopped, asking, “Are you ok?”

I couldn’t speak, so I nodded, and I tried to go down more, the feel of his precum spreading across my throat, my mouth somehow opening even wider. I could smell his shaft and felt every bit of skin continue to slide through my impossibly stretched lips as he continued to push. Gently. And then he stopped.

I looked up through wet eyes and his own eyes were closed, his mouth open just a little in an “O” shape, and I felt his dick throb. Once. Then twice, and then it got just a bit harder, and my lips were forced open more. I could feel the liquid flow through his cock, through my lips, over my tongue, and then finally splatter against the back of my throat. I felt like I was being pushed back from the force, but I was on him so tightly that the friction kept me locked as he kept shooting, and I felt my throat working to get it all down as his hands gripped my red hair more tightly.

I watched his face, which was just frozen as he shot, my tongue involuntarily twitching under his cock as I kept swallowing his sweet cream.

Then his cock softened just a bit, and his eyes opened, his hands relaxed. He pulled out, just barely managing to get through my lips, and he fell back on the bed.

My stomach felt full, but I knew with a body and balls like that, this was the teaser and not even close to the full meal.

I climbed onto the bed on all fours and licked his tight, large abs and groped his pecs. He put his hands behind his head, the smell of man pouring across the bed and somehow I started to drool again, and he looked down at me. This guy was intense, and I dragged my tongue across the center of the valley of his chest and went to kiss him. He let me, his tongue quickly entering my mouth and tasting his own cum. He pulled his tongue out, smacked his lips, and smiled. My ass was up in the air, thin chest against his pillows, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Sunrise is hours away. You ready for the next round?”

I was right. I knew my johns.

I reached around and smacked my own ass. I kissed him again. His body was magnificent, a work of art, and I was going to understand it so well before we were done. That was my goal tonight, besides the money. He might want my holes, and I was going to use that to plan my next move.

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I owe you all an explanation. Well, maybe I don’t, but I feel like I do, especially to those of you who have been generous enough to be a paid subscriber.

TRIGGER WARNING: This post discusses personal experience with an ex who was abusing hard drugs. THIS IS NOT A HOW-TO MANUAL!! This is me being open about something that’s saturated the last two months of my life.

I’m going to start with the PSA portion: Meth destroys. That’s it, if you get nothing else from this post, those two words are the take-home.

I found out that my ex – who I’m still good friends with – had (has?) a crystal meth addiction. I didn’t know it when we were dating, we didn’t break up because of it, though in hindsight the signs were there. Find My locations being odd, like when he was supposed to be at work he was in the far end of the parking lot instead of in the building. Being gone for a day (“Just hanging with friends”) that he never elaborated on. Behavior getting a bit weirder over a year or two. It was that last one that was why we broke up.

And it was the disappearances for a day or so which is why I got a round of STI tests and why safe(r) sex is something I promote.

So, in late May, his current bf contacted me. We also get along. (I try to stay drama-free, I don’t care who some guy I’m not dating dips his stick into and whatnot). He wanted to let me know what was going on and make sure I got tested, and let me know about the chemsex component.

Okay, that might be a new word for folks who aren’t gay men, and even some gay men. “Chemsex” is popular among some in the gay community as a way to enhance the experience. It almost always refers to hard drugs, like crystal meth, which will release a massive amount of dopamine and just make you feel good. It can last for hours. “Poppers” (usually amyl nitrites), more common in the gay community, cause a ~1–2-minute “rush” based on smooth muscle relaxation and increased heart rate; technically, poppers are chemsex, too, and though your body can build a tolerance they are not nearly as addictive but certainly can be dangerous.

His current boyfriend wanted to know what he should do. Fuck if I knew. This isn’t something they teach you in GEOL 101 or something in college. I agreed to try to help him help my ex get help.

Given the timeline, from what we could suss out, the only recourse at this point was an in-person 1+ month rehab. Crystal meth is one of the most addictive drugs in chemsex, and family/friend pressure (the “Johnson method” of TV-style interventions) has a success rate of something like <20% with meth. So we did some research, we contacted his close sister (about the drugs, not the sex part), and we also resigned ourselves to the fact that we can’t make him do anything. But we can state the consequences if nothing is done. Like, cutting ties because we choose not to be involved with someone who chooses to partake in that.

There was also some soul-searching on his and my part. The questions of “Is it my fault?” or “Is there something I could have done?” almost always percolate to the surface. The answer is “FUCK NO.” Unless you are the one who introduces that person to the drugs and puts it in their hand, it is not your fault. It wasn’t our fault. His choice to start, it also had to be his choice to end.

I helped his current bf move some valuables out of my ex’s house in preparation for “the reveal” in case things went badly. I helped him make a list of all of their entanglements (phone plan, AAA membership, iCloud family plan, etc.); fortunately, no bank accounts, job-related health insurance, etc. And, we rehearsed the flow chart of if-then-else depending on what my ex chose to do.

I’m not going to give the blow-by-blow. That’s not important. The upshot is that we’re about 6 weeks after the initial confrontation, which is a bad word for it but in reality it’s what it is. We’re about 6 weeks after his current bf moved out for 10 days, and then moved back once my ex decided that he needed help. And voluntarily entered rehab. And I’m about 4 weeks into my own therapy to just talk through this with a trained person.

It’s been a process and I know we’re not through it. We all do. We also all know there is a definite chance of relapse, and consequences have been made clear if there is: There’s no second chance, his current bf has been adamant about that.

Drug abuse is serious. It destroys lives and relationships. And you’re never “cured.” Ask any “recovered” alcoholic: They can’t ever drink again because there is always the possibility of a relapse, and that’s “just” alcohol. Drugs change the neurochemistry of your brain to need them to just feel normal, and you can never really go back.

So … I guess in summary, that’s where I’ve been. Trying to help my ex, his current bf, and his family deal with this, and help myself deal with it. I’d mention the stories I’m working on, but it doesn’t feel appropriate to discuss erotica in this post, so, I’m not.

And, I hate to sound like a fucking after-school special, but seriously: DON’T DO DRUGS.

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Previous Chapters: Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

—I pulled the lat pulldown bar down for the 15th of 15 reps of this set. I was sweating, but it was a good feeling. My lats flared into wider wings that tapered gracefully to my firm torso and cobbled core. Joaquin was focusing more on refining me and bulking in certain areas while keeping me trim all over during this last week. He was also focusing on teaching me what I needed to do to maintain this once I got out of the facility.

“Okay, Sean. Do you remember what’s next?”

Of course I did. I gave him a sideways glance and pulled him over. “Hey!” he exclaimed. I firmly gripped his biceps and squeezed. Gently, but firmly. He yelped just a little playfully. I looked down at his crotch and saw him chubbing up before he replied, “Y-yup.” I let go and grabbed the dumbbells.

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I don’t know what had changed in the last few weeks but I knew I was becoming more assertive, more dominant, more willing to play around and less concerned about taking chances. This was only the latest, I—

“—I like it, Doc,” I explained matter-of-factly to Dr. Skiye. He looked at me, expressionless, searching my face and body language. I realized even that had changed over the last few months.

“You certainly seem to be settling more into your role here, which is why you came here. Even just with how you’re sitting,” he gestured to me with one hand. “You’re more relaxed, you’re leaning back in the chair, your arms crossed not in a defensive posture but a cocky one.”

I grinned a little at that.

“Even your clothes,” he gestured to what I was wearing. I don’t know what possessed me to wear shorts so tight you could clearly tell my jockstrap was too small, my long dick protruding from it under my pants. The shirt with the top half of the buttons undone so you could see my massive chest and swirling hair was also new. I felt cocky. I felt … dominant?

“It’s remarkable progress we’ve made. I do think there’s a little more—”

—I was on a well-padded sawhorse, strapped down, my muscles straining at the smooth, nylon ropes. I felt the whip kiss my back as a machine worked a dildo in and out of my stretched mouth. I don’t know how it got past the back of my throat, I had long since stopped caring about the mechanics of what was going on but instead had just given into it.

I heard Dr. Skiye behind me as he padded my back again with the whip: “You need to learn what it is like to submit before you can truly understand what your sub is going through. You need to understand his mindset.” Dr. Skiye circled me and came around. He paused in front of me until I looked directly at his crotch. Swinging between his legs was an enormous dick. It had to be 11” long and at least 2.5–3” thick. I was almost as large, but he had a solid inch on me. I suspect my mouth watered, but the dildo that was still working my mouth made it hard to tell.

When he had made sure that I had gotten a good look, he brought it closer and I knew what to do: I took a big inhale, getting his scent into my body. He then continued to circle me until he got to my hole. He crouched down and pressed his mouth to my pucker. He licked. Then he sucked. He managed to suck on my asslips as I tried to push them out, and in so doing he forced his tongue inside. The feeling was incredible – I’d have to try this with Nathan. I bet I could make him squeal like a stuck pig. Or, a pig about to be stuffed. Being dominant wasn’t just about being a top, it was about taking charge of the situation. I could even get Nathan to top me, but I’d be the one in charge. My hole was tight enough that his smaller dick could still feel good. Or, maybe I could invite Kyle over and we could cuck him, or– oh my! Damn, Dr. Skiye knew what he was doing!

As with my mouth, he worked my hole to the point where I stopped being aware of each thing he was doing, counting tongue strokes or trying to time my push-backs onto his mouth. I just relaxed into it and instinct took over. He must have realized that because he stopped. I pushed back, trying to get his mouth on my hole again, but it was to no avail. I whimpered. Then I felt a blunt, warm object on my hole.

His amazing, glorious dick.

He pushed it in. I moaned into the dildo working my throat. He kept pushing. I kept moaning. In and in and in it went. It felt like I was being stuffed so full and then fuller still. It easily made its way past my second hole as my prostate was pushed to its limit.

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I came. I felt my entire body shudder, and my dick somehow came from the sensation of getting stuffed so full at both ends, even though it was in a cage; wait, why was I—

—That’s right, before we started this, Nathan and I met to discuss this last aspect of my training and Dr. Skiye had given *him* the XL cock cage to lock my dick away. Nathan was hesitant, saying he wanted *me* to be the dom, but I told him: “I am telling you to do this. Therefore, I’m still the one in charge. I’m telling you to lock my dick away so that when I want to use it again, it’s ready for you and only you. I’m trusting you, as my boyfriend and my sub to keep this key.” He was still hesitant, but he locked me in the cage and held the key close to his heart. It looked like he might cry a bit but I hugged him, the hard plastic on my crotch pressing into his thinly muscled abs, my arms squeezing his thinner frame.

And yet, I still came just from Dr. Skiye’s enormous dick in my deep hole. So ... this is what a total surrender of my body is like to a dom. This is what is what will be going through Nathan’s head if I do it right.

Dr. Skiye wasn’t done. He finally bottomed out: I could feel his groin pressing against my hole. Then I felt it start to slowly – *painfully* slowly – withdraw, bit by bit, its massive array of bumps and lines and cock head caressing my hole. When just the very tippy tip was still in, he slammed the whole thing back in my hole, all at once, just *WHAM*! Then out and *WHAM*! And again.

I was a blithering mess. I don’t even know when Joaquin had come in and replaced the fuck machine’s dildo in my mouth with his own dick, but my mind was gone. That was the point: Complete surrender. I sucked on his dick, my face and nose buried in his smooth skin, my chin nuzzling his sack, while both of them assaulted me from both ends. Over and over again. Joaquin reached down and tweaked my nipples, and I felt the bars through them enhancing the experience. I didn’t remember getting them, but I had long stopped caring about continuity and my mind certainly wasn’t ready to think about it now. Especially now. After the tweak, his fingers were like feathers, just brushing the tips of my nips causing me to shudder over and over again.

I think I came again through the cock cage. An anal orgasm, oral orgasm, or something else, I felt the *smack*smack*smack* of Dr. Skiye’s hips against my bubble. I couldn’t see anymore, I was just lost in the—

—Nathan’s eyes were rolled back in his head, his now-standard small chastity cage on when we played. This wasn’t about his dick, this was about him *feeling* everything that was going on, and a bottom can’t do that when all he cares about is his dick, its sensations, and cumming. A sub’s dick is not his own, it is mine to control. He had agreed to all of this, of course – consent was critical – but I think at this point he probably would have agreed to whatever I asked, within reason. This was as much about trust as consent, and I knew he trusted me, and I trusted him; almost as importantly, I trusted myself.

The nipple clamps were on his engorged tits, red and puffy from use. His medium-length strawberry blonde hair was slicked back because of the new addition tonight: A gas mask. I had no intention of restricting his air or asphyxiation play, but he trusted me, and one could do other things with a gas mask. If nothing else, he knew there was always the *possibility* I could do something.

I drew my hand through his hair, I loved how silky it was, almost as silky as the black hairs on my torso. But with his strawberry blonde, it was a constant reminder of his scent and the smell around his crotch: honey and pineapple and kiwi and honeysuckle all wrapped in one delicious, cute package.

I didn’t have him blindfolded, so he saw when I got the rope out and lashed his arms to his sides. It was tight, but not so tight as to be painful: It prevented almost any movement, and it had just a tiny bite if he did try to move or shift. He was helpless. He was mine. Fucking perfect.

I took out a wheel with small, rounded spikes at the end – a new toy for us. I made a show of holding it up by its handle so he could see. His eyes went wide. I then went to his crotch and ran it very lightly over his egg-sized balls. He moaned into the mask. Then right over the head of his penis – there was just enough room through the air holes of the cock cage. He moaned louder.

Then, I went down to his pucker. It was a thing of beauty. We had been getting that prepared, too. It was a shame that I had been too big before for him to ever take me, but that was going to change. His pucker and the cavern that lay behind it would be my dick’s new sleeve. His hole was made for my 10” di—

—My 11” dick was a thing of beauty and he’d never been able to take much more than the tip. He tried, but I knew it hurt, and that had scared me. The old me. The new me didn’t want to hurt my Nathan, but the new me also knew how to work him up to it. So, we’d worked hard over the last few weeks with toys and Kyle’s own 8” dick: It wasn’t all squats and lunges for him while I was building my own mass! Nathan’s butt was well rounded from all the exercises, and now his hole was puffed out with the final stretching we had employed: a rosebud ass pump. The center plastic piece was in his hole, and his pussy lips were puffed up around it from the vacuum, pulling them outwards gently, puffing them out to accept the gift of my fuck. Soon.

I gently released the vacuum and his lips relaxed down. We’d played this a few times tonight, pumping, release, pumping, release, but never releasing all the way. This time, I let it go all the way. At the same time that the air slowly hissed in, I rotated another knob and the gas mask filled with a little surprise for him: Blasters. His eyes opened wide as he detected the fruity scent and he tensed up, only to relax again almost immediately as the Blasters worked their magic.

I withdrew the ass pump and took the spiked wheel. First, I ran my fingers over the skin where the cylinder had been pressed in. He shuddered. That wasn’t the main goal, I wanted to make sure the cylinder didn’t dig in too much and hurt him. He didn’t whine or moan, so then my finger went to his still puffy lips and I caressed them in circles. He squirmed and moaned so loudly I almost got concerned. I watched him carefully, then continued as I saw his cock start to drip more, the precum dripping down his balls and onto his own pussy lips that I was currently caressing.

I had three purposes in this: First, I knew his hole would be incredibly sensitive at this stage having just come out of the pump. I wanted to take full advantage of that. Second, I wanted to see if I could make him cum just from running my fingers along his puffed up, overly-sensitive hole. I saw his dick twitch and try to strain at its cage, but I didn’t see the white fluid, just clear. Oh well. Third, I knew he would breathe faster and harder when I did this, and I wanted those Blasters to really kick in for what was coming almost next so his hole would be even more relaxed: My dick.

Before that, one final step. I took the spiked wheel and withdrew my fingers. I then ran it up and down his purplish-red distended hole. If the ropes weren’t there on his arms, and his legs not restrained up the sling, I’m sure he would’ve hurt himself. I protect my sub, even if he doesn’t realize that the restraints are for his own good.

I looked at his face. His eyes were rolled up in his head, and he had a glazed, blissed out expression on his face. I knew that was from the sensations, enhanced by the blasters. They were helping to relax him and make sure his hole was nice and open. I also knew that they would make him feel just a bit – okay, *a*lot* more slutty, more sexy, more ready for anything. The effects were short-lived, they’d wear off within five minutes, and that was plenty of time for what I was going to do next. So, I shut off that valve but didn’t flush the gas mask with fresh air, I wanted them to linger and fade away on their own.

I looked at his hole, eye to eye. It was puffy and winking. He was so ready.

I probed it just a bit with my finger and it was like a knife slicing through warm butter. So.fucking.beautiful. And all mine.

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I stood up, but he was too out of it to notice, relishing in the sensations. Good. I had one more surprise, so I put my hands on another knob. What he didn’t know was that the cock cage had some electrodes running through it, and a urethral penetrator that would go in that was also hooked up to the current. As soon as I pressed the button, the penetrator would go in, and his dick would light up with a buzzing, zapping feeling as the unit shot some current through his dick. I had to time it right.

I placed my heavy cock right at the entrance to his hole. My dick was 8” around and 11.5” long. Huge, I’d been told, but he was ready. I knew it. His hole told me he was ready, and his face did too. He was relaxed, blitzed, so relaxed, and ready for it.

I squeezed out a glob of precum and made sure to get that over his hole. I focused and was ready to release more of my natural lube to ease it forward: I love that I was able to force out precum when I wanted to so as to help lube up his hole. My had was on the knob for the electro.

3 ...

2 ...

1 ...

I shoved past the entrance, hitting the tiniest bit of resistance and continued to push in as my hand twisted the knob.

He bucked.

He groaned.

He moaned.

His face was flush. I used my other hand to turn up the blasters all the way for about 5 seconds, then back off. I steadily pushed my dick home. I could feel when I hit his prostate, a distended bump that I swore was sending out bits of electro sensation to my own dick as it brushed past. And past, and past. I felt a bit more of resistance as I probed his second hole. I turned the blasters and electro up again for a few seconds, and he gasped with a big, surprised inhale; I shoved all the way in and turned the blasters off. They were safe, but two big new hits of them was definitely enough.

I scanned his face and his limbs for sign of distress. Seeing nothing but ecstasy, I lowered the current just a bit, and then pulled out. I remembered what Dr. Skiye had done to me – every dom should experience what their sub does at least once – and withdrew to just the tip inside his entrance. I then slammed it in in one smooth motion. He groaned and moaned and his dick shot cum out. I don’t know how he came so hard while caged, and with the plug in his dick’s hole. But, it was so hard that it blasted me in the stomach. I did love that he had powerful loads.

I smirked and withdrew again almost all the way, and then I paused. His cum dripped down my furred abs and onto my hard, wide dick. I then shoved in all the way again, using his own cum as more lube.

I continued to fuck him, varying stroke length, speed, and angle, while also varying the electric current across his caged cock. He was writhing but had long since stopped straining. I’m pretty sure it was all an unconscious reaction— not that he was unconscious, but that his body was just reacting at this point without any conscious thought. I gently lifted off the gas mask as I kept deep dicking him, and the expression on his face told me what I wanted to know: He had surrendered. He was in a complete state of submission, completely given himself to me. He looked so happy.

I smiled. I was so close already, and that was going to get me over the edge. I gave one more thrust into his hole, which was caressing me all along my length as though it had been custom made for my cock, and I shot. Surge after surge of cum traveled up from my balls and down through my dick, depositing in his used hole. He felt it, too, because he groaned at the same time, and his still caged cock shot yet again, his hot cum dripping all over my abs.

I released the tit clamps, gave them two seconds to get the blood flow back, and then gently kneaded them. I don’t know where all this cum was stored, because he shot again through that cage with an enormous moan. I was still filling his hole with my seed, manipulating him while I was cumming an enormous load.

Finally, after what felt like minutes, I stopped cumming. My sweet twinky Nathan was covered in sweat that helped make his defined yet small, cute muscles glimmer. My dick was still buried in his hole. I didn’t want to take it out, but all good things ...

I switched off the current which caused the penetrator to come out, and I grabbed the key to his lock. I undid the lock and, as I took off the cage, I slowly pulled my own dick out of his tunnel. His caged removed, I still had half-way to go so I moved my gaze to focus on the withdraw: His pussy lips were distended, pulled down and open, trying to keep me in. I didn’t give them that satisfaction, but I kept pulling out instead.

Finally, with an almost audible *plop*, my dick emerged from his hole. His opening looked ruined, yet beautiful. His ass hole was pushed out, the lips puffier than they were from the earlier vacuum pump, and he was gaping open. I brushed my dick head over them and he shuddered, and they flexed, but they remained open. A few drops of my cum came out. I smeared them over the tip of my dick and pushed the cum back in with just my tip, and then pulled it out. His lips flexed over and over, trying to close, but not quite succeeding. He moaned.

I reached over to a cart and grabbed the Mare Maker 115. I slipped it in and watched the distended lips suck it up, in, and lock in place. It pulsed in and out, as though his hole was sucking on it like a pacifier.

I walked around and started to undo the ropes as he just lay there, thoroughly spent on our last night at the facili—

—”Wow, it’s been two months. Who’d you get to take care of the plants, Nathan?” I asked.

“Oh, uh, some neighbors stopped by while we were gone, I loaned them a spare key.”

I accepted what he was saying, no problem. “Cool. I see all the stuff from the facility is here so we can start building our own playroom in the basement,” I winked.

“Yeah!” he exclaimed. “Can’t wait.” He winked at me.

I don’t know how they did it, but the intensive residential program at the facility worked wonders on me. I’m not sure why I was so hesitant before. Inside the house, it felt smaller than before, but that was probably just because of my own attitude: I felt bigger, more in control, in charge, and ready for anything. I flexed my arms and watched my muscles bulge, then flexed some more, watching my almost naked body ripple with the mass I had worked hard for in the last two months. My dick started to get a little hard, poking out the bottom of the black jockstrap Nathan had asked me to wear.

I grinned. I was looking forward to our newly defined roles.

I went to the refrigerator to grab some milk to make a mass gainer protein smoothie. Gotta get my fill if I’m going to build that playroom for us in the basement, it needed to be solid and solid often meant heavy. As I poured the milk into the blender, for some reason I glanced at the date on the carton, and it was just two weeks after we had entered the facility. That was weird. I stopped pouring and sniffed the milk, but it smelled fine. But that would—

I poured the milk, got down the protein powder from the shelf, and I pulled some frozen berries from the freezer. The facility had sent a week’s supply of stuff and Nathan said that that same neighbor had put it away for us. I’d have to thank them.

But for today, I couldn’t wait to slip my giant dick into my subby man’s hole that felt like it – and he – were made just for me.And now that we were home outside the facility, and I didn’t need to work because his job could pay all the bills, I could dedicate my time to thinking of more ways to give Nathan the strong, dominant, bull of a man he always hoped I would be.

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Whew! That’s the story. Let me know in the comments what you think, and if you would like some more in this genre. I’ve been thinking about writing this from both Nathan’s perspective and The Facility’s own perspective.

Previous Chapters: Part 1 || Part 2

SNAP SNAP SNAP

“Yo!! Sean! You still got another superset to do! C’mon, man!” Joaquin was snapping in my face and when my eyes re-focused on him instead of Nathan across the crowded gym, I shook my head. My man was so cute with that big booty. He actually caught me staring this time, has did his own trainer; his trainer gave me a big thumbs up and grinned, then smacked Nathan’s ass and had him do some more squats.

“Sorry, I think I spaced out there for a minute,” I replied as I grabbed Joaquin’s hand and he helped me up.

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“Whoa, Buddy! Getting heavier there!” Joaquin ribbed with a wink. I rolled my eyes. He was the one helping me really fill out my frame, I’d swear I even got a little taller, but it was likely just my posture improving as my back muscles firmed and bulked up. I had been on the floor, he was guiding me through stretching. Alternating toe touches were probably why my ass felt a little sore.

As I walked up to the Smith machine, I saw Nathan again: he had just finished another set of lunges and when he stood up straight, I could see the rather small bulge in his tight leggings. He still had the cock cage on. I smirked. He didn’t look uncomfortable, but it was plainly obvious to everyone that he was locked away in a cage, the imprint showing plainly against the tight workout pants. His trainer, Kyle, saw me staring. He looked at Nathan’s crotch, too, and smirked. I grabbed the machine’s handles and—

“—Yeah, I’m starting to embrace things more, Doc,” I relayed to Doctor Skiye as he sat in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him as he looked at me, expressionless as usual. He raised his eyebrows, again looking up at me above his glasses.

I rolled my eyes and clasped my hands in front of me, resting on a sizable bulge overtop my growing thighs. “Well, not to over-share, but I’ve been putting into practice what we’ve talked about over the last week. Do we really only have a few days left?”

“Don’t get distracted, Sean. But yes, we’re almost at the end of your month. However, in some cases, where we think we can help you more, we can extend your stay up to one more month. No exceptions after that, no one can stay longer. I think it would be helpful in your case, and it’s only at my recommendation that they will extend someone. But you should first talk with Nathan—”

“—FUCK YES SIR!” Nathan exclaimed as I broached Dr. Skiye’s idea from yesterday while we were in the gym locker room—

“—So over the next month, we will work more on bringing out your dominant side, which as we’ve discussed, is more a state of mind than a sexual position,” Dr. Skiye explained. Nathan and I had signed the paperwork to stay another month just yesterday and we were both looking forward to how we might progress at the facility over the rest of our stay.

“I understand, Doc, I’m just, still ... I don’t know,” I replied, again feeling small and vulnerable. My pecs flexed as I tried to put my arm back to scratch the back of my head, biceps flexing strongly as I absent mindedly scratched an itch that wasn’t really there so instead just played with my shoulder-length black hair. Doctor Skiye looked at me impassively, knowing my nervous ticks at this point.

“Sean, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know. It’s just ... Ugh!” I stood up suddenly and started to quickly pace, the chair creaking under my sudden movement. I felt like the doctor’s office should have a circular trench in it like Scrooge McDuck’s thinking room by this point. I guess part of our fees went to frequent carpet replacements.

“I feel like he’s helpless, that I’m going to hurt him, especially with all this now,” I gestured at my growing muscles. I wasn’t a beast by any stretch of the imagination, but I certainly could get a large following on InstantPix now if I wanted.

“The fact that you are so worried about this is what makes me certain you won’t,” Dr. Skiye calmly replied. “And, it’s what Nathan wants. He wants you to take control like the big dom Sir we’re making you into.”

I looked quizzically at Dr. Skiye, his voice having taken on the slightest of metallic sound. He coughed and reached for some water that I hadn’t seen on his desk before— that he always had near him, and drank some, gesturing for me to take my chair again.

“Trust me. But more importantly, trust your partner, and trust yourse—”

“—You’re ready, aren’t you?”

Nathan was practically quivering in anticipation. I had him tied in a sling. His cock was out, its cute 4.5” already dripping onto his stomach. I hadn’t told him anything that we were going to do tonight, just to get in the sling and we’d take it from there. The light hairs that used to be there—

—his bare, smooth stomach with small, subtle abs were already acting as precum gutters as his dick leaked drip after crystal drip, the gutters funneling the sweet nectar along his sides and onto the sling. His legs were up, his arms were up, he was totally exposed. He nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

I grunted and took the rubberized bit gag from the shelf and put it into his mouth. He bit down on it as I tied it behind his head. I left his head free, I wanted to see it move. He couldn’t close his mouth, and his tongue couldn’t decide if it was more comfortable above or below the bit. Good; it would give him something to think about and surprise him while I did other things. As he gnawed at the gag and tried to position his tongue more comfortably (spoiler: neither up nor down was comfortable, and if it had been I would’ve used something else or repositioned it), I grabbed the eagle talon nipple clamps.

These fuckers were nasty little things. Small cylinders with a spring, and when you pushed down, five little metal claws pushed out. Let go, and the spring would try to pull them back in. My guy wasn’t so used to nipple play so I had done some preliminary work to bend the claws over a bit so they wouldn’t dig into his skin so much, but then again, had his tits always been so engorged? I felt a familiar tingle in my head like static and went back to getting the clamps, his nipples were always a bit puffier and stood out more than other guys’. He was still tonguing at the bit, not paying attention, when with a quick motion I affixed one clamp to each nipple, connected by a thin chain.

The effect was immediate, he moaned and thrashed, pushing his chest up as the devious little contraptions pulled tight on his tender little – big – nipple buds, trying to squeeze them and pull them back into the spring-loaded cylinders.

“Shhhhh,” I put my left hand on his head and massaged his pecs with my right, keeping at least 2” from the clamps. His smooth skin felt great under my right hand and I could feel his small, lean muscles straining – but less and less – against the clamps. Well, not against, but it was a natural reaction of his body to try to do something. His moans grew quieter as his breathing settled so I felt comfortable continuing. His eyes were wide open, searching for a hint of what I was going to do. I wanted him to see what I was doing and know he wasn’t going to be able to stop it. Unless he used the safe word. So, for tonight, I made a show of each part.

I walked around him calmly, deliberately, letting his eyes follow me. I liked this part: Doing almost nothing, but a million thoughts were going through my Nathan’s head that at any moment I could do ... anything? The need in his eyes was intense, and his hard dick was throbbing. I couldn’t help myself, when I got down to between his legs, I put my head down, making sure his eyes were following me. I stuck out my tongue and with the lightest possible touch I ran it from the top of his balls to the tip of his dick hole, flicking the hole with my tongue to extract the precum he was still leaking. If anything, his leaking had increased since we had gotten to the facility. And his balls were delicious round orbs that hung lower than his dick was long. Nice and brimming with cum for me to find new ways to extract.

He thrust his hips at me, trying to get more contact between his dick and my mouth, but I was ready for that and instantly stood up. I shook my head at him. “Nope, your dick gets touched on my terms.”

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“Esss Agy!” he replied around the gag. I assumed that was “Yes, Sir,” and continued walking around him. I reached his left arm and let my fingertips run oh-so-gently from the inner side of his forearm, along his elbow, tracing his small biceps, and to his armpit where a single drop of sweat could be seen. I gathered it in my finger and pressed it to his tongue. He licked it because he knew I wanted him to, even if he gagged slightly.

I continued my circle around and reached his head and stood there. My crotch was clad in a tight jockstrap, my own hard dick was straining at the material and would be making it almost translucent, but it was a black jock. I don’t know why Nathan wanted me in jockstraps. Well, that’s not true, I did: My 8” dick strained them to the point where at any moment it might peek out and he could see it. And imagine what I could do to him with it.

Nathan was looking up at my face for some clue as to what I would do next, but I just pressed forward. I rubbed my precum-soaked jock all through his pretty hair. So beautiful. And he was mine. I bent down to his head and took a big inhale and smiled.

“You smell like me again. I expect you to keep my scent on you tomorrow so everyone knows you’re mine. What do you think of that?”

He nodded vigorously and replied, “Esss Agy!” through the gag.

“Good.” I ruffled his hair with my hand and––

––I was nuzzling his low-hanging balls with my nose and mouth. I didn’t want to admit it, but I wanted to smell like him, too, get his sweet scent of fruit and honeysuckle on me and never wash it off. I lapped at his balls as he moaned but he made sure to stay still to ensure he didn’t cause himself any pain.

His balls were full and heavy. As I took each orb into my mouth, he moaned again and I took the opportunity to use my hands on each of his inner legs, gently – oh, so very gently – moving them up and down, from his groin to his knees and back, up and down, up and down. I released his balls from my mouth and with one motion grabbed his cock in one hand, lifted his balls with the other, and shoved my tongue into his winking hole.

His pucker clenched around my tongue and I could hear him whimper. Good.

His hole was tight yet extremely yielding to my probing. He must have been training it, too someh—- it was tight yet yielding as it had always been, and I wondered briefly if Kyle had helped him down there, too, as part of the full booty workout. I’m not sure how I felt about th—

—Whatever the facility was doing to help Nathan was fine by me. And, this is why I loved his hole so much: I could take control of it with whatever I wanted yet it would still manage to stay the same tight pucker I’d always known.

I probed it while he squirmed. Not only was I dashing in and out of his hole with my tongue, showing it who owned it, but I made sure to continue to gently massage his balls with one hand as I stroked his dick with my other. Multi-tasking as one of my skills.

It had been just a few minutes before I could feel his hole start to spasm around my tongue and his balls felt tight. “Nnnnggg! Onnnngg unngg!” I heard. I knew what he was saying even if he couldn’t enunciate through the gag.

“Don’t you dare cum without permission,” I growled while I momentarily removed my face from his hole. I knew he would cum. How could he not? He was so close and I was doing exactly what I knew would get him off. A good dom is always aware of their sub – what he’s feeling, how he’s reacting, and certainly when he’s about to explode. I was going to enjoy this.

I continued massaging his balls with one hand, pulling more on them than I had before to help him delay the orgasm at least a little bit. I used his copious precum to lube his own leaking cock while I gripped a little harder and concentrated just on the glans and tip. Then I pulled off and counted to ten in my head, then went back to it. On and off. I was helping him to delay, but I was going to make him cum without permission so I could get into the punishment phase that he was going to like just as much. My own dick was leaking so much, so hard. He was acting with such wanton lust, it was driving me crazy.

While my hands continued to work his groin, my mouth was back, attacking his hole. I alternated probing it with my tongue with very gently biting the ring and right outside it, then massaging just where I’d bitten and then diving back in his hole. If he wasn’t restrained, his twinkish, smooth body would be moving so much I’d never be able to keep it in control. But, I was in control, and he was reacting just as I knew he would. Beautiful. Such a slut for me.

I was able to keep that going for just another two or three minutes before his hole spasmed around my tongue. That was the first indicator of the inevitable that I was bringing him to. I came myself right then, moaning into his hole, at the idea that I could bring him to such heights while he writhed under me. As I moaned around his hole, vibrating that perfect little pucker with my voice, I kept up on his dick. I did stop rubbing his balls and just held them down to intensify his load, while my grip on his dick loosened slightly and I stopped all movement except my thumb right on the connection between his foreskin and head, just under his slit. Just tiny up-and-down motions.

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“NNNNGGGGGG!” I heard him scream into the gag. He was trying to pull away from me but couldn’t. But, nice try. Maybe I wouldn’t punish him too much. But to start with, I switched to nibbling at his winking, gasping hole with my teeth while I continued to stroke the head of his dick with my thumb.

And, I kept going.

Coming down from his post-orgasm high, he started to realize I was still going. I was producing what I was sure were some very intense sensations on his overly sensitive head, and I was pretty confident my nibbling at his ring was similarly an over-stimulation. As he started to try to thrash, I was glad I had him fully restrained in that sling.

As he continued to buck as much as he was able, for all appearances I continued as though nothing had happened, though I had stopped playing with his balls. My hand stroking his dick was slicked with his cum, and I made sure not to get in my own mess I’d made on the floor. In this case, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

I made sure to count to at least 200 before I finally stood up and lightly smacked his balls. He was coated in sweat and his eyes were scrunched tight from the strain. But, he hadn’t used his safe word. Good.

I looked at him and it took a solid minute before it seemed like he realized I had stopped, and he tentatively opened his eyes, squinting at me through one, then opening the other. I took a small bit of pity on him and walked around and removed his bit gag. I made sure to wipe into his mouth and on his tongue a copious amount of his cum that had smeared on my hand. I think he made a furtive attempt to suckle some from my fingers but after probably a half hour in that gag, he couldn’t manage it. Something to work towards, I made a mental note.

I left him tied up, we were still in play time. “You came without my permission.”

His eyes that had been focused on my muscular, hairy body looked away. “Look at me.” He looked back in my direction towards my chiseled face. “You came without my permission.”

“Y-yes, Sir,” he stammered. “I-I couldn’t he-help it.”

Damn, he looked so cute, splayed out and scared that he’d disappointed me. It took a lot of willpower not to swoop down and grab him in my arms and hug him.

“Alright, since you can’t seem to control your orgasms, I will exert some control. I walked around his head to the shelf and grabbed a cock cage, walked around, and fastened the lock to his softer dick. The cage was small, I knew he’d be uncomfortable even at 4.3”. I looked at him, and then had a bit of a devilish idea. I steeled my face so it wouldn’t betray the face I had just thought of this, but I took the key and fastened it to my small earring. “Every time you see me, you’ll see the key and know I control your dick. And so will everyone else.”

His eyes grew wider and he shuddered a little, a tiny moan escaping his mouth.

“Now, you’ve made quite a mess with all your cum.”

“I can clean it up, Sir!!” he exclaimed.

“This is a punishment, I’m not giving you what you want, certainly not what you ask for.” I smacked his balls. “And you spoke without being asked a direct question.” I didn’t smack them hard enough to cause any damage or any real lasting pain, but definitely hard enough that he would think again before doing it. I certainly hoped he would speak out of turn again, I was dreaming up some more creative punishments.

Without a word, I went back to the shelf behind him, and I grabbed a fairly sizable dildo plug. I knew he worked his hole with Kyle’s decent sized dick and Kyle also helped him with dildos, so this one was large, but he could handle it. I’d been learning more about anal toys; this was a Deep Space 80. It would breach his second hole at 8” long, keep him full at 2.5” across inside, while working his pucker at almost 2” across. It had a really long, tapered neck, and he’d have to work to keep it in but also work to get it out. I gathered as much of his cum as I could – and some of mine – and I smeared it on the dildo plug. I placed it at the entrance to his hole and jiggled it around, prying his hole open. With a gentle twisting motion, I slipped it in, finally getting it to the widest portion as he moaned and whimpered, and then it slid on in the rest of the way. He gasped and moaned as his canal pulled the toy in, and he felt the cold sensation of his cum. I was looking forward to when I’d get to slip my 9”, thick dick up his hole under this new dynamic: I was going to claim that pussy and make it mine.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t so much of a punishment. But, the dildo was on my terms, and it accomplished what I wanted. It would make him feel so.fucking.submissive. And, because I told him it was a punishment, it was.

“You are to keep that in until I tell you you can take it out.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“If Kyle wants to help you train more, you tell him he needs to check with me first.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now, I’m going to untie you, and we can go to bed.” I reached up to undo the restraints holding up his legs first, and—

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… to be continued …

Part 1 here

“So yeah, maybe I have some ‘Daddy Issues,’” I told Dr. Skiye, making the scare quotes with my fingers. He looked at me, above his rimless glasses, his chair must have been lower than before because I was definitely looking down to him more these days.

“Thank you for finally opening up, Shawn,” Dr. Skiye replied. “It’s only taken – what? – 17 days? But I’m glad that you’re opening up and we can start to understand why you have a mental block on being more of a dominant to your boyfriend.” He looked at his watch. “We can talk more in our next session, tomorrow—”

“—and that’s why I’m afraid to take control!” I sobbed. Dr. Skiye passed me a box of name-brand facial tissues. He’d cancelled the therapy session after mine for today so we could go double-long, after our breakthrough yesterday. I took the tissues, ripping one out of the box, and sniffled as I held it to my eyes.

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“Now that we can understand where your fears and hesitancy comes from, we can start to move forward—”

“—six ... seven ... eight!” Joaquin counted for me as I finished the squats and racked the weights before collapsing on the mat. I was up to an astonishing 300 lbs – astonishing because when we’d started three weeks ago when I could just manage 150. I had no idea how we were progressing so quickly, and as I sipped my protein shake, I looked across at Nathan. An out-of-focus bead of sweat dripped down from my longer black hair; I pushed it back with my hand, grimacing due to the soreness of my arm, and after wiping my hand on a towel I took another swig of my protein drink. My hair was getting in my eyes more these days, maybe I needed a haircut?

Bzzz!! Grr ... another static shock. They needed a humidifier in here. Oh right, I was looking across at my lean twunk and I smirked – or, I tried to – my mouth was sore after all the dick sucking I’d done lately. Just because we were working to get me more comfortable with dom’ing didn’t mean that Nathan did all the work in the bedroom serving me! I liked the taste of a sweet dick, and Nathan’s was like honey and pineapple and kiwi and honeysuckle all wrapped into an amazing fruity sausage. Last night, we’d added cuffs to our play and I edged my boyfriend for two.fucking.hours. After the breakthrough with Dr. Skiye just three days earlier, he suggested going slowly through some light BDSM and seeing how I liked it, and handcuffs were pretty innocuous. And, they were covered in faux-wolf fur.

I told Nathan to get up on the bed, and my head felt staticky again, but after I rubbed my eyes, everything was normal and I grinned as I pulled each of his hands up to a different corner of the bed, locking each one with a set of cuffs to the two posts on either side of the headboard. His feet were next. He struggled a little, testing the bonds. His mouth opened a tiny bit when he realized that they were really real and he couldn’t pull free, and I had a moment of worry, but his rock-hard dick told me what I needed to know. I brushed a long lock of black hair to the side so I could see him better with both eyes.

He was totally into this.

If it was even possible, his dick looked just a teensy bit smaller than it had before. Probably because he was a little nervous and just wasn’t fully hard yet. It throbbed as I watched, and a single pearl of precum was visible on the tip of his cock, the dim, single bulb in the room refracting through and making it shimmer, oh-so deliciously. I went down and quickly enveloped just the tip in my mouth, sucking as hard as I could to get that precum on my tongue. I was off his dick with a very audible “pop,” returning to my former position standing at the foot of the bed, grinning.

I savored the taste on my tongue as he gasped in surprise, “You never did that before, Sean!”

“Don’t talk. Not unless I ask you a question or it’s our safe word. You address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Daddy.’”

“Oh FUCK YES Sir!” Nathan exclaimed.

I let out a small laugh before composing myself. Yes, he was definitely into this, if only we’d been able to try it sooner. I was glad we could finally explore this side of our relationship. I looked at him – my boyfriend now, splayed out on the bed, at my mercy – and I felt another mild static in my head. It was momentary, but again when it passed everything was as it should be. I reached to the side table and grabbed a length of cloth. I put the blindfold over him without a word. His dick throbbed but looked even a bit smaller, yet still pretty hard, as it pushed out another bead of precious liquid. His foreskin had completely retracted at this point, he was so hard. His dick head was an angry red.

Nathan was now expecting me to lick it off, so I didn’t. I waited. Sometimes, doing nothing can be just as erotic as doing something, letting that tension and anticipation build. His breathing was shallow. I knew he expected something. But, I also wanted to get a good look at him. The facility had us so busy with—

The facility had us so busy that I hadn’t gotten a good look at his progression from the gym. It was impressive, though not the same as mine. He’d gotten leaner, the little paunch he’d had before completely vanished now, with the hint of abs poking through. The hair on his head was still as silky as ever, gleaming in the soft light of the lamp. The rest of his hair had almost vanished – that was weird, I hadn’t noticed it before. I’d have to ask him after playtime was over tonight if he’d started to shave it—

He’d been smooth almost everywhere as long as I’d known him, though I’d never really appreciated what it did for his body. Maybe it was just the lighting in the room, or the beginning musculature, but the shaved look was turning me on more. It was all over, his armpits were bare, what little hair would have been on his torso was gone. His pubes remained but – at least in this lighting – appeared lightened to the same strawberry blonde as his head, though they were neatly trimmed and maintained into a neat triangle above his dick. Everything below that was gone including – yup – including around his tight, winking hole.

But exploring that would be for another night.

I moved so quietly around the bed that I knew he couldn’t hear me. I lowered myself, and I heard his breath catch so I knew he felt or heard or sensed something. I paused. His breathing returned to normal, and that’s when I lowered entirely. I shoved my armpit to his nose and mouth. I made extra-careful to ensure he still had a (mostly) unobstructed way to breathe before I said, “Get a good whiff. Memorize my scent. This is what you crave from now on.”

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I looked to make sure his chest was still going up and down and he wasn’t struggling to breathe. “Yes, Sir!” he exclaimed, or rather, I suspect that’s what he tried to say as he breathed deeply through his nose and opened his mouth wide to lick all over. I didn’t think I’d be into this – I was trying it out for him after some more intense sessions with Dr. Skiye – but I was surprised when my own dick chubbed up in response. I let him worship me for a few minutes before withdrawing, and he groaned. Or moaned. Definitely a moan: I looked down and there was a small puddle pooling near his cute little belly button from his leaky dicky.

I silently walked over to the other side of the bed, and we repeated with my other armpit. He dove in – the little slut – and I almost sighed out loud in contentment. The tongue lashing he was giving my armpit felt amazing – again, I never thought I’d be into this, but I’d definitely be doing this again. He didn’t need to know how much I liked this, at least not yet. It did give me an opportunity to admire how my own muscles were growing. I didn’t know that forearm muscles could be separate, and my biceps were definitely peaking more. Those military presses – up to 145 lbs now – were definitely helping add a bulge to my shoulders. My chest hair looked hot now that it adorned the growing mounds of my pecs.

And, speaking of bulges and growing mounds, my own dick was starting to leak a little precum, too. My jockstrap (Nathan’s idea) was feeling wet and oh-so-pleasantly tight. My underwear in general was feeling tighter these days, probably from the shaping of my ass that Joaquin was now working on and all those squats. A dom can have a nice booty, too! I wasn’t sure why that would also feel tighter up front, but each time I thought about that, coincidentally there’d be another static discharge, so I chalked it up to whatever and moved on, not thinking about it anymore because everything was fine.

I ignored my dick at that point and when I sensed that Nathan was slowing down I realized how long he had been suckling at my pit. I stood up, maybe a bit too quickly, because that made him think it was his fault. He whimpered, “Sorry, Sir! I wanted more, but my mouth was getting so tired!”

“I told you not to speak to me unless I speak to you first!” He cowered a little and I saw his dick get a little softer. I started to panic that I’d fucked up, but I did what Dr. Skiye suggested, taking three deep breaths to feel more relaxed, and said, “It’s okay, pet. You haven’t done that before and we’ll ease you into it. Do you like that all the guys tomorrow are going to smell me on you? That all you can taste right now is me?”

“Yes! YES, Sir!!” he replied. I looked down, checking his dick, and it was back to full hardness.

“Good,” I replied.

From that point forward, the next 90 minutes had been primarily a very – VERY – thorough investigation of his dick and balls. And inner thighs. I made sure to steer clear of his hole - that cherry would be for later snacking in our new dynamic. I let my tongue memorize every tiny bit of his genitals, from the leaking tip of his dick to the bottoms of his low-hanging balls nestled against his thighs. I loved how big his balls were in contrast with his cute, 5” dick. As I let the back off my tongue memorize what his head tasted like, I breathed deep in his pubes to memorize his scent – which had the faintest trace of strawberries. When I finally let him cum, which was only after he had long stopped begging and had been reduced to guttural whimpers, I had him shoot all over himself. It took my tongue just three sensual licks up his shaft and a little dance on his slit to trigger him. His hair on the top of his head was coated in his cream, as was all the space in between.

I watched him throb and then it die down, his dick starting to soften. That was when I got going again. I took his balls into my mouth and gently tongued each one, stroking his overly sensitive cock with my hand as he shuddered and twitched, trying to get away but locked down by the cuffs. He couldn’t get away, and he knew it, but his body kept trying. I made sure he was still okay, still breathing, not looking like he was in too much pain, and he didn’t utter the safe word. So I sucked on his balls and stroked his sensitive dick head in tiny circles with my thumb until he came a second time, almost as much as the first.

I let go, and he softened quickly. As I stood up, there was another static discharge – we’d really need to ask about a humidifier! – and I took the chastity cage in my hand and with a wicked grin on my face put his soft cock in the cage before he realized what was going on.

As his breathing returned to normal, I took off the cuffs. He tried to sit up, groaning and I helped him. I expected him to reach for the blindfold, but my Nathan knew better, and after a minute of him not doing it, I took it off for him. I hugged him, smearing the cum on his body between us, and he softly said, “Thanks, Sir.”

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… to be continued …

I turned mumble-thirties-mumble-something-mumble today. (Whoever said The Gays are sensitive about their age?) And because I write smut, I told y’alls that I was going to do this. And I did it.

Let’s be clear: I’m usually a top. Like, 90-ish percent of the time. I haven’t gotten any complaints, and let’s be honest, being a bottom involves a lot more prep. There’s a reason a lot of twinks are bottoms, and it’s because the under-30 bottoms are twinks: They don’t eat. But being a top for my birthday means that I’d have to go out and find some ass to pound, and it’s a work day for most people (not me, I took the day off).

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And so two days ago, I posted that I was going to spend the day frustrating myself. Put a plug in at midnight. Put a cock cage on at midnight. Stay that way until sweet release after dinner. Because the kind of orgasm you get after being stimulated for 18+ hours and unable to get hard is amazing. Physically, psychologically, it’s just ... wow. You should seriously try it if you haven’t.

I did not get ready by midnight. That’s right, I failed. When I was in college, part of orientation was they took all the first years and put them in a massive room and we separated into groups by birth month, then we found our birthday mates. There were three of us who were May 14 of 19-mumble-mumble year. No idea what happened with one of them. Shockingly, the other guy and I have remained friends for mumble-mumble years since. Good friends in college, I held his hair back while he puked, I had a mini intervention afterwards, and when I was in grad school he came out to visit and we did a road trip through southern Utah. Every single year since that first year of college, we’ve emailed each other on our birthday with an update. Last year, he sent me a massive life update. I told him I’d send him one, too. I never did. So, tonight (last night? I literally wrote this part just before going to bed), he sent the birthday greeting a few hours early and it was an “oh shit” moment and I spent the next 90 minutes writing what I’ve been up to since that Utah trip. Love, loss, hole lotta work, etc.

So, midnight:30 when I sent that off, and it was off to the bathroom to get ready after fasting most of the day because ... well, you know. Half hour later, my medium Square Peg Egg plug was in, dick locked away, and the key to the cage was in a small bowl of water in the freezer for extra frustration.

🔞 Warning: Features graphic descriptions of m/m sex. All individuals are 18 or older, and are acts are fully consensual. Don’t be here if you shouldn’t be. 🔞

For those who don’t know, getting a cock cage on when you’re horny is not always easy. Ring goes on, you walk around and think about spreadsheets or vacuuming and at just the right moment you sneak up on your snake and shove it in and lock.

Sleeping was ... interesting. I’ve slept plugged before, once or twice, but it’d been a year. I’d slept caged before, but it was a one-hour nap. I didn’t sleep well. But I could always nap later.

I woke up feeling good and frustrated. I removed the plug and did my morning stuff. Showering was ... interesting. The force of the water on your dick is usually not a big thing, it’s just there. But after being in a cage all night, and it’s pressed up against the tube with airholes, each drop of water is a new sensation that further frustrates.

After that, I got stuffed: I put in a Large Egg Plug. To get side-tracked because I’m writing this part at 1pm while still grinding my frustration out, Square Peg is a brand of butt toys. I have a few from before I discovered Topped Toys (more on that later ... and no, I am not affiliated with either company, this isn’t a paid advert, blah blah blah). The plugs are silicone so they’re somewhat soft and squishy, but Square Peg comes in a firmer version and a softer version; I have the softer version (the bronze). An egg plug is an egg-shaped plug (shocking!) where the bulb sits inside and the neck rests in your sphincter (booty hole) and keeps it open somewhat. The medium I had in overnight is 4.2” insertable, 1.5” wide max, and the neck is 1.2” across. Large is 5.4” insertable, 2.0” wide max, and the neck is 1.4” across. And that’s what I’m literally grinding on right now as I type while my dick is turning a bit white in places where it’s trying to get through the cage.

I put on a jock strap. Why? Because I like the profile of the cage pressed up against it. Slightly uncomfortable, but worth it. Loose shorts, and of course a tank top. I walked out of the bedroom and tweaked my nipples that caused my hole to squeeze because I’m a bit of a masochist, I guess. I’m in Pacific time so I scrolled through birthday texts while I had my morning milk (yes, I’m that kind of person, and it allegedly does a body good).

At the advice of a Substacker, I set alarms throughout the day. Every two hours: Teasing. At least five minutes with something hot on, sitting (grinding) while playing with my nips or balls or trying to get to my cock through the air holes.

11am: It was frustrating but fine. Good times. Finished and went back to scrubbing the stove because on a day off I’m doing housework.

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1pm: Well, that’s why I’m writing this down now because my dick really wants to stretch and look around and my hole is tingling and grasping like it’s out of air or just wants to squeeze the plug in half to get it all in. That’s the whole point of the neck, in my opinion, to give your sphincter that nice stimulation.

And a digression because it’s hard to focus like this: As I said at the top, I’m mostly a top. Like, 90%. “Top but not narrow” in terms of what I do, I occasionally like to bottom. Hence one reason why I have this stuff because once you get into that headspace ... you just take it and go. But the other reason is because I like to use these on guys I play with. It’s not all about my enjoyment, and I find that I have better control with my hand’s manipulating a toy than when I’m thrusting in a tight hole with my dick. If it’s a hookup instead of a regular, their eyes often go wide and then greedy. I only do stuff they’re okay with (I always ask), but some guys who swore they’d never be able to get something in I often times find are begging for something larger after I’m through with them. So, that’s why I have a decent collection.

Okay, now I have to go grocery shopping for stuff for my cake (what I’m baking ... not a butt) and it’s going to be interesting. I’m going to slip into tighter shorts. I want to see if I get any stares from the slight impression of the cage in the front. Not from the ladies, but from the guys. You know the look: A glance, eyebrows up, and then either a nod or just goes about their business.

Okay, I’m heading out, since I guess this is being written more like a diary than a story.

Back. Hair a little out of place, but I’m smiling. So, one guy was into it. While I was feeling the melons for soft spots, he saw, he knew, he liked. After finishing our shopping, his Jeep was at the end of the lot. He groped me and I moaned when we got in. I always carry mints so after chewing on those, there was the kiss and grope and fuck was I horny. He reached down into my pants, into my jock, and felt and I nearly melted. He let go and went to the back to feel and when he pressed against the plug I gasped.

“Both sides?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck that’s hot. Is your Sir okay with me doing this?”

“There is no ‘Sir,’ I’m a top.”

And he looked at me like I had three heads.

“It’s my birthday. I wanted to be frustrated all day and so horny by the time I take this off tonight that it’s the best cum in forever.”

He looked at me with eyebrows raised, and then tweaked my nipples (which were pretty much already visible on the sides of the tank) and just said, “Respect.”

“Thanks,” I panted.

“You wanna do anything? Like, suck this?” He palmed his cock which was clearly not in a cage like mine, and it looked to be a decent size. I looked at my watch.

“I really do, but ... I gotta get home and bake this— you know what, fuck it. It’s my birthday, I can do whatever the fuck I want when I want. You’re clean?”

He pulled out his phone and after some tapping showed me a recent screening.

I pulled down his shorts and underwear and his bush sprung back and his cock stood tall amid the grass. I licked my lips. On purpose, I swear. I breathed him in and his cock skin was soft and just a tiny bit moist, and he smelled like a man. I swallowed him hole, one gulp, my nose in his pubes inhaling him and my tongue danced along the top of his balls. He pulled my head closer, his cock just going a bit down my throat (it was probably about 6”), and I gagged a little so he let up. I don’t suck dick that often.

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I kept going on it and when he reached down and tapped the plug and I moaned around his dick and I think my cock spurted a load’s worth of precum. It definitely wasn’t an orgasm (sorry for you guys who messaged me saying I should try to cum just from the stimulation, even when caged). But it was heavy.

With my throat moaning around his cockhead, he didn’t last much longer. He pushed me forward by the plug which caused me to moan and groan and grunt even louder, and his hands instantly shifted to my head where he pulled it down and grunted himself as he came down my throat.

When he was done, he let me go, and I cleaned his cock and kissed the slit and sat back up on my knees in the back seat of his car at the end of the Kroger parking lot.

“Thanks man. And happy birthday.”

I leaned in to kiss him, pushing a bit of his cum into his mouth. He grimaced. I laughed. “Thanks, daddy.” I winked. He smacked my ass.

“How old are you?”

“I’m turning [redacted].”

“Fuck. I am not old enough to be your daddy.” He reached down to smack my ass again and then paused. “Wait a sec ...” I saw the wheels turning in his head. “Fuck. I am.” He smacked my ass again and I yelped.

“Hey! That’s not fair, you were going to smack me for calling you a DILF and now you’re smacking me because I was right?”

He smacked my ass again. “And that’s for pointing it out.”

I pulled my shorts (the jock stayed on) and got out of his car, thankful I didn’t get anything from the freezer section.

Got back home, groceries away, wrote this down, and turned off the 3:00 alarm because I just did that whole thing.

And with that said, if you want to find out what I did at 5pm, 7pm, 9pm, and then 11pm, that part I’m putting down below. It also includes some baking tips because I was very much trying to NOT pay attention to my hole. To you guys who are paid subscribers, you can keep on seamlessly reading. To you guys who aren’t, I hope you liked the free part, consider becoming a monthly subscriber, or consider doing it as a tip if you like what I’ve written so far. Doesn’t have to be a whole shaft, a tip can still do a lot! In this case, you’re 40% in, and the rest blew my … well, “mind.”

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🔞 Warning: Features graphic descriptions of m/m sex. All individuals are 18 or older, and are acts are fully consensual. Don’t be here if you shouldn’t be. 🔞

I was cleaning the home where my boyfriend and I live when he arrived from work. Cleaning helped me to settle my thoughts and think about the opportunity he had posed yesterday. There was a facility that he knew about that would help me be a better boyfriend. Not that he had any problem – nor I – with our relationship. But, some things can always improve, right? It would help him, too: it was like an advanced counseling program where they took you in for residency for a full month, and we were supposed to learn more about each other’s needs and desires.

It was pretty exclusive, for they only took referrals from people who knew people who had been there. Very exclusive.

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I had just gotten laid off and had no strong family connections — classic child of the 90s from rural Ohio, you come out and BOOM locks are changed and no one invites you back for Thanksgiving. My friends were all from work, and my former supervisor had spread some nasty and completely rumors about sexual misconduct after I’d been fired; my friends were no longer my friends, they wouldn’t answer my texts and had blocked me on social media. I should’ve sued, but I just wasn’t assertive enough. In fact, Nathan had begged me to sue, if nothing else the money could’ve helped with the mortgage because he was sure they’d rather settle than go to court. I just ... the thought of confronting things scared me too much.

I looked back at the brochure. It was vague-cific. There was one part of the trifold that simply said, “We can help whip you into shape!” with a muscle man I wanted to drool over posing below the text. On another page – the back of the trifold, of course – was so much small print about limitations and liability waivers that sometimes I thought the text was literally moving around as I tried to read it before I finally gave up.

Nathan had said the facility did wonders for his friends Mark and John, there was no need to worry. But it was my choice.

I mean, we had had our ups and downs, but we were pretty good. Right? Then again, he always said that he wanted me to be more dominant in the bedroom. Even the relationship in general. Refusing to confront my former supervisor was what really did it for him, I’d never seen Nathan so angry about how I refused to be more assertive or take-charge.

Especially since I’d been laid off, I was moping around the house more and more while he spent all day at work making the hard decisions. He kept complaining that he just wanted to come home and not have to think anymore, I’d have everything planned out. And, of course, the sex. Being a dom didn’t always mean topping him, but just be in charge, he reassured me since we both liked to top and bottom and we were both average-endowed at about 5.5–6”. But my ass was a bit bubblier.

I didn’t feel comfortable like that, I was afraid I might hurt him. Despite all our discussions of safe words and everything else. I thought some other things were silly, like chastity; and I didn’t understand the appeal of other things like nipple clamps or piercings. Maybe this place could help me better understand his perspective.

But if I were the dominant one, why the fuck was I the one cleaning? Oh, right, I had been laid off – fired. He was still working his hot, tight little ass in an office building 15 minutes away and climbing through the corporate ladder.

I looked again at the brochure and sighed. I’d tell him tonight that I’d agree. We’d both go into the residency, he had saved up enough vacation for the month-long stay.

“I dunno, Doc,” I explained, reaching my hand behind my lean frame to scratch the back of my head and buzzed chestnut-brown hair, absent-mindedly. “Nathan just wants me to take charge more, and I’m not comfortable doing it.”

Dr. Skiye leaned back and templed his fingers. “Why not?”

I paused, thinking. “I’m afraid of hurting him?”

Dr. Skiye raised an eyebrow, still looking directly at me at eye level, silent.

“Maybe ... I don’t know. Are you trying to psychoanalyze me and get at childhood trauma or something? This is our second day, it’s not like I haven’t told you everything or you don’t have it in your file after that insanely long intake process.”

Dr. Skiye was motionless for an agonizing hour. Then again, it was probably more like ten seconds. There were no clocks in this room, something that annoyed the hell out of me. “I think that’s enough for today,” he looked at his files. “I see it’s time for you to join Nathan at the gym. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I stood up and turned to go to the door, and Dr. Skiye coughed slightly. I turned to look at him and he nodded his head towards my feet. There was my gym bag. “Oh, right,” I acknowledged.

I reached down and grabbed it, and Dr. Skiye replied, “Have a good time at the gym.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but in what seemed like a blink I was already there, actively involved in military presses. Without missing a beat, I continued to lift the weights while my trainer watched, next to me, making sure I was practicing good form. The missing time had been weird at first but I got used to it, I figured we were all just “in the zone” here. It was the fourth day and I was getting the hang of things but it was still good to have Joaquin helping, I mean as a safety precaution and everything. The facility insisted on it for liability purposes, and it was already included in our massive fee for the whole thing.

Sweat was dripping down my forehead as I did the final press of the set and lowered the barbell to the rack, where it settled with a clang.

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“Great job!” Joaquin clapped me on the back, also eye level. He was hot for a muscle twunk but I was there for Nathan, not to pick up other guys. “After five days, you’ve been making excellent progress!” I smiled at him as I sat to take a breather for just a few minutes, breathing a tired “thanks” as I took a swig from my bottle with my protein shake. The chalky mixture was starting to grow on me. Presses were the hardest for me; my shoulders were just so weak, they took a lot out of me. But I’d managed to go from just 50 lbs to 90 as my 4×8 to failure on the last one in just under a week. I was looking forward to what the rest of the month could do.

I wasn’t seeing any real gains when I looked in the mirror, but I’d read it takes 2–4 weeks before you notice anything, 8 weeks before a friend or family member does, and it can take an excruciating 12 weeks before casual acquaintances would. Maybe this residency thing would speed stuff up if we were focused on this process 24/7?

I flexed my bicep a bit to see if I could tell any difference, and I winced. The sexy twunk rushed over and cheekily rebuked me. “C’mon, you JUST did curls to failure, don’t be stupid.” His medium-length thick, black hair covered his brown eyes as he tossed his head subconsciously to knock the hair out from in front of his face.

“Yeah, but I thought the pump would be good and show something. Anything,” I replied, wistfully.

Joaquin was suddenly at my back, and I felt slightly dizzy like my head just filled with a fuzzy electricity for a moment – something else I was getting used to at this place. It must be super-dry for there to be so much static build up. “Sorry, man! I didn’t mean to shock you!” Joaquin said, apologetically.

I shook my head, “Nah, it’s fine.” I took another swig and looked across the room. Nathan was there with his own trainer. He’d just finished doing an insane amount of lunges and was now doing squats. His training focus was a bit different than mine. While we were going for strength, mine was focused on growing mass for me all over, while he was working on getting leaner, building tone, and bubbling his booty. I wiped a bit of drool off the corner of my mouth but tried to pass it off as the protein shake. Unseen, Joaquin rolled his eyes behind me.

“Alright, bud, next we’re doing chest presses. Get your sweet ass on that bench. And remember, you need to get enough rest at night — you and Nathan aren’t pushing things too hard in bed, right? If you want your muscles to grow, you gotta get plenty of sleep, but I know this process can make you crazy-horny—”

—I woke up, spooning Nathan in our shared queen-sized bed. My cock was buried in his tight hole. I smiled and breathed in his scent, lingering in his straw-colored hair. I grabbed him tighter and pulled him down on my dick as I thrust gently yet firmly. His hole yielded to me like a gently squeezed sponge cake, firm and tight but slick with what must have been at least three loads since last night. I wasn’t huge – average, really, at just a hair over 6” – but Nathan said I was a master at using it properly and hitting all his spots just right.

He was still asleep, as evidenced by his soft, slow breathing, but he moaned a little and pushed back against me. His bubble was growing more and more, and it had only been two weeks at the facility. I loved how his smooth hole was now clean-shaven, it just looked so ... perfect, so beautiful ... when I was rimming him last night.

My thrusts quickened – I was so very close, I must’ve been edging inside of him for an hour before I actually woke up. His hole was gripping me so hard yet I kept sliding so smoothly through it, like it was made to sheathe my dick. I loved how we were the same height, we fit together so well, and I could easily move from breathing in his head of hair and whatever the latest shampoo was to nuzzling his neck, licking from just below his ear, down, then across to his cheek.

My breath quickened as I moaned into his neck, nipping ever-so softly as I felt an almost electric fizzle going through my groin, my cock getting harder if that was even possible, growing seemingly larger inside my boy’s tight hole and I erupted, filling him with yet another load. I had no idea how I could produce so much cum so quickly, but while I was coming down from my orgasm, Nathan quietly said, “Thanks, Daddy.”

That was a new one. We were the same age, and while he’d been trying different nicknames over the years, “Daddy” was a new one. I kinda liked the sound of it.

I pulled him tighter, groping his hot little pecs with rock-hard, tender nipples as I bent my neck down to bury my face in his neck-length head of wavy, strawberry-blonde hair. My dick was still hard but I could feel it just starting to soften in his hole, rubbing slightly as it started to contract. I took the hand that was on top and, feeling a little adventurous, brought it around to his hole and gently probed it in. It was so slick with my cum that my index finger entered easily but Nathan still gave a tiny gasp, so I tweaked his nipple with my other hand while my face was still buried in the hair on top of his head. I wiggled my finger around and Nathan groaned loudly, so I tweaked his nipple again, which of course only pulled another moan from him as he arched his back and thrust his ass back on my dick, driving my probing finger in deeper. I pulled it out and brought it to his mouth and dragged it gently along his lips. His pink tongue dashed out to lick his lips, and then he opened his mouth to draw my finger in, sucking gently.

I felt myself drift back to asleep again—

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… to be continued!

Note: This work features discontinuous story telling with built-in time jumps. If you’ve seen the two-part Doctor Who episode “The Library,” well … you might see some parallels.

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Content Warning: 🔞 Content Note: This story features graphic descriptions of m/m/.../m sexual content. All events are consensual or should be inferred to be consensual even if it is not explicitly discussed. All characters are 18+ in age. 🔞

Part 1: Descent

The sun was setting behind the buildings already in the crisp February air. It shouldn’t be. I was late. Three hours late. All I had was a street and a number, but that’s not why I was late.

I had to psyche myself up to come. It took forever. I thought putting on my “I ❤️ 🐓” shirt might help, but I just took it off. And put it back on. Covered with a jacket. The subway ride, I kept glancing around. Did he know? Did she? Did that guy want to know? Once I was done, would he want to use me?

I had to walk down the street like a fucking teen down a school hallway, covering my dick with my jacket, hands thrust through the pockets held out in front of me. I was rock hard. I should’ve worn a cock cage, but they said just normal clothes. As one hand kept my jacket down over my cock, my other hand played with the small black card. No logo, no text, no numbers, no design. Just a black card.

Jim handed it to me two nights ago, when I’d finally gone through enough Angels Envy to confess I was a bottom “in theory” only. I’d never told anyone before. I was too tight. I’d tried training kits that start at a highlighter thickness and go up to an inch or so: I couldn’t even get the smallest in. My pucker pucked. I topped out at a pen.

I expected Jim to mock me, to laugh. He didn’t. All he said was, “I know a guy.” He handed me a card, the same one I was holding now. He also gave me a phone number to call, written in pen on the back of my hand like in middle school when the teachers took our phones away. “Don’t chickenshit out. Make the call, go. Trust me.” He shifted a little in his chair and stifled a sound – it sounded like a moan, but I was too drunk.

The door – I passed it at least twice. It was tucked away, and even though I’d been down here before, I’d never noticed it. Between a dry cleaner and Indian food market that was the only place that sold decent fenugreek, there was another door. The number on it matched the number I’d been told. I walked up and was looking for some way to open it, but it had no handle. Then, it opened itself.

Out walked a man, and I stepped back from the sudden exit. He was enormous. Built with muscles packed on muscles in ways I’d only seen and jerked off to in fitness competitions. Beneath a tight t-shirt that was way too sheer to be wearing in this weather was a very obvious leather harness, nipples encircled by its loops.

My mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t help stare. He looked down at me – so fucking tall – and smiled. In a nice way. “You’ll be glad you came, whatever you’re here for.” And he walked away. I watched his ass shift from side-to-side, perfectly framed by his tight pants.

I heard a buzz from the door, and I looked back, startled. It swung inwards, and when no one came out, I entered. I was met with stairs, because of course. It was clean, washed concrete, though the sterile fluorescent lights cast a medical, yet seedy glow. The hum of the ventilation was the only sound other than my feet. And my heart beating in my chest. My hands pushed farther to cover my cock. I could feel wetness in my underwear; I was leaking.

I passed by a door at one landing, and it was glass, I was facing it. I looked in and saw shapes and movement. A man was on all fours, but he looked ... odd. His back was just a little too long, limbs a little too thick, hair a little too even. I saw a leash leading from a collar around his neck. “Come!” and the man scurried forward in the direction of the leash, the sound of dog tags clinking from his neck.

I kept going down.

Two more flights, and another landing with another door. I peeked in and saw a man leaning back in a chair, eyes closed. His feet ... fuck! His feet were huge, and there was a man in front of him sucking on his toes. The man in the chair slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at me, smirking. I stumbled back and scurried down another three flights of stairs.

An archway was at the bottom, and I went through into what looked like surprisingly modern reception room. A man sat behind a desk, leaned back, shirtless. His pecs were enormous, and he was idly flicking a massively engorged nipple. He moaned each time. He didn’t notice me as I walked up. I looked up to him and I finally coughed slightly.

The receptionist opened his eyes in surprise, looked at me, and sat up quickly. He reached down and pressed something, and a whirring stopped – it was like an HVAC sound where you only realize it was on once it turns off. I stood slightly taller and looked over the desk trying hard not to look like I was looking but I know he saw me looking. He pushed his chair back a bit and smiled at me. He had some device over his cock. He gently pulled it off, and a massive dick flopped out. Only four guys in the massive Forbian Cishner catalog from two decades of guys had a dick that big, just over 10” I quickly estimated, embarrassed I knew that and could measure dick so quickly.

“First time?” he asked.

I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. I nodded.

He peered at me, then asked, “Open your jacket a bit more?”

I lowered the zipper the whole way, cheeks flushing red.

He grinned. “Nice. You’re in the right place. But rules are rules: Card please?”

My eyes never left his cock, but I managed to pull the now-sticky-with-sweat black card from my pocket, and I handed it to him. He took it – ignoring the texture – and placed it on a device, like a card reader but one I’d never seen before. It glowed a calming blue.

The receptionist’s eyes looked like they were reading, there must’ve been a screen built into the card reader. He looked from it to me and smiled wide. “Oh, you’re gonna love it. Whoever signed you up, they must know you well.”

“But I signed myself up.”

His smile never faltered. “Through that door,” he nodded to the side, handing the card back.

“Uh, thanks?”

He didn’t reply, but I heard a motor turn on again from his direction. I walked to the door and it opened. I could still feel the spot of wetness in my pants, on my cockhead. I walked through the door and saw several more down a hallway. One glowed blue, none others did. I guessed that was where I’d go. I walked to it, and a sign next to the door read, “Present Card.”

I held out the card again, and some sort of holographic display appeared on the door. “PATIENT CONSENT FORM” was written at the top. A pleasant male voice spoke out, “Please read thoroughly and sign at the bottom.”

Fuck. I did not come all this way after being this late to spend another hour reading fine print. I scrolled quickly through it, skimming section headings. “Full-Body Access,” “–rmanent Modifi—,” “Neurologi—”, “Interna—” ... I scrolled faster. At the bottom was a signature block, but just above it was, “For full list of terms and conditions and full consent information, please read Attachment A.”

Fuck! I scrawled my name with my finger. The hologram disappeared, the door slid open. I walked through, and the door closed behind me.

I was in a small anteroom, with one locker and a bench. The room was white, like ... really white. Like one of those futuristic sci-fi things that tries to be all high-tech this-is-the-future-so-it’s-white but you feel sorry for the painters and custodians who have to keep it that way.

I heard the male voice again: “Remove all clothing below the waist, and remove jacket. Place in locker. Wear jockstrap from locker.”

I looked around but didn’t see any speakers and no other person. I gulped. I took off my jacket and hung it on the hook in the locker. I took off my shoes and socks, placing them in, and my jeans and boxerbriefs. I grabbed the jockstrap from the top shelf of the locker. It was pitch black. It felt good, high-quality. I bent down, and I heard the voice again: “You are erect. Would you like to orgasm before procedure?”

My dick immediately hardened more and throbbed as if to say, “Yes! Please!”

I grabbed it momentarily, my hand easily covering it in my palm. Then again, I was already three hours late. “Uh, no? I’m good, let’s just do this.”

The voice didn’t reply, so I bent over again and pulled the jockstrap up over my ass. My hands lingered just a moment longer. It was a nice ass – nice and bubbly. Perfectly fuckable. Except what was in the center, a jar screwed so tightly it could never be, well, screwed. When I stood back up, another door in the opposite wall opened, one I hadn’t seen before. I walked in.

In contrast with the white, this room was dark. I heard a loud click, and a light shone on a chair in the middle. I heard a different voice, the sound as though coming from a microphone piped through speakers in the room. “Please sit in the chair, Timothy.”

My name. I flushed again, suddenly having doubts. Well, more doubts. Despite my bare ass traipsing through the room, I somehow thought this would be anonymous. I looked around but didn’t see anyone. I took a step forward, and I heard the man again: “Don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands. I’m your technician today, Orlando. I’ll be making sure this all works well. Haven’t had a problem yet!”

I tried to smile a little and got to the chair. It was a large contraption, with material like a gym weight bench. Pleather? Just, more padded. It also had foot rests and armrests, and a lot of head support. Above the head that curved around, there was a mask, a rubber-looking corrugated hose coming from it and going off somewhere beyond the light. It was hard to see anything in the room other than the chair that was directly under the light. I turned around and sat in the chair.

From off to the side, a man came over and he slightly shifted my limbs, repositioning my head. Unlike the others so far, he looked ... ordinary. Mid-40s, shaved head, shaggy scruff like he’d just forgotten to shave rather than it being intentional. A white lab coat hung over black clothes. He must’ve caught me staring: “The lab coat is just ‘cause it gets a little cold in the booth. All this equipment runs hot, so we keep the AC turned way down. And it makes me feel a bit more important.”

He smiled. His hands were warm on my wrists, and he smelled faintly of Xea body spray from the ‘90s. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

He reached up, the coat’s fabric grazing my arm and cheek, and he lowered the mask. It had an integrated headset, so once lowered, I couldn’t see anything.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s just really dark in here.”

“That’s the point. You did read what you signed, right?”

“I ... yeah, of course.”

He let out a noise that sounded a bit like Odo’s “Hrumph.” “Then you know that this is an immersive experience.”

“Of course,” I replied, more indignant than I probably should’ve been, but even I could tell it sounded impotent rather than authoritative from under the mask.

I felt him lower something else, and my ears were completely covered. Every little sound that I hadn’t realized was there before was now gone. I shifted a bit, and I couldn’t even hear that.

I sat like that for I don’t know how long. If he was talking, I didn’t hear him.

Then I saw a flash of light in the visor. A low rumble from the headset. I felt rather than heard a hiss in the gas mask, a faint, sweet smell coming through, the air slightly cool.

I barely noticed a moving sensation, my center of gravity shifted. Blood surged to my head, my feet felt cold: The chair had rotated. I felt my legs pull apart, my hole exposed.

I panicked.

“You good there, Timmy?” It was the technician in the earset.

“Hate that name, I’m ... I’m fine.”

“Good.” I heard a click, like he’d turned off the microphone he was using.

I lay there and breathed for who-the-fuck-knows-or-cares how long, I could do this forever.

The technician watched from his booth. The subject had definitely relaxed, his brainwaves calm, heart rate slightly elevated, breathing low, pulse-ox fine. Orlando smiled and looked over the list from the contract. They never read the whole thing. He pressed a button. The machine sprang to life. “This is going to be fun,” he thought. “Wet, sloppy hole” was what the guy signed up for, that’s what he’ll get.

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Part 2: Hole New You

… and, we have to leave it there for Substack. I couldn’t make some of the remaining work within the constraints imposed by various partners here, and the last few paragraphs were edited for content, too. If you like this story and want to read more … I’m gonna have to send you over to where it’s posted on GayDemon where it’s >13,500 words (nearly a 1 hr read). The full story contains significant explicit sexual content, so please only consume that if you are ready for it and it doesn’t offend you.

If you like the story, please comment here to let me know! And, consider leaving a tip with a one-month subscription.

I’ve noticed a few “coming out” posts on the gay erotica Substack-verse and thought I’d do a bit of my own. I started a few months ago on here as another venue to share my writing. I put out a few stories / chapters and then Life® got in the way and I’ve been posting hot pics of guys once or twice a day while dealing with a bunch of other stuff in my personal life. I don’t post dick pics because of the risk of getting banned; I know a lot of guys do, but I don’t want to take that risk.

And … okay, I didn’t expect to start out this post with excuses. Let’s refocus: Working professional here, I write gay erotica in my free time. I’ve been writing for more than ten years off-and-on and thought I’d try to branch beyond some of the niche sites I’ve been writing on.

I tend to focus on power imbalance and erotic transformations. For example, in my “Grymm (etc.) Tales” series, I take characters and invoke a magical realism transition to convert them into fairytale versions of themselves. Or, in my “Catfishing No More” story, a guy who catfishes on a hookup app is transformed into his fake profile … and then uses his now-real profile for a hookup on that same app.

I write one-offs, very short serials (like 2–3 chapters), and some open-ended stuff (like the Grymm series that could go on ad infinitum).

I know this is a bit niche, so I’m trying to broaden my horizons somewhat, but that power imbalance and transformation are key parts of what I write. All of my stories are human-written, so I can’t put out the volume of some people, but I do enjoy what I write and I enjoy the crafting process, so I hope you’ll give me a chance and stay for the ride!

I’m also always open to constructive feedback, and if you like the universe I’ve created in what might be a one-off story, let me know! For example, I just finished posting my “The Milky Way” story in three parts, and it created a dystopian futuristic sci-fi world where shit just happens. If you’re interested in other stories that take place there, the best way to make that happen is to tell me you liked it.

A bit more about me, outside of erotica and “working professional.” When not writing or working, I enjoy cooking and baking – I did try out for The Great American Baking Show but wasn’t selected, but no biggie because they take just a tiny tiny fraction of applicants (and I think they only want maybe 2 gays per season). I like to walk and bike, photography, I like the beach, and I work out a few times a week. Otherwise, I’m honestly introverted, which I know is a contrast against what I write.

For my picture, I’ll come out and say that it is close but not 100% me. I dabble in AI “art” for images (please, let’s not get into that discussion about whether AI can produce “art”) – I just do it for fun because I have a bunch of ideas (gay mermen? gay fairies who fly on unicorns?) and I’m not hiring models and photographers – not on my salary, anyway. To make my profile image, I fed several selfies and poses (clothed and … unclothed) into the mix. What came out is darn close. Age, build, hair is right. The tattoo is real, I got it after graduating as symbolic of completing one circle of life and getting out of school. Or, that’s what I told myself anyway. And I really do wear a lot of tank tops or no shirt at all, when appropriate and weather permits (as in, not when going into the office!). It cuts down on laundry.

Otherwise, I’m pretty open, I’ll answer quite a bit and try to respond to everyone, so let me know in the comments if you have any questions, or feel free to send me a DM.

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🔞 Warning: Features graphic descriptions of m/m sex. Don’t be here if you shouldn’t. 🔞

I heard the click of a light, and I woke up. It was a Pav-- Pav-- a response the man trained me to have. I slept a lot these days. Or weeks. Months? It didn’t matter. If I wasn’t sleeping, I was fucking or eating, and I ate so I could fuck, and I fucked because it felt good. And then I slept. The man was nice to let me do that.

I asked before why he let me do that without doing anything for him. He laughed and told me I did plenty.

Like now. He called it “work,” but it was just more sex to me. If sex was work, then give me more work!

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The man had very few rules, and one was that when the light clicked on in my hall, I went to my window. I shoved my dick through. I heard a gasp. I smirked. Fuck yeah. I started to get hard, my cock head sliding through my heavy foreskin and making me shudder slightly at the sensation. The man told me when I did this, I didn’t have to move or do anything else, just stand there, and other people would do the rest.

I knew my dick was big. Nathan told me that once. Like, real big. He said a big number but it was just lots. It was sooooooo sensitive. I really wanted whoever was on the other side to touch it. Even just blow on it. The skin was so tight and I could feel it starting to leak.

“Don’t touch! No hands!” the man barked. I shifted slightly. I felt my heavy dick bob a little. I couldn’t see who it was in front of me, but that didn’t matter.

I felt a nose come up to my dickroot and a pressure. My thick, blonde pubes felt a rush of cool air as the new guy smelled me. He licked my balls. My giant balls the size of melons, each, hanging low in my strong sack. They made lots of cum. Cum that made the man happy. So, I got to fuck more and that made me happy. Sooooo much cum.

I heard the man say what he said every time he brought a guy to me: “One load is 21 years. Your body will be 21 years younger. Just make that giant dick cum, swallow it all, and you’ll be 21 years younger by the time you get home.”

“Seriously, this isn’t all just some gimmick?”

I rolled my eyes. People are so dumb. The man wouldn’t lie. I couldn’t remember life before the man, but he never lied to me. I would’ve remembered something like that.

Ug, come on dumb guy, just fucking make me cum in your mouth or your ass and be done with it! I leaked a little at the thought of another tight hole. I wanted to pound something, but I knew when I was at the window, I had to stand still. It had to be the other guy. The man made that very clear: I stood still, the other guy did everything. That way, it was all conse-- sonsen-- constenu-- it was all fair.

I felt my precum drip off my cock tip even though I couldn’t see it from behind my wall. I heard another gasp. I flexed my muscles, making my heavy dick bounce again, hoping for a breeze to st-- sim-- simu-- to make it feel good. I loved my muscles. Almost as much as my dick. They were, like, pretty big. My pecs could even bounce! The man laughed when I bounced them for him. He also squeezed my pillowy butt.

He showed me a picture once: A scrawny guy who looked sad. Blonde like me. But small and sad. He asked if I recognized the guy. I studied it for awhile. It took me time because my thoughts were slow, but that was okay. I didn’t need to think much. I gave the picture back to the man and shook my head. The man had smiled. I asked who he was. The man just had told me that it was some guy who went on to better things, and then he laughed. I shrugged and thought, “good for him.”

Then I heard the man again, breaking me out of my memory. He was talking to the new guy: “Would you have paid me enough credits to house half this colony if you thought this was a gimmick? You fight over resources like oil and minerals and land despite the vastness of space. In the end, there’s one resource you haven’t been able to buy, but I’m selling it to you: More time. Time is the single, most precious commodity in the universe. Just make that cock shoot.”

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The guy must have believed the man because I felt a tongue tentatively on my tip. I thrust forward a tiny bit, encouraging the contact. I was so close. I was pretty trigger happy, especially with newbies. I fucked all the time with Nathan and the others and we could make each other last awhile. We didn’t change each other, the man said that one change and all our D... our DM... our jeans? Our something is changed forever and we can’t change each other again. That was good, that meant I got to fuck more and not worry. Though I don’t know who changed me already, I don’t remember. The man said not to worry about it. I didn’t have any worries these days.

Ooooooooo, that felt good. Right, I had almost forgotten. I was gonna cum soon! The new guy licked me more and then managed to get my whole head in his mouth. Mmmmmm, that felt good. I pushed a bit more and felt the back of his throat. Then his tongue danced under my cock head and that always sends me over the top: I came and came and came, spewing my milky cum out the end of my hypersensitive dick.

I heard and felt lots of gulping. The guy paid lots, and he wanted all 21 years for his credits. That’s right guy, swallow it all down. Jay will get you that time you want. Just suck my delicious cum.

I finished moaning. I didn’t realize I was moaning. I finished cumming. I started to get soft, and I heard heavy breathing on the other side of the wall.

“You okay?” the man asked.

“Yeah!” the other guy replied. “Just ... wow! That was a lot!”

“Uh, did you see the size of his balls?” I felt my balls get tapped by the guy. He did this almost every time. Like he was proud of my own goods. Like he made them or something like that. Pfft. Whatever, I knew I could go rest soon after this “work” was over.

I heard a laugh from the other guy. “So, how long does this take?”

“An hour or less. You’re looking younger already.”

“Okay, I’ll let myself out.”

“Good-bye, Senator,” the man replied, and I felt him let go of my balls.

The man never let me see the guys we changed, but after they left, he always made us clean up. I knew the routine: Wait for the door to close, then come from behind the wall. There was almost always some cum on the floor, the guys could never get it all down. Didn’t matter, the guy said the less they had, it just took longer to change. Right now, there was lots of milky cum on the floor.

He made sure we knew that our cum was precious, we needed to make a lot, and encouraged the sex because that kept us ready to make lots. But it only worked fresh from the source.

He said the cum was “the way.” Kept us happy, kept him happy, kept more guys coming. All that milky goodness was the way we made a living. Our milky way.

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🔞 Warning: Features graphic descriptions of m/m sex. Don’t be here if you shouldn’t. 🔞

“Okay, how do I get to this place, and what do I have to do?”

“It’s down in a back alley in Central City. Off 91st St. Take a left. Look for the blue button, press it, and a green scanner should appear. After it scans you, tell them I sent you. Passphrase is ‘The Milky Way.’ They’ll let you in and then you can ask what you need to pay. Just leave if you don’t want to.”

I took a deep breath. I looked at him again. Kent had gotten new clothes in the last week – well, I’d gotten him new clothes. He’d given me some credits and I didn’t ask where he got them, I just asked what he wanted and I went to the store. I was cheaper than a delivery service.

He looked good. The black tank top with the deep sides strained against his torso, trying to keep it all contained, but his pecs easily emerged from the sides and sometimes – if I was lucky – a nipple. Damn, his nips were hot. And the way he moaned when I chewed lightly on them ...

His shorts were another matter. He sent me to a store I’d never heard of, but they had underwear and shorts I’d never seen that fit him right. I made note of it because I expected I’d be back for some clothes for me when this was all over.

He stood at the door and waved. His entire frame filled the doorway. I still couldn’t get over that I had to look up to look into his face. I brushed my hair back, out of my eyes, and I walked to the transportation hub. An hour later I was on E 74th St and making my way down. I hadn’t been in Central City in awhile, but that was because it was so high-end. People were here because they had made it. Or, they were from families that had enough money that they didn’t have to make it themselves. Their clothes were clean, and they were pressed. Their shoes weren’t open like mine. I got stares. I remembered why I hated this city.

I hurried down to 91st St and took a left. I saw a long ally that was pretty dark, the lights looking like they had purposely been destroyed rather than were just waiting for a maintenance bot to replace a fixture. I kept going, getting more anxious. I shoved my hands in my loose jeans, keeping my arms close to my body for warmth and to prevent my jeans from going down too far. I wasn’t wearing underwear, and I didn’t own a belt. I hadn’t eaten for a few days, trying to save a few more credits even though I was sure those wouldn’t make a difference here.

Finally, I saw it: A small, blue button. I pressed it, and my finger went through. The button disappeared, and a green laser scanner passed across my entire body. After a second it was done, and a few seconds later, I heard a voice, “What’s the passphrase?”

“Kent sent me. The passphrase in, ‘The Milky Way,’” I replied, with more confidence than I felt. I was practically shivering in anticipation and cold, my tiny brown nipples hard as steel through my thin shirt.

I heard several locking mechanisms clicking, the sound of metal grinding or swinging, and then the wall in front of me disappeared. It was a hologram. Figured that a place like this would have the latest tech. I didn’t hear anything further, but I interpreted it as an invitation, and I walked through. The hologram came back up behind me and then I heard a heavy door shut, that same metal grinding sound. Then lots of locking sounds.

A man appeared from the side. He was just a little taller than I, with dark hair and features, in stark contrast to my pasty skin and light hair. I brushed a fallen lock back behind my ear. The man was not slim, but not muscled, either. He didn’t look like he’d been enhanced, at all, making me wonder: Was I in the right place?

“How did you hear about us?” he asked, not wasting any time.

“Um, my friend. My roommate. Kent. He was here last week.”

The man nodded. “I remember him. Big Red?”

“Yeah. Well, he is now!”

The man smirked. “And I suppose you want the same?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Come with me.” The man walked down a corridor that was fairly dark, and I again shivered more out of anticipation than the air temperature. It smelled moist and metallic as we passed through the metal corridors, rust spots showing their age and the level of upkeep here.

There was a small table and two chairs. He took one, and he gestured to the other.

“Did – Kent? Right?” I nodded. “Did Kent tell you what this cost?”

I hesitated. The man looked at me, expectantly. “Y-yeah, he said that he had to send you referrals, and as long as you got enough other people he sent, he’d be paid up.”

The man nodded. “What do you think is a fair price for you?”

I was silent. I hadn’t expected this question. I expected him to give me a number of credits so high I’d thank him for his time, leave, and fuck my frustration into Kent’s ass.

The man’s eyes searched me. He leaned back, steepled his fingers, and continued, “The price is different for everyone, and what I want is different from everyone. Kent offered me the referrals and I hadn’t gotten that as an offer before, so I was intrigued. I agreed more out of curiosity.”

“Can I offer that, too?”

“Sorry, no. One-time deal.”

I looked dejected, down towards my feet. My index toe was sticking out of the front of my shoe. I pulled my foot back in my shoe and my toe went back inside. I wished I could afford new socks. Or shoes. But socks first. I certainly couldn’t afford this.

The man watched me with curiosity. I thought about my shoes and I thought about what I could offer. What I could offer, or should I just fuck Kent with my 4” dick that was as thick as one of his fingers now. Was there anything this man could want that would buy me the kind of mods I wanted?

After several minutes, he spoke up. “Look, I’m not without a heart. I can see that you really want this, and I know we did a great job on Kent. He’s like a walking advertisement for us – for those in the know, anyway. The authorities ... they don’t need to know. You’re what, 20, right?”

“Twenty-one,” I replied, with more indignity than I meant.

“And you’re fucking poor as shit and a twig because you can’t afford much food and certainly don’t have time to work out, right?”

I nodded.

“One year left in government housing and then if you haven’t found a job you go begging on the streets?”

I nodded. I felt a lump in my throat and my stomach felt queazy. I thought I was going to throw up.

“But look, what if I give you a taste? What if I give you a taste ...”

“Jay.”

“I’ll let you have a sample, Jay. Then you can go home, think more about what you could offer me, and come back. Would that work?”

My eyes lit up and I sat up so straight I thought I might be as tall as Kent now. Or, I felt that way.

“Yes!” I practically screamed.

He laughed a little. “Alright, let’s get up, follow me.” He stood for a moment, then sat back. “Gotta make things legal.” He pulled out a pad. “Sign please.”

I took the glass and the text followed my eyes as I read, every word. Yes, I understood this was not officially sanctioned. I understood the risks. I understood what might happen, changes, blah blah blah. Pressed my thumb, and it was just a sheet of glass again. He took it, and we stood up.

He took me down another hallway and into a room that was just as run-down in appearance as the rest of the area. It was lit with a blue-white light panel. I heard the man flip a switch, and neon signs lit up. A blue neon sign read, “HIGH PROTEIN.”

Then, the biggest dick I’d ever seen came through the opening. Bigger than Kent’s. I stared open-mouthed. I walked up to the window but the dick kept me over a foot away – I couldn’t see past it. I could tell it was attached to a hugely muscular man with dark hair, but that was it.

I looked over to the man. He gestured to the dick in front of me which had quickly gotten hard and grown to a massive 18”. This guy was into some serious shit. I didn’t know how the enhancements worked, but this was beyond anything I’d heard rumored.

“Just suck on it,” the man directed. “If you want the free sample, sucking his precum is the sample. It will give you a nice taste of those enhancements, and then you can decide what you think it might be worth, that you can afford.”

I looked back at the dick. It was throbbing, and like Kent’s, it was starting to drip precum. I reached out my hand and the man called out, “No! Mouth only.”

I put my hand down and tried to catch the throbbing shaft. It tapped my tongue and I used that to hone in: I opened my mouth as wide as I could and just barely managed to get the slightly yielding, spongey head into my eager orifice. I felt the juices start to slide down my throat, a few slide down my chin. I licked the tip of the head with my tongue, then somehow managed to get my tongue out of my mouth while the head was still in, and I licked the frenum.

The giant phallus shuddered, and it thrust forward. I was impaled, and I heard grunting. I felt the dick get bigger, and I felt a massive load of fluid travel up the shaft, bulging out over my tongue, and the head get even larger, pouring the gushing milky cream down my throat and into my gullet.

It all happened so fast, I didn’t know what to do. I finally managed to get my hands up and used them as leverage to push off. I sputtered and coughed, a few drops coming out of my mouth and spit on the floor. My head bent forward, I completely forgot about the dick until I got a second giant blast that completely covered my hair. Then another got my shirt as I turned to get out of the blast zone.

I was dripping in milky white cum as I looked towards the man, wiping cum from my eyes, and I sputtered, “I’m sorry!”

The man just stood there, just smiling.

I looked back at the giant cock that was still spewing cum, though the volume had died down. I looked back to the man, and then suddenly I doubled over in pain. I collapsed to the floor.

“What? Help!” I managed to eek out.

The man’s footsteps slowly echoed in the hall and grew louder as he approached me, then stopped. He reached down and pulled my chin up forcefully, making me look him in the eyes.

“I am helping you,” he replied.

“Ugg!” I spasmed in pain, releasing my head from his hand, my body feeling hot yet shivering and my head was swimming. “But...”

The man grabbed my chin again, and he bent down, his face inches from mine. “I know you can’t pay. Kent and I discussed it at length last week when he was here. He really wanted to get bigger, but he couldn’t pay, either. Well, not credits, anyway. And then he did offer me something that no one had ever offered before. I really was intrigued. Do you know what he offered?”

I couldn’t answer, the pain spreading everywhere through my body.

“Of course you don’t. You’re not going to know much in a little bit, anyway. No ... he really did offer me a ‘referral,’ of sorts. He offered you. You really need better friends.

“As payment for my services, he offered me another body to modify in my own very, very special way, and add to my collection. You see, my enhancements are unique. They’re not some modern tech that uses nanobots or something mundane like that. I use cum. DNA modification. Semen that gets in there and changes your DNA. Each man in my stable has a different effect when someone drinks their cum.

“Nathan over there,” he nodded to the dick that had finally finished cumming, “has special cum that will convert,” he chuckled briefly, “sorry, is converting you to a changer. I don’t know what effect your cum will have on someone, but there are more than enough poor saps who find me that we can experiment on the next guy.”

“But-- but, the cops!” I managed to get out.

He laughed, his breath stale to my nose. “No one tells the authorities because the authorities use my services as much as anyone else, so it doesn’t matter. I own the cops. The politicians. There’s no one to run to. And you’re not going to want to run ... soon.

“Oh, and one more thing: the transformation process into a changer, as Nathan’s sperm works its way through your system – re-writing you at a fundamental, genetic level – it needs fuel. Yeah, it carries its own high protein fuel with it, but it also feeds off your smarts. You might already be feeling its effects. Pretty soon, you’re going to be a big, dumb breeder to make me money and only care about getting off in some pretty man’s tight holes. Or ugly man’s. You won’t care, you’ll just want to get off.

“Now, I know this is pretty painful, and you do need some more energy, so ...” he pulled out a hypo, “... nighty-night!”

I heard the hiss of the hypo and the pressure against my neck, then sweet nothingness took everything away.

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… to be continued …

🔞 Warning: Features graphic descriptions of m/m sex. Don’t be here if you shouldn’t. 🔞

My friend told me about it. We’d been besties for a decade – half our lives – and it was like overnight ... no, not like overnight, it was overnight. He’d gone from a stick like me to this muscular hunk I wanted to fuck the living daylights out of. We live together in a government-run apartment. One of those set up for transitioning from family life with parents to the workforce, and we were more than half-way through our four-year limit. The prospects for his future jobs exploded with his new size. Just like my dick wanted to in his hole.

He’d come home this morning and I nearly pressed the emergency alarm. He was easily a foot taller than me, but last night he’d been an inch shorter. He had the presence of mind to knock first: “Jay, I’m coming in. It’s me, Kent.”

I was confused why he was announcing himself but, seriously ... what entered was a truck of a man. We’d used to joke that he was a gingersnap, but now he was a gingerbear. It wasn’t just his height: his muscles were bulging everywhere. His legs were practically as thick as my head, and every single muscle stood out as he walked through the door, the insanely small shorts showing tears throughout. His ass was literally the size of large melons, I thought they were fake. His torso was filled out with abs laid like fine masonry, topped by large pecs that were each crowned by juicy nipples – a physique that was all clear through his shirt. His arms were bigger around than my neck and corded with muscle as he turned to shut the door.

We’d both struggled to grow any hair other than on top of our head, which is why I had just the faintest wisps of a beard. It helped me look more like the adult I was. But Kent, his beard was thick and looked a week old, while I could see hair on his limbs and even peeking out from his now comically tight tank top, the sleeves that had been on his shirt clearly ripped off by some event, likely the insane growth of his arms.

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I didn’t know what to think after I got over my initial shock, then fear, then shock. He shifted anxiously, and finally he asked, “Do you like it?”

I stared with my mouth open. I think drool escaped onto the government-issued synthwood flooring.

He shifted more quickly from foot to foot, then he finally ventured, “Sorry man, I gotta get out of these shorts.” He reached down and tried to peel them off, but the fabric shredded in his hands over his muscles. Then out popped the next surprise: A giant dick. We’d both been average before, about 4”. Good enough for him, good enough for me, good enough for our random encounters, though his ass got more use than his dick.

I’d heard of some back-alley places, even in this colony in this back-asswards system. Places that claimed they could enhance your dick and make it bigger. Maybe even twice as large if you were really a good candidate. I’d heard of some that could enhance muscle, too. Or, maybe instead. I didn’t believe the claims. But part of the claims were that they supposedly cost more than I’d made in a decade.

Kent’s dick was longer than my forearm. It was thicker than my forearm, too. His balls were bigger than my ears. And his dick was only a tiny bit hard. I drooled more. His cock head leaked a little. This was probably going to come out of our deposit.

He was still looking at me, searching my face for any sign of acceptance. I ran my thin arm through my blonde hair. My eyes were level with his pecs. Pecs that heaved slightly with each breath he took, the striated muscle even showing through his shirt.

I laughed nervously. “Fuck.”

Kent visibly relaxed, if only a little.

I looked him up and down. “Fuck. I mean ... fuck.” I reached out a hand, my finger extended, and I pressed on his chest. It gave slightly, the red forest under his tank top pressing through the thin fabric into my finger tip. Kent flexed, maybe consciously, but probably not.

I reached my other hand up and squeezed his shoulder. When before my hand could cup his entire shoulder during a good doggy-style pounding, now I could barely get across the top. It felt solid. Not fake, but like real muscle. Real skin. He stepped back a moment and stripped his shirt off, struggling to get it over his head before it just shredded like his shorts. He tossed it on the floor. He looked at me, expectantly. Every muscle in his upper body had just given me a show.

I slowly walked around him once. Then again, touching. We’d hooked up before, so I was pretty familiar with his body. But this was ... this was different. Then I spotted it, it had been hidden in the pillow below his left ass cheek: His birthmark. It always reminded me of a bird. This planet didn’t have any birds, but I’d ben told that the home planet did. I’d seen the holos. My hand caressed the birthmark, then moved up and felt his ass, prodding. He looked down and around to me and smiled. It was his same smile, and his eyes -- his eyes were still him.

“I don’t understand.” I came around to his front and finally grasped his penis.

He shuddered, his eyes fluttering, and the cock head burped out some precum. After a few moments, he regained his composure. “Come on, you’ve heard the rumors just as much as I. We jacked off to them together just last month.”

I stepped back, my hand loosening its grip on his shaft but still remaining firmly in contact as I slid down its length. I clenched slightly on the flared head that had peaked out from the thick, heavy foreskin. The head was moist from its secretions. I couldn’t help but smear the juices over the corona as I stared up at his deep, emerald eyes. “You mean ...?”

He smirked, his previous apprehension gone. “Yeah.” He bounced his pecs once. I let out an involuntary moan.

“But I thought ... but, it’s so expensive ...”

He smiled down on me. Actually down, he had to look down now, given our height difference. I kept smearing his precum over his dickhead, the smell starting to get to me and make me horny. I’m not sure I even knew I was doing it.

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“You can’t always believe everything you hear.”

“Fuck.”

“You wanna?”

“Wait-- what did you have to do? Nothing’s free in this shithole planet.”

“No, it’s fine.”

My eyes were glazing over as my dick grew to its full hardness, throbbing straight up through my thin pubes. It looked comically small next to his now. But that phrase broke me out of whatever this was.

“Dude. What.did.you.have.to.do?”

His gaze went down to the floor, the wall, the other wall, his shredded clothes, anywhere but me. Finally, he replied, “It’s fine. I just had to promise them referrals.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Maybe it was his body oozing sex, but my trepidation vanished. “You mean like some fucking pyramid scheme?”

He laughed nervously and held up his hands. “Yeah, you got me. Look, if I just refer a few guys to them and THEY pay, then it’s fine.”

“But what will it cost me? I mean, those guys?”

The glimmer came back to his eyes. “I don’t know. He said the price was different for everyone. But you can always go and ask and then say ‘no’ if you don’t want to.”

I finally let go of his dick, though I practically had to force my hand. It didn’t want to let go. And I’m a top. Pure, 100% fucker. I looked him up and down. It was everything I wanted. I sighed.

“Okay, do I get to try you out first?”

“Fuck yeah!” he yelled, then slapped his hands over his mouth. The neighbors didn’t need to complain again about us. Not that we didn’t hear noises coming from them all the time.

He ran to his bedroom, the thin mattress and cheap frame creaking as he belly-flopped face-down, presenting his lightly furred ruby cheeks to me. We were both already naked, so even though I forced myself to follow a little slowly to retain some semblance of dignity, my mouth was full of drool by the time I got there and buried my face in his crevasse.

Fucking hell, his asshole tasted like the best thing I’d ever tried. I slurped greedily as my salivary glands went into overdrive, lubricating his hole. The rest of him might have grown, but his pucker felt so fucking tight, which allayed my concern that my four inches wouldn’t satisfy him anymore. I tested it, probing with my long tongue that was almost as long as my dick, and he moaned and tightened around it. I pulled my tongue back and breathlessly sighed, “Fuck!” He just moaned and reached a meaty hand back to pull one ass cheek away, giving me more access to his pucker.

Another minute and he gasped, “Stick it in! Please! Fucking hell, just stick it in!”

He’d never been this greedy, his voice sounding mindless, lost in lust. That was okay by me. He had the presence of mind to scoot closer, his cheeks bent deliciously over the side of the mattress. One good thing about the cheap bed frame: It was just the right height for me to fuck his hole while I was standing. I lined up and plunged in, prepared for his usual tightness.

I was not disappointed. Only this time, I felt extra squeezes all along my length, and he gasped each time he squeezed and each time my dick rubbed up against something – multiple, somethings – inside him. It was driving me crazy, and I’d only been in for less than a minute. He was humping me like his life depended on it, but I froze: I didn’t want to cum so soon.

But, something came over him, it was like he had this new frenzy about him. He squeezed and I swore it was like ripples squeezing down my shaft and trying to milk me into his hole. I scrunched up my face and tried to yell, “Stop!” but it was too late. I started to thrust like a jackhammer and sprayed one of the biggest loads of my life into his hole.

Spent, I collapsed on top of him, my dick slowly deflating and pulling out of his tight rosebud. His back forming a firm yet comfortable mattress beneath my spent body. I fell asleep, my slight sheen of sweat mixing with his, a tiny trickle of my load leaking out of his used hole.

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… to be continued …

Content Warning: 🔞 Content Note: This story features graphic descriptions of m/m/.../m sexual content. All characters act with full consent; where consent is complicated by circumstance, this is addressed in the story. All characters are 18+ in age. 🔞

Author’s Note: Welcome back to Grymm (etc.) Tales — each installment is designed to stand alone, so you can jump in here without having read Chapter 1. I tried to go to some of the original source material more in this one, with some direct quotes from the original Grimm tale (well, translated to English). There are also some more easter eggs in there, perhaps more obvious because they didn’t fit quite as well, but I wanted to get them in (musicals, TV shows, etc. — lemme know what you catch). And of course, there’s some groundwork for other stories. Oh, and a question for the young’uns: Are they still called video games, even though there’s no video? Asking as a 30-something-year-old.

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Henry and Greg were close through grade school – teammates in a few things besides sports, running in the same circles, and chasing the same girls. From shared friends to shared conquests, they weren’t besties exactly, but they had the easy comfort of guys who’d never had to try to get along; they just clicked. When their mutual friend Lucas invited them to the cabin in the woods for the summer, they jumped on it.

The two had been tight, especially since Greg’s parents took Henry in for most of sophomore year when Henry’s folks couldn’t manage it. Three months sharing Greg’s twin bed, which they both insisted was “totes no-homo” despite the morning wood incidents neither of them ever mentioned. One kid at school called it a bromance; that kid got found bloodied behind the bleachers, and nobody ever spoke the word again.

During school, Henry’s sweet tooth was never fully satisfied. His family couldn’t afford luxuries, so friends like Patrick and Biely would slip him a dollar for the vending machine when they could. They all gave each other hell, but no one could ever say they didn’t have each other’s backs.

The summer with Lucas and Patrick was enjoyable but hot, as the trees were fairly thin near the house and provided little shade. Still, they had a good time outdoors, hiking, swimming in the nearby lake, or camping under the stars. Of course, being born practically with a computer in their hands, the friends were avid gamers and spent a fair bit of time indoors, too, especially during the heat of the mid-day: taking an afternoon nap or playing video games.

In late July, Lucas had given them $50 to go into town. They drove the twenty minutes into the nameless little town at the foot of the foothills. The general store was next to the gas station, and while Greg was looking wistfully at the alcohol refrigerator, he felt a sharp jab in his side.

“Dude!?” he exclaimed, looking reproachfully at Henry.

“Look!” Henry pointed out the glass storefront at a bus. The words on the side were “State Tech Ag Central College Tech,” but as the bus slowed to fill up at the gas station, both guys could now easily see it was stuffed full of college girls.

They stood there, just watching, for several minutes, until the bus left and the area was clear.

“You two gonna buy anything?”

The voice jostled them back to reality, and they looked up to see the cashier behind the counter.

“Uh, yeah, sorry ...” Greg trailed off, as both he and Henry got back to picking up the essentials for the house. Cognizant of the budget, yet still wanting to indulge, Henry made sure to grab at least one bag of some hard candy-coated Whimsey & Wonders chocolates (W&Ws) for himself, while picking the least name-brand items for everyone else.

Bringing their baskets up to the register, the guy smirked and remarked, “Enjoy the show?”

“Huh?” Henry asked innocently.

“Oh, come on! Name’s Peter, by the way, and that bus rolls through here every year on its way up to camp.” He leaned over the counter so his face was just inches from the other guys and, whispering, though there was no one else in the store he added, “Cheerleading camp!”

He stood back up, looking around quickly again at no one; Henry and Greg looked at each other, then back at Peter.

“Every year?” Greg asked, his voice rising slightly.

“Ever since I been working here, yeah.”

“Wow ... how long’s that?” Henry asked, since the guy looked barely older than they were.

“Oh, I dunno ... seems like forever. Anyway, that’ll be $49.63, guys.” They hadn’t noticed, but he had been ringing them up while talking.

He winked at them and after they paid and he made change, he sketched directions to the camp on a napkin. “Had you pegged for a bunch of fairies,” he remarked, as he handed them the napkin. “Enjoy the ladies.”

That night, they planned the route and went to bed early. Henry jerked himself off before bed, thinking about the cheerleaders they’d soon be banging. In truth, he was also trying to drown out the sounds coming through the wall to Greg’s room. Greg came first – Henry could hear the bed frame bang against the wall one last, loud time, and Henry felt something lurch in his chest before he crossed his own finish line, just a half-second later. Or, the timing was a coincidence ... yeah, just a coincidence.

After an early rise, they set out before dawn with packs for two days. The route said westward, deeper into the mountains, away from town. They walked a well-worn path through the brush, carving their way in the early grey light of pre-dawn. Neither spoke.

By late morning, a fog rolled in. It must have been the same unseasonably cold air interacting with the sun and lake that drove the mist to thread through the trees and brush like many tentacles of something alive. Henry was so wrapped in his fantasies of cheerleaders (and other things that he totally wasn’t thinking about), that he walked a full half-hour longer before realizing the path had disappeared. He stopped dead. Greg bumped into his back, and neither moved away as quickly as they should have, the contact lingering.

Finally realizing their positions Greg pushed away. “Dude!?”

“Do you know where we are?” Henry asked, looking around.

“No, I was following you.”

“But I was following the path and didn’t think we’d strayed--”

“Well, maybe the path has strayed from you.” Greg took out his phone. “I might not have signal, but I should still have GPS ... “ Greg scrunched up his face, holding out the phone, up and in various directions.

“Lemme guess, no GPS?”

“No ... I guess the woods are too dense here.”

They looked around in confusion, trying to get their bearings, and then looking at the ground: They couldn’t re-trace their steps, there were too many footprints from circling. Looking up, the canopy was too thick to see the sun. Each had a growing sense of dread as they tried to figure out what they could do.

Finally, Henry had a plan. “Hear me out: I got that bag of W&Ws yesterday, and I had some more saved up that I brought. What if we pick a direction, start walking, and I’ll leave a trail of them every couple steps? That way, we can find our way back at least to here, and maybe we’ll have the sun by then and can figure things out if we have to.”

An hour later, as the last of the small, round candies dropped behind them, the trees thinned. Both broke into a jog, grinning at each other: Surely they were close to the camp, the cheerleaders, the college coeds they were definitely, absolutely, unquestionably interested in.

The trees quickly gave way to a clearing, where a cottage stood. Only, this was no ordinary cottage, for it appeared to be made of a hard bread, a roof of cake, and the windows were made of clear sugar.

Both guys stopped short when they saw the house. Their packs were gone – dissolved as the fog itself dissolved on the border of the clearing – and neither of them questioned it. That was strange. Henry knew it was strange, and he had a dim awareness of having a thought “that’s stra—” and simply didn’t finish it, like a sentence that trails into the mist. He almost turned to Greg to say something. Then, his stomach growled – both of their stomachs growled in an almost deafening roar from not having eaten since breakfast and having hiked for hours on end.

“Let’s help ourselves to a good meal,” said Henry. “I’ll eat a piece of the roof, and Greg, you eat from the window. That will be sweet.”

Henry wondered where the odd words had come from, but he didn’t question their wisdom.

As they approached, the house smelled different to each of them, something they would have realized had they compared notes. To Henry, it smelled like warm caramel and brown sugar, like the candy his parents could never afford, that he used to press his face against shop windows to catch a hint of from outside. To Greg, though he would never say it, the house of candy smelled like Henry after rugby practice: Salty and sweet, with a hint of something warm underneath.

Henry grabbed ahold of some large, round sugar candies embedded in the wall, and he used them as hand and footholds as though he were rock climbing to get up to the roof. Meanwhile, Greg saw one of the windows was open just a bit with wonderful smells emanating from inside. He looked around and then grabbed hold of the open sugar glass, snapping off a piece and sucking on it like a lollipop.

“Nibble, nibble, little mouse / Who is nibbling at my house?” The sing-song voice came from inside, but both teens ignored it, engrossed in eating as though they hadn’t had a morsel in days.

A few minutes later, the door burst open, and a man as old as the hills and leaning on a crutch came creeping out. Both teens were so frightened and startled that they dropped what they were eating, and Henry dropped from the roof, as well.

The old man looked at the two, and then appeared to look past them into the forest, glaring, but no one else saw anything. As quickly as he came out, he turned back to the two and said, “Oh you dear men, what brought you here? Just come in and stay with me. No harm will come to you.” The old man’s eyes traveled down both guys’ bodies with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

Henry scrambled to his feet and was standing near Greg, their shoulders touching, fingers almost unconsciously intertwining. Ready to run. But, they weren’t fast enough: The old man’s grip was like iron, despite his age. He pulled them inside, and the door sealed shut behind them, the doorframe smoothing into an unbroken cookie wall.

The man sat them at a wooden table and served them a meal that neither could stop eating. Despite their fears, it was as though that desire to escape was uncoupled from their bodies. Instead, they kept eating course after course – rich stews, honeyed bread, and cream-filled pastries that melted across their tongues. Henry ate until his stomach strained against his waistband. Greg ate until his eyes glazed. The old man watched them both, refilling plates from the kitchen and – impossibly – from the interior walls themselves before the plates were emptied, his sharp eyes calculating behind his aged face.

By the time they stopped, both Henry and Greg could barely keep their eyes open. They stumbled to two beds they didn’t question, headboards etched with their names in wood that looked centuries old. They collapsed without undressing, and sleep swallowed them whole.

Now, it should surprise no one that the old man was actually a witch, a term he had decided was gender-neutral. He had built his house and enchanted it so that only hungry, young men would be drawn to it, and what they ate would amplify their true desires. The cake roof had filled Henry’s ass with need, and the sugar windows and candied canes had sensitized Greg’s cock until the slightest brush of fabric or breeze would make him hard.

All magic came with a price, and the old, gnarled form was inflicted upon him by the various balancing forces due to his selfishness.

Henry and Greg, he hoped, might be his way out of his curse: He had been told by a beautiful enchantress that if he could pleasure enough men, and earn their cum in return, the spell might be broken. He’d begged the woman to lift the curse herself, but her laughter fell upon him like penny candy scattered on stone, and she had disappeared. The terms were specific: Enough freely-given cum from enough willing men, and the curse would break. Coercion wouldn’t count. But, desire stoked by magic? That was a grey area the witch had long ago stopped agonizing over.

He watched the two of them sleep. Greg’s body was curled towards Henry, one arm flung across the gap between beds as if reaching for him in his dreams. The witch smiled. This wouldn’t take much.

The two awoke several hours later in a large bed, the headboard proudly proclaiming “HENRY 🙵 GREG,” and the bed itself was surrounded by a large, metal cage with a heavy padlock on the outside. Nothing else was in the cabin save the old man and a large oven.

They also awoke without any clothes and with a few, shall we say, “enhancements.” Greg sat up and immediately pulled against the shackle chaining his wrist to the headboard. He saw that not only did he have a raging boner, but it was easily the size of his forearm, perhaps more than twice its former size. As he shifted, the slightest breeze tickled the newly super-sensitive shaft, the head fully extended past his regrown foreskin. His breath quickened: He’d been circumcised since birth ... where had the foreskin come from? Did some god return his gummy ring because he didn’t like it? And why did the slide of it over his swollen head feel like a full-body electric shock?

Henry woke with a different problem. He, too, was shackled to the bed and couldn’t sit up, which was uncomfortable because his back was fully arched. His spine curved like a bow, forced up into the air by his newly enormous ass. He felt it before he saw it: His rump had grown to the size of two massive balls of cotton candy, a smell invading his senses. Worse, every shift only intensified a feeling of deep itch that he quickly realized was coming from deep inside his newly inflated posterior. Not pain, but need. A hollow, clenching emptiness that pulsed in time with his heartbeat, throbbing to be stroked.

“Dude!?” Greg exclaimed.

“What the fuck, man?!” was Henry’s reply as they both struggled in their chains.

“Ah, gentlemen, glad to see you’re awake,” the old man leered. Both opened their mouths to speak, but the man cut them off. “Save the whining, here’s how it is: You have zero control of this situation, there’s no one around–” he glanced towards one of the windows and glared “-and you both have some needs right now that are soon going to reduce you to a slobbering mess if you don’t do what your bodies are already begging for. We clear?”

Looking at each other and then at the old man, both nodded.

“Good then. I’m going to get rid of those chains in a moment. Remember: You really can’t escape, there’s this iron cell around you, and there are other measures in place, so really, don’t waste your time trying. I promise that once you give me what I want, I’ll let you go. Your other option is the oven,” and he gestured to the large oven in the corner which roared to life. “Be Henry fat or be he lean, tomorrow I must kill and cook.” His lips turned up as he recited the line, looking at the two on their bed.

Henry spoke up: “You mean you’re gonna shove us in the oven if we don’t do what you want? That’s insane!”

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not insane, though I might talk to myself now-and-again,” the man mused. “Now, Henry, what’s 4 times 3?”

Henry opened his mouth to speak, then closed it part-way, a look of confusion on his face.

“Greg, what color is an orange?”

“Uh ... um ... not even multiple-choice?” he asked.

“As I said, you’re both going to be slobbering messes of gay dreams if you don’t do what I say. The magic is being fueled by your brains and your straightness. The longer you resist what your bodies want, the more you’ll lose.”

The man snapped, and the chains clicked open. The old man shed his robe as he stepped through the bars as though they were made of ethereal fog. The body under the robe was not old at all: Lean, hard muscle under weathered skin, a thick cock already hard, the scent of a candy shop wafting from him. “So, while you still have enough brains to drive your bodies, I’d suggest you use them on each other. I’ll join when you’re ready. Or ... it’s stupidity and the oven.

“Now, get up, you lazy bones!” he yelled at the two of them.

Greg’s cock throbbed against his thigh, slick foreskin sliding back and forth with every breath and sending tingles through his body. Henry’s ass clenched around nothing, the itch intensifying until he was grinding against the mattress, not realizing he was doing it. They looked at each other across the bed. Greg’s eyes dropped to Henry’s inflated, wanton ass, which was forcing Henry to push his chest up and out with delicious chocolate kisses decorating his lean pecs. Henry’s eyes dropped to Greg’s massive cock, the skin now peeled back to reveal a head so swollen and slick that it glistened like a shiny lollipop.

“I’m not—” Henry started.

“Me neither,” Greg replied, but his hand was already moving.

It started with a tentative touch. A finger tip – just a touch, then release. Next, Greg’s nails traced the hairs on Henry’s thigh. Both pretended this was about the magic, about survival. About anything other than what had started well before they had ever shared a bed for three months. Before they’d ever touched in a way that had lingered just a bit too long. Henry flinched at the initial contact, then pressed into it.

Greg’s nails became his fingers, and then his hand as he moved higher up Henry’s thigh. Henry made a sound he’d never made before: Something high-pitched, needy. Nothing like the grunts he made when scoring in rugby.

“Fuck,” Greg whispered, every thought but Henry slowing as though stuck in molasses. “You sound ...”

“Don’t.” Henry tried not to, but he was already turning, his body doing things that his mind hadn’t caught up with. His enormous, enchanted ass was already pushing out, towards Greg’s dripping candy cane. “Just ... if we have to, then ...”

Greg didn’t need more permission than that. He threw himself onto Henry and pulled Henry’s head back, kissing him – really kissing him in a deep, desperate way that finally admitted months of unrequited lust.

Coming up for air, Greg panted against Henry’s mouth, Henry’s tongue darting out to lick at Greg’s strawberry lips. “I don’t know if it’s the magic, or—” Henry shut him up with his tongue, plunging it into Greg’s mouth, searching for something he’d spent months – years – pretending he didn’t want.

When he finally withdrew, it was Henry who was panting as Greg planted kisses down his neck and back, towards Henry’s winking doughnut. It took less than a minute for Henry to see stars as Greg’s cock found his hole. The enchanted ass opened for it like his buns had waited their hole life for it – because maybe they always had. When the massive head pushed past Henry’s ring and pressed against that spot that had been itching since he woke up, the itch didn’t stop. It became a roar of pleasure so intense that Henry’s vision whited out.

When Greg made contact with that magic spot inside Henry, that part of the spell was satisfied, and their brain drain was satisfied. Some cotton candy fog lifted in Henry’s head, while the molasses started to dissipate across Greg’s, and a few higher thoughts were able to flood back. With them came the horrifying, liberating realization that they didn’t want this to end.

Greg sat inside Henry for a moment, the clarity of thought not causing him to pull out, but to hug Henry tighter. Then, he slid gently until his head was resting just at the opening of Henry’s yearning. He thrust in hard, making Henry gasp, and both then moaned in unison. Greg’s enchanted foreskin amplified each sensation, while Henry’s enchanted hole – bundled with new, sensitive nerves – provided more texture against every thrust. The sensation sent shudders through each of them, enough that Greg released a spray of semen inside Henry while Henry’s own ass shuddered and climaxed in concert. From just one thrust.

They knelt there, panting, Greg’s massive, throbbing dick embedded firmly in Henry’s grasping hole, each a part of the whole.

Then, Henry pulled forward, and Greg’s shaft mostly withdrew, the head rubbing along every ridge inside Henry’s hole and sending tingles through both of them. Henry stopped when the head was at his ring again, then pushed back, demanding more, surprising himself with how much he wanted to feel Greg inside him. His inflated ass bounced off Greg’s hips, and he bounced back-and-forth, each moaning.

The two shifted, and Greg sat, Henry riding him. Henry twisted so he was facing Greg, and he bounced up and down on Greg’s large baguette while Greg reached up and fondled Henry’s Hishey Kisses™ adorning his hairless, firm pecs. Greg threw his head back, moaning, as higher thoughts left his head. Not from a magic spell, but from the lust and pleasure the two shared.

His breath grew more ragged, his bouncing more uneven, and Greg’s own groping paused. With a push, Henry slammed down on Greg’s cock and stayed rooted there as his ass clenched rhythmically in another anal orgasm, sweet cream leaking from his cock at the same time. Concurrently, the sensations sent Greg over the edge, his own seed flooding Henry’s hole.

The hole and cock, made for each other, absorbed some of the semen from the other, causing tingles to spread throughout each man’s body, flushing through them and causing more, subtler changes from this second breeding they would only later realize.

The two contrasted more than before, but they were still paired, like the sun and the moon, linked. They stayed like that for several more moments, neither realizing the changes. Greg’s cock refused to go soft, and it demanded more, the enchantment demanding more from both of them.

The witch watched, drinking in the sensations emanating from the two. He wanted to keep watching, but for his own enchantment to break, he needed more, and he needed to participate.

With a small gesture from his hand, Greg’s cock was ripped from Henry’s hole and Greg was thrown to the other side of the bed. The witch got between Henry’s legs, and he lapped at Henry’s cock and balls. Henry felt little, most of the nerves having been re-routed to his hole. When Henry’s cock didn’t get more than semi-hard, the man smiled, and then dove his tongue into Henry’s swollen hole. Henry screamed as his hole was lashed by the witch’s tongue, the tongue reaching areas that he didn’t know he had.

Henry’s hole clenched around the tongue, impossibly tight yet yielding, sucking him in deeper. The witch was eating him out, lapping at his sweet buns and consuming some of the remnants of Greg’s glaze, coaxing Henry toward another orgasm he didn’t know his body could have anymore. The witch’s tongue withdrew – he’d drawn out what he needed (he hoped) – then dove back as he sucked more of Henry’s orgasm from his sweet hole.

By this point, Greg had recovered from his daze, and he was undeterred: He saw an open hole, and he shoved his giant dick into the witch, finding him almost as good a ride as Henry. The witch continued his oral efforts on Henry’s hole, as Henry writhed in mind-numbing pleasure.

After a few more minutes, the man could see a brightness emanating from Henry’s hole – something he’d never seen before. Could this be it? He turned around, and a light was emanating from Greg’s cock even though it was still assaulting the witch’s ass.

Neither teen saw the lights, but they grew in intensity and merged, forming a glow around the man as both Henry and Greg continued as though nothing was happening. The witch pulled away from Henry’s hole, pulling his own ass away from Greg’s cock. The witch scrambled off the bed and through the bars, but the glow followed him. Henry and Greg paid him no heed, instead shifting closer together and Greg thrusting his cock into Henry’s hole again, eliciting a sigh of contentment from both. On his back, Henry reached up to Greg, pulling him in for a kiss, Greg’s shifting cock eliciting moans from both of them, oblivious to their surroundings.

What the witch didn’t realize was that trying to fulfill the terms of his curse for purely selfish reasons was not enough to fuel the counter, instead triggering a failsafe. It was too late. The light’s intensity grew blinding, and in a flash, it climaxed, and disappeared. The man was gone. Henry and Greg shared their third orgasm, mouths locked in a kiss, arms around their slick, sweaty torsos in embrace.

The cage around them faded away, period-appropriate furnishings appearing, and the curse lifted.

The two lovers fell into a content sleep. As they slept, the changes continued, cementing themselves across the two mens’ forms. Henry’s body grew slightly more defined, his hair lengthening to a few inches, becoming wavy in a style that would never change. His eyes grew a crystal blue, as his hairless torso cleared of blemishes and his own cock and balls shrank, just a little bit, for more contrast with his new primary sex organ. Greg was a contrast, for muscles inflated a small bit, the better to lift Henry up and down on his cock, and his own chest hair grew just a bit thicker and darker, his face slightly more angular, hair a little shorter and darker.

Henry woke first. The morning light came filtered through what used to be a sugar window and was now simply clouded glass. Greg’s arm was around his chest, heavy and warm. Greg’s breath was slow against the side of his neck, and it smelled of mint.

Henry lay very still.

They had done – he ran back through it, no fog, and no cotton candy blur across his mind – everything. All of it. And Greg’s arm was still around him, Greg was still there. The bed smelled of both of them now, and Henry realized he was smiling.

He pressed back, very slightly so’s not to wake Greg. Greg made a sound in his sleep, like a moan, and his arm contracted, pulling Henry tighter.

Henry closed his eyes. He’d figure out the rest of it later.

In a grey space, Henry found himself alone, until another man appeared, a late-40s-early-20s-mid-30s looking man, both well-built and trim at the same time. The man held out his hand and an orb of light shone that should have blinded them both, yet Henry barely squinted in reaction. Inside the orb he recognized the old man, who rapidly de-aged until he became a young, well-built hunk, appearing just a few years older than Henry.

Saying nothing, the mystery man threw the orb at Henry, which he tried to catch, except the orb had a mind of its own and went around Henry, between his legs, and with just a slight pressure, entered his hole with a slick, sucking sound. Henry felt a warmth emanating from inside him, spreading quickly throughout his body, which briefly glowed, and then it was all gone.

Henry woke to the gentle thrusts of his best friend moving inside him, and pressed himself back, against Greg’s chest, pulling Greg’s arms tighter around him.

“Greg?” Henry murmured, feeling his friend still moving inside him, just a little at a time.

“Yeah?”

“The cage is gone.”

Henry felt a pause to Greg’s thrusts. Greg looked up. He saw the bars were gone, the oven replaced with a hearth, and the cottage warm and ordinary.

He looked back down, his face inches from his friend. “Do you want me to stop?”

Henry answered by pressing back harder, and pulling Greg’s head down so their lips could meet.

Henry wondered if it had just been a dream, wondered what really happened to the witch, and if the other man really had placed a proverbial bun in his oven. While musing on these thoughts while just half-awake, his eyes suddenly opened wide as he saw a well-built yet trim man looking in the window. The man seemed to be all ages at once — late forties, then mid-twenties, then somewhere in between, settling on no particular answer.

“What’s wrong, Babe?” asked Greg, not missing a gentle thrust.

“That man, looking in the window!” Henry pointed.

Greg looked up and turned to look, his cock still being driven in and out. He turned back to Henry. “I don’t see anything. But then you always were the smart one. I believe you.”

“No! Right there!” Henry pointed emphatically. “And we’re equal smarts!”

“Babe, no one’s there. Just back that sweet ass up on my dick and it’ll calm you down like always,” Greg replied.

“But—” Greg thrust hard enough to make Henry see stars, and whatever he was going to say dissolved into a moan.

The man waved, turned around, and walked away from the cottage. The cottage wall had repaired itself. The man passed through the clearing, and he murmured under his breath. A shimmer descended around the clearing containing the house – a barrier that would turn away anyone who approached. And, it would keep those inside content enough to stay. Invisible to everyone ... almost everyone. Through the window, Henry watched the man disappear into the trees, and he felt the orb of warmth pulse inside him. He pressed his cakes back against his friend.

“Two,” the man said as he disappeared into the fog.

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In part 1, a catfisher gets an ad on a dating app that won’t go away, and he’s remade into his own fake profile. Picking up where we left off …

I looked at my phone and was hoping for some action tonight. I was stuck in a shitty hotel room for a fitness expo all week, and I was itching for some action. While I liked the college boys, I certainly didn’t qualify as one anymore, but I fully embraced my jock bod and at 31 I was certainly still in my prime. I’d bed an 18 year-old twink, twunk, otter, or wolf as easily and as quickly as I’d spread my legs for a 50-year-old bear, cub, or older silver fox. “Got dick? Will make you cum,” was my motto.

I would’ve just hit up a club but I had no ride, though a Yubre could’ve worked in a pinch. But, why get take-out when you can have delivery? There were definitely some like-minded guys here at the hotel tonight based on the distances in Humpr.

As soon as I opened the app, I was already getting guys messaging me. And ads. I hate those ads. Why do I care about matching up jewels so a cartoon king-looking guy can escape drowning? I could clearly do it better than the person who recorded it but without a way to exit the ad, I quit it and re-opened.

Okay, first person ... meh, they’re too far. Second, yeah, too far and can’t travel, either. Third, same. I could host, but I didn’t want to. I’ve done the “I’ll leave the door open slightly” where I’m on the bed ass-up and blindfold on, but I just wasn’t feeling that tonight.

My hole involuntarily flexed and I shuddered. “Don’t worry, you’ll get some dick soon,” I muttered to myself. I’d been training my hole since I knew stuff could go in, and by this point there wasn’t much that couldn’t. My pussy lips were swollen – anyone looking at them could tell my hole was used and made to be used some more. I was more interested in it than my dick: It seemed like the more I played with my hole, the more sensitive it got while the less sensitive my dick got.

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FUCK! How hard is it to get laid? I unconsciously palmed my thick, heavy, mostly soft dick. I loved the feeling of the cock ring at its base, I pretty much never took it off, and somehow it never triggered TSA. Same with the ball stretcher. Weird, but WTF do I know about this stuff? The added sensation from the heavy metal was nice, and I could feel my dick plump up. Not too hard, these days it rarely got past semi-hard unless I was about to shoot, but guys seemed to *love* seeing a hung bottom’s semi-hard dick slap around, drooling precum past its heavy hood while they were fucking me.

Focus!

Okay, fourth guy who hit me up ... mid-50s, took care of himself but had clearly seen some better days, looks like he has nice lean muscle. Ooo! A room number! Okay, this was promising.

≫ Rm 502 if interested.

≪ Cool man. What do you like?

≫ Pounding hot guys like you.

≪ ;)

≫ You?

≪ Getting pounded. Exercising, music, stargazing, cream.

≪ Err, ice cream. But man cream works, too! :P

≫ Heh.

≫ *Hot. Ducking autocorrect.

≫ *Ducking

≫ *Ducking!

≫ *FUCKING!!

≫ Wanna get fucked by two guys tonight?

≪ Oh?

≫ Yeah, I have a student with me.

Alarm bells started to go off. Student? Did I need to remind people 🔞?

≫ ...

≫ That came out wrong. I teach high school bio. I’m here on vacation, and I ran into a former student of mine who’s in college for sports medicine. All above-board, legal, he’s 20, not a creamer I swear.

≫ *not a creeper

≪ Ah, ok.

≫ You got any more pics? No offense, but you look like some pictures I saw online a decade ago.

I rolled my eyes and went to the bathroom and switched to the camera app. That question happened more often with older guys, no one younger ever asked. Seriously, did they think I was catfishing them? Only fuckin’ morons trying to get their rocks off for who knows what reason would do that.

I tried to figure out what pose might turn this daddy and - maybe twunk? maybe wrestler hunk? maybe twink? - on. First, standard pic looking at the mirror, smiling. Mouth closed, lips untightened so he could see my sexy DSLs through my scruffy, copper-red beard. Deep, emerald eyes focused at the mirror, and *snap*! Send.

Next, I put my right arm behind my head, making sure to flex just a tiny bit. I want daddy hot and bothered by the time I show. My loose tank top exposed my hairy pit that spilled with gold-red hair like straw reflecting the light of sunset, my biceps and triceps bulging, and a cute nip slip with a hint off my nipple ring showing past the shirt ... with my naughty dick dangle from it. I pushed out my lips into a pout that went well with my button nose and wide eyes. *Snap*! Send.

≪ Those work, Daddy? Do I need to send a pic with a newspaper with today’s date? ;)

≫ Fuck!

≫ How quickly can you be here?

≪ Always ready, be there in like 2 min.

≫ :D

My room key was on my phone, so I took a quick rinse of mouthwash and went to the stairs. Jogged up three flights, out the door, around two corners, and knocked.

A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a guy whose head maybe came up to my pec, and he looked somewhat stunned. He stood perfectly still, so I was able to size him up and perhaps stereotypically placed him solidly in the “twunk” category. A few seconds later, he hadn’t moved, so I coughed slightly and he stepped out of the way to let me in, the door closing behind me.

The daddy came out of the bathroom then and stopped suddenly when he saw me. “Isak?”

“Mr. Moore?”

“Oh my gosh! I thought you looked familiar! Please, call me Ben.” He came up to me and gave me a hug. The twunk just stood by the door. “Jeremy! Come over here and meet Isak! I knew I recognized those eyes.” Jeremy shuffled over to us, shyly, before reaching out his hand.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed him, pulling him closer and hugging him. I said in a low, husky voice, “Come on dude. Your dick is gonna be buried in my pussy later, I think you can touch me a bit more than a handshake!” If he could’ve melted, I think he would have. But, his hands tentatively clasped around my broad back and he started to rub up and down. I purposely flexed my back muscles – just a little! – for his benefit. And, well, groped him. I mean, why not? It was semi-soft and felt maybe a bit on the larger size but otherwise unremarkable. But, a dick’s a dick. After letting him rub me for maybe ten seconds, I slithered out my tongue and licked behind his earlobe en route to pulling back a bit and giving him a quick peck on the lips, moaning into it since my lips seemed hard-wired to my hole.

“Hey guys, leave some for me!” Ben laughingly called to us. Jeremy pulled back at that and moved closer to Ben, like he was afraid of me, but Ben wouldn’t let him move farther away. “Isak, take a seat on the bed. Seriously, I didn’t realize it was you – the beard is new. What the fuck have you been up to!”

I told him about how after taking his anat-phys class in high school I chose to pursue a career in fitness and how it had taken me on the trajectory that led me here. Mr. Moore – Ben – was still teaching, and Jeremy had taken the same class. Jeremy opened up during my story and asked if Ben had brought in body builders for my class, too, during the muscle lesson. “Oh yeah! I was so glad I sat in the back and desks were low, otherwise this monster would’ve been shown off to the whole class!” I replied as I yanked my shorts down.

Both Ben’s and Jeremy’s mouths opened slightly in awe, while Jeremy looked up and asked if he could touch it. I rolled my eyes but nodded permission and he tentatively took my cock and balls into his hand. Ben remarked, “You know, I can see a lot more from the front of the class than you students think.” He winked at me.

“Does it hurt?” Jeremy asked of the stretcher.

“Nah, it feels amazing. Gentle tugging all the time, reminding me it’s there and how much cum they pump out!”

Jeremy just continued to feel the smooth ballsack, surrounding skin, and then took my dick in his hand to feel its weight. He muttered “love fire bushes” as his finger started to rub back-and-forth over my slit, dipping between the head and the foreskin that hadn’t pulled back yet.

“Damn, Isak, you look -- wow.” Ben shook his head. “I mean, wow. I could’ve sworn I was being catfished.”

“Aww, come on now Mr. M-- Ben. I’d never do that! Only absolute pricks do that!”

“Yeah, but you’re like -- wow. Everything I look for in a guy to hook up with. You’ve gotten so much more ‘mature’ since 12th grade.” He paused. “Are you sure this isn’t too weird?”

I looked at him while Jeremy continued to thumb my dick head. It was still semi-soft. It never got hard these days unless my cunt was also being stimulated. A lot. But I didn’t care, my pussy lips were much more sensitive than it, anyway. Genetic abnormality or training or whatever, it was like most of the nerves that should be in my dick were in my pussy. I didn’t care.

“Fuck, Ben. No. It’s been almost 15 years. We’re both - err, all – consenting adults here, right? Besides, tell me you never had any student-teacher fantasies. I know I certainly did ...” I growled that last sentence.

Ben coughed and came over to sit on the bed with me and ran his fingers through my lush red hair, the back of his hand down my stubble while staring into my eyes. His finger traced my neck muscle and he asked, smirking, “Name this one?”

“Sternocleidomastoid!” both Jeremy and I shouted at the same time. Ben smiled.

“Correct!” he smiled. “I’d say correct answers get rewarded with a lollipop, but I want to save that for later.”

He reached through the wide holes of my tank top to rub my pecs. I flexed them for him.

“Mmmm,” both he and I moaned.

Jeremy was still thumbing my dick but used his other hand to rub my abs and obliques.

“Isak, do you want to come do the muscle demo next year. You’re still in the area?” he asked as he took my right nipple into his mouth.

“Yes!” I gasped, answering his question and his mouth on my tit, his teeth gently pulling on the ring.

“And maybe after ...” he said as he pulled my shirt off and licked the line at the insertion of my long and short biceps brachii head under my anterior deltoid. Damn, why was my brain going to muscle names?! “... you can call me ‘Mr. Moore’ and we can explore these muscles some more ... .” He licked from my armpit, taking a deep inhale, up my upper arm to my fucking shoulder and I was so very turned on.

Jeremy’s hand had moved from my abs and obliques to my thighs, his other hand still thumbing my dick head and glans.

When Ben was finished licking, he moved back to take off his own clothes. He was still hot, hairier than me and most of it was silver, but it was generally lean muscle with maybe a bit of a belly that is so hard not to develop as one ages. His dick was average, but I knew my cunt would enjoy sucking on it. Maybe an appetizer? I still hadn’t seen Jeremy naked.

Speaking of which, with both of us naked, Jeremy took the cue and shucked his own clothes. Now that was a nice, tender morsel exposed. The kid might’ve been 20 and a twunk, but was a sleeper build. Certainly not a twink, he had defined muscles, but I could tell as he flexed while he stripped off his shirt and pants that there was some distinct muscle under there. “Flex for us!” I told him. Generally smooth-ish, I could tell from my hands now roaming his pecs that he didn’t shave it, his unruly bush said he didn’t manscape. Eh, he’ll learn. Or not, depending on how he wants to really go forward. Curly brown hair and pale blue eyes, the muscles certainly popped out as he flexed and moaned as he enjoyed my hands roaming over his skin. He was otherwise unremarkable until I saw his dick.

Now THAT was a sleeper, too. When I’d groped him before, he was mostly soft and it felt unremarkable. Maybe a bit thick, but it was hard to tell. Or, soft to tell? Anyway, what I was looking at now was hard and dripping, with a thick hoodie that was pulled back from the head and draped tightly across his upper shaft. I’d taken some big dicks up my hole, and fists, and a traffic cone dildo, and two fists, and ... okay, where was I?

Right, I’ve had some big dicks up my hole, but it felt like it was quaking looking at Jeremy’s dick. I was drooling from both my mouth and my manpussy, the latter leaking a natural lubrication that a doctor hookup of mine once said was a “remarkable mutation” but didn’t raise any cause for alarm. I would have tried to squeeze my cheeks shut to avoid making a mess on the bedspread, but remembered that my cheeks never really closed. Another quirk of my musculature was that my cheeks were always open to reveal my hole. Meanwhile, my hole was so ruined at this point that, while it could suck any man’s cock like no one’s business, it still leaked its own precum. Sigh. Sorry to the housekeeping staff.

Anyway, Jeremy’s dick had to be longer than 10”. I fell over towards it, on my knees, ass up, my mouth hovering close to that glistening dewdrop of precum begging to drip down. My left hand grasped his low-hanging, hairy nuts while my right hand grasped his shaft. I’m a big guy. Okay, not huge, but Economy class on an airplane was uncomfortable. I hated flying it, but being a PT didn’t afford me the luxury of many upgrades. Maybe I should try that JustFans thing and could make some cash? Thoughts for another day ... . The important thing was that even with my larger hands, my fist could not close around his dick, and its base stretched from my chin up *past* my eyes. Wow. And on a guy more than a head shorter than me, it looked ginormous.

I stuck out my tongue and licked from the bottom of his balls up to JUST below the tip of his dick, then back down. I buried my nose in his pubes and inhaled deeply -- he smelled of soap and a bit of sweat, like he’d just finished in a locker room. Mmmmmm...

I moved back and stuck my tongue out, flicking it across his slit and finally tasting his precum that had already started to drip down the length of his massive shaft. It tasted of salty caramel. I couldn’t resist any longer.

As I plunged down on his massive shaft, I groaned and moaned loudly at the combination of what was happening all at once: First, his dick was stretching my mouth and going down my throat in an eye-watering stretch that felt amazing. Second, his hands clasped through my hair and he pushed down while thrusting up, forcing his dick all the way in my throat. The shove down caused my pecs to graze his knees as he was kneeling down on the bed, and the sensitivity of my nipples sent a jolt straight to my hole. Which, third, was suddenly being assaulted by Ben’s tongue. Though both of his hands were placed on my ass cheeks, I thanked my lucky stars – which I was seeing from the sensations – that my cheeks were naturally spread open. It gave me so much better access to my most sensitive area that was now being munched on by my former teacher.

As I swirled my tongue around the base of Jeremy’s dick, Ben’s tongue was swirling inside my hole. I flexed it, opening it, and I could feel my own precum leaking out of it and mixing with Ben’s saliva. My hole was wrecked, but I still managed to squeeze it around his probing tongue, I hoped giving him a preview of what would come if – when – he shoved his dick in.

I’m a multi-tasker, and as I consciously flexed my mangina around Ben’s thick tongue, I was also working my throat to caress Jeremy’s cock as it dribbled its own lubricant down my esophagus. I stretched my jaw a little bit more and managed to stick my tongue past my plump, stretched lips, sliding it down his cock’s root to lick his balls. Jeremy shuddered, “Oh! Fuck!”

I smiled. On the inside. He pulled my head up and down by my hair, skull fucking me, using my mouth like a fleshlight, focused only on nutting into a hole. *squeeze*

I felt like I was no longer a person to him, I was just something giving him pleasure. Whether it was my own fantasy or something shared didn’t matter. His thrusts and arm motions got faster than I’ve had in awhile, and they were growing uneven. I stretched my incredibly long tongue just as far as it could go and managed to lick his perineum. With just one lick, he jammed my head down as far as it could go, thrust his hips up, and I could *feel* his testes contracting. The tip of my tongue felt his reproductive muscles spasming, while the back of my tongue wished it could taste the cum I could feel streaming down my throat. My nose, buried in his pubes, smelled more sweat and sex than soap now, and I knew he was experiencing a sensory overload like me.

Because Ben was still working my hole. In fact, while the two of us were distracted with Jeremy’s cream cascade, he had switched from tonguing me to dicking me. He was an average size, maybe a bit less than 6” long and 1.5” across, but my cocksleeve was so sensitive at this point that I felt every little bit of it gliding through my canal and stroking past my prostate. But I could also ignore it while I finished with Jeremy. Or, round 1 with Jeremy.

As Ben pounded me, Jeremy was frozen, holding my head down, my plump, sensitive lips feeling around the base of his dick and the small amount of perspiration that had dripped there from his torso. He was breathing so heavily after nutting what must’ve been at least ten massive spurts before tapering off, and I was happy to continue to let him use my mouth and throat as a sheath for his enormous dick. But, “all good things” ‘n’ all that, I could feel his dick slowly start to shrink back, and his grip relax.

I swirled my tongue around his balls one more time, and then gently lifted my head and tightened my DSL’s around his shaft as it smoothly withdrew. I stopped at the head, hoovering as much cream as I could so as to savor the taste, causing him to squirm from the overly sensitive head. I smirked, made sure my lips pulled his foreskin back over his glans, then let my tongue do one lap between those two bits of sensitive skin before letting his dick fully withdraw from my mouth with a wet *slap* onto his thigh.

Still panting a little, Jeremy shakily backed off the bed and plopped down into a chair, arms on the armrests, and watched us. I said to him, “When Ben’s done, I expect round two in my other hole.” Young guy like that, I was sure that in 10–20 minutes, he’d be “up” for the task, and I could now focus on Ben pounding my swollen ass lips.

I’ve never been *that* much of a size queen. I mean, yeah, what red-blooded massive bottom doesn’t like a giant dick? But if a guy knows what he’s doing, and does it well, then it doesn’t really matter how big he is. And Ben knew what he was doing. The silver fox was pounding me like a jackrabbit, almost as quickly as my fuck machine at home did, or so it felt. Now I knew part of how he stayed in shape. I worked hard on squeezing him given that I probably was looser than the average hole, and he moaned into me as I felt his balls smack up against mine, doggy-style.

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After a few minutes, he flipped me over, while still impaled on his dick, and I could watch him as he looked into my wide, deep eyes while thrusting in and out. The head of his dick just managed to slide fully past my prostate with each stroke, making me whimper in time to his thrusts. Jeremy – as I suspected – was a fast recoverer and came over to the bed within five minutes. Ben pushed me a little farther so my head dangled off the edge, and Jeremy teased my eager lips with the head of his cock. It was still pretty soft, but 7” of “pretty soft” dick is still a nice appendage to lick and slurp. When he tweaked my nipples after running the backs of his hands along my torso, well, that was an extra bonus.

Several more minutes of pounding and – I admit – I wanted to move this along and try my hand ... well, *hole* ... at Jeremy’s dick. I swallowed his stiffening 8” down to the hilt, and moved his hand to feel his dick in my throat. When he did, I felt him shudder and it grow a little more.

I started to work my cunt harder, gripping Ben’s dick for all it was worth. A little reluctantly, I let Jeremy’s cock go and gestured with my eyes over to Ben. He managed to understand my vague cue and walked up behind our former teacher, got up on the bed, and grabbed hold of Ben’s pecs from behind. Jeremy’s hardening shaft nestled between Ben’s own asscheeks that were flexing with each thrust, helping get Jeremy harder while Ben started to grunt and moan more as his thrusts became erratic. Jeremy tilted his head up just a bit and started kissing, tonguing, and nibbling slightly on Ben’s neck.

“Can I cum in you? I’m almost there,” he asked.

“You’ve been tested recently?”

“Last week, and on PrEP.”

I nodded and reached up to pull him closer. Jeremy took the opportunity to *twist* Ben’s nipples hard.

“Ugh! I’m cumming!” Ben yelled as he froze and I could feel his load filling me. I counted three big spurts before he knelt down and kissed me; I moaned into the kiss, my thick, pink lips overly sensitized whenever I was getting fucked. I snaked my tongue into his mouth as we kissed.

Eventually, he withdrew from my mouth, and he rubbed my scruff. “I like this, very sexy.”

I smiled at the compliment and chuckled, “And that’s all you liked?”

Ben and Jeremy both laughed, and Ben pulled out of my ass. “It’s a bit of a fetish,” he replied, “especially on a hot ginger.” He gently rubbed the hole his dick had just emerged from with his fingers and I involuntarily arched my back, my semi-hard dick flopping around and smearing precum over my abs.

“But, the rest ain’t bad, either,” he winked. He rolled off the bed and stood up, turning to Jeremy. “Sloppy seconds?”

Jeremy didn’t answer verbally, he just spit on his hand, gave his full mast a few strokes, and rammed it home. Ah, kids these days: No finesse!

With a dick that big, though, I swear I saw stars again as he started to pound me. So many sensations emanated from my hole as he thrust while pushing my legs up on either of his shoulders. The stretch was incredible, both width and depth. Yes, I’ve been opened like this before. I mean, from novelty dildos that are modeled after mythical creatures to a baseball bat, pool balls, and a traffic cone use (that was a wild night on the side of the road!), sure, I’ve had bigger.

But, there’s nothing quite like a real dick. To know that my cunt is being used as it was meant to be used: for pleasuring dicks. That *I* was being used as I was meant to be used by other men.

Jeremy’s fuckstick stretched my hole wide all along his length, and I could feel my pussy lips distend, following his dick out – trying to hold on – only to be pushed back in with each thrust back in my hole. I could feel his length rubbing along my prostate, milking it for the entire duration of each and every thrust. The head of his dick easily popped through my second hole, massaging at least 3” extra beyond it, something that few men had done before. And, even though Jeremy only pulled about half-way out each time, that meant my prostate was stimulated 100% of each stroke while my second hole got massaged each and every time.

I was a bit of an incoherent mess, just lost in the sensations emanating from his amazing dick. Ben apparently decided he wasn’t done – at least not done playing – and ran his hands all over my body. From my thighs first, he migrated to my crotch and jacked my dick a few times, playing with the foreskin while Jeremy’s pounding did most of the work, fucking Ben’s hand with my semi. I was producing so much precum from it that Ben had no need for lube, while my hole’s own lubrication kept Jeremy sliding in and out trouble-free.

When I didn’t get hard, Ben moved to run his fingers through my trimmed pubes while one hand tweaked my pierced nipple. He then moved his hand from my pubes to my lower torso, gently caressing my cobbled core and the thin hairs on it, then going back to the center and tracing the thicker hair line up to my pecs. I had my hands behind my head for this, my upper body muscles flexing, and when Ben moved around to my head, I grasped my dick and balls with my left hand, leaving my right one behind my head. Ben used both hands to caress and squeeze my pecs, playing with the muscle, eraser-sized nipples, and swirling through my chest hair.

He moved his left hand to caress the side of my head while his other groped my large deltoids, biceps, and triceps. He bent over and licked my armpit just a bit, the longer hairs sticking out, while I instinctively tried to grab his soft dick with my mouth. I missed, but Ben didn’t care. “Beautiful,” he remarked. In another situation, I might have blushed, especially given how light my skin was.

Instead, I was so lost in the sensations from my other end I just stared up at him with my wide, green eyes, jerking my dick up and down from the force of Jeremy’s thrusts.

Despite having cum a massive load down my gullet no more than a half hour ago, Jeremy sounded off, “Getting close, gonna cum soon!”

I was so lost in things that by this point, I didn’t know who was doing what, but I felt a hand on my balls and another on my pierced nipple. It was growing too much. Without any warning, I felt my smooth balls draw up and my dick harden to its full 8”. I had just had time to yell, “Cumming!” before I blasted all over my hair, then in my own mouth, and down my chest to my pubes.

The powerful contractions set Jeremy off. I heard “Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK!” and felt him pull out. He frantically beat his meat while moaning, “Gonna paint that ginger chest,” and he started to shoot. My eyes were open so I could see, and fortunately he missed my eyes. As Ben tweaked Jeremy’s tits, I could feel *and* hear the heavy *splat* land on my hair, smelled it as it shot near my nose, managed to get my tongue out and mouth open so a fair bit landed there, while the rest was strewn over my chest and torso.

Ben let go and Jeremy collapsed down on me, breathing heavily. A few pants, and he lifted himself up and started to kiss me. He moved his face to my cheek and licked the cum from it – a mixture of mine and his – and kissed me gently again. He repeated this, and I heard a “Fuck that’s hot,” from off to the side, and then I felt another tongue on the other side of my face licking the cum and kissing both of us.

After several minutes of that, we all laid down on the bed together and rested. And fell asleep.

Some time in the middle of the night, I was awoken when I heard the shower turn on. No one was next to me, so I got up – crusty – and saw the two of them together in the shower. Neither hard, but both helping to wash each other off. Jeremy with his leaner, nearly hairless form but large, soft dick clearly standing out from his thick bush; and taller Ben with his silver-grey hair matted down by the streaming water.

“Guys, what about me?” I asked.

“Didn’t want to wake you,” Ben replied, “but come on in! Tight fit, but we can make it work.”

I’d be lying if I said the shower was completely platonic, but there was no penetrative sex - neither oral nor anal. Certainly lots of caressing and fondling. Both Ben and Jeremy had me leaning against the shower wall and massaged my hole – ostensibly to clean it out but I’m pretty sure a tongue is not required for that. I didn’t complain.

When we finished around 3am, we all got out and “helped” each other dry off. Who knew so much water could stay on one’s ass hole and dick that they needed to be dried so much?

Since the expo didn’t start again until 9am, we all went back to Ben’s bed and got in. It was hard to decide who would be in the middle, but we finally agreed Ben could be.

I’m pretty sure I slept with a smile on my face that night, though I had a weird dream. I dreamed I was an overweight, balding guy in his 40s with some graphic design job I hated, sitting in a hotel room eating pizza while watching “Worst Chefs in the USA.” The guy – me, apparently – was on Humpr looking at my profile and drooling a bit over it. I then realized in the dream that it was *my* – dream me – profile, and I was on Humpr catfishing people. The me in the dream looked over his shoulder at me – the real me, the dreamer – and I woke up gasping in a cold sweat.

I frantically felt myself all over. Scruff, big dick, smooth balls, nice pecs, and a handsome silver fox and twunk sharing the bed. Whew! Just a dream. I laid back down and turned onto my right side, putting my left arm over Ben’s torso and tweaking Jeremy’s tit on the other side. Jeremy moaned. Just a dream, but it felt so real and was hard to shake.

As I fell asleep again, I could’ve sworn I saw a set of rainbow wedges, twisting and turning from a central point, while the faintest of faces appeared within it. A thin, short, balding man, with white hair flowing off the sides of the back of his head, and a small bowler hat. The face only appeared for a brief moment, so I probably imagined it.

I sighed into my sleep-bound haze as I felt my hole throb and flex to the pace of my slowing breathing. It was ready for anything, and it would be ready for tomorrow’s hookup, just like it said in my profile.

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Content Warning: 🔞 Content Note: This story features graphic descriptions of m/m/.../m sexual content. All characters act with full consent; where consent is complicated by circumstance, this is addressed in the story. All characters are 18+ in age. 🔞

Author’s Note: Welcome to Grymm (etc.) Tales — each installment is designed to stand alone. Though, there is a common thread that’s connecting each chapter: The Hunter. I tried to go to some of the original source material in this one, with some direct quotes from the original Grimm tale (well, translated to English). There are also some easter eggs in there: musicals, TV shows, etc. — lemme know what you catch! I’ll say this much: one of them is hiding in plain sight in a single line of Patrick’s dialogue, and it’s from something most of you have definitely seen. First one to get it in the comments wins my respect and zero other prizes 😉.

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Patrick couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction. The fog had swallowed the path behind him some time in the last hour, and Lucas had been swallowed along with it. Patrick pulled the hood up against his face and tugged the hem down. He frowned, briefly, at how much more cloth there was than there should have been. Then he forgot about it.

He thought back to how the morning had started, which led to thinking about the summer, which led to thinking about Lucas, which led to deliberately not thinking about Lucas ... something he’d had a lot of practice at.

Patrick was called “Red” because of his fiery, dark auburn hair. He hated the nickname, so by the time he was ten, he kept his hair buzzed. After puberty hit, a carpet of red sprung up his torso that he also buzzed. In the showers after rugby practice, the red hair seemed to have its own shining properties as it glistened in the water, and the nickname quickly returned. Even his best friend, Lucas, joined. That night he shaved his chest and abs, buzzed his pubes, and kept them that way.

After graduation, Lucas was gifted by his grandmother a rental cabin in the woods for a few weeks. She emphasized when gifting them the full month just how much money she was losing during the peak of rental season, though Lucas could see the twinkle in her eyes. Or, he hoped that’s what he saw. “Cabin” was a misnomer: Despite being over five miles from the nearest neighbor, the house was three floors with five bedrooms, an exercise room, theater, and central open floor plan with living room, kitchen, and dining area.

Three of his friends were able to set aside other responsibilities, and they all left for the cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Patrick, Lucas, Greg, and Henry all got along well, and each had their own room if they needed to work off stress. They spent their days hiking, swimming in the nearby lake, camping under the stars, and playing games on Granny’s state-of-the-art entertainment center. There was no internet this deep in the woods, so there was a transition period of angst for the otherwise connected teens.

Patrick’s mid-July birthday came, and that meant presents. Greg took the easy way out and got Patrick a gift certificate to the bookstore at the college Patrick would be going to. Henry, a budding foodie, also took the easy way out and got Patrick a large assortment of candy (”and if you have trouble finishing it, we can help!”). Lucas on the other hand ... his present was a bright, fiery red sleeveless hoodie. Fortunately, he also supplied several bottles of beer and harder liquor, gifted by his older brother, for the night’s partying.

While they all had fun together, they naturally broke into two groups: Patrick and Lucas, Henry and Greg. It wasn’t unusual for either set to be gone for several days. But, after a week with just 8 days left for their summer gift, Patrick and Lucas grew concerned about the other two. They decided to look for their friends themselves, rather than alert the police. The only thing they had to go on was a vague memory from breakfast days earlier, when Henry said they were going to hike towards the west, something about a college cheerleader camp.

Patrick and Lucas set out early the next morning with backpacks of food (mostly the sweets that Henry had given Patrick). It was unseasonably cold that morning, so Patrick put on the red hoodie that Lucas had given him. It fit well: sleeveless, showing off the arms that rugby had built, and it was bright enough that Lucas could spot him through the trees.

The two headed west along a worn path. The cold weather and the nearby lake gave rise to a thick fog among the trees, so thick that the two young men could hardly see the path in front of them. Each had their eyes cast down, trying to follow the winding, narrow trail, and they quickly became separated.

Shivering from the cool moisture condensing on the exposed skin of his legs and head, Patrick called out while remaining perfectly still: “Lucas!” He listened intently and heard nothing, the fog dampening any sound other than his immediate vicinity. Thinking out loud, he reasoned, “Come what may, if I follow the path and never stray then I won’t get lost; I can easily backtrack if I need.” He considered leaving a trail of candy or wrappers, but thought he might need the food and didn’t want to litter – a conscientious millennial – so he didn’t.

He kept walking, not noticing the trees closing in. The path wound on. And, somewhere behind him, two sets of footprints became one.

So, Patrick continued to hike as the path wound through the trees, which were growing thicker and more forested than where Lucas’ grandmother’s house had been. Eventually, the path broadened out and grew more flat and well-worn, but still the fog prevented him from seeing much farther than a stone’s throw. He had been hiking for a while and was getting hungry, so he found a large rock next to the path and set his pack down. He unzipped it and reached in, pulling out some bread, jam, and sweets. Pouring the jam on the bread and squishing it to spread it out, he turned to put the jam back into his covered picnic basket –– no, that’s not right.

Patrick stared at the basket. Something about it wasn’t ... he turned it over in his hands. Wicker, lidded. It smelled faintly of Granny’s kitchen. He’d packed it himself, obviously. He exhaled slowly and set it down, beside the rock.

It had gotten warmer, so he unzipped the hoodie, releasing a lot more cloth – still bright red – which he decided he didn’t really mind: It made for a nice large napkin he could spread over his legs and set his food upon to eat. His head down in concentration, he occasionally brushed a lock of fiery red hair from his eyes.

Patrick munched on his bread and jam, while looking around but not really looking or focusing on anything in particular, and upon finishing the bread and jam he looked down at his lap for the sweets, gummy bears in particula– no, a sweet bun that he had packed after making them last night. Right? Granny liked sweet buns. So did Patrick; he giggled momentarily at the thought.

Finishing his lunch and sweets, Patrick brushed the crumbs from his long coat and stood up, thinking, “It is very beautiful in the woods.” He picked up the basket by the handle and continued to walk the path, looking for his friends, and vaguely wondering why he was alone – didn’t he come with someone else?

Patrick walked through the woods for at least another two hours, and during that time the afternoon sun succeeded in burning off at least most of the fog. It was enough that he could see a clearing up ahead with a small cottage.

“I wonder if they know where my friends are?” he thought aloud. He walked up to the cottage and went to knock on the door. Quickly realizing that he looked a little weird with his hood up, he took it down, absent-mindedly brushing more long locks of crimson hair from his face. He raised a thinner hand than he remembered, and his wrist looked different in the red sleeve. He knocked anyway.

“Just press the latch,” he heard from inside the house. The voice wasn’t Granny’s, but why would it be?

A quarter-minute later, Patrick heard heavy footsteps approaching from inside, and the door opened to reveal a large man.

“Red?” the man asked, looking hungrily at Patrick. “Is that you?”

“Who are...?” Patrick replied, stunned.

“Red!” the man exclaimed, embracing a stunned Patrick, who felt positively tiny in the big wolf of a man’s arms. “When we got separated earlier, I ran along the path through the woods and found this house. There was no one here, but I thought my Granny mentioned something about owning a cottage or two in the woods, so I just busted in and thought you might cum by!” Patrick licked his lips, his tongue grazing over sharp canines.

“Lucas?” Patrick was still trying to figure out who this guy was, stunned at the changes.

“Yeah! What, don’t recognize me? And why’d it take you so long to get here? You get lost, Red? Did you eat too many sugar buns along the way?” he winked.

“How’d it take you so not long to get here? And what do you mean?— you look different ... don’t you? I mean, what are you wearing? I mean, what big?— you look a lot taller ... my head hurts ...” Patrick had conflicting visions of his best friend in his head. On the one hand there was his almost-twin jock – except for the hair color – while on the other hand was this man who was decidedly two heads taller than him with more facial hair than someone should expect to grow in weeks, let alone a few hours. That was not to mention the much more muscular man standing in front of him now than he had left the home with this morning.

“Dude, come in, where are my manners?” Lucas forcefully put his large paw of a hand on Patrick’s back, pulling him inside the one-room cottage.

Patrick looked around, seeing things he didn’t want to think a granny would have. One corner was a complete sex area, including a St. Andrew’s cross, fuck bench, sling, and shelves of toys. He blinked rapidly – why would a random house in the woods have all that? He turned back to the large man who remotely resembled his best friend but – no, he looked more and more like how Lucas had always been. Patrick’s mind felt tingly, but it had for a while now.

“I ... I don’t understand,” Patrick tried again.

“Huh?” Lucas answered, not understanding the not-understanding.

Patrick blinked. Something was wrong with this room. Something was wrong with this man standing in front of him wearing Lucas’s face, that was on a body that Lucas had never had. Something was wrong with the way Patrick’s pulse was behaving – thumping in excitement, rather than fear – and the way Patrick’s eyes kept dropping, and the fact that he was acutely, horribly aware of exactly how warm it was in the cottage.

“You okay?” Lucas asked, tilting his head, stretching his neck. The motion did something to the muscles along his thick neck that Patrick did not want to think about, but his cock did.

“I ...” Patrick started. He almost had it. He could feel it, the thought was right there, just at the edge ... . The fog, something about the basket, the hoodi— the cloak. No! It was supposed to be a ... a ... a cloak. But, it was ... something didn’t make sense, and he tried desperately to reach for that thought that kept eluding him, like a toy in a claw arcade.

His mind felt like warm taffy. The thought stretched. Snapped.

“I ... I think my head hurts,” Patrick finished. Yes! That was the thought.

“Yeah, you said that,” Lucas replied, still watching him with a patient, hungry expression that also didn’t belong on Lucas’s face but was definitely something Patrick’s body was reacting to in new, different ways.

“I mean, man, you look different. Dude ... what big pecs you have!”

“Yeah, what about them?” Lucas responded, tearing open his button-down flannel shirt and bouncing his smooth muscles up and down, grinning at his friend. As he continued to bounce them, his shirt dissolved, and thick hair grew from the skin, dusting his pecs with a coat that met in the middle and continued down into leather pants that definitely hadn’t been there this morning.

Not reacting to the wardrobe change, Patrick continued. “But Lucas, what big arms you have.”

“The better to hug you with, bro!” Patrick was rooted to his spot and didn’t move at the sudden motion of Lucas throwing his arms around the smaller man, embracing him in a tight hug. Patrick could feel the warm, hard muscles that his face was inadvertently buried in, and inhaling, he smelled the forest on his best friend, like the forest after rain – earthy, musky, yet clean and renewed. Patrick felt feelings he hadn’t had before well up to the surface and almost moaned into the embrace. The size difference grew subtly: Patrick’s muscles deflating slightly while Lucas’s swelled even larger.

The embrace lasted a lot longer than a normal bro hug and Patrick felt something hard poking him in the stomach. Attempting to ignore it, he couldn’t help but feel turned on by his decade-long best friend, and he felt his own hands grip the back of Lucas’s shirt without consciously deciding to.

During the bro hug, Lucas rocked slightly back-and-forth, both rubbing his leather-clad dick on his friend and rotating the two of them so that it was Lucas’s back to the front door, blocking Patrick’s easy access. It was a subtle, predatory move that now came naturally but Lucas didn’t notice. Finally, Lucas pulled away, and continued to grin hungrily at Patrick.

Catching his breath, Patrick looked his friend over again, just as Lucas was looking him over. Patrick didn’t notice that while they were hugging, his own clothes had dissolved, much as Lucas’ shirt had. But, while Lucas still had his (or, someone’s?) pants, Patrick only had his long red hoodie that, for all intents and purposes, was now more of a cloak.

Trying one more time, Patrick said, “But Lucas, what big – dick? – you have!?” before slapping his hands over his mouth, astounded that he had just said the quiet part out loud.

Lucas grinned more, wider if that was possible, his teeth bared, and then jumped on Patrick, toppling him onto the bed. Holding Patrick’s arms up and out, and kneeling on Patrick’s legs, Lucas whispered, “The better to fuck you with, my dear Red.”

Lucas’s mouth and tongue started just above Patrick’s right ear, traveled down to his neck, and he nibbled slightly, his canines glistening in the light from the candles that were suddenly – had always been? – lit by the bedside. Lucas moaned above him, his hard dick leaking onto both of their stomachs. Where Lucas’s precum hit, an auburn glow shimmered in the low light, restoring what had been shaved earlier that morning.

Lucas moved from Patrick’s neck down to his hard nipples, flicking them with his long, wet tongue, the saliva spurring more, subtle changes: Patrick’s hard-earned pecs that had already deflated a little now further contracted: His chest felt different under Lucas’s tongue: lighter, somehow, like something he’d been carrying in his pecs for years was being licked away. He arched into it before he could stop himself, the feeling of something missing gone with a swipe of the long, wet tongue. He didn’t try to stop himself again. His shaved chest grew back the short, red hairs that he had been removing since mid-puberty. Patrick did not notice any changes, but felt the cloak get in the way of squirming under the large man above him and went to take it off.

Seeing him struggle with the garment, Lucas stopped him, and with his mouth next to Patrick’s other ear, he whispered, “No, leave it on.”

Patrick surrendered to the experience, overwhelmed by the feelings of his best friend licking down his body, squirming in his tight embrace, as his cloak spread underneath him like a fiery sheet to frame his pale skin and newly lean frame. When Lucas licked around Red’s rose, Patrick experienced feelings he never knew existed, which were quickly elevated as Lucas gently thrust his massive cock into Patrick – his leaking cock had spent the last several minutes lubricating Patrick’s tight, unopened hole. Throughout the foreplay, Lucas hadn’t taken his pants off, so the soft leather could be felt and smelled by both young men, enhancing Lucas’s natural scent.

Lucas thrust gently, slowly – painfully slowly – at first, while Red let out high-pitched whimpers. With one hand, Lucas easily palmed Red’s wrists and kept them restrained at the head of the bed, while with his other hand Lucas traced one long, pointed nail gently across Red’s armpits, chest, nipples, and worked his way down Red’s faint abs. He used his finger on Red’s leaking, modest cock, rubbing just under the head in soft, gentle circles as Red writhed underneath. Red heard himself making sounds he’d never made before. They weren’t the grunts of the rugby pitch, not anything he had a name for, and couldn’t bring himself to care.

When Lucas got to Patrick’s balls, he was thrusting harder and faster, causing Red to jolt back-and-forth with every firm thrust of his leaking cock. Red gasped as he felt a new sensation emanating from his worn hole, an extra pressure that was rubbing deliciously across his prostate, and was extra thick with each thrust in and out of his hole. The new knot near the base of Lucas’s cock was forcing Red’s tight hole open even more, finally swelling enough that it locked Lucas’s cock in until he flooded Red’s cavity with hot cum. Red felt it – all of it, wave after wave – and somewhere underneath the white-out pleasure was the dim awareness that he was never going to want anything else: There was no going back after this.

“You might’ve eaten all those sweet buns on the way here, but you have the sweetest buns I’ve ever had,” Lucas whispered in Patrick’s ear as he shifted his hips back for one more hard thrust, blasting his load into Red’s eager hole. The faint whisper and light breeze across the smaller man’s ear was enough to set him off on his own hands-free orgasm, spraying his load across both of them.

As Lucas collapsed next to Red, the latter man felt resolved, like his story in life was now complete, and he could continue this life of lust with his friend forever.

He lay very still, listening to Lucas breathe, feeling Lucas’s chest rise against his own side, still awash with the scent of leather and wet earth. The cloak was warm beneath him, spread wide like a blanket he hadn’t asked for and didn’t want to give back. The candles – the ones he knew without a doubt had always been there – threw shadows across Lucas’s jaw and throat, their light further casting long shadows from his mountainous pecs crowned by tightly peaked nipples. Red watched him the way he’d been not-watching him for years. It was a relief, actually. The not lingering on his form in the showers, not having his hand just a bit too long on his knee ... everything. Exhausting, all that not-watching that filled his mind, whether old or new.

His body felt different. Lighter. Like the version of himself he’d been keeping carefully shaved and tucked away had finally been allowed out. He snuggled a little more closely to Lucas, thinking about not thinking, the smell of his own cum across his face when the door to the cottage burst open, and both teens looked up at the intruder. He was a burly man, but otherwise a generic late-40s-early-20s-middle-30s-looking guy, wearing something one would think is a costume from a Robin Hood cosplay. He came at them both and from his belt he pulled out a large, shining knife.

Shocked and scared, Lucas asked, “What! Who are you!? Please, don’t hurt us!”

The man himself seemed slightly surprised, and he responded, “I’m The Hunter. I’m here to save you from The Wolf. I’m supposed to split him open.”

Red somehow knew without really knowing – a True Fact, the kind you don’t earn, you just receive – that The Hunter meant Lucas.

Red looked The Hunter up and down, his fear turning into lust, and he grinned. “Oh, I think you can split both of us open, just not with that knife, and we’ll have to take turns ...”

Lucas, too, looked at The Hunter and his eyes went wide, for showing through The Hunter’s pants was the biggest cock he had ever seen.

Lucas jumped out of bed and pulled the kni— the large dildo from the surprised Hunter’s hand. He threw the sex toy on the ground, where it floundered before settling. No one noticed it disappear, too busy with Lucas removing his belt and lowering his pants. Lucas turned away from The Hunter and then said over his shoulder, “Oh yeah man, split me open, nice and wide,” before he grabbed The Hunter and pushed him on the bed, where Red gave him a long, sloppy kiss.

Several hours later, while Lucas and Red were sleeping in the smell of forest and cum and sweat, The Hunter quietly pulled his clothes back on and exited the cottage. He left the dildo as a present for the friends, putting it on their shelf with the others. He walked to the edge of the clearing, muttering “shouldn’t’ve affected me.” He murmured under his breath, gesturing with his hand from up to down. A shimmering wall surrounded the clearing, rippling slightly with an iridescence that only he could see. To anyone else, the wall hid nothing, but the perception filter would simply cause anyone to ignore it, while keeping those inside from perceiving much around them.

“That’s one,” he said, his voice a mixture of concern, bemusement, and intrigue, as he walked down the path and slowly disappeared. Though, it might have been that he was just hidden by the fog.

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It was around 9pm and I’d just finished my medium double-pepperoni pizza all by my lonesome in my hotel room, watching some pirated cooking show. Was eating while watching a cooking show like having sex while watching porn? Something to think about later.

Existential thoughts aside, I was already feeling super-guilty as I entered a full pizza in one day into my food log. I mean, I could cheat and not record it, or not record it all, or do half today and half tomorrow and just have a protein bar tomorrow ... any of those. Or just put it all today, it’s not like I was following my diet plan.

It wasn’t a hard plan, just don’t over-eat! I’m 41 years old and have been “trying” to lose weight and build muscle since I first started ogling the guys in high school, and my mom’s off-handed comment to my dad, “I might have to start buying him husky pants.”

I had my ups and downs, but the ups were more than the downs, and I was now medium height at 5’8” and “average” weight according to the last time I updated my For Real dating app profile at 230 lbs. Okay, maybe 234 lbs after the last few days. “Average” is a large range, right? Maybe I had one of those tape worms that overrides my brain’s “STOP EATING” directions. I should look into that.

Feeling guilty and sorry for myself, I pulled out my phone and loaded Humpr, the greatest time waster for gay men ever. My profile was nothing like me. I rationalized it by saying that it was a “social experiment” to see how people responded to my own ideal. Sometimes it made me feel better about myself to get attention because Some Day Soon® I was going to look like that. And men would be crawling over themselves to hook up with me and fuck me.

Not two minutes in and letting it access my location data (that I normally blocked) did I start to receive unsolicited dick pics. Some were “eh.” I mean, they didn’t look like the porn I liked. Others were “Oh daddy!” and made my hole clench. In my fantasy “social experiment,” I was, of course, the only one with a fake profile and fake pics. Of course I was. Also, there were the ads; I deleted those messages.

It had been awhile since I had tweaked the profile, so I went in to remind myself of what I was pretending to be. Name was good, iBTM. Yup, that was right, and real. I mean, not my name, but certainly I was a bottom.

I listed my likes as muscles, running, swimming, surfing, mountain biking, weight lifting. Yeah ... sure, we’ll go with those. The only real one was muscles. I also had music and roller coasters, and the sax. Well, two of three are real. Telescopes for astronomy, yup, and bacon and ice cream. Ok, we’ll stick with those.

I had a heart next to “massive 🍆” ... definitely true. Keeping that. I had a heart next to “🚫✂️” ... WTF was I thinking with that one? Oh, right ... uncut. Yeah, Jewish American parents had screwed my dick over in the hospital before I was even a day old and I really wish I were uncut, and I certainly wanted to play with a guy with a hot, thick foreskin.

Anything else to tweak? Anything to tweak at all? I then remembered a recent hot erotica story I’d read. Paraphrasing, since it had been a few days, I added: “Sloppy man cunt to be used, prefer XL or XXL. My 🕳️ is already ruined, do your worst 😉.” Heh. I mean, if it’s a fantasy anyway, why not? My hole gave a tight *squeeze* and reminded me it had been over a year since I’d done any dildo or plug play, and three years since I’d been fucked. ‘Cause no one likes a fat fuck. Or, so I told myself. Yeah, I should probably see someone about my negative self-image. Probably wasn’t healthy. Just like the double-pepperoni pizza I’d eaten in one sitting.

Save, then back to the messages.

Oh wait, no, there were now Tribes and I should probably take another look at my birth date. Eh, I was feeling older tonight, so I rolled the year back to a healthy 31 years from the 26 it had been. Maybe those allegedly top twunks on InstaPix who claim they like older men were real and really meant it. Tribes ... College, Circuit, Jock, and ... oh, let’s add Kinkster for good measure; my hole twitched when I did that. Maybe someone would want to fist “me” ... not that I’d ever done that. Okay, save, and back to messages.

Another guy with a massive dick sending me pics. Nice.

And then the fucking popup ads that take over your whole screen! Sigh. No, person-who-is-supposed-to-look-like-a-king, I don’t care to save you from lava or drowning, just let me get back to my fantasies. Last time I could exit out of them by tapping the almost invisible “X” at the top-left, but I didn’t see it this time. Quit the app, load back in ... done.

No new messages. Come on, guys! I’m hot! Or, based on my profile picture I am. I had selected a pale, nicely muscled ginger with neatly groomed facial hair sitting on a rock. Probably flexing his biceps to make them look bigger, but not in an obvious “I’m flexing mofos!” way. A pic I found on some image sharing site a decade ago so kids these days wouldn’t recognize it and I felt pretty safe using it. I even had a few of him in other poses just in case people wanted a “confirmation” picture that it was really me.

More ad messages. I thought I deleted them? They now just seem to re-message me as soon as I delete them. Fuck! No, I didn’t mean to tap, I meant to swipe left to delete you!

Now the app seemed to be frozen on this fucking ad. Though the ad was playing, I couldn’t exit out of it and I couldn’t exit out of Humpr, either.

Mild panic that whatever the latest virus to hit uPhones had invaded my device, I went to restart it ... hold + up volume should do it ... nothing.

I felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of my round face. When was my last backup?

I went to turn to look up on my laptop how to do a hard reboot of the phone, only to discover I couldn’t move. Now something was really wrong. My eyes were drawn to my iPhone’s screen as bright colors started to fill it.

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The ad didn’t have any product, no “Click to Go to the App£€ Store” or “Play Now!” But, it was sending out wavy, spiraling wedges of color from the center to the edges, where the central radiant started to move around, or maybe that was just the wavy colors throwing me off.

“Zane,” my phone spoke to me. That was NOT the fake name I used on Humpr, it was Isak (gotta make it more exotic, Scandinavian!). A few more beads of sweat rolled down my head, one dripping off my chin.

“Don’t you think you’re a bit old for playing these kinds of games?” It appeared to be a rhetorical question given I could no longer speak or move, just watch my phone as more sweat dripped down my face.

The voice paused for several seconds before continuing, “So do we.”

Whatever force had stopped my vocal cords released for a moment, letting me grunt out, “Who are you?” before freezing them again. It was playing with me. They(?) were playing with me.

“Let’s just say that some people in positions of power or ability don’t like to be catfished, and they feel a moral responsibility to stop people who are doing it. You did read the full TOS, right? What you signed when you agreed to use the app?”

You know that sense of panic where you feel as though your internal organs are falling through your torso? Like, if you had a wardrobe malfunction during a video telecon? Yeah ... that was how I felt when I heard the voice. I had no idea what was going on or what was going to happen, but based on the (previously) unbelievable happenings, I was taking what the voice said seriously.

It continued: “We’re not bad people, Zane. We just don’t like being lied to. So, your profile isn’t going to lie anymore.”

I felt a momentary glimmer of hope. Okay, they were just going to make my profile be the real me? Fine, I’ll just delete it. Or maybe that’s what they’ll do, instead.

“Nothing so mundane.”

FUCK! Reading my thoughts now? This was not going to be good.

“Calm down, Zane. Deep breath.” I felt myself breathe deeply as my eyes were still fixed on the radiating rainbow wedges on my phone’s screen. “Promise: Cross our hearts and hope to die, or something like that -- when we’re done, you will really like the result, and Humpr will be a little safer and less frustrating than it was before with one less catfisher out there.

“Now, what we’re going to do is just adapt you to the profile. We want you to watch, and we’re just telling you this because there’s nothing you can do to stop it. It’s not some Bond film where we’re telling you our secret plan and somehow you’re going to find a secret lever to get out of the trap and stop it at the last minute. In fact, we’ve already started, like in Watchmen: it’s certainly too late for you to get out of this.”

They paused again and – as if by magic, which it certainly might have been – a mirror appeared in front of me. Just floating there, near the wall, above the desk of this mediocre hotel room that fit within work’s per diem rate for this city.

“Take a look and see what we mean,” the voice continued after the phone seemed to release my eyes and I could focus elsewhere.

My eyes shot up to the mirror, and I did look different. Just tiny changes, but I knew my face well enough to know that my thinning – fine ... bald*ing* (people don’t respect the *ing*) – hair was not that thick. Nor was it that light. As I watched, my very dark brown hair filled in the top and even thickened on top and the sides beyond what I had had in my early 20s, the hair line now just an inch or two above my similarly much heavier eyebrows. It was lightening in color, too, passing through shades of brown and taking on a reddish hue, settling after two minutes on a medium copper-red that looked dyed and yet I knew, somehow, that it wasn’t. My eyebrows were thick and settled on the same color but just a shade darker; my graphic design brain thinking it was maybe 10% less B in an HSB color system. If I could’ve, I probably would’ve smacked myself for that part.

While mulling on implementing a close cousin of self-flagellation, I also wondered how I knew that two minutes had passed. My eyes glanced around the mirror and noticed – I must’ve noticed it before it just hadn’t registered in my conscious mind – a faint glowing LED set of numbers in the upper-middle part of the mirror. Each second, they decreased, so it was clearly a countdown clock. It was now at 16:52.

The voice spoke up again: “We started at 20 minutes. Thought that was long enough to make you pretty anxious but also draw this out to make it more fun for us watching. We might narrate some of this, but we also want to enjoy our popcorn, and some of the fun is seeing if you realize what’s changing when.

“As a hint, we’ll tell you that something is ALWAYS changing during this countdown. Pretty sure you know what’s happened while we’ve been giving you this exposition.”

I did. I was only half paying attention as my face itched like a gazillion ants crawling across it. I had never been able to grow a beard before, I thought it looked silly, was too much maintenance, yet at the same time super-lazy because you didn’t shave. That was my justification for my own insecurities for always having a light, patchy beard the few times I experimented.

But, while that voice was talking, my face had erupted with hair to form an extremely neat, stubble style beard with no patches, and I somehow knew that it was a 2.0 mm trimmer to maintain. It seamlessly merged with the hair on my head with a color gradient to a lighter copper-red at the bottom. The hair on my head had been styled in the interim to have the correct length to merge to the full beard, while being longer on top and what appeared to be gel or some other styling agent to give the long-on-top some waves.

As my eyes trailed up-and-down my face, they hurt for a moment forcing me to close them. When they opened, my nondescript hazel had changed to an incredibly intense emerald green. Just as my hair looked dyed – but I somehow knew it wasn’t – my eyes looked like I was wearing colored contacts – but again, I wasn’t.

As I stared into those green pools, contrasting amazingly well with my hair, my eyes grew wider, more circular, taking on what I could only think was a more innocent and possibly vapid appearance. I tried relaxing them, but they were relaxed -- they had somehow changed my eye structure! Though, I’m not sure why I found that shocking when I had already been frozen, I had a magic mirror floating in front of me, and my hair had completely changed. Context matters, I suppose.

Right after my eyes changed shape, my plain, large nose appeared to shrink down a little, forming a more rounded nose that one would probably call a “button.”

Pondering nose shapes, I barely noticed as my lips grew thicker, plumper, pinker, and even looked more smooth. “Perfect dick-sucking lips,” I thought in my head. Not sure if it was my own thought or something they had planted.

“Nope, that’s all you, Zane,” I heard from my phone.

I heard a snigger come from my phone, and some faint cross-talk as though there were multiple people having a discussion. Then I heard, “At least for now.”

FUCK.

I pushed my chair back and stood up. Not by my own choice, I just felt compelled to do it, my body following without my conscious brain in the loop. As I pushed back, my laptop slid to the side and the desk in front of me vanished, while the mirror grew to full length. The countdown timer was at 14:29. As I was standing and the room reconfiguring in front of me, I didn’t notice my skin growing ever-so-slightly more tan, but the common pale color of a natural red head. A few freckles appeared on my cheeks.

After the mirror finished growing, my clothes dustified. “Nice one, Mxy,” I heard from my phone.

I stared at my body. A pale comparison with what I wished I had, what I fantasized from my profile. What I called “pecs” were sagging, and my belly was hanging below my pants line. My dick was small and inconsequential, while a somewhat light but thin brown hair covered basically everything from the neck down. If I could’ve, I would’ve shrunk away from embarrassment, but that wasn’t an option.

Instead, I watched as the room grew smaller -- no, I grew taller. Bigger. Stick me in a photo filter and press Embiggen and I embiggened. The mirror grew with me as I passed 5’10”, 5’11”, 6’, 6’1”, and then settled at 6’2”. I must’ve weighed close to 280 lbs now! The same body shape, just ... bigger! I wanted to cry out of my innocent-looking wide, green eyes.

But, I couldn’t. Those bastards had blocked my tear ducts?!

Helplessly, I watched as my body started to compress now, not down but in. My heart leapt as my belly lost its keg, no longer hanging down, and my moobs compressed back down. Even my thighs shrunk in as I watched. I could feel the weight lifting from my feet, and my back was no longer working so hard due to the removal of weight from my front. I’d forgotten what that felt like. 11:39.

Not pausing after the liposuction, my body now started to fill out again. A moment of panic was replaced with more joy as I saw how it was filling out: Muscle! I could see it like a wipe filter was moving up my body, and I simultaneously feel it tingling my skin. The tingles from my feet went up my calves, filling them out as I could see now in another mirror that had appeared behind me, so I could see front and back now in the mirror in front of me.

As my calves filled out with muscle, the tingling pins and needles continued up my thighs as they ballooned now with new muscle. I could see each individual muscle, like it was an anatomy display from that day in high school when my anat-phys (elective) teacher brought in some body builders to point out all the muscles. Fuck!– if I hadn’t figured out I was gay before then ... .

No time for reminiscing, it was a constant wave as it washed up. I hadn’t realized how much my butt had deflated from the liposuction but now filled out with shapely muscle, and another small, tingly wash over it and I saw it plump up more with a thin layer of fat. I was okay with that: My gluteus maximus was more maximus with a subtle, giggly fat cap. I almost giggled.

The tingling wave washed up more and it refined my lower torso into a firm but not massive six-pack, the rectus abdominis subdivided by intersectiones tendineae as my obliques similarly gained definition. It was only then that I realized I was remembering more of this high school class, a thought quickly tucked away as I also finally realized that the tingling was also removing any and all hair! No! I didn’t want to be smooth! I wanted *something*!

But, the tingling wave continued on up, shaping my latissimus dorsi, my pecs, and then my deltoids. My pectoralis major spasmed and I could make out individual muscle fibers flexing, rippling across, while my deltoids were clearly separating into anterior, lateral, and posterior. How the hell was all this coming back to me? I hated the muscle identification test, the only one I did worse on was the cardiac system!

The spasming coincided with the wave seeming to pause at my shoulders, still there tingling, while it washed briefly up my neck and I could see my neck muscles start to get more pronounced. The tingling dissipated at the base of my jaw and then went from my shoulders, traveling down my arms. My upper arms went from what were probably 12” around to what had to be at least 19”. Just massive biceps and triceps – at least compared to what they were – as the tingling wave of hair removal and muscle creation continued down my arms, emphasizing my forearm muscles, and then finally dissipating at my finger tips. 7:06.

I was a new man. Taller, muscular in an “I clearly work out” way, completely smooth below the neck, and a restructured nose, eyes, narrower face, and scruffy beard that seamlessly transitioned into revitalized hair that was a new color along with my eyes. My tongue snaked out of my mouth and went a surprising distance before coming back to lick my thick, plump lips. I shuddered at the tingling, horny sensation that emanated from them. Fuck, I was turning myself on now. And if I had to guess, this musculature at this height would put me at ... wait-- really? I estimated about 230 lbs.

Those thoughts were quick (7:03) and interrupted as I felt new pins-and-needles all over my limbs and torso. Thin, dark copper-red hair sprouted on my legs, forearms and thickly around my dick, while simultaneously all the stretch marks across my skin were repaired. The sensation and hair restoration traveled up from my crotch in a thinning tree-like pattern, with a thicker central trunk through the center of my abs and growing less dense farther away from that center line, petering out to nothing by the time it would have gotten to my transversus abdominis (off the side of my six-pack). It disappeared at the top of my abs and sprouted again, hair popping out of the center of my chest over my sternum and lightly coating my pecs, but staying away from my neck and my shoulders; instead, some more freckles emerged there. My arms were slightly away from my torso due to their new size, and I could see thicker red hair growing in my pits.

The tingling had disappeared now except at my crotch. I could see in the mirror that the hair was thick down there, and then I suddenly spasmed as though I had just had an orgasm but without any warning, my eyes clenching shut. I spasmed again, and again ... I lost count, but each time it felt like my penis was growing harder and harder, even though it had started soft.

The sensation finally stopped, and when I could open my eyes (5:58) I saw a red monster standing out from my crotch. It had to be at least 8” long and *thick*, and with - seriously? - a thick foreskin stretching over the angry purple head. My balls had grown to the size of chicken eggs, stretching my sack down. As I watched, all the new hair that had sprouted on my balls and below my dick disappeared, but – again, *somehow* – I knew this was a style choice and I’d have to maintain it. Similarly, almost like a barber had done it, there was a short fade up to the thicker, lengthy pubes above my dick and they now appeared well manscaped and tidy, and growing up to meet the hair on my abs.

There were almost six minutes left, I wasn’t sure what else was going to happen. I had already been through an incredibly intense set of changes. I was a walking (if I could move my legs) wet dream and my dick had started to drip precum down its new, lengthy shaft. Suddenly, I shuddered again from what felt like another orgasm only ... it was from my ass? Was an assgasm a real thing?

My dick softened to just semi-hard, bending down under its own weight while the precum disappeared as though it had been sucked back in through the slit. It must have been because felt like a solid lump that I could literally feel zoom through my urethra and – somewhere? – migrating inside me only for me to feel it slipping across my hole as my ass spasmed again. Throughout that migrating motion it felt like it was dragging something with it, and my dick felt less sensitive while my hole shuddered again. I could see my hairless cheeks separate, as though pulled apart by invisible hands -- apart and up and then frozen like that, as though I was wearing an invisible, permanent jock strap that not only lifted but separated.

The mirror curved ever-so-slightly and it magnified the image of my asshole. The hole glistened as though lip gloss – or, lubrication? – had been applied. My hole spasmed again as the sensitivity ratcheted up and felt more intense than any orgasm I’d ever felt from my previously small dick. Then, the fourth assgasm came and I felt a head rush, and my whole body felt flush and relaxed as though I had just taken a massive hit of blasters. I didn’t think it was possible, but I felt even more horny. 4:32.

My head was swimming and I was sure that if I hadn’t been immobilized and held by some invisible force, I would’ve collapsed. My eyes were still focused on my hole, and it felt as though it was being pumped. Or, how I imagined it would have felt to be pumped, I’d never broken down and gotten an ass lips pump before.

The assgasm feeling was focused all through my manpussy lips and inside them, and it no longer was a single massive spasm event, it was an ebb and flow sensation: The flow felt a building of pressure and intensity, and the ebb released it, at the same rate as slow breathing so it must’ve been every couple seconds. I squinted my deep green eyes at the mirror, trying to see my hole better, which was a bit hard to do as I was unfocused from that phantom hit of blasters. Through my whole-body flush, I could literally see it opening and shutting, as though it was being forced open by some inflatable dildo that was inflating and deflating. 4:01.

I don’t know if it was the blasters (or something similar?) or the experience of these changes in general, but it felt as though time was slowing down. The normal background hotel sounds grew more distant, and my own heart beat felt slower and sounded slower pounding in my ears as I lost all focus to anything but what was going on with my hole.

The feeling was like nothing I had ever experienced before: Instead of surfing a massive wave and then spending 20 minutes paddling out to find another good one, it was like I was in a wave pool with crest after crest pushing through my body with no pause between them, emanating from my hole with pleasure I had never *ever* experienced before. I watched as my hole kept opening and closing, as though it was breathing in time with the sensations of whatever was going on back there. I tried to look closer through the mild pounding in my head and ... yes! ... it was opening wider each time. What started as maybe 1” at the widest was now clearly being pushed open past the width of a soda can, and I kept watching as it pushed past the width of a standard wine bottle, maybe even a Champaign bottle. The stretching, full sensation of something invisible forcing it open wider and wider each time made my knees buckle, and each time it closed back down the cunt lips were puffier and looked more and more, well ... *used*. My hole was turning into me, my focus was only with it, I was becoming my hole; I felt as if my entire being was being centered on that area of my body, a desire to be used and stretched and filled, with so many pleasure receptors that even a light breeze blown across it would set me off.

The sensation of time’s passage slowly started to return to normal when I felt what again could only be described as some massive hit of blasters. My head swam and I was vaguely aware of my pussy feeling another massive stretch, this time without an ebb, it just kept widening. I blearily watched in the mirror at what could only be descried as a massive void between my cheeks. My hole was leaking juice or precum or – something – all around it, the lips were stretched so taught, and it looked like my cunt could fit at least three fists. If I had been more alert, I’m sure I would have wondered how I would ever be able to walk again, how anyone would ever want to have sex with me again, my hole was ruined.

My head started to clear from the blasters, and my entire body shuddered. As I regained more awareness, I felt the sensation of something pulling out of my void, extremely slowly, and I saw my manpussy lips pulling inwards following the phantom ... whatever it was.

I swear I heard a *plop* when it came out but it could’ve just been in my head, and I looked at my hole in the reflection of the mirror. Suddenly, I remembered my profile: “Sloppy man cunt to be used, prefer XL or XXL. My 🕳️ is already ruined, do your worst 😉.”

My hole gave a light *squeeze* and my knees felt weak again. THAT was a hole now. It dripped lubricant that I somehow knew was a natural pussy juice it would produce. I tried to have some muscle control and squeeze it again. It was the most non-committal muscle contraction I’d had, but in doing so it burst with sensation and caused me to moan again. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about leaking too much. I felt the sensation of a finger, tongue or - something - travel from my balls up my open cheeks across my manpussy; the sensation was so intense I literally saw stars before recovering. The thick lips that were gatekeepers to my prostate and cave of wonders quivered, practically inviting anything to part them and feed their need. I thought “cunt” in my head and it squeezed again. It was a hole - I was a hole - ruined but so very needy for the next cock. 3:02.

I was still recovering from the sensation, and swimming out of the blasters when I noticed the LED at 2:30. The voice had said something was always happening during the count down, but what had happened the last half-minute? My eyes changed focus from my plump manpussy lips and quickly scanned over my body. Big muscles, trimmed bush with shaved balls, chest hair, beard, green eyes, DSLs, big uncut dick ... what was different?

“Zane, weren’t you 41?” I heard the voice from my phone.

Then I realized my skin was smoothing as I watched. Collagen I had lost or had broken down was re-forming and making my skin look younger, erasing lines. Even my facial structure was changing to round out subtly into a more youthful appearance. I was still *clearly* past my mid-20s, and if I had to guess now, I looked right around 30 years old. And the more I looked, the more I thought I recogni– I LOOKED LIKE THE PICTURE I STOLE! Or, a close cousin. There were definitely differences (I knew all the details of those photos very well by this point). But there was an obvious resemblance.

My eyes traveled from my face down my corded neck and to my chest again when I felt an immensely pleasurable sensation from my right nipple. It had just been pierced. The mirror showed a 14 gauge circle with a tiny dick dangling from it. FUCK. No hiding that. I guessed it was not something I’d be able to remove. I gasped as a breeze came from nowhere and blew across my pecs. The tiny, dangling metal dick wobbled back-and-forth and I felt a tugging on my tit: The mirror showed *both* nipples thickening and lengthening. It wasn’t obscene, but they were now much larger than average, and they looked like the result of regular pumping. The skin of my pecs had a much larger surface area now, and as soon as the nipple tips finished growing, the darker pink areola increased in size. No longer tiny little nipple buds the size of dimes, my pec shelf was sporting dark pink nipple areas nearly the size of half dollars, crowned by nipples the size of small pencil erasers (did anyone still use those?). A last final blast of wind across them and I shuddered, my hole twitching.

My focus shifted: Out of the corner of my eye I saw more changes near the top of my head and looked up in time to see a few thin lines, maybe slight wedges, shaved into the red hair going from my temples back towards my ears on my left side.

I felt something cold and a new weight on my crotch. Looking down, I saw a metal cock ring up against my pubic bone, and a metal ball stretcher gripping my balls and pulling them down with a pleasant, continuous sensation. My dick was still not past semi-hard at this point, it hadn’t been hard since I felt that bead of precum travel back inside me. I had a dread that it might never get hard again. 1:48.

I looked again at the ball stretcher and managed to wiggle my hips a bit, feeling the sensation of the stretcher wobble and pulling deliciously at my egg-sized nuts. It wasn’t orgasmic, but it certainly felt amazingly pleasurable in a different – almost naughty – way. When I did so, I noticed I barely felt any sensation from my dick. My mind thought back and remembered I’d recently selected “Kinkster.” My eyes re-focused towards my feet just in time to see an anklet form, what looked like an anodized aluminum or titanium chain with rainbow stripes.

Not quite as interested in that, my mind went back to my hole and I was about to try to squeeze it again when my body went more rigid than before, as if I was seizing up.

I’m sure if I could see I would’ve seen my eyes roll back in my head and my body twitching slightly as my head felt like it was being zapped all over by massive static discharges, so quickly and in rapid succession that I lost track of them or, really, anything. There was nothing I could do, I just felt it wash over me and I could not see, feel, hear, taste, or smell anything. Just a seemingly endless electric surge throughout my brain.

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