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A Lesson with Mr. Peterson
âFrom now on, the boy will come to my private tutoring only with proper protection! I will not tolerate any accidents during my classes. Show Daddy what I had to put you into⌠and at your ageâŚâ Mr. Peterson said to your Daddy when he came to pick you up.
When the person you now only call âDaddyâ introduced you to the age regression kink, being his school boy seemed kind of hot. From comforting you to scolding you. Picking your clothes and telling you how to eat properly, and even dressing as a school boy. You were making up little stories about how your day was at school, while he watched you and listened. As time went by, from specific kink sessions, it developed into a lifestyle. He was the parental figure at home, the reasoner, and the one who made sense, while you became the cheeky boy who sometimes misbehaved. There were times he needed to force you to sit over his knee for a proper lecture.
There was one evening when you two had dinner, when Daddy opened a bottle of wine, drank two glasses, and put it away. You were not allowed alcohol at all. After dinner, he kissed you and went to bed early. The cheeky boy that you were, after missing the buzz from drinking, you went for that bottle and thought you could have a glass or two while Daddy was asleep. You didnât know it was a special kind of wine, and it made you drunk after a couple of minutes. You turned the TV so loud that it woke Daddy up. He came to the living room and saw you drunk. He went to the couch, flipped you over your belly, and gave you two swats to your bottom.
âGo to sleep now!â
The morning after, you woke up and walked to the kitchen where Daddy was sitting and having his morning coffee.
âDaddy Iâm sorrâ âStop it right there!â he said, âSitâ.
âYour behavior last night was unacceptable! Not at all. I thought that in time weâd laid the ground rules, but it clearly shows that we didnât. Drinking?â
You looked down as he was speaking. You were a grown man, but felt like a kid whose father was parenting him. You didnât want to disappoint him, you wanted him to be proud of you.
âIâve talked to a private tutor who corrects the ways of boys like yourself, so go get dressed in your school boy uniform, because we leave in 30 minutes.â
You didnât dare to say anything, you just stood up and went to get dressed.Â
At the tutorâs door, you felt anxious, so you went for Daddyâs hand and held it.
The door opened.
âHello Richard!â the man said.
âHello Mr. Peterson,â Daddy replied.
âYou must be our little trouble maker, I see,â Mr. Peterson said and pitched your cheek.
âDaddy, you can leave, your boy is in my good hands. Come back at four, weâll have four hours, we will accomplish so much in that time.â
Daddy turned you to face him and said, âYou will be a good boy and do exactly as Mr. Peterson says, do you understand me?â
The two older men looked at you.
âYes Daddy.â
Mr. Peterson took your hand and walked you inside, as Daddy left and closed the door. As you walked, you looked at the man again, and he surely looked familiar. You thought you saw him in one of Daddyâs friends' meetings. His name was Mat, you recalled.Â
Mr. Peterson got you in front of a wooden heavy table, with two chairs. On the table were a notebook with pens, a bottle of water with two glasses, and a wooden paddle.
âYou will only refer to me as Mr. Peterson, and I will only call you âBoyâ. You will do as I say, when I say it. The notebook and pen will be for our private lesson, we will do light math, middle school level, I bet you need it. We have water we can drink, and we will drink only water and not wine. The paddle, we donât have to use, if you behave. If you wonât behave, we will use it over my lap.â
The paddle and Mr. Peterson frightened you. When Daddy smacked you last night, it hurt, but this man seemed to know what he was doing, and it looked like the paddle was his specialty. Maybe many boys were over his lap getting spanked. But after all, you are a man, you can get through the lesson without getting spanked.
Mr. Peterson poured water into one of the glasses.
âSit and drink.â
As the hours went by, you two went through basic math. He figured out your level and began from there. You did exercises and you always referred to him as Mr. Peterson or Mr.. Every few exercises, he poured water into your glass. You were the one who was drinking, he wasnât, not even once. Two hours had passed.
âMr. Peterson, can I go to the bathroom, please? I need to pee,â you said.
âAfter this one, boy. We are in the middle.â âBut we are fifteen minutes on this one, please, can I be excused?â you asked again with less patience.
âBoy, we are finishing this one, then you can go,â he said calmly without looking at you.
It made you mad. He wasnât even looking at you. You are a man after all, he should give you a bit of respect, even in this scenario.
âListen MatâŚâ
âStop stop stop! How did you call me?!â He raised his eyes and his voice. You knew trouble was coming. Just from his authoritative voice and posture.Â
âSorry, Mr. Peterson.â
âOh no no no, you called me by my first name. This is not acceptable at all in this household. Boys will behave here, they will learn in a good way or the tough way!â
Mr. Peterson grabbed the wooden paddle in one hand and pulled you over his knee with the other. He was surprisingly strong for his age and looks. Maybe it was the age regression or the scenario you were in, but you didnât object, you went over his lap. From the man who said âMatâ, to the boy who went over another manâs knees.
The frightens from before took over you.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â you yelled, âPlease donâtâ.
Mr. Peterson pulled your trousers down and left you bare bottom.
SMACK SMACK SMACK
âNo, no!â you tried again.
He forced you to stand.
âTake off your trousers and underwear completely,â he ordered.
You did as he told, but whined and sobbed. He grabbed you again and pulled you over his knee. The fright was overwhelming, you didnât want to get spanked anymore. Over his knee, you wet yourself uncontrollably.
âOh dear,â Mr. Peterson said and stopped, âit appeared you learned your lessonâ.
His shoes and floor were soaked, you were not, you peed all over but not on yourself. Your penis was pointing towrds the floor while being spanked.
âI will go clean myself, youâll stay here and wait,â he said and walked to the hallway.
What was happening? What was going on? You just got spanked by an older man because you didnât call him âMr.â during a middle-school math lesson, and it scared you so bad you had an accident over his knees. You new Daddy is soon to return and you are standing butt naked in strangerâs living room, only wearing a school boyâs top. Your pecker got shriveld. You not only felt like a boy, you looked like an overgrown one.
Mr. Pieterson, wearing fresh trousers, came back with a few things under his arm. A folded colorful kind of mat, baby powder, cream, and what looked like an oversized babyâs diaper. He went to the other side of the huge wooden table, unfolded what was a giant changing mat, and said - âOp on, the table can take it, trust meâ.
Silently, you did as you were told. All was surreal, you saw the diaper, you saw the changing mat, you lay on the changing mat, and yet you still didnât connect the dots.
âI knew you were a boy, but not a little boy. Little boys at my house need to wear diapers if they canât control themselvesâ, he said as he raised the big and thick diaper in front of you.
âBut,â you tried to say something.
âNo buts. Youâve done talking, now spread those legs.â
With such ease, he creamed and powdered you. Lift and lower your legs. Taking care of your sore behind and crotch. In two minutes, you were thickly diapered and fully dressed in your schoolboy uniform.
Two knocks at the door were heard the moment your feet touched the floor again.
âLetâs go greet your Daddy.â he took your hand and walked you to the front door.
âHello Daddyâ Mr. Peterson said.
âGood afternoon, Mr. Peterson,â Daddy said.
Your eyes stayed on the floor, cheeks blushing red.
âWhat happened?â Daddy asked, not you, but Mr. Peterson.
âYour boy was such a good boy. We worked on his math, which is a little bit low level, but heâs a bright young fella. Then he got cheeky and called me by my first name!â
âHe didnât.â
âOh yes he did. But I taught him a lesson with my paddle, the paddle you agreed was necessary in his lessons.â
âI did, he may have needed that, and he did.â
âBut thatâs not all. Boy, take down your trousers and lift your arms above your head,â Mr. Peterson commanded you.
With such shame, you did as you were told. Standing there, showing off your printed, thick, fresh diaper. The real shame came from the reality that you wet yourself over the manâs knees.
âOh my boy, what happened?â Daddy asked, this time, you.
But Mr. Peterson answered for you - âOver my knee, our poor boy had an accident. I think the paddle scared him, like it does to little boys.â
âI didnât think it would get to this point, but it has,â Daddy said.
The two men were chatting about you. But you weren't a part of that chat. You couldnât say your side or how you felt. They didnât ask, so you knew not to talk.
You were the one with a daddy.
You were the one who came in a schoolboy uniform for a math lesson with an older man. You were the one who got spanked and wet himself.
You were the one who wore a diaper.
Little boys stay quiet while the men are talking.
âFrom now on, the boy will come to my private tutoring only with proper protection! I will not tolerate any accidents during my classes. I have a new pack of diapers for him until you get him more. I have a feeling heâll need it.â Mr. Peterson said and went to get the package.
When he came back, Daddy pushed your shoulder so youâd take the big cardboard box away from Mr. Peterson.
âNow say thank you to Mr. Peterson for the math lesson, spanking you, and diapering you,â Daddy ordered you, like a boy who needs his parent to spell it for him.
âThank you, Mr. Peterson,â you said and blushed.
âNo no no, the whole thing,â Daddy said, disappointed.
âThank you, Mr. Peterson, for the math lesson, spanking me, and⌠diapering⌠me,â you said as you moved your body, hearing the crinkle of the diaper.
âGood boyâ Daddy said.
âGood boy. Iâll make you my prime student. Okay, until next time,â Mr. Peterson said.
âNow go to the car and put your new diapers in the trunk. Go!â Daddy said and patted your padded butt.
As you walked away, the two men stayed and shook hands warmly. You were far away, sitting in the car, feeling the diaper around you. Embarrassed after your father picked you up for wetting yourself.
âThank you, Mat, your methods are working,â Daddy said to Mr. Peterson.
âNo problem, keep going as I instructed you, and your boy will show wonderful results. Now go along, weâll set up another lesson for this week. Donât forget to use enough baby powder!â
The men laughed and said farewell again.
----------------------------
So many private tutoring sessions are yet to come for @submissiveboyuk
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Colton had always seemed like the perfect guy. He was in the prime of his life with a jacked physique, smoldering blue eyes, and a cocky smirk that made both men and women swoon. He was the king of the gym, the star of his universityâs football team, and the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went. Sometimes, this was an awesome thing. Like when the cheerleader babes would eye him up like a sexy slab of all American beef. He loved to show off his muscles for them, listening to them giggle and squeal.
However, he didn't like being ogled by just anyone. Some dudes were oblivious to the hints he would drop: that he was in no way, shape, or form interested in their pathetic, gay attention.
Which was why he hated the way his doctor, Dr. Reynolds, kept looking at him as if he was about to blow a disgusting load into his XL work khakis.

The older man was always too touchy during checkups, his eyes lingering just a little too long on the younger man's biceps and firm pecs. It made Coltonâs skin crawl. As he sat on the exam table, dressed in nothing but his compression shorts, he felt those eyes scanning over his muscles again. Dr. Reynolds was eyeing Colton's girthy package, moments away from drooling.
âMan, I wish youâd stop looking at me like that,â Colton muttered hatefully under his breath.
A chill ran down his spine. The air in the room seemed to shift â something he couldn't perceive, but he could not deny that something had begun to change. Dr. Reynolds blinked, his expression becoming blank and flat, before his lips curled into an amused grin.
âLooking at you like what, Colton?â the doctor asked, his voice laced with condescension. He had never spoken so haughtily before. âLike Iâd ever be interested in you?â
Colton frowned. That wasnât right. Dr. Reynolds had definitely been checking him out less than a second ago. The man was a fat perv who drooled over his hot athlete patients, this wasn't far from the normal experience. âDude, you were justââ
Colton's stomach lurched so violently that he couldn't stop the URRRRRRRRRRRRRP that erupted out of his mouth. A deep, guttural gurgle started to brew inside his belly. He gasped, gripping his gut as an unbearable heat spread through his body. Sweat collected on his forehead, dripping down the sides of his body as his pits became slick and hairy. His skin tingled, rippled, then started to sag under the new weight.
He stared in horror at the full body mirror propped up against the wall, watching as his reflection warped before his very eyes. His sculpted pecs deflated, drooping into soft, flabby moobs. Curls of dark, wiry hair began to sprout across his aging skin. His tight six-pack was swallowed by lard as thick rolls of fat spilled over the waistband of his shorts. They had fit snugly before, but now they were far too tight. His thighs swelled, losing their lean definition as they turned into fat, pale slabs of dimpled hairy flesh that rubbed together, sticky with sweat. The smells wafting off his changing body made Colton want to gag.
âWhat the fuck?â he gasped, his voice cracking, higher, wheezier â wrong.
Dr. Reynolds chuckled. But his nasally voice seemed different â his slouchy posture was correcting itself â the old pervy doctor was being transformed, too! His hunched shoulders began to straighten, his immense potbelly retreating into an increasingly sculpted core as abdominal muscles pressed against his much smaller, tighter shirt. All the fat on his body began to melt away as years of neglect were reversing before Coltonâs eyes. Dr. Reynold's graying hair darkened, growing thick and healthy. His wrinkles faded into smooth, taut skin. His pasty complexion was now bronzed and glowing.

âColton, please settle down. This is your usual checkup, nothing more. And quit cussing â you of all people should know better,â Dr. Reynolds said, but his voice was deeper now, stronger, more confident. His lab coat suddenly fit better, snug against a chest that was now larger than Colton's had ever been. Even the man's biceps looked larger, veins running across the surface.

âWhat?â Colton wheezed, struggling to pull up his compression shorts as they dug painfully into his growing gut and fat pad. But the fabric was changing beneath his fingertips â stretching, darkening âbecoming ratty sweatpants stained with grease and even grosser liquids.
âYouâre always acting like a nervous wreck when you come in here,â Dr. Reynolds went on, now casually adjusting the very tight sleeves of his tailored hospital uniform. âYouâd think youâd be used to it by now. How many times have I told you to cut back on the junk food? Christ, Colton, you really have ballooned since last visit.â
âNo, no, noââ Colton gripped his thickening face, his bloated fingers sinking into new layers of soft, jowly fat. His chiseled jawline was buried beneath multiple chins, his sharp cheekbones lost forever beneath two fat dimples. His now greasy hair thinned before his eyes, receding higher and higher up his forehead. His nose widened, nostrils flaring as they twitched from the rancid stench that rose from his body.
Sweat. Cum. Food. Gas.
These were the things that defined him now.

Dr. Reynoldsâ younger, stronger, undeniably out of Colton's league â waved a large hand in front of his face, grimacing at the foul stench. âJesus, did you even shower before coming in? Or is that just how you always smell?â
Coltonâs mind reeled in confusion. He could still feel his old self somewhere, buried beneath all the blubber, the sweat, the stink. This wasnât realâthis wasnât him! His chest hair begun to turn white, his balding hair turning gray as a salt-and-pepper beard erupted across his fat chins.
âIâm notââ he gasped in exhaustion. âIâm notââ

The words caught in his throat. He was losing the battle to remain himself.
Dr. Reynolds smirked, beginning to remove his now perfectly-fitted coat, muscles rippling with his every movement. âNot what? Not some fat, pathetic, gay slob who spends more time shoveling junk food into his face than actually taking care of himself?â He scoffed, his beautiful face glaring down at Colton like he was the smallest morbidly obese man in the world. âColton, be serious for once in your life. Whenâs the last time you even saw the inside of a gym?â

Colton had just been at the gym â he had been hitting the weights all morning long before his check up! Pumping iron, running drills! He had done all of these things! But even as he reached for those memories of himself as a young and disciplined jock, they slipped away, replaced by something else â something that terrified him.
Hazy images of stained couch cushions arose in his conflicted mind, fast food wrappers strewn across his disgusting apartment. Late nights spent online on gainer forums took root in his brain, scrolling through mukbang videos while stuffing his own face. He vividly recalled jerking off to images of fit jocks who wouldn't even spit on him if he were on fire.

His stomach roared, suddenly starving, and he felt his mouth water at the thought of a greasy double cheeseburger and some extra-large fries.
âNoâŚâ Colton whimpered, shaking his fat head, his chins jiggling with the motion. His once proud cock had shrunken beneath his growing fat pad, but he could still feel it throbbing, rubbing against his folds as his massive body wobbled with each breath. It felt like he was balancing a beachball on his lap. And it was inflated to the point it was about to pop.
Dr. Reynolds scribbled something down on his clipboard, his biceps bulging slightly as he moved. Colton's little nub of a cock got harder, his fat lips glistening with drool. âWell, old man, weâre gonna have to talk about your cholesterol again. Not that youâve ever listened to me before. Youâre lucky I even let you keep coming in â most guys your size just give up on doctors entirely.â The young man chuckled, voice smooth, self-assured. âThen again, I guess you have given up, huh?â

Colton tried to protest, to fight, but his body ached â his back was sore from carrying so much weight, and his thick thighs were chafing with every tiny movement. His gut gurgled again, demanding food, reminding him of who he was â who he had always been. An obese, smelly old man who was addicted to porn; who got off to young jocks teasing him for being such a fucking loser.
Reality snapped into place around him.
Dr. Reynolds sighed, shaking his handsome head as he handed Colton a prescription slip. His hand was strong, veined, perfect, as Coltonâs thick sausage fingers struggled to take it. âHere. Not that youâll actually do anything about it, but at least it makes me feel better.â

Colton looked down at the slip. His chubby fingers struggled to grip the paper, smudged with sweat and burger grease he couldn't be assed to wash off. His name at the top was the same, but⌠had he ever been that perfect, sculpted jock that was still lingering in his mind? Had he really played football, been admired by his peers, been wanted by anyone in a sexual sense?
Or had he always been this old, flatulent lard ass loser?

âGet outta here, Colton,â Dr. Reynolds said, already moving on to the next file. His grin was smug, confident, gleaming. âAnd try not to waddle too much on your way out.â
Colton got up and rubbed his sagging, bloated belly as he marched out of the room. He knew there was no helping his waddle, but he found himself blushing in shame as his wide ass cheeks jiggled behind him. As he left the room, Colton squeezed out a nasty, droning fart. His tiny cock was squirting pre into his fat pad folds.
A distant voice in his mind was screaming for mercy, but the new Colton just got off on the sheer weight of his obese body, the knowledge that his handsome, young doctor thought he was disgusting. Fuck. This was the only reason he still showed up to his appointments.
This old perv needed to get home and order some fast food and start jerking to his favorite jock porn immediately! He'd consider actually reading his prescription slip tomorrow.

(this story is a reimagined version of Athlete No More by the iconic @bigfuckingdudes)
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Impressive start. These stories about such guys becoming depraved fatass gooners are rather well written with good image references. Looking forward to seeing what you next produce.
thank you for the encouragement. there's several asks in my inbox i need to answer - and there's several people waiting patiently to be changed for the better. can't wait until all my readers are pervy gainer hogs.
as a thank you, here's a treat for you all:
Kyle smirked smugly as he cracked his knuckles, focusing his gaze on the glowing screen of his roommate Aaronâs laptop. The chubby loser had stepped out for the night, leaving behind his personal device like a quite-literally-open invitation. It was shocking enough that the chubby fag actually had a reason to leave his room for once, but this was the icing on the cake. Kyle, the undisputed king of their shared dorm â athletic, classically handsome, irresistible to hot babes âcouldnât resist the temptation to snoop.
Aaron was weird, always stuffing his chubby face with greasy food and belching endlessly, sweating through his XL shirts as he waddled in and out. Kyle figured the loser had to be into something embarrassing. He'd take a quick peek, snap a picture or two, and he'd have a couple month's worth of entertainment to milk when he showed his bros later. He expected to see some cringey anime shit, maybe weird foot stuff. But this?
Kyleâs breath caught as a video popped open on the screen.
An obese, hairy, gray-haired man reclined in a chair, his too-small shirt riding up over a massive, bouncing gut. The guy looked at the camera with a lazy, satisfied grin, and he used his massive hand to rub slow, indulgent circles into his belly.
âMmmph⌠just keep feedinâ me, darlinâ,â the man moaned, his voice deep and drawling. The old fat ass sounded hungry. He licked his thick lips, then let out a long, wet belch that made Kyle's ears ring.
Kyle recoiled, his stomach feeling uneasy with disgust and confusion. âThe hell is this?â His finger reached for the power button. The last thing he wanted was to watch anymore of this weird shit!
ZAP.
A jolt of electricity surged through his body as quickly as his fingertip pressed down on the key. He yelped, but the sound lodged itself in his throat as his muscles locked in place, heat blooming in his chest, his toned core tightening like a retreating wave â then swelling like a full force tsunami.
A deep, gurgling sound roared from his swelling stomach.
Kyle gasped as his once-taut abs pushed outward with lard, the definition he worked so hard for vanishing beneath thickening fat. As he grew, his skin became stretched and sore. His tight shirt became strained from the sheer size of his torso, the fabric clinging to his skin as his belly inflated like a rising dough ball. His whole body quivered, muscles going soft and untrained. Fat piled onto his frame like an avalanche.
His pecs sagged into heavy moobs, a thick carpet of distinctly gray hair erupting across his much larger chest. His arms thickened into fat, useless slabs of meat. Then his fat, dimpled thighs bulged apart, forcing him into a wide, helpless sprawl. He hated it, but he could feel his once proud 8 incher shrink into a numb as his groin became swallowed beneath a hairy, musky fat pad.
Kyle's once handsome face rounded, his jawline vanishing beneath a sagging double chin.
The changes came faster. His smooth, youthful skin wrinkled, years of age marching across his face in mere seconds. His styled, dirty blonde hair lightened, thinned, then started to turn as gray as his chest hairs. Greasy strands fell from his scalp as what remained of his hair formed a horseshoe around his head. His body odor shifted, his designer cologne replaced by sour sweat, musk, and the lingering stench of beer and fast food.
Kyle wheezed, his massive gut surging forward, spilling over his waistband and pressing against the desk that housed Aaron's laptop. His sausage fingers sank into the heavy, warm blubber, and an indecent moan slipped from his lips before he could stop it.
BUUUUUURP.
A deep, thundering belch erupted from his drooling mouth, spraying spit all over the laptop screen. His massive, clearly obese belly heaved, wobbling with the force of the expulsion. His thick fingers twitched, rubbing slow, indulgent circles over his bloated gut. It was like he was forced to act out the pervy video he watched.
And it felt⌠so good.
Kyleâs mind screamed that this was wrong, that he should fight this, but God, the warmth of his fat belly, the satisfaction of a good belch pushing hot gas out of his bloated body, the sensation of his jiggling, hairy gut jutting out in front of him âit was pure bliss.
The door creaked open.
Kyle turned his nearly bald, sweat-dampened head just as Aaron stepped inside. The young man's beady, piggish eyes widened behind his thick glasses, then his lips curled into a knowing smirk.
âWell, well,â Aaron murmured in self satisfaction and a mix of lust, stepping closer. His gaze raked over Kyleâs massive, inflated frame, lingering on his thick, graying chest hair, his sweat-slicked moobs, and the way his huge gut surged over his lap.
Kyle huffed, another lazy burp slipping from his lips as he rubbed slow, eager circles into his belly.
Aaronâs voice dropped, teasing and eager. âGuess ya finally found my collection, huh?â
Kyle whimpered at the tone, his fat, old man body trembling at Aaronâs attention. He shouldâve been angry. He shouldâve fought. But when Aaron reached into his bookbag and pulled out a greasy fast-food bag, the overwhelming aroma of burgers and fries filled the air âand Kyleâs fat gut growled in need.
Aaron chuckled, cupping his unimpressive bulge with his free hand and starting to rub. âCâmon, big guy. Letâs make my dream daddy even fatter.â
Kyle licked his lips hungrily. The last of his old self melted away and was blasted out of his ass as he let rip a droning, reeking fart. He leaned forward to reach for both his meal and his ideal lover, gut slapping against his thighs.
After all⌠what else was a greedy, gainer addicted, perverted old man supposed to do?
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FML: Initiate
This is a follow up to FML: Fraternize as selected by you for my 2,500 subscriber special. It took longer than expected and had a few rewrites, but I promised you all this would be the next story released. Hopefully it is worth the wait.

In all my years at this university I had never seen anything like it. Week after week students were seeming to disappear. You expect to see some flux in enrollment as students change schedules and drop classes. But these students werenât removing themselves from classes. It was as though they were never enrolled at all. Initially within the department we all had our pet theories on the matter. But in a few weeks it was clear where they were going. It isnât hard to notice a lot more students milling around the business campus, or the sudden discussion within administration of expanding the personal training and physiology tracts. We were all just left wondering why.
I finally hit my breaking point near the end of the semester when one of my more promising students disappeared from my roster. I asked the other pre-law professors and sure enough, they couldnât find a trace of him ever taking a class in the department. However, I did find one lead. One of my students must have heard me discussing it with the TAâs and said that he was a member of a fraternity on campus. I groaned at the thought of having to trek out there, but I knew it was the quickest way to get some closure. Against my better judgment, I headed to the Eta Psi Rho house.
Every step there filled me with dread. I hate to confess it, but I had once attended this same university, and yes, even tried to join a fraternity. It had been such a long time ago, but I could still remember the cruel ways that my brothers had mocked, berated, and punished pledges. Fraternities weâre nothing but a blight on this campus that produced people like⌠well people like the man who greeted me out front.

Honestly. Back in our days at least we had the good sense to drag our brothers inside. Itâs a shock campus police had not raided the place yet. I knelt down. He reeked of booze and sweat. His snore was almost deafening. Even if his brothers wouldnât help him, I couldnât leave him out here. I pestered the young man awake. Groggily, he rose to his feet, stumbling over his feet and his words. Immediately he clapped me on the back, thanking his âbroâ for the help. I tried to brush him aside, but his firm grip ushered me inside as he muttered about being late for class. Iâm surprised he was still enrolled. Regardless, he helped me get inside and one of his âbruhsâ tried pointing me in the right direction where I could find my lost student. I began wandering the halls, looking for any sign of the young man, but they were eerily empty inside. What was I saying, the young men were all in their classes surely. Still, when from down the hall I suddenly heard, âI will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood,â chanted in unison, I was a bit shocked. I walked up to the door and peered in, hoping to get better directions. I was met with a group of young men, glassy eyed, staring deep into a static filled television.
I walked in front of one young man, trying to get his attention. It was like I wasn't there as he stared right through me. It was no use, and the sound and light in the room was giving me a headache. I was about to leave when suddenly, from the TV, a clear command:
Brothers are lean and muscular.
Brothers are lean and muscular, the men all repeated. I nearly jumped out of my skin as the young man before me changed. His skin rippled for a moment, as though a chill went down his spine. Then, he began to swell. It came in bubbles, uneven and tumorous. But each patch began to combine and normalize with those around it until it suddenly stopped and a different man sat before me. At least, that's what I told myself as I bolted from the room.

Lost in the maze of corridors, I was just following the signs to the nearest emergency exit. Something was wrong here. Young men don't just- just GROW. The sign directed me rounded the corner into the laundry room and more pressingly, into a stranger. I started apologizing before I paused. I assumed there had to be a mistake.

The stranger had a familiar air to him. When he had been my student, the young man I knew was clean shaven, a bit shy and reserved in class, but smart as a whip and friendly. The man in front of me was confident. He shot me a smirk as he greeted me, âdabbing me upâ and calling me his bro. Up close he was overwhelming. I had known a brother to miss showers but it smelled like he hadnât rinsed off in a week. The smell of cologne did nothing to hide the alcohol on his breath and the funk emanating from him. And while I could tell he used to be fit this was absurd. He looked chiseled from a magazine cover! The vacant expression was a far cry from the law student I knew. If it werenât for his face and eyes, I doubt I would have even recognized him.
Regardless of his appearance, I started talking, pleading with him to tell me what was happening. What was happening in this house? Who was responsible for the poor boys in that room? Why did he throw away a bright future for this? But my words never seemed to get through. He pleasantly smiled and nodded, but gave canned answers about âbrotherhoodâ. I really should have made for the exit in front of me but I was past the point of logic.
I finally shouted, âI just donât understand why you would throw your life away for this!â
âThis is my life,â he droned, âI will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood.â
That same mantra as those young men. I took a breath before continuing. God this place was rank. âListen son, I know about the brotherhood and this fraternity. But you have to see something wrong is going on here. What were those boys doing in that room?"
"Oh the pledgies? Yeah, initiation is next week, got to make sure they stay in line over the finish line, ya know what I'm saying?"
"Someone's got to stop this. I'm going to the Dean, he'll be able to do something. This fraternity can't operate like this!"
The toothy smile fell, âYouâve got to be loyal to your bros. After all, we are made to be loyal to the frat.â His tone was suddenly flat as he began inching closer. In one swift motion he removed his tank top, flashing all his muscles. In one more, his shorts were on the ground. As he got closer, the heat in the room intensified.

It was getting hard to think, I was feeling so woozy. This bizarre display had gotten far beyond my scope as an educator. I tried to excuse myself, âI think Iâd better go, this was a waste of- â but he was suddenly upon me. I hadnât realized I had backed myself into a corner.
"Pledge, come here!" and my mind froze.
As much as I wanted to scream and run, I could feel an unnamed power he held over me as his command to stop burrowed into my brain.
"You sound like you were in there for a bit. Let's see how much you got trained. What's a good punishment... ah. Pledge, sniff."

I felt so aroused and so scared as I was forced to closer to the source of his musk. I tried to resist, but something primal drove my nose in and gave a hesitant huff of pure frat bro. I was loosing any⌠any restraint⌠left. I couldnât⌠resist⌠my⌠myâŚ
He smirked, "Bro, what was that? Come on, Pledge, sniff!"
âYes bruh.â It slipped so easily out, almost as easily as the drool from my mouth. My face crinkled as I shoved my face in his nasty pit. I couldnât think about it. I sniffed and while I knew it was gross, it all felt fuzzy and warm in my head.
âOh, you must have been in with them a while. Dude, we can't have you sharing fraternity secrets. Don't worry though, we may be able to save you yet. Come with me.â
My brain only processed the command as I stumbled after him back through the halls. We turned into a familiar room. I stood, head spinning, as he fiddled with a TV for a second and sat himself down.
âI think that the guys won't mind a double dose. Sit next to me.â

âYeaaah, surrre thing,â I slurred, stumbling into my seat. His firm arm felt nice around me. He held me firmly as he pressed play on the remote and a VHS tape whirred to life. There was a disorientating strobe of colors that left me a bit dazed before starting up into an intro. I was confused at first what the tape was talking about. I wasnât here to join the fraternity and learn more about a life of brotherhood. The opposite almost. I tried to stand, but his arm held me firmly in place. I started to protest, but the voice sounded so insistent, and it was so confusing to watch. It reminded me of something, some tape I had seen long ago. It was like slipping back into an old pair of pants, something just fit. Maybe I hear him out? Then, the tone switched.
Welcome to the first day of your new life. You have been selected to become one of the few. One of the elite. You feel honored to have been selected.
âI feel honored to be one of the elite,â every voice in the room rang out in unison.
An old pride rose in my chest. I was selected. I was better. I would be in Eta Psi Rho.
This important decision has been made for you. You must accept our guidance. The frat knows best.
âThe frat knows best,â we all repeated.
You will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood.
âI will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood.â It felt good as it slipped out.
Good. Brothers, step out. We have it from here.
My former student brother released my shoulder, stood quickly and left the room. But I didnât want to leave anymore. I was to watch the tape.
Letâs start with an attitude adjustment. It is important for bros to be bros. Bros are relaxed and carefree.
âBros are relaxed and carefree.â
I hadnât realized how much tension I had been holding in. But as I repeated the words, a wave of relaxation rolled down from my neck, through my shoulders, rippling through my arms and torso, all the way through my legs. I let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back into my seat.
Bros eat, sleep, workout, and hang together. Bros just want to spend time with their bros.
âBros just want to spend time with their bro.â
All sense of time and obligation suddenly felt swirled in my head. I remembered that I was supposed to go, but it felt so distant. Instead, my mind filled with a schedule of work outs, parties, meals, and frat events. I couldnât give my lecture tonight, I would miss chapter!
In a few short weeks you will be ready for brotherhood. But first, a reminder. You want to complete your pledge. You want to be a brother.
âI want to complete my pledge. I want to be a brother.â
That almost made sense. I wasnât a pledge, I was too old. Or, I think I am? But quickly that logic was suppressed by something else. I wanted it. I wanted so badly to be a pledge.
The commands were starting to pick up speed.

A pledge does not think for himself. He follows his brothersâ orders and fits in.
âI follow my brothersâ orders and fit in. â
Yeah, life is so much easier when I can just listen and follow. Let others make the decisions bro.
A pledge will do anything to become a brother.
âI will do anything to become a brother.â
God it felt so good to have it all sorted out.
Now, it is important to not just act like a brother. You need to look like a brother. Feel your body. Focus on it. Every frat bro's body is a temple. A temple prime for trashing. These next four years are the prime of your life. You will enjoy your college years.
That short phrase rushed through my body. An icy chill ran down my spine that froze me in place. My body felt tight as it slowly rewound itself. I felt young blood pulsing through my body as my muscles swelled, releasing the tension of muscle aches and cranky joints. Skin pulled tight against my muscles as years of work and stress smoothed over my body. Not a wrinkle, not a sag, not a follicle of body hair was left behind as I shed my 50âs for my 20âs. Then, all at once, a wave of testosterone washed over me. It was like puberty all over, as I broke out in a cold sweat that carried that young, masculine funk. My voice cracked and softened as I moaned, my cock was flush with hunger. The brain was in no state to resist as years of history were washed away under twenty-something hormones. Bruh, I could feel my brain unfurl and smooth out a bit too. For the first time in decades, I felt young, dumb, and so full of cum.
Brothers' muscles ache from years pushing it too hard in the gym. It feels good to push your body beyond its limits. Protein powder and energy drinks are the fuel that keep you lit. Bros are swole.
âBros are swole.â
Any twink-ish hopes I had just developed were quickly dashed against pumping iron. I felt the ice melt as my body twisted under my skin and slowly began to sweat. My stomach began to fill as a familiar chalky taste crept up the back of my throat. Protein. A deep aching filled my body, yet it continued to pulse. The more it hurt, the more I wanted it. I watched as each muscle melted inside of me and reformed out of hardened steel.
Brothers know the power of their masculinity. They are not afraid to show off their bodies. It shows others who is in charge. Let weaker men worship you. Use them for your satisfaction. You will be dominant.
I will be dominant.
I rushed to take off my clothes. They suddenly felt so restricting. I thought back to my bro as he made me sniff his rank pits. The way I just complied to his commands. The gravity of his words. I wanted that. No, I deserved that. My brain filled with a rush of new desires. To walk into a room and see people turn. To be loud, to be seen, to be heard, to be felt. I wanted the thrill of the approach as I singled out the hottest body in the room and commanded them around like my bitch. I wanted to feel their desire flush as I roughly tossed them on my bed and pried my jeans off. I deserved their mouth, open and begging for my perfect cock. I earned their hole, clenched tight as they rode for dear life until I berried my seed deep in them. I claimed the cold wind on my skin, proud of a night of conquest as I stood nude at the window, hitting my vape. I could almost feel it. I could almost... smell it? I had lifted my arms above my head, and a smell rolled off my pits. Fuck, that was the smell he had. The smell of dominance. It was mine now. I took a victorious huff.
Finally, let's ensure you can always find what you need in Eta Psi Rho. Look around you at the bros in this room. You will stay together. You will serve each other. You love your bros.
I felt a swell of kinship in my chest. I wanted nothing more than to be a part of the brotherhood. To fucking dominate this school together. But suddenly there was a tension in the air. God, why were my bros so... hot? We had all been factory made to conquer but, something more held us together. There were a few seconds as we all waited for something to happen when, suddenly, the two bros next to me made the first move.

As the room devolved into chaos, the commands kept coming. We recited back diligently between sloppy kisses, deep moans, and grunts as we slid against each other's bodies. We listened but all waited for the command that would get us to cross the finish line.
You will keep it simple, keep it stupid.
âI will keep it simple, keep it stupid.â
My head felt like it was filled with fluff. No thoughts, just instinct.
You will listen to your pledge master, follow all he says.
âI will listen to my pledge master, follow all he says.â
It was so much easier to just trust my bros. Whatever they said went.
You will live for and serve your bros, live for and serve the frat.
âI will live for and serve my bros and the frat.â
I would do anything for my bros. Gotta keep âem happy.
What happens in the frat house stays in the frat house. No homo, bro.
I spit out the cock in my mouth as I kept railing the bro below me,
"No homo, bro!"
The frat is life.
âThe frat is life.â
Perfect. We anticipate your full initiation. Cum.
Moans echoed through the halls as the tape ended.
A while passed before a door slamming shook me awake. An ache passed through me as I reached for the jug of water next to my bed. The buzz of pre-workout shook me awake. I was in my bedroom of the frat house. I was where I belonged. My big stood over my bed.

âLook at me,â my big said. My body turned to him and hit him with my cockiest smile. It felt good to obey my alpha bro.

The new man spoke, âShit, that tape did a number on you. I don't know if we've ever inducted someone so old. How do you feel?â
âI feel relaxed and carefree, bruh,â I responded.
My bro slapped me upside the head, âIs that how you respond to your pledge master?â
Of course, how could I forget. I was so dumb sometimes, âSorry. Good, Sir.â
His face lit up with glee, "Never get over that. Letâs see. Pledge, I brought home a twink for after the party tonight. Warm him up for me."
I felt my cock suddenly swell, rigid at attention. âYes, sir. Thank you, sir.â
My pledge master whistled, âDang, you know how to pick âem Skunk. He's no Long Leg, but he's up there. You picked out his pledge name yet?â I didnât know his pledge name was skunk. But catching a whiff of myself as I scratched my head, guess it ran in the family.
âWell, if heâs going to keep acting like a smart ass, Iâm thinking Prof.â
âPfft, thatâs hilarious,â my pledge master turned back to me, âOne last question little bro. How do you feel about Eta Psi Rho?â
In an instant, an old mantra filled my mind, âI will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood,â I droned.
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A night out at the circus? That was a strange offer by your friends, but you went along. Maybe years have passed by ever since youâve been to the circus. You wondered if it was like you remembered. Your memory was vague about it, but when you and your friends parked the car, you saw the giant red tent. It was dark, but lights were shining on the red fabric from afar. A red carpet led the way to the entrance. The smell of popcorn and beer filled the space as you got closer. You and your friends were laughing about how silly it was all going to be, holding beers in your hands.
âHey kids! Get inside quick!â a clown passed before you, shouted in a goofy voice, and squeezed his red big nose.
You threw the empty beer, got a new one, and went quickly inside. Getting inside was a sight to behold. The interior felt bigger than what you imagined from the outside. You and your friends found your places and sat down. The lights turned off and only spotlights lit the ring.
âHowdy folks! Are you ready for the show?â A clown shouted to the crowd as he was holding a comical big microphone.
âYES!â the crowd responded.
âAre you really ready? Let me hear itâ The clown looked toward you and pointed, or at least it felt like it.
âYES!â the crowd shouted again.
The show was wild and funny. The clown's customs were colorful and silly. Each one had his own thing and color. One had fuzzy huge purple hair. One had huge shoes he could barely walk in. Another had a nose that covered almost half of his face. But there was one you would never forget his appearance. His face was painted all white, with a red smiley mark covering the lower part of his face, and red curls that looked like red springs, trying to bounce out of his head.
You had so much fun, that you barely noticed the pressure to pee building inside of you from those two giant cups of beer. You didnât want to leave for the bathroom, the show was so entertaining, so you held it as much as you could. Eventually, you stood up and walked to the outside to find the toilets.
âYou! The guy whoâs walking outside! STOP!â you heard from the speaker, and the lights hit you.
You turned around and saw the curly clown was pointing at you. The lights washed all over you. You pointed at yourself questionably.Â
âYes you! Where are you going? We are in the middle of the show!â he asked, intending to get the crowd interested in the moment.
âIâm going to the bathroom.â you naively answered.
âCanât you hold it to the rest of the show? You are such a baby! Isnât he a baby people?â the clown asked the crowd, making them clap and cheer.
You turned red from embarrassment, gave him your back, and went outside. You had to pee so bad, you didnât have time to think about what happened, not just yet. The toilets were around the tent, a bit far from the entrance. Next to it, there were the wheeled caravans of the circus crew. You could hear the crowd inside cheering and the faded voices of the clowns.
âHey there kid, howâs it going? Have you found the bathroom yet?â said the clown with the curly hair.
He must have finished his act and went outside. He was smoking a cigar and the smoke moved around him in the light breeze. He looked at you, without the act from the show.
âNo, not yetâ you answered.
âItâs not polite what you did back there, only babies canât hold and wait. You must be a baby. But you are funny, at least I can look at you and see you have The funny in ya. Ever thought about clowning? Do you want to clown around with us?â he asked as you took a big drag from his cigar, putting his lips around it, making it visible for you to see.
âWhat? Me as a clown? Nah, I have to take a piss, excuse me,â you said and turned away.
âYou are certainly not excused.â you heard him say.
A second later, a bag was covering your head and it felt like two strong guys were holding you and dragging you somewhere. You heard a door slamming open and then closing. You donât know how, but suddenly you were knocked out of consciousness. Sometime later, that could be moments, that could be minutes, you gained your consciousness back. You heard the crowd cheering very closely. Lights were shining into the cotton bag your head was in. You were wearing something else, something that wasnât your clothes. You felt like you were sitting on something very thick and puffy, which seemed like between your legs as well. Maybe you wore it you thought.
âWe have a surprise for you good folks! Do you remember the baby who couldnât hold it before? Well, Iâm glad to tell you that he is a baby! Our new baby clown! Give it up for the biggest baby of them all!â
Someone grabbed your shoulders, squeezed them, and pressed his head to the bag, and whispered.
âThis is your birthday baby clown, the crowd is cheering for the new baby, make us proud!â
The bag was lifted from your head. You looked around, shocked. You sat in the center of the ring, in front of the cheering and going wild crowd. The lights were blinding but you could see you were wearing a comically massive white diaper and big red clown shoes. A bib with the words âbig babyâ was strapped around you by the purple-haired clown. A bonnet hat was strapped around your head by the clown with a big nose. You felt like crying from the humiliation.
âAwwww is baby gonna cry?â the curly clown asked, now not so serious like he was outside, but goofy and cheerful.
He took some kind of blue makeup marker and drew tears on your cheeks.
âGive it up for our crybaby people!â he made the crowd cheer even more.
He took a rolled-up carpet and unrolled it in front of you. It was a childish carpet like you see in nurseries.
âCrawl around for us baby! Let everyone see your wet diaper you needed!â gesturing you onto the carpet.
From the excitement and the commotion, you didnât even notice you were peeing in your new diaper. Somehow the massive diaper became yellow on the front as you peed. You looked at the wet and yellow diaper, at the carpet, and the gesturing clown, and the cheering crowd.Â
âAlways, such, a whiny, baby. Folks our baby always wants us to pick him up! But he can crawl, I tell you he can! Cheer for him, tell him to crawl!â the clown thrilled the crowd.
âCrawl! Crawl! Crawl!â
They were cheering for you. They were cheering for the baby clown. You were it, you were the show now, give it to them. Crawl to the carpet. Crawl to the spotlight baby.
-------------------------------------------
My conversation with @itsclowntime about clowning got me really inspired to write this short story. If you like clowning or being naughty thinking about it, check out his page. A side note - I used AI to visualize the story. I hope it adds to your imagination.
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City Boy

âPlease donât break down now. Not here. Anywhere but here!â
Nick had been travelling through the countryside when his rusty car broke down. Nick was a rich city boy. Being stranded in the countryside was completely out of his comfort zone. Nick stepped out of the rickety old car. He was surrounded by nothing but corn fields. Not a single person or house in sight.
Nick began walked along the side of the road, hoping a car would pass by. Nick had been walking for around an hour before he saw something in the distance. It was a house. A big bright farmhouse with a barn out the back. It was the first house Nick had seen in miles. Nick precariously approached the farmhouse. He could see a big hulking farmer feeding cows out the back. The shirtless farmer glanced back at the 19 year old.
âWhat do you want, city boy?â The reeking manâs voice growled.

The cowboy brought Nick into his home and sat him down in the kitchen. Nick explained what had happened. The cowboy barely seemed to be paying attention. He kept staring lustfully at the 19 year old. His disgusting farm stench filled Nickâs nostrils.
âSo city boy, Iâve been looking for some help on the farmâ The cowboy said in his southern drawl. âAre yer interested?â
Nick laughed nervously. âNo, man. I just need to use your phon-â
âMan?â The cowboy questioned angrily.
USE YOUR MANNERS, BOY
âIâm sorry, sirâ Nick blurted out. It was almost as if the words just slipped out of his mouth. As if the cowboyâs words had infected his brain, forcing him to say it. Nick was confused.
YOU WANT TO WORK HERE
âI want to work here, sirâ Nick blurted out again. Nick had no control over his mouth anymore. He felt like the cowboyâs puppet. Completely suggestable to everything he was saying. The cowboyâs words embedded themselves in Nickâs brain. His words were not only changing Nickâs reality, but they were also changing Nick as a person...
Nick jumped up from his seat in fear. Nick looked at the hulking cowboy. His 6â8 stature. Nick could smell the cowboyâs hairy body which reeked of pigs and hay. Nick then made a B line for the back door. He needed to escape. What was this man doing to him?
YOU CANâT RUN AWAY, BOY.
The cowboyâs words buried deep into Nickâs mind. He couldnât just run away... could he? He canât just leave the cowboy. It wouldnât be right. Deep inside, Nick knew it was immoral to leave the farmer, but Nick forced himself to keep running. Nick ran until he reached the front of the farm. He was ready to run back to his car but... his feet refused to bring him any further. His body refused to take a step outside of the farm. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldnât leave. He was trapped here...
YOU GREW UP ON THIS FARM, BOY
The cowboyâs words began to tamper with Nickâs memories. Nickâs recollection of growing up in the city vanished. They were replaced with fake memories. Memories of growing up in the South. He remembered life on the farm. How he loved milking the cows, feeding the chickens and stacking the hay. It was his favourite thing to do ever since he was a kid. The 19 year old grabbed his head. He knew the memories were fake. But they felt so... real. Wait... maybe they werenât fake? Maybe Nick did grow up on the farm?
âWhat are yer doin to me?! This ainât my home! Iâm from over yonder. I ainât some hillbilly farmboy!â
Nickâs hands clasped at his mouth. Nickâs accent was now completely Southern. There was not a trace of city boy left in him. It sounded like he had never even been to the city. It sounded like the only place he had ever been was.... the countryside.
YOU TAKE AFTER YOUR FATHER, SON
The cowboy began to rewrite Nickâs genetics. His lineage being rewritten. Nick began to forget about his real father. All memories of living with his loving father faded until there was nothing left. But new memories filled their place. Nickâs mind began to be filled with memories of working on the farm with the cowbo- no... not âthe cowboyâ... his father.
Nickâs genes began rewriting themselves. Changing to adopt the genetics of the muscular cowboy standing in front of him. Nick grew in height as his genetics were replaced with the cowboyâs. He went from a generous 5â8 to a monstrous 6â5. Nickâs muscles began growing. His biceps grew bigger and bigger. His chest bulked up. His abs became more defined. His shoulders broadened. His small dainty hands began thickening, turning into big meaty paws. His fingers fat like sausages. Callouses formed on his hands due to the copious amounts of farm work he had done throughout his entire life in the countryside.
His body grew hairier and hairer. His smooth boyish skin became more coarse and manly. His 19 year old face began aging. It aged until the 19 year old looked like he was in his 30s... and thatâs because he was. The 33 year oldâs face was now covered by a thick manly beard. His testosterone levels sky rocketed. Sweat covered his body, embedding itself in his new body hair. His hairy armpits reeked. He smelled as bad as the pig sty out back. No amount of showers or soap could get rid of the smell. It was the smell of a true country boy. Nickâs city boy clothing began disappearing, being replaced by his milking uniform.
âPops, whatâs happening to m-?â
YOU ARE AN UNEDUCATED COUNTRY BOY
Nick was cut off by his father. His eyes grew dim and vacant. His jaw dropped open. Drool began forming in his mouth. Nickâs IQ had plummeted. His IQ went from 140 to 80 in a matter of seconds. It began slipping down further and further.
âNO! POPS, YOU CANâT DO THIS TO ME!â
His IQ slipped from 80 to 70.
âNO POPS! I WASSA SMART BOY!â
His IQ slipped from 70 to 50.
âNO! I DID DONE WENT TO COLLEGE!â
It slipped down further and further until it eventually fell to a mind numbingly stupid 30.
âImma dumb farmboy, popsâ Nick flexed his massive biceps releasing his pit stink into his fatherâs nostrils. His father smirked.
A dumb blissful expression crossed Nickâs face. Nick felt so at home in his fatherâs hands. So safe. So vacant. So dumb.

âSarry for trynna run away, pops. I dunno whut I were thinkin, sirâ Nick rubbed his empty head.
LETâS MAKE SURE YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DISOBEY ME
Nickâs new father clicked his fingers. And with that, Nick felt a swelling in his chest. It felt as if his pecs were filling up. Filling up with liquid. They felt so heavy. The new weight on his chest almost caused Nick to fall over. He shifted his new weight causing the fat pecs on his chest to jiggle. Nick dumbly looked at his tits. There seemed to be a white liquid leaking out of his nipple. It looked like... milk. Nickâs once lean pecs began getting bigger and fatter as they filled up with milk. They looked so heavy. So fuckable. His nipples grew so sensitive. The slightest touch evoking the most intense pleasure. Nickâs father just wanted titty fuck his son right then and there.
âMa boobs done grown so big, popsâ
âAs punishment for trying to run away, your fat tits will now supply our farmâs milkâ Nickâs father deviously grinned as he stared at his sonâs leaking breasts.
Nickâs father forcefully grabbed his sonâs nipples and began milking his tits. It felt so orgasmic. So pleasurable. Nick felt his intelligence being milked out of his tits. He moaned in pleasure. The more Nick was milked, the more he tried to fight back against his natural urges. But the pleasure soon became too much for the farm boy. He couldnât hold it in anymore. The dumb country boy tried to resist, but he couldnât help but let out a big
âMOOOOOOOOOOOOâ
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
And so, Nick lived out the rest of his life on his fatherâs farm. The dumb country boy happily fulfilled his duties on the farm. He fed the chickens, stacked the hay, let his father cum deep inside his ass. But most importantly, he supplied the farmâs dairy by letting his father milk his fat tits. Nickâs father glanced at the buckets full of his sonâs milk. He grinned.
âGo get me some firewood, son. If you disobey, Iâll make it so the only thing comin out that dumb mouth of yours is MOOOOOO.â

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December 23: Glen Powell

00 â 01 â 02 â 03 â 04 â 05 â 06 â 07 â 08 â 09 â 10 â 11 â 12 â 13 â 14 â 15 â 16 â 17 â 18 â 19 â 20 â 21 â 22 â 23

Hunky actor Glen Powell chuckled as he examined the dog mask that he held in his hands. It had been something that heâd received as a Christmas gift from one of the producers from his new movie. It was definitely a gift that was out of the norm, but Glen had accepted it either way.
He could vaguely recall seeing masks like these online, and guys would often wear them shirtless to flex their large muscles with the mask on.
Laughing to himself, Glen couldnât help himself and he tugged his shirt off, exposing his toned chest muscles. He then pulled the dog mask on, adjusting it to fit perfectly onto his face.
Glen continued to laugh as he lifted a muscled arm, flexing his bicep in the mirror. The fun-loving actor couldnât help but bust out into hysterics as he flexed while wearing the obscure mask, thinking that this was absolutely a hilarious prank that had been pulled on him.
He went to pull the mask off, his laughing ceasing as he realized that it was stuck.
âWhat the hell?â Glen hissed as he grabbed onto the ears of the mask with both hands, giving it a rough tug. Still, the mask refused to budge even a centimeter, as if it were superglued to the hunkâs head.
He even tried to find the bottom seam, but it was as if the mask had been suctioned to his skin, preventing him from even getting his fingers into the mask to pry it off.
âDamn it,â Glen huffed angrily as his biceps flexed with power as he tried to yank the stuck mask off. âWhy the fuck wonât this thing⌠Grrrr!â
Glen paused at the odd growl that had escaped his lips. It had been completely unintentional, yet it had felt totally natural.
The hunk cleared his throat as he stumbled towards the kitchen to look for some butter. He opened up the fridge, growling again when he noticed that he didnât have any butter or anything slippery at all that could help him get the mask off.
âReally⌠er, WOOF!â Glen barked, literally. The actorâs eyes went wide as saucers as the dog bark escaped his lips. Again, the hunk cleared his throat and tried again. âWoof! Woof! Hrmm⌠Woof!â
Glenâs heart started to speed up in his muscled chest as he tried to speak. However, no matter how hard he tried to form words, he couldnât say a single thing besides dog barking. He tried again to pull the mask off his head with all of his might, barking and growling the entire time.
Then Glen tensed up as he felt some sort of invisible force pushing down on his broad back, forcing his legs to buckle. The force grew so strong until he tumbled onto the floor of his kitchen, landing on all fours.
âWoof! Woof!â Glen panicked as he tried to stand back up but was unable to. He tried to balance himself on his legs, barely making it a few inches above the floor before crashing back down onto all fours like an animal.
Glen was so caught up in barking and crawling around on the floor that he didnât notice someone entering his home until he looked up and saw the older man smirking down at him, his arms crossed in front of his beefy chest.
âWell, well,â the older man mused, âlooks whoâs finished their transformation into a Good Boy!â
At the phrase âGood Boyâ, Glen felt something inside of him snap. He couldnât help but happily start barking excitedly as he rushed forward to the other man on all fours, his butt wiggling behind him wildly as if he were wagging a tail.
Deep down, Glen was aware of his actions, but he couldnât stop. Had the dog mask not been covering his face, the other man wouldâve been able to see that it was cherry red⌠albeit with a big, goofy grin on it from the extreme excitement he felt. Worse was that the more he stared at the other man, the harder he felt his cock get.
Glen felt utterly humiliated as his hard cock bobbed in front of him, but he couldnât even bring himself to hide it as he continued to happily bark at the older manâs feet.
âGood boy,â the older man cooed playfully, tracing a large hand over Glenâs broad back, sending a shudder through the actor that made his hard cock throb. âLetâs go ahead and get you home so we can show you off to your new owner. My husbandâs gonna be so happy. Heâs aways wanted a dog.â
Glen screamed on the inside as he felt a collar being slipped comfortably around his neck. The older man led him by a leash, walking him out of his home and onto the busy sidewalk. He was mortified at his hard, naked body being on full display as he crawled on all fours like a dog; but he couldnât show any of his embarrassment.Â
Instead, Glen kept his head held high, his chest muscles puffed out. His body knew that he was a good dog, and he couldnât resist letting out another bark at the excitement he felt over getting a walk. He was such a good boy.

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Sparky the Pup
Oh, Sparky? Yeah he's been my pup for almost a year now. He's been really well trained. The trainer said he's never seen someone accept the conditioning so willingly and enthusiastically.
Humanity? Goodness no, that's all gone. Inside he pretty much thinks he's a Golden Retriever. He's certainly got the excitement and energy to be one anyway. Just like a Golden, Sparky loves to run around the park with the other pups and of course he loves a bone.
Ah the cage! Yes he was always a bit of a bitch so we thought we might as well keep him that way. We actually think it might be putting him in heat. So we've been on the look out for a new friend for Sparky.
You'd like that wouldn't you Sparky?
"RUFF!"
-----
Honestly, more men should be collared and kept as pups...
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Fast Food Snack
My story starts with a close, but I'm hungry...

An intimidating glare from the baggy-eyed manager tells me to back the fuck off, but I have no intention of leaving. I'm starving and this asshole has no idea who he's staring at! After all, how could an old fast-food worker named Darryl know that I just discovered the ability to control dumb little minds like his?
"Open up," I say, licking my lips at the feeling of inserting myself into his head.
Mind control isn't like how it's portrayed in movies. I don't just snap my fingers and bring victims into a vacantly drooling state. No! It's much more invasive than that, and it's much, much more unpleasant for my poor targets. Imagine a sickeningly stiff presence pushing through the back of your skull. It shoves your own ideas and intentions aside, ripping away the control you had over your body. You probably always took that control for granted, but now you can't cause so much as the blinking of an eyelid. Most people spend their time in my thrall screaming internally.
Being sidelined in your own body takes some getting used to, and Darryl isn't enjoying it in the slightest. Nevertheless, I use his hands to unlock the front door and invite myself inside.
"Please, come in," I make his gravelly voice speak, "Can I suck your dick as an apology?"
I feel the man cringe on the inside. He hates hearing and feeling his own mouth make such a vulgar offer, but his stoic face doesn't crack. This idiot is trapped inside his own mind while I get to puppet around his body. I don't even have to tell him what to do.
"Maybe later," I pinch the manager's cheek, "Let's get you deep-fried and seasoned first."
With a vice grip on his brain, I steer the fast-food worker off to do my bidding. Humiliating my playthings is the perfect appetizer...

Darryl spends the next few minutes collecting all the leftover food from the garbage, dumping it all over himself. The manager doesn't stop there, proceeding to lay on the floor and rub all the grease and ketchup into his clothes. That trademark glare stays frozen on his face the entire time he soaks in the day's old fries and ketchup.
"I'm a messy little bitch," he states blandly from the ground, "And an ugly, dumb, low-life."
His words make me chuckle, even though I'm the one making him say it. My metaphorical arm is rammed up his ass like a ventriloquist with a dummy. It's also me that's puppeting his hands to rub the food into the pits of his polo and the crotch of his khakis.
"You really should've just let me inside," I purr with my own mouth, "Now I'm gonna make you act like a messy bitch forever."
Darryl's face remains unbothered, but I feel the real man panic inside. If he had control over his eyes right now, they would be bulging in pure terror. Instead, they gaze passively back at me from the floor.
"Boss? Where'd you go?" a smooth voice interrupts my fun with Darryl.

A tall, dark, and handsome young man walks out from the back kitchen. His thick arms and bushy beard make me salivate. The name tag on his juicy pec reads 'Josh' but there's plenty of other things I'd rather call a stud like him.
"I thought you said we'd leave early if we got everything cleaned up," he grunts quietly.
The handsome fool is too preoccupied with wiping down tables to notice his manager rolling in grease and condiments. Briefly glimpsing in his mind tells me that he wants to finish his shift as quickly as possible, but I won't be letting him off work any time soon.
He jumps when he finally notices me, startled to find a customer still lurking after closing hours. His scowl shortly returns to his face as he pushes out his chest to address me.
"We're closed. You need-" his voice cuts as I commandeer his heavy body and thick neck.
With me in control, Josh's autonomy is squeezed into a corner of his skull, but he still retains all his senses; feeling his muscles relax, licking his salty lips, taking a deep breath of greasy air, and staring at his new master. I make him walk forward until his bulging chest is brushing against my own.
"I can give you a much better show than that dried-up, old, dishrag," I make him say, gesturing to Darryl with his broad hands, "My man-tits are fat and juicy just for you. Let me be your little slut. Fuck me like the breedable piece of meat I am."
Internally, Josh is furious, but his voice doesn't waver as he delivers the words I wrote for him. He's like a Ken doll I'm playing with, only none of it is pretend.
"I think I'd prefer dinner and a show," I giggle, "Why don't we let that dried-up, old, dishrag fuck your ass. He is your boss, after all."

Josh doesn't visibly react to the idea. He doesn't wince or crack the scowl I'd left on his handsome face. He just marches to the back and lays himself out on the dirty floor. Darryl follows, per the instructions I'm pumping into each of his limbs.
"Give it to me hard, boss," Josh says in a low monotone.
"Prepare for a rough ride, muscle-slut." Darryl answers his employee dryly.
Of course, internally, both men are freaking out. It's hard to tell who's more panicked; the manager who's about to dog-fuck his employee, or the roided up gym-rat who's about to take it like a bitch. Darryl wants nothing more than to pull Josh off the floor and run out of the building, but I hold his body firmly in place, making the man unbuckle his stained khakis like he's about to get lucky. Josh is the same, desperately trying to break free and attack, but I've got full control over his bulky body. I make him stick out his tongue and lick the floor like a pathetically horny animal. He still has to taste every inch.
"Papa's ready for ya," Darryl moans, pulling out the cock I easily inflated to full mast.
"Hurry Papa!" Josh squirms as he thumbs his pants below his wiggling bubble butt.
"What the hell?" a nervous voice stutters.

Turning, I find a much less impressive man walking into the kitchen. His name tag reads 'Aaron' and he must've been bullied into cleaning the bathrooms for the last twenty minutes. He's missed a lot, but it doesn't take long for me to catch him up.
"I'm enjoying a meal here!" I bite, mildly annoyed, "Shut up and make yourself useful."
His mind folds instantly to my efforts, and I know exactly how to put him to use. Aaron snaps his mouth, marches around before me, and kneels. Without a single breath of pause, his hands unzip my jeans and pull out my aching penis. He swallows it whole, bobbing his head expertly. Aaron's never done this before, but I've had a few blow jobs and I know exactly how I like it; with a throat wide open and lips at the base.
"Continue," I sigh in pleasure towards Josh and Darryl.
The pair unfreeze, resuming the messed up porno I'm forcing them to star in. The manager leans into Josh's back and enters him from behind. "You're gonna have to take Daddy's dick every time we close. Got it, boy?" he grunts down at his employee. The bearded stud looks up to his boss, and sucks some of the various condiments out of the man's stained shirt. "Yes, sir. I want to end every day like this, here, with you inside me." Darryl continues slapping his groin into Josh's splayed rear, pushing the younger man's face against the cold damp floor.
It isn't long before Aaron's expert dick-sucking leaves me cumming in his stomach. Finally, I'm satiated. "FfuuuuUUUuuuUucck..." I grunt out a long guttural moan of relief.
When my eyes flutter open, I see the mess I've left in this little restaurant...

The three men stop with the act; Aaron pauses, my dick still halfway down his throat; Josh freezes in the middle of writhing with fake pleasure; Darryl even ceases his brutal rape of his employee despite never reaching a climax. None of it matters anymore. My rocks have gotten off, so my little puppet show is over. I'm left with three terrified fast-food workers with broken wills.
"Sorry guys," I pull away and zip up my pants, "I get a little carried away when I'm horny."
"It's, ok," they all answer back nonchalantly, but I can hear their true thoughts screaming, locked away somewhere in their minds.
With a wave of my hand, I wipe the experience from their memories. I turn off their consciousness and set Darryl, Josh, and Aaron on autopilot. Like actors in a bad hypnotism movie, they rise and get back to their nightly chores. This time, their jaws are slack and their eyes are vacant. They'll finish closing down the restaurant and go home, where they'll scrub themselves clean and get a long night of rest. By tomorrow, all of the psychological and physical remnants of what I've done will be gone.

For them, it'll be like I never set foot inside this place. For me, I'll have to pretend that I didn't just become an evil and sadistic super villain. I never did end up eating any food, but I did satisfy some sort of hunger inside me...
...at least for now.
I let my urges get the better of my powers. Being a mind controller is hard. I can barely even control my own mind at times. Wandering away from the isolated, little, restaurant, I wonder how long it'll take before I lose control of myself again...
To be continued?
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Rowan now Rover
It started as a joke at first. My roommate dared me to wear this pup mask we found at the back of a cupboard. It must have been left by the previous occupants. It was a bit of fun and we both got a good laugh about it.
Afterwards however I began to become drawn to it. I put it on when he wasn't there. It felt better and better every time. Soon I was wearing it more and ditching my clothes.
I started to forget how to talk, I could only yelp and bark. Then it was walking on all fours followed by humping pillows.
My roommate was quite happy to adapt to this. He came home one day with a new collar, bowl and bed for me. He would pet me and call me a good boy. When he did It made my cock twitch.
I love it when Master calls me a good boy!
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The Cure for a Break-Up

âI still canât believe it.â Josh mumbles, flipping through old pictures on his phone, âI really didnât see it coming.â
Tanner looked up from his videogame and shrugged, âDude, itâs a break up. Shit happens.â He scratches his wiry pit hairs, scrunching his nose at the smell of his own BO, âHow long are you gonna go on about it?â Josh glares at his roommate, âJust sayinâ dude, gotta bang and go. Keep it simple.â
âYeah, but Haley...â Josh sighs, âYou wouldnât get it. She wasnât like one of your random hookups. I met her in high school... Weâve been dating for years... I was gonna propose when we graduated... I...â Tears threatened to fall.
âFuck dude!â Tanner slams his controlled down, âI fuckinâ lost.â He glares up at his roommate, âYouâre killinâ my vibe dude.â

He walks over to Josh, âWipe those tears and man the fuck up.â He digs his finger into Joshâs chest, âI could handle a few days of this. Shit, we didnât say anything when you fucked up on the field last week. But now? Itâs gettinâ old roomie.â
âFuck off Tanner, I...â
âLive a little bro. Youâve been banging the same chick for the last 7 years.â Tanner smirks, âYou have a chance to really enjoy yourself now. Be free, bro.â
Josh let out a grunt as Tanner grabs a fistful of his lean pecs and gives them a firm squeeze.
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â Josh recoils and moves away from his roommate, âIâm not into that... Huh?â
Josh canât help be feel an inexplainable warmth radiating out from his pecs. He brings a hand to them, the feeling of the fabric against his sensitive nipples causing him to moan. He looks up towards Tanner, who is sporting a smug smirk.
âWhat did you.... oooooohhhhhhh...â Josh moans as his lean pecs start to swell.
He can feel them press against the fabric of his shirt, straining against it. The two mounds of flesh continue to grow, forming into a pair of squeezable muscle tits. And as Josh lifts his shirt to inspect them, another moan escapes his mouth. Just the feeling of the cool air against his nips and bounceable pecs was enough to cause his dick to stir.
âOh fuck...â He plays with his pec, biting his lip, âDude... what...â
But thereâs more to it. Josh looks as his hand seems to thicken and become meatier. Muscle packs on to his forearms and travels up to his shoulders, giving his arms an impressive glow-up. The firm muscles of his bis and tris jutting out, putting even more strain on his tightening shirt. Even his shoulders start to widen, causing his shirt to ride up and expose his stomach, which is contorting and shifting.
âThis isnât possible... Tanner...â Josh grabs his head and closes his eyes, âTanner I canât...â
âJ-man, ya gotta shut up for once.â Tanner mutters, âMost men would fuckinâ kill for a pair of tits like that.â He walks over and grabs a fistful, âAnd my man, this is just the start.â
Josh lets out another grunt as his torso expands and widens. Each pulsation sending a wave of pain and pleasure through Joshâs expanding body. Through half-lidded eyes, he looks down and grunts as his shirt finally rips away. His eyes widen in surprise. A red tank-top covers his torso, although truthfully it did little to hide what was underneath. His fat pecs jutted out around it- unable to be contained. And he could appreciate the itching as tiny hairs emerged from his once clean-shaven skin.

âGive âem a squeeze, you know you want to.â Tanner chuckles.
âFuck yeah...â Josh mutters, realizing he sounds drunk. He brings his meaty hand to his pecs, giving them a tender, loving squeeze, âOh shit...â He scrunches his nose as the musky smell from his pits tickles his nose, âI smell...â
âFuckinâ great man.â Tanner interjects, âCâmon, give it a whiff.â
And Josh raises his increasingly muscular arm and does just that. The smell of his own musk sets off something primal in his shrinking brain and he grabs his cock with his meaty hand. Memories and images of himself shift within his mind, where an increasing acceptance of these changes blossoms. Memories of date nights turn into one-night fuck sessions. His dreams of a family shift into a series of kinks and ways to get off.
âTanner...Please...Donât....â Josh grunts, a swelling sense of pride in his muscles emerging. A total disregard for anyone else burning away his capacity for deep emotional connections.
"Bro, I told ya." Tanner replies, "Its a lot better this way. Trust me."
Josh wants to argue. To tell him he's wrong. But he realizes with a sense of increasing dread he doesn't recall anything different. No memory of his committed relationship. No desire for anything different. He bites his lip- savoring the feel of his body. His masculinity. His ability to get what he wanted, when he wanted.
âFuck... why didnât you do this to me earlier?â He breaths out, continuing to pump his engorged member- its girth and length growing in his calloused hand, âYou fuckinâ held out on me, bro.â
âNah man, I donât think you wanted this.â Tanner shrugs, âAfter all you and Haley...â
âWho?â Joshâs voice ragged.
Tanner smirks, âExactly, broski.â
Josh grunts and pulls the tank-top off- his musk filling the room. He grunts at the site of his meaty pecs, firm abdominal muscles, and the blanket of hair covering his growing body.
âIâm a stud.â He mutters, âA beast.â
âYeah, yeah Josh.â Tanner replies.
âNo for real, dude. Take a fuckinâ look.â
Josh moans as a tattoo becomes engraved in his meaty pec and arm. He looks at it, a grin spreading across his face. He firmly grabs his cock and falls to the couch, pumping relentlessly. He was made for this. A bull with a massive cock. Anyone... everyone would be lucky to pleasure it. He throws his head back, not even registering as his jaw squared out, his eyes dull, and light stubble emerges on his cheeks.
âOh god yes.â His voice is deeper, carrying an arrogant air to it, âIâm gonna... Iâm....â
He sees his body. The muscle, the hair. The smell of his ripe pits. His massive dick. It felt so right... so good... A deep love for himself bathed his neurons. No one was as good as him.
"Ahhhhhh fuck yes...."
Ropes of sticky cum shoot from his monster of a cock, coating his hairy chest and abdomen. After a few ragged breaths, his dull eyes open and he grins.
âFeel better?â Tanner asks, throwing Josh his tank-top.
âThe fuck you talkinâ about?â Josh catches it and wipes away his seed before wearing the tank-top, âNever felt anything but great.â

âSure stud.â Tanner sits on the couch, getting back into his videogame.
The two sit in silence, while Josh scrolls through his phone with one hand and paws at his cock with the other. Â
âFuck yeah.â Josh smirks and stands up, âThat fairy from econ wants to worship these.â He gives his pec a bounce, âAlways knew he wanted to. Heâs lucky Iâm feeling generous.â Another ding on his phone and his smirk widens, âAnd that slut from the cheer team wants to meet up later.â
âLook at you go.â Tanner remains focused on his game.
âPfft have fun with your game, bro.â Josh mumbles, âWastinâ your time if you ask me.â
Tanner watches as Josh leaves, âFuckinâ finally. Just need to rank up...â He continues to play his game, no longer bothered by any distractions.
Meanwhile, Josh sat in his car. He always liked to send his next fuck-toy a preview of what was to come. With a satisfied smirk, and a new lease on life, Josh revved his engine and headed off.
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After putting the headphones on you, Daddy left you in the nursery for your special swirly show. Itâs been weeks since your training began, and it seems Daddyâs plans are working now. Those are not just plain dumb baby shows, but special-made ones, that Daddy ordered from a specialist online. A few weeks ago, Daddy told you about a page online that sells hypno files that turn men into big babies who love their diapers, but you just waved it away saying it was silly and thereâs no way that stuff would work.
Look at you now.
In the beginning, it didnât work. You sat there in front of the screen, bored. Daddy contacted the site and asked if there was something to be done. The support team suggested âThe premium adult baby addiction experienceâ. A week later, a package came.
Inside it, there was a wireless vibrating chastity cage and a big wireless vibrating butt plug, both can connect to Daddyâs phone and TV. Daddy was excited and rushed into the changing matt, locking your peepee and plugging your lubed butthole. A thick diaper was wrapped around you and you were lowered to the floor once again.
âBe a good boy and watch your new showâ Daddy said as he shoved a paci to your mouth, put your headphones on, and turned the TV with his phone and new app.
The TV turned on, with the same show as before, but something was different. The colors looked better, the sounds were much nicer, and the whole screen looked sharper. A lullaby was playing, while dozens of words faded and moved on the screen. Suddenly the word âDiapersâ became bright white, and you spotted it.
A wave of intense vibration came from the cage and buttplug. It made you fall to your stomach. You got up to your fours again and looked at the screen. âPacifierâ appeared, you spotted it. Again, a wave of vibration felt in your diaper is such an amazing sensation.
From that point, you were hooked. Not only did it become your favorite show, but your favorite activity. Spotting baby words, singing baby songs, meeting new colorful friends. The premium adult baby addiction experience got you addicted to ABDL.
Now Daddy knows he can put his boy in front of the television, for hours, while his baby boy is eager to watch his shows. Itâs a good thing he puts you in a thick diaper, you need a heavy-duty diaper for all that precum. --------------------------------- @padcub got hooked on ABDL, and he loves it! You can also find him on twitter (X) with the same handle (@)padcub
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Ethan: The secret feeder
âAnd this is Ethan,â muttered one of the guys, drunkenly pointing out someone from a crowd of twenty-something men who had just walked over.
Everything and everyone fell into the background. David had never seen a man so handsome in his whole life; toned as could be, with perfect blonde hair styled into a loose knot at the top of his head. The man smiled and shook his hand, making Davidâs stomach flutter and then shatter into a thousand pieces.
âHey,â Ethan smiled charmingly, before turning towards another man at his side, as if for Davidâs benefit. âThis is my boyfriend Steve,â he announced, trying to be heard over the clubâs loud music.
Of course he was taken, David huffed, unheard above the noisy surroundings. Men like Ethan were always taken! But as he watched the man step forward, Davidâs mind began to suspect that maybe Ethan was playing some sort of trick on him, for surely this could not be his boyfriend? The guy was sullen and grumpy looking, awkwardly shaped and dressed in clothes that were way too small for him. Under a flabby looking chest protruded a very definite pot belly and although he was trying to grow a patchy beard across his face, there was no disguising the very real double chin the guy had.
Ethan smiled proudly and placed his strong hand on the bulbous rear of his supposed boyfriend, as if incredibly proud of him. But his boyfriend, Steve, simply nodded, seemingly only vaguely interested in being here by Ethanâs side. Then he whispered something into Ethanâs ear before the sexy man had to make some weak excuse for why they both had to leave once again.
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By the end of my first training session with daddy, I was in diapers so thick I could barely walk--it was much easier to crawl. It made me feel helpless....
And I loved it
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