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redinthefaceandcheeks · 20 days ago

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Topped by the Bottom

This story was created in collaboration with DiansArt Tayler the tipiet stepped out of his rented car and gave himself one more look over. He stood at an impressive eight feet in height, with a frame that made him imposing if he wanted to. Along with his stature, he was wearing his best shoes and a pair of designer blue jeans that was riding just low enough to show the elastic band of his red underpants underneath. His chest was almost completely bare, showing off the two toned fur pattern of blueish grey and white fur that covered his body as well as all the toned muscles that were just underneath. Resting on his pecs was a recently polished black chest harness with silver snap buttons that gleamed in the city’s evening lights. Tayler made sure that the harness sat in a way that it did not obscure the golden piercing on his left nipple. Tayler heard great things about this club and he made sure to move his schedule around to ensure he could have his fun before needing to get home the next day. While the business trip prevented Tayler from bringing his full outfit he was more than confident enough that he could still turn heads. Once he was satisfied with himself, the Tipiet righted himself and squared his shoulders as he strolled towards the entrance.

Even before being asked, Tayler flashed his ID to the moose in the black t-shirt and sunglasses. The bouncer took the card into his hand and waved a black light over it before he began to inspect the information on it.

His eyebrows lifted as he looked on and said, “A tipiet? We don’t see a lot of you fellas around here.” “Yup, a bit of a rare breed,” Tayler replied with a playful wink.

“Good enough,” the moose shrugged as he handed the ID back to Tayler and fastened a paper bracelet around Tayler’s wrist before moving to the side, “Enjoy your night. “Will do.~”

Once inside Tayler was able to fully assess what the club had to offer. It had a pretty typical layout, in the middle, there was a bar station staffed by a snazzily dressed red panda bartender serving drinks to the patrons. On one side of the bar was a crowded dance floor with a goat DJ overlooking the chaos as the music kept pumping. The other side of the club was a selection of tables, booths, and chairs where others were enjoying their drinks and company.

Taking a closer look at the occupants in the seating area, Tayler saw a tan-furred lynx, wearing nothing but a purple corset, with her matching knee-high heels placed on the booth seat next to her. The lynx was pressing her paws onto the face of an African Wild Dog that was lying on his back under the table. At the next one over, there was a blushing mustached dark grey bear with white highlights doing his best, and failing, to covertly watch the other two as he rubbed his groin through his pants. The tipiet smiled to himself and realized that he was exactly where he needed to be.

Tayler then set his jaw and headed over to the bar. He muscled his way into creating a spot and slammed his credit card as a way to get the bartender’s attention. The red panda, who had an engraved name tag on his breast pocket stating his name simply as, ‘Red’ took a moment to look over Tayler before asking, “What can I help you with?” “A michelada, and make it strong.” Red gave the tipiet a dis incredulous look before he took his card to open the tab.

As the bartender went to work on the drink, Tayler cast his eyes over towards the dance floor. He took in the sights of folks from all walks of life dancing and grinding against each other, well almost everyone. Right in front of the DJ’s speakers, the tipiet spotted what looked like a highland cow dancing enthusiastically by himself. The cow had clean-cut brown fur with white splotches all over his body, with a mop of shaggy hair on his head and thick horns protruding from the side. At the end of his muzzle was a baby pink nose with a large gold nose ring looping through the septum. He was wearing a collar that held a brass bell and a fishnet shirt underneath an open varsity college jacket. Yet the real eye-catching part of his attire was what he had below the waist. The cow was sporting a simple jock that just barely fit him, not in the pouch but on the other side. The elastic bands on the back seemed to be stretched to their limits as it was pressed against an ass that was made by nature and plenty of squats.

Even from this distance, Tayler could tell from the way the cow was dancing that not only he was a bottom, and socially anxious, but he bought the outfit in the hopes it would boost his confidence. He saw it dozens of times at his hometown’s club scene and it was exactly his type. As the tipiet watched the cow on the dance floor, the fact that he was by himself became even more peculiar. It was not that the dancer did not have any friends with him but it looked like that everyone else on the dance floor was giving him a wide berth. Tayler’s attention was pulled back to his spot as the bartender placed his drink on the bar. He turned back to the red panda and grabbed his glass. “Hey, got any idea who that cow over there is?” Tayler asked, cocking his thumb behind him. Red’s eyes moved from the tipiet over the dance floor and widened as he realized who Tayler was talking about.

“Oh, Derek? He’s a regular here. A bit of advice from the bartender, it’s best to avoid him, he’s… out of your depth.” Tayler barked out a laugh, “HA! Trust me, I’m plenty experienced” as he puffed out his chest. “Oh I’m sure you do,” Red said with only a hint of sarcasm, “but Derek is… different.” “Yeah? How so?” Tayler shot back, rising to the call. Seeing that the Tipiet was not going to back down, Red let out a sigh and leaned closer to him, “Rumor has it that he got himself some hypno tapes from the shadier side of the internet and it sort of caused him to be a bit screwy. He’s still him and nice as hell but we all kinda let him do his own thing and you should do the same.” Tayler was only half paying attention as he turned back on the cow dancing by himself. He was already licking his lips at all that untouched potential openly presenting itself.

If he was going to only be in this city for one more day, why not go out and enjoy the local ‘flavor’?

With that, Tayler made up his mind. He turned back to the bartender and said, “You know what? I think I’ll take my chances,” as he downed his drink and placed it back on the table. Red just picked up the glass and added, “Best of luck, and if you are serious about dancing with him…. Don’t touch that bell around his neck collar.” The tipiet gave the red panda a dismissive wave as he walked away. With eyes locked on his target, Tayler stepped onto the dance floor and proceeded to bob, weave, and dance his way through the crowd. Once he got into the clearing he moseyed his way over to Derek and introduced himself by bumping up against the cow’s ass. Tayler enjoyed Derek’s startlement when he turned around to find someone actually dancing next to him. Even with the horns, Tayler was still a foot taller than Derek and this close up he also noticed that the inside of the bell on the cow’s collar was stuffed with what looked like a white tube sock.

The tipiet gave the cow a mischievous grin, leaned down, and, speaking over the DJ’s music, teased, “How now, brown cow?”

As Tayler spoke, he also made no effort to hide the fact that his eyes were lingering on Derek’s exposed ass. The highland cow blushed at the attention and began dancing with his new friend. From the top of the tipiet’s vision, he saw the goat DJ flinch from the interaction but he paid him no mind, Talyer had what he wanted.

They tried to exchange flirty comments but the DJ’s music drowned their words out, so they just let their bodies speak for themselves. While Derek was still reeling from Tayler’s bold initiation, the tipiet gladly took the reins on where to lead their physical conversation.

The two continued their dancing, fully enjoying the space given to them by the other club members. Tayler used the excess to cut loose and show off his more rambunctious dance moves to the easily amused cow. He relished the fact that all of the members on the dance floor had one eye on them.

Derek was just enjoying the dedicated attention and returned the favor by trying to keep up with Tayler’s moves in his own clumsy off-beat way.

Tayler, now bolstered by the acceptance of the cow, quickly moved from the pleasantries of dancing to the more intimate moves of groping and grinding his cock in between Derek’s fat ass. He also made sure to make a show for the onlookers as he threw in a few unbashful spanks that could be heard over the music. Derek loved all of it and played into everything Tayler threw at him while making it clear that he was down for so much more. When it got to the point where dancing was no longer enough for either one, Talyer flashed Derek another smile and leaned in to stage whisper over the music, “You must be thirsty, why don’t I get you a drink?” The cow’s eyes lit up at that proposal and nodded eagerly. Tayler then brought his hand up to the front of Derek’s neck and grabbed the sock stuffed inside the bell with the intention of ‘dragging’ him to the bar. He did not anticipate how easily it came loose.

As his hands continued to pull away with the cloth in hand, Tayler saw the DJ’s eyes practically pop out of their sockets. The goat also pressed the emergency stop button, killing the music mid-beat as everyone on the dance floor took a sharp inhale.

Confusion dashed across Tayler’s mind as he noticed an abrupt change in the club’s atmosphere. Yet his eyes remained on the still dancing Derek, his movements caused the bell to swing as the now-freed clapper collided with the inside wall.

DING DING DING. The sound of the bell rang out crystal clear against the stunned silence of the club. From behind a staff member dropped his tray and bolted through a door labeled ‘staff only’.

The first thing that Tayler noticed was the eyes.

Derek’s eyes went wide and distant, his jaw slacked, and his arms fell to the sides as his body gently rocked back and forth.

Tayler was about to turn back to the crowd to figure out what was happening but some primal part of the tipiet’s brain snapped his attention back to the highland cow and alerted him that Derek was inflating.

No, inflate was not the right word for this.

Derek still stayed the same physical size, he just began to unfold. While still standing still, he straightened his spine, drawing himself up to his full height. He also leveled his head, setting his vacant sights straight ahead. Derek then rolled his shoulders in place, unhunching them, followed by his diaphragm also expanding out, pressing his chest against his varsity jacket. The whole action gave the illusion that he was filling out his body with some untapped reservoir of confidence.

The transformation ended with Derek slowly bringing his head up to meet Tayler’s perplexed face. He blinked to refocus and then looked Tayler dead in the eyes, the assertiveness he now had in his gaze as startling.

He then gave Tayler a once over, smirked, and then proclaimed, “Nah, I’m not done dancing with you yet.” It was the same voice Derek had before, but this time the one had an unquestionable edge to it.

The highland cow then snapped his head back to the DJ and barked, “Hey, What are they paying you for? Play some music!”

The goat complied and the club was soon filled with music again.

Tayler’s mind was going a mile a minute trying to wrap his head around the sudden development. Yet his train of thought was suddenly derailed as Derek grabbed Tayler’s extended hand, which held the sock, and spun him around. Just like that, they were back to dancing in the middle of the crowd of watchful members.

This time around, Derek was taking the lead. His movements became more purposeful as he continued to radiate direction. Now that his bell was no longer impeded, it rang out just as unapologetically as the cow’s dancing.

To Tayler’s credit, he did try to keep up with his dance partner but Derek’s actions were quickly getting too much to handle and it slowly became clear that he was losing control of the dynamic between them. Derek kept putting on the pressure and directed him where to go as everyone steered clear of the steer.

After a few more moments of ‘dancing’, the tipiet was backed up against the wall. Once there, Derek pivoted and began pressing and grinding his ass against the tipiet’s groin, pinning him in place.

Responding to the sudden change, Tayler leaned into this development by counter-grinding against the cow and throwing in a few more powerful spanks, which only fueled Derek’s actions even more. After a while, when it was clear that even with all going on Derek’s recently unbridled desire was still not satisfied. The cow bent down and delivered a deep full cheek thrust against Tayler’s hips while bringing the rest of his body up to press against his dance partner. Derek looked up as he spoke directly into Tayler’s ear, “Enough teasing, let's see what that meat of yours can actually do.~” Tayler could hardly process what Derek had just said, the highland cow a powerful booty bump and bounced off of him. He used the momentum to spin around and drop to his knees while bringing his hands up the tipiet’s waist in one fluid motion. In a blink of an eye, Derek undid Tayler’s belt buckle and zipper and reached in to grab his junk, pulled them up, and let it flop over the elastic of his underpants. Tayler’s dick was as impressive as the rest of him and it certainly backed up his cocky demeanor. It was long, thick, black, and glistening in precum with a hefty set of balls hanging underneath.

“Damn,” Derek said as he clasped his hands together and began rubbing them, “I felt that you were packing down there but I didn’t think it would be this big!” He then looked up at Tayler and licked his lips as he proclaimed, “Oh I'm going to have a good night with this~”

The highland cow then opened his mouth and rolled his thick bovine tongue out. He brought his tongue up and pressed it against the tip of Tayler’s dick and began to run it down the top of the shaft. Once Derek got to the balls, he circled around and lightly juggled the pair with his tongue before he pulled it back up on the underside of the dick. When he got back to the head, Derek moved his mouth closer and started to actually give Tayler a blowjob.

Tayler just shuddered in pleasure from the sudden sensory bombardment. ‘Fuck this guy’s a pro at this,’ he thought to himself, ‘I wonder why no one else wanted to dance with him.’

It was here where Tayler’s common sense finally caught up to him. The tipiet whipped his head up and scanned the dance floor for both the other’s reactions to this brazen act as well as for any staff members. This was still just his first time here, but this place did not seem like a place that would allow members to be this bold in public. To his surprise, no one was disgusted by the scene and none of the staff members moved to interrupt what was going on. If anything the ones that were looking at him had a general sense of at ease, as well as a trace of pity. Since no one was objecting, Tayler decided to just roll with it and see where it could go. He steadied his stance, raised his arms and crossed them behind his head as he tried to enjoy the moment within the crowd. As much as Tayler enjoyed the surprise blowjob, he quickly realized that the cow was carrying it now to not give, or even enjoy the pleasure of the act. It seemed like he was just racing to get Tayler to completion.

When it got to the point of getting too close, Tayler tried to bring his hand down on top of the cow’s head, to indicate a change in tempo. As he did that, Derek’s hand shot up and slapped it away. On the pullback, Derek shot a glare up at Tayler as he continued sucking. The primal part of his brain decoded the message, “I will not be interrupted.”

Tayler accepted the message. He then resumed his stance with his arm behind his head, trying to save face in front of the crowd, and trying to enjoy the ride.

Not long after that, Tayler’s dick began to twitch, signaling that it was about to blow. Derek picked up the tell as well because he stopped the blowjob just before Tayler could cross the point of no return. With one last lingering pull back of his mouth up the tipiet’s shaft, he concluded the blowjob with a sloppy kiss on his head, sucking up the remaining bit of precum as he looked up at Tayler.

While maintaining eye contact, Derek rose to his feet and pressed his body against Tayler as he said, “You think I’m just going to allow you to blow your load in my mouth? Where’s the fun in that?~”

Derek then pulled himself back and made a show of fishing in his varsity jacket pocket and pulling out a small bottle. He slowly popped the cap with one hand and turned it over to pour a thin ribbon of lube on top of Tayler’s dick as his other hand reached down and started stroking it, spreading it around. During the performance, Tayler was still trying to wade through the haze of pleasure that he had just been subjected to. ‘No way this little timid cow is going to be that bold’ he thought to himself.

Once the tipiet’s dick was fully coated, Derek twirled around and jutted his ass out. He then twists his body to be able to grab Tayler’s dick as well as give Tayler a knowing side-eye. He then repositioned himself and fed the dick right between the crevice of his huge cheeks, lining the tip against the opening of his asshole.

‘He can't possibly try to fuck me right here, without any warm-up.’ Derek read the astonished look on Tayler’s face and chuckled as he readjusted the bell on his collar, “What? You wanted to dance… we did it your way, not it’s my turn to dance my way.” Before Tayler could open his mouth to reply, Derek pulled his hips out a fraction of an inch before ramming himself onto Tayler.

WHAM! DING DING DING. The sound of both the impact and Derek’s bell rang clear in Tayler’s ears but he barely recognized it. His brain was too preoccupied with processing the physical sensation he just received. Along with Derek slamming him back against the wall and his fat ass colliding against his waist, his asshole took in Tayler’s entire cock in one smooth motion.

The combination of all those things practically knocked the breath out of him. Tayler barely had the time to recover as Derek placed his hands on his knees and began to pull himself out again only to immediately slam his ass back onto Tayler. Derek was merciless with this execution and made it clear that he had no interest in any feedback that Tayler had on the matter.

The sound of the bell rang out with every backward thrust onto Tayler, filling his ears as his vision blurred from the flurry of blows. All he could do was keep his hands clear of the impact area.

After a few more backward thrusts, Derek found his tempo and let out a satisfied, “Fuck yeah, this is what I need” as he ran his dry hand through his moppy hair.

All around them, the rest of the club watched on as the DJ still continued to play his music. Some of the members resumed their dancing while the others who were more bold, decided to move towards the edge of the clearing to get a better look. None of the club staff lifted a finger. Any reputation that Tayler had built for himself tonight went straight out the window as he was publicly demoted to being a wall-mounted dildo for Derek. Time seemed to escape from Tayler as he tried to both remain upright and stay mentally afloat from the torrent of sensations around him. Even in the pandemonium, some part of the tipiet was able to enjoy the fact that his cock was kept receiving full body strokes by the cow’s insides and soon it began to ready itself to blow again. Derek noticed, turned his head back, and chided, “Ready to pop so soon? Let’s hope those balls can deliver… Just letting you know, I have high expectations.~” Without missing a beat in his hip movements, Derek reached his lube-covered hand down between his legs and expertly caught Tayler’s balls as he slammed back into him. He then closed his palm around the tipiet’s nuts and began to toy with them as he continued riding him.

Tayler tried to fight down the urge to orgasm, if only to maintain some semblance of control in this situation but it was just too much to deal with. The tipiet scrunched up his face as his body betrayed him as it started to convulse as he let out a defeated moan. Reading Tayler’s reaction, Derek slammed his ass back, making him fully hilted right as his plaything climaxed.

Stars flashed before Tayler’s eyes as he felt his dick shoot its load deep into Derek.

“Oh, there it is!” Derek proclaimed with depraved satisfaction as he held the position.

The cow kept Tayler pinned against the wall and proceeded to grind against his hip as he started clenching his asshole. Derek did everything in his power to make sure that he got every last drop inside of him. Once he made absolutely sure that there was nothing left, he pulled himself forward and allowed the tipiet’s spent dick to come sliding out. Tayler remained plastered against the wall, drenched in sweat and sucking down air now that he had been freed. He was about to count his blessing that it was finally over when he saw Derek’s hand reach out towards him and grab the strap of his chest harness. The tipiet was then peeled from the wall and pulled to his feet. Derek pulled him closer and said, “So… about that drink?~” The cow then dragged the still-reeling Tayler off of the dance floor and over towards the bar. He did not even grant the tipiet the dignity of putting his cock away.

Once at the counter, Derek barked out, “Two rum and colas, double for both and put it on this guy’s tab.” He then continued to pull Tayler away as he shouted back, “Once they are ready, have them be sent to the tables.” Red just gave a quiet nod and began to prepare the drinks. Derek arrived at the seated section and scanned the area, at this time of night there were no available spots but that did not stop him. The cow brought his attention to the dark grey bear sitting by himself at a booth, trying to enjoy the club scene while doing his best not to make eye contact with the highland cow. Derek marched over to the bear who was currently trying to feign attention at something on the far wall. “Move.” With that one word, the facade crumpled. The bear mumbled out some sort of excuse as he quickly shuffled off and fled. Derek just regarded the interaction with a smug grunt before he turned back to the table. He brought his foot up, placed it on the edge of the table and in one powerful move, he pushed it away. Once the sofa booth was no longer obscured, he spun Tayler around and threw him in such a way that his ass would land right in the middle.

By now Tayler regained enough wits about him to bring his eyes up to look at Derek, who was now looming over him. From the corner of his vision, the tipiet saw someone who looked like the club’s busboy bravely carrying over a tray that held two glasses. Derek grabbed the drinks, one in each hand, and Tayler witnessed the cow down one in a single go. He placed the empty one back onto the tray and dismissed the staff with a gesture, which he eagerly obeyed. With the other glass in hand, Derek shifted his full gaze back onto his dance partner, “I'm going to make sure that I squeeze every last load out of you for the rest of the night.”

Before Tayler could even muster up a response, Derek turned around, flashing the tipiet a view of his ass as he came crashing down onto his lap.

Derek was true to his word. He stayed seated on top of Tayler, enjoying his drink and grinding his ass against the tipiet until he felt the dick begin to get erect again. Once it was hard enough, he reached under him and slid it back into his asshole. Derek then proceeded to bounce upon Tayler until he was able to get another climax out of him before getting up and bringing his dance partner to a different part of the club. For the rest of the night, Derek made sure that Tayler was always within arms reach. Between loads, Tayler was Derek’s arm candy as he was paraded around every corner of the club and ‘buying’ the cow drinks. Yet any time it looked like the tipiet’s cock recovered enough to go another round, Derek could jump on the opportunity and make sure that every last drop would be deposited in his ass.

As the night went on, Derek had to get more creative on how to coax out additional orgasms from Tayler. That ranged from Derek planting Tayler’s face into his pits as he rode him off to recruiting some of the braver club goers to engage in some public body worship of the tipiet.

For Tayler, everything just blurred together countless cycles of pleasure, orgasm, and exhaustion. Eventually, 2 am rolled around as the owner’s voice came over the intercom system, “Alright everyone, the club is officially closed.”

Something within that sentence must have been a hypnotic trigger for Derek because froze for a moment. He then began to ‘deflate’ as a confused look grew on his face. Once he collected his old self, he looked down at the now thoroughly drained tipiet. Looking at Tayler, Derek’s face began to redden as he said in the same meek voice from the beginning, “OH NO! It happened again!” He then carefully cupped the cowbell around his neck in his hands. The cow then made his way out of the door, joining the crowd of late-night stragglers and leaving Tayler collapsed on the sofa where he had been for the last hour.

The tipiet stayed like that until the house lights came on and the staff began their clean up. He only moved when Red, the red panda bartender, came over to him and lent him a hand to help him get back onto his feet.

Once Tayler could prove that he was able to stand on his own, Red handed back his credit card, with an impressively long recipient wrapped around it, and a complimentary bottle of water for his travels. As Tayler staggered out, he heard the bartender say, “ I told you to be careful. Mess with the bull, you get the horns.”

*** If you enjoyed this story consider supporting me on Patreon! For five dollars a month, you’ll get access to the Author’s Notes on this post and others. At ten dollars a month, you’ll get access to exclusive member polls, to suggest and shape my monthly suggested story. The link: https://www.patreon.com/RiTFaC

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 2 months ago

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Patreon Suggested Story: April 2025

This story topic was voted on by the wonderful Avid Readers on my Patreon! For April's poll the winning story prompt was ‘Collar and leash'. Your handler turned his car and smoothly pulled into the parking spot. The two of you unbuckled and stepped out into the glorious spring day as you two made your way over to the park to join in the festivities. The public park was rented out to host its first kink-friendly pop-up marketplace. An event where local vendors and creators from all over can sell their goods in the open within the privacy of a walled off area.

The local club organized and lobbied for it and after a lot of permits, they were able to get approved by the local government.

To celebrate its debut, your handler was sporting a new biker outfit of a black leather jacket, matching leather pants, and heavy-duty boots. You on the other hand were wearing sneakers, simple jeans, and a graphic design t-shirt that just had a stylized, yet subtle, logo of your favorite online gear store on the front.

While you had nothing else, your handler had a cloth tote bag in his hand which he made it painfully clear that he was coyly hiding the contents from you. As you walked next to him you could hear the muffled sound of jingling.

The pop-up event was easy enough to spot, it took up the majority of the park’s area and was surrounded by tall temporary walls. The walls were black with red sentenced text spray painted along each section, “The Day-Night Market. Valid ID required to enter.” Both the entrance and exit had a small ‘S shaped’ hallway, to ensure that no one who did not want to catch a glimpse of the inside. You and your handler approached the entrance and presented your IDs to the staff. He looked at you, nodded in approval, and provided you with a paper bracelet to wrap around your wrist. When he looked over your handler, he stated that he needed to look through his tote bag. Your handler approached and purposefully turned his back to you as he opened it up for the staff member to inspect. You heard the sound of metal jingling again, as the staff member chuckled and asked a question under his breath. Your handler replied in the same hushed voice. He then made a show of closing the tote bag before he extended his arm for the bracelet. Once fully cleared the staff member moved to the side and allowed you two to enter. After snaking through the privacy entrance, you were greeted to the sight of a truly bizarre bazaar. There were three rows of booths, starting at the nearest wall and taking up about half of the real lot. There were the typical leather and latex kink vendors but plenty of local artists had their artworks on display, whether that be t-shirts, bags, trinkets, stickers, prints, or books. Filling the rows were people of all sorts in different outfits, wandering around either examining the inventory or talking to the owners.

The remainder of the space was divided into three segments. On the far end and yet closest to you, a few food trucks were perfuming the air with their cooking.

The middle segment had picnic tables with people eating their food and socializing with others and the remaining section was dedicated to a small handful of park games, seasoned with a bit of kink.

While you have been experienced enough to have seen all of these things in one form or another, having them all be laid out under the light of the sunny spring day made everything feel more… taboo. You were about to make your way down the first row of booths when your handler shot his arm out, catching you in the chest.

“Whoa, buddy.~”

You turned your head back to your handler who had a mischievous grin on his face. He then held up the cloth bag and began to open it as he added, “You’re not decent yet.”

He pulled out some neoprene that you knew intimately and handed it to you. There was no need for him to say anything else. You took the pup hood from him and slid it over your head. You savored the smell of the synthetic rubber as the material clung all around your head. You adjusted the pup hood on your face before you stood at attention and looked back at your handler as you let out a playful, “Wuff!” “That’s a good start but you’re not done yet,” your handler added as he pulled out your collar. This was one of the plain, yet sturdy, cloth with a black plastic buckle and a metal loop at the front. Dangling from the loop was a cheap metal dog tag that had your pup name engraved on it. It was one of the first collars you ever bought, got both up at an actual pet store years ago.

Your handler tucked the tote bag underneath his armpit and presented the collar to you as he held the ends in each hand.

In response, you held your hands behind your back, leaned forward, and allowed your handler to step closer and fasten the collar around your neck. You heard the click behind you and your handler let go and stepped back to get another good look at you. As he appraised you with affection, you felt compelled to wiggle your bottom in response. Now with both on, you were about to turn back to explore the Day-Night Market when your handler stopped you again. “Ah Ah ah~” he playfully chided as he thematically fished around the bottom of the near empty tote bag, as you heard the jingling again, louder and unimpeded by the neoprene and cloth.

“You know the park rules, all dogs need to be leashed.” He then pulled out a bundle of chains and your breath was caught in your throat.

It was a metal chain leash and unlike the collar, this was actual BDSM gear. It was about two and a half feet in length, with one end sporting a traditional snap leash clasp while the other had a black leather hand strap.

He must have recently bought it behind your back because he never used it with you before. While the leash itself was nothing special in its design the way the sunlight caught on the chains caused your brain to light up. You just stood there, transfixed as your handler deliberately unfurred the chain leash in front of you and then stepped forward once more to attach it to your collar. You waited until your handler straightened back up and brought his end of the leash up to in front of your eyes.

“Now you’re ready for walkies~,” he said with a smirk, adding a jingle for emphasis. Your handler then readied his arm in place, turned back towards the market, and began to walk. He moved with such purpose that it was imminently clear that you would be going with him, it would just be your choice if you were walking behind him or if you were going to be dragged.

Your legs sprung into action as you followed behind him through the rows of vendors. Even without saying another word on the matter, your handler made it clear that he was in charge of the pace and direction of this walk. He was also the sole decider of where to stop and what to look at.

You were resigned to being the passive observer in this scene. Despite the confined area of the actual market space, your handler made the most of it. He snaked around the aisles and stopped at every booth to stretch out the moment as much as he reasonably could.

As he did he conducted himself as if nothing was out of sorts, he just went around to look over every shop and make pleasant small talk to the owners with only a slight exaggeration of amical interest. You just stood behind him, far enough to see the chain swing from the bottom of your vision.

He never once acknowledged the dynamic that he placed on you with anyone else and none of the shopkeepers asked. The contrast between his casual composure and the social restraints that he placed on you made the scene just so much more taboo.

The only time that your handler would address you was when he found something that was related to you. During those times he would turn to you to show it off and ask about your thoughts in that playful voice he used only for pupplay sessions.

“What do you think of this one?” “Oh, lookie here…. this is kinda like what you have at home, isn’t it?” “Isn’t this a nice color?”

In turn, you would only answer back in barks; one for yes, two for no. From that, your handler was able to pick up a few new art pieces and a couple of trinkets which he used the tote bag to hold them all in. He also bought you a handmade leather dog bone-shaped pillow just for you to play with later, which you were very excited about.

Towards the end of the market exploration, you and your handler ran into some friends from the club. Your handler took the lead and conversed with the two of them as you stood off to the side.

As they all chatted, your mind started to wander. Your eyes gravitated towards a booth that had a bucket of rubber duckies, each modified to be in various kink outfits.

You were just about to politely peel away from the group when you received a stern yank. You whipped your head back around to see your handler shooting you a warning glace. You stayed by your handler’s side for the rest of the conversation. Once your handler was done, he headed over to the live attractions in the back corner of the walled off area. The activities were just as varied as the booth and each one had its own kinky twist.

A popular pony play company donated some horse dildos and horseshoes to create a game of horseshoes for the public. Next to that, were a couple of sets of cornhole boards with beanbags, each board was artfully decorated with a local artist’s lovely, and fitting, tribute to Tom of Finland’s legacy.

Upon the portable stage was a female harlequin, in full makeup. She was working the crowd by cracking jokes, using her seltzer bottle, and creating lewd creations out of balloons.

In the spirit of the festivities your handler wanted to try his hand at everything, so you stood next to him as he played every single game. You tried to be entertained but it was difficult to concentrate on anything when your mind drifted away, choosing to focus on the sights, smells, and the eventual taste of the dishes at the food truck.

Your handler must have noticed how your face kept turning towards that end of the park, as well as the fidgeting you were doing as you stood in place, and most definitely the not so quiet whines you made whenever someone walked by with their plate.

Your handler milked his last game before he finally turned to you and said, “How about some chow?~” You wuffed in excitement and practically dragged him past the crowded picnic tables towards the food vendors. You brought him to the burger line and waited with mouth-watering anticipation until you got to the front.

Your handler placed his order and through barking at his questions, you were able to place your order. Your handler humored you and also threw in an order of funnel cake to share for dessert. Once the food was ready, your handler grabbed the tray and carefully made his way back towards the table section. Most of them were occupied but your handler was able to find a spot for one on the edge of one of the benches.

He sat down and without giving it another thought, you moved to the free space next to him and crouched down on all fours. You then brought your hands closer to you as angled your bent knees outwards and straightened your spine to bring yourself into a sitting position. You turned your head back towards your handler as he dug into his lunch. You watched on in agony, eyes flipped between the food moving from your handler’s plate to his mouth and the untouched plate of still steaming meal that was yours.

When he was done, he dramatically dabbed his face clean with a napkin before he finally acknowledged you. “You must be so hungry, aren’t you?” he said in the same playful voice.

You gave an affirming ‘bark’ in response as your eyes locked in on your food as your hands pitter patterned against the ground in excitement. You then saw your handler slowly turn back your plate, deliberately tore off a bite-sized chunk of your lunch with his hand and brought it down to your level. You wanted to gobble the food right there and then.

Yet you remembered your training and held yourself back. You instead gently took the food out of his hand and carefully ate it, making sure not a morsel dropped onto the ground.

“Aww, how do you like it?” he said as he went back to tear off another chunk.

You gave a grateful doggy vocalization as an answer as you chewed. There you two stayed, your handler presenting you bite sized pieces of your lunch under the clear sunny sky followed by hand feeding you the remaining half of the funnel cake. It was bliss. At the last bite, your handler indulged you by keeping his hand extended to allow you to lick his fingers clean. Once the two of you were done, he pulled away and proceeded to dry off his hand with a napkin. He then focused on collecting all the trash in one hand while he absentmindedly jostled the leash to get your attention with the other. On instinct, you leaned forward and proceeded to walk on all fours as you accompanied your handler to the closest trash can.

Once your handler discarded everything he looked behind him, only to be met with confusion. He looked down at this hand and followed the leash further down to make eye contact with you.

You tilted your head to the side to match his expression. Then a genuine smile grew across your handler’s face. “You know, it’s such a beautiful day that I think we’re going to stay a bit longer,” he finally said, “I want to do another lap of the stalls… and I believe the next performer is going to come on at the top of the hour.” You let out an automatic ‘wuff’ and you wagged your rear as you then followed your handler back towards the booths.

Because you are a very good dog. ***

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 2 months ago

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May Story Poll 2025 Heads up

Hello everyone, It’s May and that means it’s time for an update on my work here and a new Patreon Story poll!

As for the story side of things I have a slew of typing and editing to do, which is not a bad thing, it’s just a lot of things. Currently, I am editing the April Patreon Winning prompt and should be done real soon once Furaffinity allows uploads again. After that I have a collaboration story about a mighty strong power bottom ready to be typed up, followed by a rather large self-indulgent weight gain story. I also have the Author’s Notes on Werewolf Party, Daddy Dom’s Dungeon, and the Magnus Archives: Self Reflect story all fully drafted in my notebooks. Beyond that, I have a pile of new story ideas just waiting to be drafted up. I will also attend the video game convention PAX EAST next week for all four days. If you are attending or in the Boston area at the time, don’t hesitate to drop a line.

Now for the monthly poll: Creative kinksters are always coming up with new celebrations for the various months and for May it seems that the two ‘holidays’ that have stuck the most have been “Micro May” and “Macro May”. Since I have not written either one of those kinks before, I figured now would be the perfect time to begin! So for this month, I’m just going to have two choices for a major size difference story, one from the perspective of the extra tiny person in a normal world and a different story from the giant person in a city. The poll will be run until the last week of the month when I will close it and start working on the winning concept. The link to the voting can be found right here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/128079067 Thank you all for the support.

#BDSM #Gay Story #Findom

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 2 months ago

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THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES #N/A – Self Reflection

Statement of James Penn, regarding an encounter with a book briefly in his possession during March 2014. Statement begins. I want to thank the institute for both allowing me to come in to give my statement. I know that the staff offer transcribing of verbal reports, but I don’t want anyone else to be here as I tell my story, and besides…. I feel much more comfortable with a pen.

I am sure you do not need to tell you who I am. Even before all of this, I spent the past two decades working my way to become one of England’s most popular modern day authors. I also do not need to tell you how difficult professional writing can be as a career, both getting in as well as staying relevant within the public’s consciousness. I have seen many aspiring writers who could not clear the barrier of entry, and even more who could not produce enough works to stay successful in the ever changing marketplace. People just do not read like they used to.

I was always proud of myself that I was able to cut my teeth and push myself to pump out book after book. From that, I was able to make it to the ‘big times’ with a successful book series while producing a few extra on the side. I garnered enough writing fame to warrant book tours and an interview or two for every new publication. At one point, I even had three working contracts with the BBC and a few American production companies to adapt some of my works. Yet with all of that fame came the continued stress and expectation to maintain relevance while writing more books with tighter and tighter deadlines. With all of that, I … developed some unhealthy coping skills to deal with the pressure and to get everything done on time. It was no surprise that I turned to drugs. I don't need to give you the names and details because… let's just say at some point, tea and coffee just could not cut it anymore. At first, things were great, better than great. I was able to pound out more critically acclaimed books, juggle all of my other obligations, and attend all those networking parties. I never felt better about myself. But nothing like that lasts forever, eventually something slips. I believe it was one of my books not selling as much as the company initially projected. That was a blow to my ego and threw everything out of whack, and it all started tumbling down. The problem with using drugs as a solution to problems in your life is that when things go bad, that’s the first thing you turn to, even when it does not work.

My usage increased dramatically, and I began mixing substances. I reasoned that once I got back on the ball again, I could learn from my mistake and stay there. Yet the thing with writing while high is that despite being able to write more, your quality tanks. The next book was heavily panned by critics, and the publishers decided not to green-light the sequel.

Things stayed bad when I had a very public falling out between me and the writer's room for the big movie adaptation that was supposed to set me up for life. From there, I ran face first into a writer’s block, completely killing my creativity.

That was when I spiralled. I missed all my other deadlines, I stopped hanging out with my friends, and I cut out my family.

My publicist kept hounding me for work. He did try to help by referring me to counselors and support groups, but I pushed back on every attempt. I do not know if he was trying to be my friend or if he was doing it out of work obligations. Nonetheless, I saw that the company was making moves to use a clause in my contract to dump me if I could not produce anything of worth by the end of the week.

I was on borrowed time and I spent that time high out of my mind wandering the city late into the night in a vain attempt to find that writing spark or just to give myself a break.

I think that was when I found it.

I say ‘think’ because honestly, all of my memories of that time were a garbled mess. I do know that I woke up on the living room couch, it was lying on the coffee table. At first glance, it looked like just a plain old book.

I remembered how peculiar it was when I locked eyes on it. Even though I blacked out, I know that I did not buy it. At that point, I was not in the habit of spending money on anything other than the bare necessities to keep the lights on and to get my next fix.

I slowly got up and moved to further examine. It had a bone white hardcover and was no bigger than a journal, with the only defining detail being the words, “A Reflection of Self” typed in a neat yellow type font across the front.

It was such an odd addition to the table that I naturally picked it up and began flipping through the pages. Even with my bleary and bloodshot eyes, I could tell right away what it was. It was one of those stupid self-help books that plague every bookstore’s “wellness” and “self-improvement” section. You know the ones, all advertised to help you improve your life by ’refocusing yourself’ by taking your ‘big dreams’ and breaking them down into ‘smaller wins’. In reality, it’s just a book of prompts with plenty of blank space for the reader to actually do the writing. And if you were lucky, it might have a chapter or two of the bare bones notes of the psychology class the author once sat in on. Needless to say, I was not a fan of that stuff, even back then. If you were going to go through the effort of writing a book, do it yourself. Don’t pay someone for an empty book and a set of instructions. Despite my contempt, the drug-addled version of me from last night decided to pick it up. I might have thought that I could use this as a way to jumpstart my writer’s block. So I tucked the book under my arm and went to the kitchen. I downed some headache pills and chased it down with some old coffee before I went to my now neglected writing desk.

The desk was a gift I got for myself with the paycheck from my first published book. It was a large vintage writing desk, made of carved wood. It was my pride and joy, my sacred space. I used to spend so much time just sitting there, writing up a storm. After the turns in my life, it became a place of shame.

I set down the book, fished out my favorite pen from the drawer, and cracked open the book proper. The first page was blank, except for a single line for a name. I distinctly remembered scoffing at that and hastily scribbled my signature before I moved on. The next page continued to ask for more information about me, the typical ‘get to know me’ drek like: age, birthday, height, eye color, tea or coffee, favorite book… You know, that sort of thing. I turned the page and just had the prompt at the top of the page with the rest as space to reply to. The question was simply, “What was your favorite memory?” I do not know why, but that question struck something inside of me. It caused me to pause and really think about that Christmas day while I absentmindedly clicked away with my pen.

It was far enough back before any of the cracks in my family’s relationships were present. I was seven years old, coming down the stairs in my new pajamas. Outside the window, the world was blanketed in pristine white as big, fluffy clumps of snow fell down. My sister was asleep in her crib as I was unwrapping the bicycle that I had begged my parents for months. I remembered how much the metal frame caught and reflected the Christmas tree lights. I did not care that it was the middle of winter, it was mine, and I could not have been happier. The memory was so potent and filled me with such nostalgia that I almost overlooked how good it felt to get that all out. Once I was done reminiscing, I continued the momentum and moved on. The next one had more benign childhood questions like: “What school did you go to?” “What was your favorite class?” “Did you have recess before or after lunch?”

“What was your favorite playground game?” I answered all of those with ease. When I turned the page that I was faced with another writing prompt: “What was the first time you used drugs?” This one took me by surprise, mostly because most of the generic self-help books don’t touch this type of subject and the ones that do are clearly advertised as much. I was also taken aback by how brazenly this question was asked. I had to blink my groggy eyes and give it another read, yet the question remained the same, clearly typed on the page. Yet as I stared at the question, my mind started to drift back to that day. It was in secondary school, just after the Christmas holiday break. It was when the Christmas spirit came and left, leaving only the bitter cold winter and roads covered with the grey slush of old snow and car exhaust. It was during that first week back when I walked into the boys' bathroom and stumbled upon Clive and his mates. Clive was the school’s notorious loudmouth delinquent, constantly getting in trouble and getting sent to detention. Even though I was still friendless after the sudden move I was wise enough to always try to avoid him. I remembered pushing open the boys' bathroom and walking into the cloud of tobacco smoke before I could recognize the smell. I saw him and his little crew startle as they all whipped their heads to see who just walked in. They were all at the far end of the bathroom, underneath the only window. Clive was holding the remaining half of a cigarette that they must have been all sharing. From the looks of the cigarette, it looked like Clive had only smuggled in the single stick in with him. Clive would always brag about how easy he could get them from his old man whenever he passed out in his easy chair. The ambient sound of the school hallway was cut off when the door closed behind me. There was a tense standoff between me and them, as we all tried to figure out how to respond in this situation.

I had my eyes on Clive, waiting to see what he would do. After a tense moment, he extended his arm and silently offered me the cigarette.

Not knowing what else to do I crossed the bathroom and hesitantly took the crumpled loose stick and brought it to my lips. I remembered how putrid the smoke tasted on my tongue as I took my first inhale.

I went right into a coughing fit as it reached my lungs and quickly handed it back as I covered my mouth with my other arm.

Clive took it back with an expression of slight respect on his face, while the others laughed at the sight. Yet from the tone of their laughter and the way they acted afterwards it was obvious that this was their first time smoking as well. The memory faded away from my mind with its conclusion as I brought my focus back to the present. Sure that was my first time smoking, but one awkward puff of a loose cigarette hardly counts, especially considering all the other drugs I would use later in my life. When I looked back down at the page, my heart stopped. As I looked back down at the page, my heart stopped. The entire description of the memory was right there despite me never actually putting pen to paper. It just appeared there, written in my handwriting with the same ink of the pen that was in my hand.

My first thought was that it was just a lingering side effect of the cocktails of drugs I was using for the past few days. I forced my eyes closed and opened them back up to reexamine the page, but no, it was all there, right on the page, as clear as it was before. I even saw the glisten of the jet black ink gel begin to fade on the words of the last line.

At this point I was properly spooked enough to snap me out of my hungover daze. I just kept staring in disbelief at that page. As I did I became aware that the book was staring right back at me, just waiting for me to continue. It was here when the more logical part of my brain came in, sounding the alarms that everything about this was not normal. I tried to close the book and walked away but I just couldn’t. I partly blame myself, with the writing I developed over the decades, I could never leave a project unfinished. Besides, I was so eager for more.

I could only sit there and watch the only action I could take as my trembling hand went over to turn the page. I think the book knew that it had me in it’s grasps, because it dropped all other pretense and ask a series invasive questions:

“What was the moment you wanted to be an author?” “What was the first story you wanted to write?”

“What year did you graduate?” “When was the first time you got drunk?” “What was the first story that you actually wrote?” “When did you realise that writing was not as glamorous as you thought it to be?” I was forced to remember each one and afterwards the answer would appear next to each one in my handwriting. The page after had another full page with a writing prompt that could not be asked or answered by anyone except me: “What was your first time using actual hard drugs to hit a deadline?” Just like before, the memory came floating up from my mind in such crystal clear detail that it was like I was relieving each one all over again.

It was back when I was just starting to make a name for myself. A bunch of urgent personal obligations popped up and prevented me from getting any writing done.

My book’s deadlines were right around the corner and I still had an impossible amount of work to get to the big finale that I had planned in my head since the beginning. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, since this would be the first time I would have missed a deadline.

The actual start took place Thursday afternoon at a coffee shop where I was venting to one of my author friends, Dorothy, about it. They listened and then offered me their ‘ace in the hole’ for times like these. They rummaged in their tote bag and slid me a small plastic baggie of white pills. Despite my hesitation they assured me that the amount would be more than enough to take over the weekend to get the job done. And it did.

It cost me my normal sleep schedule and I had a massive crash come Monday morning but I was able to turn it in on time. Not only that but I was able to go back to add so much more to the transcript that I cut from the draft. Most importantly, my publicist loved it. I hate to admit it, especially now, but it felt good looking at the wall of text and reminiscing about both the high and all the writing I could do back then.

The sense of twisted pride was short lived when I ‘finished’ the page and moved to face the next prompt:

“What was the first work meeting you attended hungover?” I don’t need to say that one was a particular painful memory to relive again but not as painful as the one that followed:

“What was the most important event that you missed because of your drug use?” I… don’t want to write about it again but it was the last chance I had to save my relationship with my fiance. The book continued with it’s ruthless targeted questions as it pried into all of my failings:

“What was the most depraved thing you did when you were on drugs?” “When did you know you were addicted?” “How long until you finally admitted it to yourself?” “When you ran out of money, what family heirloom did you sell off to get your next hit?” Like before, it was like I was transported back there to relive every one of them but now tinged with the sorrow of seeing all those choices with the perfect definition of hindsight. I stayed at that desk for hours, going through page after page, having the book squeeze every shameful detail out of me and drinking it up between its empty lines.

At the time I thought that the scariest thing was that I was stuck at the desk, being forced to relive a collection of my lowest points. Then the book started asking me about the things I did when I was high to remember. There is a special type of horror of having your most drug induced actions being shown to you for the first time in such clarity. I wish I could deny them but I know that it was the truth… because I remembered each and every one of them.

The book kept going, overturning every private and shameful moment of my life over the years. It kept going right up to the night I found the book on the street when I was stumbling around the city. It was only after I described how I threw up in the bathroom sink before collapsing on the living room couch did the book let go of its iron grasp on me. Once I was able to regain control of my aching body, I snatched the book and threw it to the far corner of the flat before I fled back into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I spent four days there by quietly suffering the drug withdrawals while being forced to grapple with the man I became.

I wanted to call for help or even my dealer for a hit but in my haste, I left my phone on my desk and… I was too scared to leave the safety of my bedroom. I wish I could say I was surprised that no one came over to check in on me but after witnessing my life, I really wasn’t.

Eventually I had to force myself to do something or face actual starvation. After hours of deliberating I decided that the lesser of the two evils was to go back to my desk, grab my phone and then retreat back to the small safety of my bed.

The walk from my bedroom across the living room to my desk felt like miles. As I crept along, my eyes kept darting to the corner where I threw the book both trying to get a glimpse of it and trying not to catch its attention again.

Nothing happened and I was able to grab my phone and fall back to my bedroom. As I expected, the phone’s battery was dead but thankfully I had an old charger on my night stand. The wait between physically plugging in my phone and it having enough juice to power up was the most tense moment of my life. Eventually the screen lit up and I practically cried with joy. After punching in my pin and allowing it to finish booting up I saw the little symbol that told me that it had service. Once my phone was online I was bombarded with notifications, mostly advertising emails, general push notifications, and a few messages from my dealer. Within the barrage I saw dozens of texts, emails, and missed phone calls from my publicist. The part was not surprising, I did miss the final deadline and been completely off the grid since then. The surprising thing was one of the preview messages in the notification bar, “Just got word from higher up, They loved…”

My face furrowed at that and I went to open up the text message to read through everything that he sent me. “Just got word from higher up, They loved it! It’s greenlit and is going to head straight to production!”

Confusion overtook me and compelled me to read through the rest of the messages he sent me. Apparently on the last day of the deadline, while I was locked away in my room, my publicist received a transcript from me. It was raw and powerful. I was congratulated with the avant garde delivery. It was a hit with everyone who looked over it and they all gave no notes, claiming that it would be wrong to change anything.

My publicist reported he was already tapping their marketing and PR experts to coordinate a big, yet respectful, advertising blitz for its release. My company was also going to spring for a social media consultant to help me get my profiles ready for the new image I was apparently committed to. He apologized for everything and congratulated me on the first step of recovery.

That was when my blood ran cold and terror took me. I burst out of my bedroom and sprinted towards the corner where I threw that terrible book. I overturned everything in that area and then frantically searched every square inch of that flat over and over again. It was nowhere to be found. After searching everywhere it could have possibly got to, I went back to my phone and finally replied to my publicist. I made some half baked excuse of my absence and asked him what was the title they were going to go with. You guys don’t need me to tell you what it was. I also do not have to tell you of the instant success once it hits the shelves.

It became a number one best seller and the critics showered me with praises and accolades for being brave enough to share my story in this way. For the press release I have been paraded all around the country, been invited on all the major morning talk shows and interviewed with countless newspapers and magazines. I was even flown out to the states to do some in person interviews there.

In all of those interviews, I was forced to talk pleasantries and answer the same volley of soft ball questions of the dirtiest secrets of my addiction for their eager audiences.

All I could do was smile to give the same canned responses about how bad my addiction has been. I could not lie about any of it, because it was all easily fact checked right there in the book. Because I know how to play the PR game, I also had to give lip service to all the great support I received as well as the progress I made in counseling. I had to come up with exactly why I ‘decided’ to write it all out now while not sounding like a complete loon. I decided to just say ‘because I was compelled to tell my story by a higher power’, which is not completely untrue. With every speaking engagement, I was forced to be accompanied by ‘my’ book, propped up on display. “Out of respect for my original design,” the publicist kept the book cover the same, save for one change. Now under the title “A Reflection of Self” is my signature, scribbled right under it.

During the media blitz I did my own research trying to find out where that book came from, to see if there was any record of that self help book, I even tried asking my publicist about it.

There were no results, everyone was under the impression that I created the entire format by myself as ‘an writer’s attempt to convey the struggle of substance use through the lens of a common self help book’. For months I was terrified that someone, somewhere in the world was going to expose me as the fraud that I am, but it never happened.

The book was not all well received, once my sister heard about what I sold to get my fix, she practically disowned me.

The worst part of it is the people, now everyone looks up to me as a recovered addict. I am forever at a disadvantage with everyone I meet going forward. It does not matter if it’s a TV host or some random person stopping in the street.

The moment I look into their eyes, I know that they know everything about the worst years of my life and I can feel them try to pry just a bit more out of me. I can see them dissecting and shifting through my words to find a nugget of information about my life that was not ‘written’ down.

I want to go back to my regular private life, but this has been the most successful I have ever been both socially and financially. I have almost cleared off all of my debts and am going to be moving into a new house. I am also in the process of negotiating selling the rights of my book to make a big budget movie adaptation.

I have practically retired from writing, I have decided to just cruise on this wave and be a ‘public inspiration’ ‘media head’. If I’m smart with my money, I’m set for life.

But the worst part about all of this, besides not being able to tell the truth about the origins of this book, even to my therapist, is that I still crave the drugs.

For PR reasons I have given up on all drugs save for ‘a strong cup of earl grey’. Yet every day I wake up wanting nothing more than to take another hit of… anything.

The true reason why I have stayed sober is because I am terrified that if I relapse, that book will come back and expose me all over again. I guess that’s why I came to your institute, to get this story out of me in such a way that it will never get back to the public. So take this document and lock it up so no one can ever see it. I will say, it is nice to actually write again.

Statement ends. *** If you enjoyed this story consider supporting me on Patreon! For five dollars a month, you’ll get access to the Author’s Notes on this post and others. At ten dollars a month, you’ll get access to exclusive member polls, to suggest and shape my monthly suggested story. The link: https://www.patreon.com/RiTFaC

#Horror #Horror Story #The Magnus Archives Fanfic #The Magnus Archives #Rusty Quill #The Watcher #The Eye #Magnus Archives #Scopophobia #Substance abuse

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 3 months ago

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April Story Poll 2025 Heads up

Hello Everyone! I am delighted to report that with the completion of Werewolf Party, and those two additional author’s notes, my writing workload has been lightened enough to resume my monthly story prompt polls! For recent followers, the Story prompt poll is a community poll where Avid Readers Subscribers ($10/month Patreon members) have a voice on what story I should write for everyone. With all of the writing about werewolves, I am still in the canine spirit, and I want to write a story about the gear around pupplay. I’ve narrowed it down to three main pieces of gear to focus on: -Messy pup hoods -Wagging a silicone tail -Collar and leash I will keep the poll open until the last week of the month before I draft the story. As always, the comments are open, so if there is a more preferred topic of pet play discussed by the subscribers, I will go with that. The link to the voting can be found right here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/april-story-poll-125735630

As for an update on my other writings: Following the impact story that I just released, I will be typing up a legit horror story based on the Magnus Archives series. Then I have a furry story made in collaboration with another artist that is fully drafted and needs to be typed, then edited. I also have a very long Author’s Notes on Werewolf party that I need to type up, edit, and publish somewhere within that list. I am also finishing up drafting an extreme rapid weight gain story with a long list of varied story ideas after all those are said and done. Because writing, typing, and editing stories takes a while to complete, I do not have a timetable for when any of them will be published. I will make sure that the upcoming monthly Patreon stories will take priority in the production line. Side Note: It may not be next month, but one of the things that I want to use this story poll feature for is to challenge myself to write about kinks that I have not explored before. I have a running list of some, but it is rather difficult to see your own blind spots. So, if you all would be so kind as to comment on any kinks that I have not touched upon within my years of writing. Those, within reason, will be added to that list and hopefully be written about. Thank you all for the support.

#BDSM #gay smut #Gay story #pupplay #findom

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 3 months ago

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Daddy Dom's Dungeon

You turned a corner and drove your car up the winding drive from your boyfriend, Michael’s, house.

Well, that was mostly untrue. While you drove it, filled it with gas, and paid for its maintenance, the car was still legally owned by your parents. You just had it because it was your graduation present once you moved out to college.

It also was not Michael’s house, it was his dad’s and one of the spoils from his time as a professional star football player. His legacy was before your time, but you did know that once he retired from the league, he took all his earnings and various promotional deals to wisely invest to officially retire from the workforce at an early age.

Even then, it was not just a house, it was technically a manor with multiple floors and sprawling wings, but Michael never liked to refer to it as such. Regardless of the official classification, it was much bigger than the tiny college apartment complex you were living in. Because of that, ever since you two started seeing each other, Michael has always offered to hang out at his place.

Between his dad’s legacy and wealth, it was no surprise that Michel had the genetics and means to get into football early in life and stay in it to get accepted on a scholarship to join your college’s team. Even with your short time together, you knew he had the drive to push himself to make a name for himself as one of the star players in his junior year, with whispers of being good enough to get signed by the beg leagues as soon as he graduated. You finally reached the end of the driveway and pulled in between a set of cars that were well out of your paycheck. You got out of the car and made your way through the front door. Even though you have been dating Michael for a few months, and you two planned to hang out today, and he gave you express permission, it still felt intrusive walking in by yourself. You walked down past the grand foyer and headed into the living room. You sat down on one of the sofas and waited for Michael. Off in some distant part of the house, you could hear the sound of a shower running. ‘Must be him,’ you thought to yourself. As you waited for him to be done, you also allowed yourself to ease back into the seat as you admired the room around you. Just like the exterior of the house, the living room was big and grand, professionally decorated to be the ultimate Sunday night football man cave. The walls were decorated with memorabilia and prints of Michael’s father’s time as an athlete, along with his jersey framed and hung up high on the far wall. Across from that was the massive flatscreen TV with a movie theater-quality sound system. The living room also had a set of luxury leather sofas and easy chairs all facing the TV, surrounding a custom-made coffee table that could keep hot snacks and cold drinks.

You were once invited over for a Super Bowl watch party with Miceal and some of his dad’s friends, and it was the most deluxe, all-encompassing watch party you have ever been to. It started at nine am and carried to the end of overtime with nonstop catered meals, snacks, and drinks. Even though you did not follow sports like Michael or his dad, you still got caught up in the excitement of it all. As you were finished reminiscing about the party, the running water stopped, and you heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway towards the living room. On cue, you turned your head towards the entrance and began to start forming your greeting, “Hey Mic-” The words died in your throat as your mouth dropped open. Standing in the spot where you were expecting Michael was instead Brutus, his father. He was standing in the doorway, completely nude save for the towel that he was using to dry off his hair. Shock and embarrassment crashed through you as you hastily stood up and started blurting out a series of apologies. Yet at the same time, your eyes bulged as they took in the sight because, DAMN! You have seen Brutus plenty of times before, so you know what he looked like and that he maintained some of his athletic physique from his glory days, but most of it was concealed under his baggy gym shirts and t-shirts. But now everything was on full display. He still maintained the athletic physique of his glory years with broad shoulders and burly arms. Yet his retirement softened his frame, he now had chub that only appeared on a man who still worked out regularly but was also no longer beholden to any sports nutritionist and could indulge in the regular beer and fried food night. While his body was impressive, there were still two major takeaways that your eyes locked in on. The first thing that struck you was just how hairy he was. You were well aware of the grey hair that covered Brutus’s head and comprised his well-maintained and short beard, you never realized how much more there was under his clothes. Past his thick neck, the grey hair continued down, peppering his pecs, shoulders, arms, and musclegut stomach with those silver strands. The grey body hair continued all the way down, forming a happy trail to his groin, where his cock and balls hung freely in the open. And hung was the correct word, The cock was uncut and impressively thick while still flaccid. You have been with Michael long enough to be frisky with him, and it was evident that Brutus was Michael’s father. Even though the cocks were nearly identical in size and girth, some part of you recognized that Brutus’s had something about his set that made it more tantalizing… it was more mature. Just by looking at it, dangling there, you felt your body temperature begin to rise as something stirred within you. ‘Is this what Michael is going to look like a few decades from now?’ you heard some deep part of your mind say to itself.

It was only here did you realize that you were now officially staring at your boyfriend’s father’s junk. You pulled your eyes away from his cock and dragged them up his body to meet his eyes as you urgently let out another flustered series of apologies. “S-sorry I… I thought you - you were Michael… And, and…” Brutus just stood there, face unreadable save for the faintest smirk across his lips. “Well, with a reaction like that, I can see why Michael likes you,” he said with a chuckle as he finished drying his head. Brutus continued nonchalantly as he threw the towel over his shoulder, “Michael said that he had to step out to grab a few things for you two. “It would be awfully inhospitable for me to leave you all by your lonesome,” Brutus added with a glint as he began to turn back towards the hallway, “Here, follow me.” The last part was less of a suggestion and more of a command. Your mind was still blindsided by the combination of the abrupt sight, your own shameful reaction, and Brutus’s casual response to it all. Drawing a blank on what other possible actions you could do in this scenario, you just complied. Brutus did not say a single word beyond that, as you followed him, he did not even look behind to make sure you were there. He just strolled down the hallway as if nothing was amiss. With Brutus looking forward, it allowed you to take in every detail of his backside.

His back was as hairy as he was in the front. Your eyes moved down, taking in how all his seasoned muscles moved as he walked, until you eventually reached his ass. It was almost hypnotic the way his cheeks moved with each step.

‘How many squats does he do?’ you thought to yourself while you kept staring as you and Brutus turned a corner. It took you longer than you cared to admit that you were heading down a wing of the house that you had never visited before. Every time you have been over, you and Michael mostly stayed in the living room, kitchen, game room, or his bedroom.

The house was so big that there were some places that you never explored. You vaguely remember Michael informing you that somewhere, his dad had a workout station filled with his own exercise equipment. Eventually, Brutus stopped at a door, grabbed the doorknob, and opened it while silently gesturing to go inside first. Still not thinking straight, you just continued to walk right on into the room while still looking at Brutus as you passed him. It was only once you passed the threshold that you tore your eyes off of him and forced them to focus on the room you were in, and your jaw dropped again.

You were confronted by all the sights of an actual honest to goodness sex dungeon.

The room itself was huge. It was two or even three times larger than a normal room, with a high ceiling and lit with soft colored light bulbs of reds and blues to cast everything in club lighting. Upon the top half of the walls were hung pictures, equally spaced from each other.

Looking at the ones closest to you, you saw that they were a combination of tasteful or candid photos, with some that looked like they were taken at various and very public festivals. Brutus was in most of them, along with a slew of other men and women, and in every photo, there was plenty of leather or rubber. The kinky Hall of Fame gallery looked like it went back a couple of decades.

The bottom half of the room was adorned with practical decor, much more practical.

Against the farthest wall was a king-sized bed, fitted with shiny black latex sheets. Above that area was a mirror fixed to the ceiling. Off to the side of the bed, a very expensive video camera mounted on a tripod, facing the bed with a classic folding director’s chair next to it. In the other corner, there was an X-cross standing upright with a rolling table tray holding a set of metal instruments.

Standing off by itself was a lighted glass display case that showed a collection of dildos, various exotic shapes and designs from all over the animal kingdom. Next to that was a wall shelf of buttplugs arranged in ascending order from smallest to terrifyingly large. Resting on the floor beneath that was an old-school wooden chest on the floor, overflowing with spare ‘normal’ flesh-colored dildos.

Placed all around the rest of the walls were bright white pegboards that held all the rest of the truly impressive collection of sex toys. Floggers, whips, chains, restraints, paddles, and the rest were all hung on their own spot on the wall with as much care and respect as any other father would have displayed their tools in a garage. Standing in the middle of the dungeon was what looked like a modified gymnastics pommel horse covered in black leather with cuff restraints attached to each leg. From the way that it was positioned, it looked like it was the most recent item used. As you continued to gawk at the sight of everything on display, your ears picked up Brutus gently closing the door. It was then followed by his footsteps as he walked behind you and ducked into the room divider that was right next to the door. You have been with Michael long enough to know that he was very open and forward about his sexuality, often cracking jokes with hints of raunchy undertones. You always assumed that his confidence came from his athletic prowess, you never imagined that it was… hereditary. “People don’t realize just how much free time you have once you retire.” You tore your eyes from the sight of the room, and you turned back to Brutus as he stepped out from the room divider. With everything leading up to this, nothing could have surprised you, but that did not mean that your body did not receive another jumpstart. Brutus was now fully decked out in leather gear. A black biker cap sat on his grey hair, his chest was adorned with a black chest harness that rested against his pecs. Each of his beefy biceps was sporting an arm band, and the rest of his hairy arms were bare except for a set of bracers on his wrists. His waist continued with the rest of the outfit, with a pair of leather chaps with a set of buttons that ran down each side of the pants’ front pouch. At the bottom, his feet were adorned with tall, heavy duty black biker boots with an intricate pattern of laces running up the front. Everything about that outfit fitted him perfectly.

Your first thought should have been, ‘how was he able to change into that so quickly,’ but a more intrusive part of you was able to inch out with the thought, ‘Fuck, he’s so hot!” You felt your face reddening, and you tried to convince yourself that it was just your body’s reaction to the uncouth thought and nothing else, yet it did not explain why your pants were getting tighter by the minute. Brutus allowed you to keep staring before he resumed as if nothing was amiss.

“I wasn’t just the MVP of my team on the field,” he said, nodding to a picture of a younger version of himself on top of a pile of burly dudes wearing the same color jerseys you saw hanging up in the living room. It was here that the more rational part of your brain came in and used your lungs and mouth to push out another stream of flustered responses. “Thank you for - I mean sir, for allowing me to come- for showing me this place. But, but- I really ought to get going…. I need to leave. Wha-what if Michael comes back, I don't want him to see, well I guess he already knows about the-....he’s not stupid, not that I thought he was before, athletes can be smart as-, as well. As you are well aware…” As you struggled to find any excuse that could take you far away from this situation, Brutus just stood there, listening to your inconsistent excuses with a disincredulous look on his face.

When it became painfully clear that your floundering was pointless, you gave up and quieted down. Brutus waited a moment longer before he spoke. “Now, come on…” he said in a near condescending tone, “if you wanted to bail out, you would have done it long before now. I pegged you as a bottom the moment Michael introduced you to me. I know my son and I know his type.”

“You can try, but your body can’t lie to me,” Brutus ended, nodding down at you. You followed his motion, looking down at what he was referencing and it was there that was where you had to finally acknowledge your groin. From just below your belt, you could see that your cock was rock hard. It was straining against the denim fabric, and where your head rested, there was a wet spot of precum on clear display against the light blue of the jeans.

‘He got you there.’

You took a deep sigh and accepted defeat as you brought your gaze back up to Brutus as you verbalized your final hesitation, “What about Michael?” “Don’t worry about that,” he said with a knowing smirk, “leave that to Daddy.” Brutus added a bit of inflection on the end of that sentence that pushed a button inside of you that you did not know you had. Brutus laughed at some expression on your face, “Oh, you’re hooked now. Now that you got a good look at my private lair, what caught your eye?” as he gestured to the dungeon in its entirety. “I- I don’t know,” you said truthfully as your eyes went back to the display rack of equipment on the walls.

Most of these things you have only seen during your loneliest and most depraved nights on the computer. Even then, there were some pieces of equipment that you did not even know what they did. You did not know if that excited or scared you. Eventually, your eyes landed upon a particular flogger hanging up on the pegboard wall against a row of similar floggers, paddles, and canes.

The flogger’s tails consisted of flattened black and green leather stripes, with each ending in pleated folds. The base of the tails came together to form a black and green braided handle that spiraled around and concluded to form the wrist strap that it was hung by.

Brutus was watching your eye movements and eventually spoke up when it was clear what you were looking at.

“Ah, that one. That’s a beaut, ain’t it? I picked this one up when I went on vacation to Europe right after I retired,” he said, moving across the room to retrieve the flogger from its hook.

Brutus then turned around and gave the flogger a heady thud against the palm of his free hand.

“Let me tell you, those Europeans know how to throw a pride parade. Some of the things I saw on those streets almost made this old man blush… almost.” You barely followed what he was saying, all of your attention was on the flogger. You remained focused on how all the tails sailed in an arch, and especially on the sound it made as the mass landed on his hand. You felt your body begin to squirm as you recognized Brutus’s words enter through your ears and ring true, “Oh yeah, I don’t think I need any more tools for you.” Brutus kept on talking about something but the tool but you remained transfixed on the near hypnotic movements of the flogger as it moved back and forth in his hand. You only snapped out of your trance when he stopped and barked out, “Kid, are you even listening to me?” That question pulled you right out of your stupor. You snapped your eyes back up at Brutus, and you felt your whole body begin to straighten up to full attention as you felt your face redden again. “As I was saying,” Brutus repeated, reapplying another layer of authority to his voice, “the flogger is a fine tool, but it’s not as effective when there are a few layers of clothes in the way.” This time, you heard the sentence, but your brain stalled out, trying to fully comprehend the meaning. There was no way that he actually meant what he was implying. You were in the midst of opening your mouth to ask for clarification when Brutus abruptly interrupted you. “Strip.” The command was harsh, concise, and spoken with absolute authority. The word carried around the room and resonated deep in your soul and groin. As if by instinct, your hands went straight to your waist, firmly grabbed the top of your jeans, and yanked both your pants and underpants down in one sudden motion. Your body acted so quickly that you did not have any time to stop and think about the ramifications. Now it was too late to go back.

Looking down at the pile of clothes resting around your bare ankles you also saw your dick flopping in the air, finally free from the pants and standing at full attention. You sheepishly brought your gaze back up to Brutus, who responded with a look of nearly disguised amusement. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, kid, but stripping means everything,” he said with an extra emphasis on the last word. Embarrassment dashed through you again for being called out on your mistake as you mumbled out a “Yes, sir.”

You then proceed to awkwardly step out of your pants and remove the socks one at a time before finally pulling off your t-shirt. Only once you were fully naked did Brutus move from his spot. He resumed his idle playing with the flogger as he started to circle you, making a point to have his boots loudly clack against the floor as he walked. You could feel his eyes move up and down your body, appraising every angle of you. Brutus ended his inspection by coming back around to stand in front of you, looking you right in the eye as he said, “Judging from your twitching cock, it seems that you have a thing for impact play. I’m definitely going to work that cute little ass of yours with this flogger, that’s for sure but is there anything else you want to explore?” The question was asked so blunt and open ended that it threw you for a loop. It forced you to come to terms with just how far out of your depth you were, and upon reflex, you began to fall back on your excuses and tried to back down. “I’ve never done this before, I-I don’t know. This is all too new to m-, I'm not sure if I can be a good-” You were interrupted by Brutus raising his hand to stop you, “Don’t worry about that kid, I've got plenty of experience for the both of us. Just relax and let me handle it all.” You shut your mouth and meekly nodded in agreement. “Do you know what a ‘safe word’ is?” “Y-yes.” “Do you have one?” “No.”

“It’s going to be ‘balloon’ today, got it?” “Yes, sir.” “What is it?” “Balloon.”

“Good, let’s start.” Brutus punctuated that last sentence with another hearty ‘thud’ of the flogger against his palm as he began to circle back around you. Excitement mounted as he left your field of view. ‘Oh god,’ you thought to yourself, ‘this is really happening.’ There was a pregnant pause of anticipation before…

SWAT. You felt the flogger land across your ass. It was not hard enough to truly hurt, but it was strong enough to sting and no double leave a bit of a mark. A jolt of excitement ran through your body, which caused your legs to buckle as a surprised gasp escaped your lips. “You’re going to stand up right when I work you over, got it? And keep your head forward!” You dutifully obeyed by willing your legs to straighten, squaring your shoulders, and leveling your head as you let out a more confident, “Yes, Sir,” as you braced yourself for more.

SWAT! This one was more forceful than before, and another burst of pleasure blossomed inside of you. Despite your best efforts to brace yourself, your body still betrayed you as your body jolted from the impact and let out another gasp. You quickly pulled yourself back up to attention before Brutus called you out again. SWAT! This impact had the same force behind it, but it landed on the broadside of your rear. Your body responded in kind, and you had to pull yourself back up again. From there, a routine began to form between you two. Brutus would deliver you a hit with the flogger across the ass and your body would unabashedly react. He would wait until you composed yourself again before starting all over. As Brutus wordlessly carried on, he was showing off his expertise by the way he was able to exert control over the pace and delivery. SWAT! That one was forceful. SWAT. This time it was softer.

SWAT.

That one hit only landed on your left cheek.

SWAT. Right cheek only. SWAT Both cheeks, but only the lower half of each. SWAT. Now the top half. SWAT A vertical hit, right on the crevice of your cheeks.

Interspersed between the swats on your ass Brutus would tease you by lightly running the flogger down your back, arms and legs, allowing you to feel each of the soft leather tassels.

With the constant variety sensations, your body could never anticipate where the next impact strike would land, which forced your body to remain on high alert and respond to each new hit as if it were the first time. As he continued to work on you, you felt a Word begin to form in the pit of your chest, but as it formed, you mentally smothered it before it could realize. ‘No,’ you scolded to yourself, feeling a twinge of embarrassment as you brought your attention back to rebuilding your stance. Despite your best efforts, your body was starting to lose the fight to maintain its composure against the barrage of assaults. It eventually got to the point where your knees were trembling, your breath was coming out in desperate pants and your dick had a string of precum dangling from the head. When it got to the point where your legs were able to give out from under you at any moment did Brutus finally break his silence.

“Ok, looks like you’re moments away from collapsing. We can’t have that in here… go lie yourself on the pommel horse so we can continue in safety.”

You let out an exasperated sigh of agreement and relief as you hobbled from your spot and over to the leather covered block and flopped your stomach onto it. You savored the cool sensation of the leather sheet against your erect cock it was pressed between it and your body. You then awkwardly wiggled to align yourself along the wooden structure and finished with propping your ass up in the air. You heard Brutus let loose an amused chuckle as he began to approach you, “Damn, are you sure that you don’t have any experience because you mounted that thing perfectly.” You then felt his right hand land on your sensitive ass and gave it a firm squeeze, “I must say you got a fine ass.” That bit of skin on skin contact and that genuine compliment caused That Word to build up again from within your chest, but you forced it down again. In its place, you pushed out a flustered, “Please spank me.” You felt Brutus deliberately remove his hand as he simply replied, “Gladly.” You took a deep breath to try to steady yourself for something that you could barely begin to anticipate. … SMACK!

His hand struck your ass and removed itself within one quick motion. Even with all of your sudden experience with Brutus’s flogger, this was a whole different experience. This was more potent, more real, more intimate.

Your body responded with a full body spasm against the leather as your eyes bulged from their sockets. You were able to shout out an astonished “Holy Fuck” but you only was able to pronounce the first word before his hand came back down again to deliver another powerful SMACK! “Oh, there’s nothing holy here, but you are welcome to engage in plenty of worship~” Brutus interjected with an audible smirk. SMACK! Brutus carried on with this near militant delivery on your rear with the same mastery of intensity, frequency, and targeting that he had with the flogger.

This time around, there was no need to steel yourself to maintain your posture or even stand up. That allowed you to fully indulge in the experience in its entirety, and that came with you giving in and letting your body respond with the way it wanted, with whatever desperate moan it saw fit. SMACK! SMACK. SMACK. Brutus kept varying up the speed and location he spanked you as well as throwing you a few breaks as he mixed in some squeezes, shakes, and groping of your ass and thighs. He rose to meet your response of unleashed moans by sprinkling some assuring comments. SMACK! “Atta boy.” SMACK. “Don’t bother resisting, let it all out.” SMACK! “That’s right, keep that ass up.”

Brutus even gave you the courtesy of sliding his hand underneath your hips to drag out and then reposition your dick and balls so that they hung free and exposed over the edge of the pommel horse.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!! Each spank caused stars to flash in front of your eyes as you felt yourself get pushed closer and closer to the edge of climax.

The easing up on your external composure also came with the relaxation of your internal restraint. That Word inside of you stirred and decided to make a break for it. A logical part of you mentally cried out in protest and tried to stop The Word from escaping, but another blow from Brutus caused the attempt to be washed away in another wave of pleasure.

The Word dashed up your throat and wrangled your tongue and jaw into position and readied itself to be set free with the next overwhelmed exhale that you would make from the next spank. SMACK! “Daddy!~”

Your hands shot up and clasped around your mouth as mortified embarrassment replaced all the arousal that you had, but it was too late.

The silence hung in the air as Brutus stopped when he heard what you said. Before you could even start to think about all the implications of your actions, Brutus let out a low rumbling laughter from behind you. “Oh, the sub has a Daddy kink, huh?” he said with amusement, “Is that what I am to you?” You began to shake your head but Brutus interrupted you by bringing his hand down on your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

“No use lying to me now… Be honest,” he commanded. There was no way to walk this back, You took another deep breath through your nose and slowly removed your hands from your mouth, and willed yourself to reply truthfully. “Yes, Daddy.” Brututs gave your ass another squeeze and shook it, “See champ, doesn’t it feel good to tell the truth?” You just nodded your head in agreement. He was right. You steadied yourself and spoke from your heart, “Please fuck me Daddy.” A harsh bark came from Brutus, “Thought you would never ask!” Brutus gave your ass another good slap before stepping away to head to one of the numerous side tables around the room. He grabbed something and quickly returned to his position. Brutus shook something in his hand, and your ears were filled with the sound of viscous fluid sloshing in a container. “In all my many, MANY travels I’ve found that this stuff is the best for any job, it’s practically liquid silk.” You then heard him pop the cap, followed by a squirt, and then sounds of the lube being spread between his fingers. A dry hand then grabbed one of your cheeks and pulled it to the side to finally reveal your twitching asshole. “Glad to see every part of you is excited to see me.~” You then felt Brutus take his lube covered index finger come in and begin to poke and prod your asshole. Your body jumped in response, with your ass and spine clenching in unison. It was wet and just a bit cold. “Oh, you’ll need to learn to relax and a bit more than that to take what I’m packing,” Brutus teased as he kept his finger right at the entrance to your hole. You steeled yourself with another breath to steady yourself as you replied, “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s more like it!” Brutus cheered as he proceeded to plunge his finger right in, going straight to the second knuckle.

Another gasp was pushed out from your lungs as you fought with your body to relax for Daddy Brutus. “Aw, what a fast learner,” Brutus said coyly as he began to wiggle his finger inside of you, “Couchie chouchie, coo~” It was only here did you truly recognize just how large Brutus’s fingers were. The way that Brurtus positioned himself within you, his fingertip brushed up against your prostate, which brought you back closer to the edge. As he tickled your prostate with his fingertip, you could also feel him using the best of his finger to rotate against the entrance of your hole, slowly going clockwise, stretching it out with every rotation. It felt amazing.

Just before you could truly appreciate the rhythm of his movements, Brutus stopped and withdrew his finger from you. You were about to turn your head back around before you felt Brutus shove two fingers, wrapped around each other, into you.

“Damn kid, are you sure you’re not as inexperienced as you say you are? Because you're opening up like a pro,” as he finished up with two and moved on to three fingers, making sure to spread them out inside of you in the process. You blushed at the compliment. You did have some experience with a cheap dildo that you brought with your first paycheck when you moved to college. You and Michael also explored each other’s bodies, but it was nothing as forward as all of this.

Your mind began to drift away and began to unpack what you were doing right now, but at that moment, Brutus pulled out his fingers, making a loud, wet ‘pop’.

“Looks like you’re loose enough for you to take me properly now.” Another jolt of excitement coursed through you with that sentence and everything that would come from it. From behind, you heard the slow and meticulous sound of buttons popping off in pairs, two by two. It was the sound of Brutus unfastening the cock pouch of his leather pants. Brutus took a step closer and flopped his rock hard cock on the crevice of your ass. You then heard him drizzle a generous helping of lube onto his cock and then proceed to slowly grind against you. You savored the sensation of the lube spreading over your ass and up to your lower back.

You could feel every inch as it glided over your ass. It was so much grander than you remembered seeing in the hallway, and as amazing as it is, you wanted more. You dared not speak up to Brutus, so you shifted your weight back onto your legs and then used that to push your hips into him while letting out a needy whine. “Ah, you’re done with the teasing and get to the real meat and potatoes of this encounter, huh?” While still looking forward, you nodded and answered, “Yes, please.” Brutus replied with a hearty chuckle as he pulled his cock away from you and repositioned himself to line the tip of his cock against the entrance of your asshole.

“Just a heads up, I may be getting up there in my years, but give it all in everything I do.” You were about to say, “Yes,” when he rammed his cock into you. It was so much thicker than you were prepared for, as you felt the walls of the inside of your asshole be forced to stretch out to accommodate this new intruder. Brutus parked is cock there for a fraction of a moment before he brought his hands down onto your waist, to hold you in place and to get into position, as he pulled out. He then slowly fed his cock back into you, going right up to the furthest opened you up and then just a hair beyond before repeating it back again. Each thrust was near militant in execution, and he maintained enough control to keep pushing his cock deeper into you without ever causing discomfort to warrant calling a break from the action. Once he proved that you were safe with him, you allowed yourself to relax and melt into the moment.

Brutus remained silent, dedicating his entire focus on how he was moving his hips against you. You were reminded of how football players would zero in when they run drills for practice.

After a while, Brutus announced that you were able to successfully take all of him as he pushed his hips against yours. “There you go, all the way in,” he said in a parental praising tone as he craned directly over you, “Now let's see how you can take this old stallion.” Your only response was to grip the edge of the pommel horse and brace yourself for what was going to happen next.

Brutus must have seen that because all he said was, “Good boy,” as he pulled himself back up and repositioned himself once more. He almost brought his head out before he finally stopped, and in one powerful motion he shoved his cock back into you. You barely had time to recognize the sensation before he pulled out just as fast, just to do it all over again. Brutus carried forward with truly professional level determination as he shifted gear and began to truly fuck you senseless. With each powerful thrust, you could feel all of his inches slide over your prostate as it buries itself deep into you, quickly followed by the sensation of his balls slapping against yours. To keep it from getting too repetitive, Brutus would continue to tease you with a few extra slaps and gropes with his lube covered hand.

His method was so intense that it pushed all other thoughts out of your mind, save for the one thought that was relevant to this singular moment.

With every thrust, you gasped out, “Fuck me harder Daddy!” You were still aware, in some capacity, that Brutus was also getting off on your pleas just as much as you were. That part of you decided to add some additional desperation in your voice as you tried to throw your hips back in time with his movements. Time seemed to slip by as the room became filled with the squelching sound of the lube, Brutus’s grunts of exertion, and your depraved begging for more. After a blissful eternity of being railed, you noticed that Brutus was finally getting close. With the end in sight, you decided to finally proclaim the thing you wanted most of all,

“Please, Daddy,

…. Fill me with your seed.” That seemed to strike a chord within Brutus by the way you heard him snarl as his movements shifted from a steady and practiced pace to a frantic, animalistic sprint. A half dozen more rapid thrusts like that, and you felt his hands tighten around your hips as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Here it comes, sport.” In response, you clenched your ass around his cock just as he rammed his entire body against you. Your breath got caught in your throat and your vision went cross eyed as you felt Brutus’s cock twitch as he unloaded it all into you. You felt the waves and waves of hot cum came crashing against your insides and flow deeper into you.

You went limp as you got swept up in the torrent of cum coursing through you.

You forfeited the rest of your body over to Brutus as he continued thrusting his still erect cock into you, making sure to fully empty himself into you. Only once he was truly and completely done did he begin to pull himself out of your now gaping hole. “Well done sport,” Brutus said as he gave your ass a congratulatory spank, “You took me well.” You were about to pant out the response, “thank you, Daddy,” when you heard a door open. “DAD!?” You whipped your head towards the sound of the familiar voice. Standing at the doorway was your boyfriend, Michael, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, holding a grocery bag full of snack foods in one hand and a box of soda tucked underneath his other arm. He was backlit by the normal hallway lights that were spilling into the room. Disbelief was splashed across his face as his eyes were locked on the two of you.

“What happened!?” The sight of him shattered the mood you were in as the implications of everything you did with your boyfriend’s father came into crystal clear focus. You tried to begin to explain yourself, what happened to the living room, the walk, and this dungeon, but it was all too much to put into words. You just let out a flustered flurry of words as Michael remained silent. An embarrassed moment passed before you even recognized that he was not looking at you. It took you another half second beyond that to realize that the question was not directed at you. His eyes were locked on his father. You stopped babbling at that and turned your head around to Brutus who, still in his leather and with his dick out, wore an expression of someone who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Sorry kid,” Brutus said in a half apologizing tone, “he accidentally caught me as i was getting out of the shower. One thing led to another and so….” “‘Accidentally,’” Michael repeated back with a raised eyebrow before darting his eyes down to you, as if to fact check the claim. “You couldn’t wait a bit longer before moving in,” Michael followed up, “I’m still mad that you scared away the last one,” he said with a hint of a grudge. “Oh, that one wasn’t going to last, and you knew it,” Brutus shot back, “this one on the other hand…. You should have seen how he reacted when he first saw this place, he was practically drooling!” “As for my… forwardness, that’s just the ‘dad tax’,” he added as he gave your ass another, more playful, smack.

It was then that everything clicked into place, and you were finally able to get the full context of the conversation that you were a part of. “Wait, you know!?”

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them. A hearty laughter erupted from Brutus, “Of course he knows! Just look how big this place is…. in his own house, no less! He’s a chip off the old block, whether he likes to admit it or not. Michael looked away and tried to hide his embarrassment. “Oh, you should have seen his eighteenth birthday, I flew him out to get his own outfit and for the whole weekend we painted the town red…. Well, white. As much as he tried, I still beat him out for most conquests.”

You saw Michael pursing his lips, trying to find a way to protest but ultimately failing.

“Yeah, I told you that I had a complicated relationship with my dad,” he finally admitted. Michael took a deep breath and said to you, “Are you cool with … all of this?” You nodded before he could finish the question. Michael rolled his eyes as Brutus let loose another hearty Dad laugh, “See how fast he responded, He’s a keeper! Now, get over here, I got him nice and warmed up. I know I got another load to shoot in him, but this mouth still needs some attending.” Michael let out one last defeated sigh as he put down the groceries and walked in, pulling off his shirt to reveal the body he built from years of football practice.

“Ok, but next time I get his ass” “No promises.” You squirmed in place as your boyfriend moved in front of you, and he flopped out his cock that you knew and loved while Brutus began stroking himself hard again. You wrapped your lips around Michael’s cock just as you felt his father slid his cock back into you. “Welcome to the family, son.” *** If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting me on Patreon! For five dollars a month, you’ll get access to the Author Notes on this post and others. At ten dollars a month, you’ll get access to exclusive member polls, to suggest and shape my monthly suggested story. The link: https://www.patreon.com/RiTFaC

#BDSM #BDSM Story #gay story #male domination #male submission #male sex toys #impact play #impact kink #spanking #dilf #exjock #flogger #leather gear #incest #NSFW #gay smut #embarrassment

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 3 months ago

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No foolin'!

Apparently it's my 5 year anniversary on Tumblr.

Go figure

#5 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 3 months ago

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Author's Notes on The Blimp [Commission]

The Author’s Notes series is a long-running segment on my Patreon that covers my personal thoughts on the various published stories. It includes writing tricks I used for certain scenes and how and why I set up my stories in a certain way.

Going forward, I will publish Author’s notes that are at least one year old to the public.

I hope you enjoy this behind the scenes format of this post while I continue to work on the next story.

***

Link to the story in question

This story came from a fan who practically begged me to take their money and use their Furry character in any way I deemed fit, as long as it was a surprise to him.

After a bit of chatting with this person, I soon had a good idea of what direction this person wanted the story to go.

This commissioner wanted Submission, Public Humiliation, and Body Change via Weight Gain as the major three themes. The person also wanted a small dom to dominate his bigger character, Larrson, which gave me some additional creativity fuel.

So with those three themes, the question became how do I incorporate them all into a story. Thankfully, I had some scrapped very rough drafted notes for a continuation of the Pig Show which included a public ice cream feeding session that I could never find a way to work with those characters but would be perfect for the deer (heavily inspired by Louis of Beastars) and Larrson.

Because I wanted to mix it up a bit for this story, I started off at a kink BDSM convention where we establish the two characters by having the sharply dressed little deer literally pull the transformed Larrson through the door. Then I tried to broadcast the character’s relationship to each other by the way they walked to the front desk, the cool and confident pace of the deer dom, and the awkward and self-conscience actions of the caribou.

During the registration, I did a flashback on who they were and how they met. It started with an online chatroom for local kinksters because EVERYTHINGS on the internet these days. And to quote some raunchy muppets, the internet is for porn.

While the idea of an online meet-up being held at a buffet might have been a story beat I have done before, I did add a little twist by having the dom deer propose a date at the arcade next to the buffet.

Then building up the suspense by having the deer play coy and completely ignore the real reason why they were there until Larrson broke down the suggested the idea of grabbing food.

After the buffet trip, which showed their hands, it followed the average BDSM story with the increasing escalation of submission and power exchange between them until they were truly, ‘official’.

Because of this type of story, I also threw in a few lines about the physical changes of Larrson with the food-focused domination. But that all came to a head when the dom announced that he secured tickets for a BDSM convention and forced Larrson to wear the same button-down shirt that he swore on the first date to the event. Which served as a reference point on how far Larrson fell from grace.

I specifically made sure to clarify that it was a button down shirt because of the Beastar’s world-building. None of the horned characters in that show wore t-shirts because the was no way that they could get their horns or antlers through the small hole for the head.

Fun Fact: the night before the convention day, that section about the ice chips feeding, is a legit practicing method that professional hot dog eating contestants do to train their bodies without packing on the pounds.

With the backstory established, we then see the characters get registered as the deer leads Larrson to the exhibit hall to the Whey Shake booth, staffed by a lion, tigers, and bears (oh my!).

It’s here where it was finally revealed that Larrson was going to be a feedee on display for the whole crowd to see. Here the public humiliation aspect gets the spotlight in the story.

When the feeding started, I also wanted to include one more instant of ‘body change’ by Larrson naturally swallowing the whey shakes by playing into both the hunger of the ice-fed Larrson and the muscle memory of countless other tube feeding sessions.

Because this is a fantasy porn story, I had Larrson not only get filled up to the brim but kept him there for hours without any need for breaks. It all lead up to the burst buttons on Larrson’s tight shirt, which was met with a cheering crowd.

While my other stories ended there, I continued Whey Shake's show continued with a public shearing of his stomach fur followed by body markings tallying e exactly how many calories he consumed for additional points in body changes and public humiliation themes.

Because I did not want to keep writing the same thing over and over again after establishing the show’s routine, I had Larrson fall into a food coma daze and let the hours go by until it was the end of the convention.

It was here that I honored the final request by the commissioner, the wound was the removal of the Caribou’s antlers.

To justify this part in the story, I included it under the guise of decency and covering up Larrson’s torso for the trip home.

After the humiliating event of sawing off the antlers, Larrson could finally wear a t-shirt now, which was provided by the Whey Shakes

With that final, grand body change, I purposefully paired it with the nonchalant response of the deer, with him suggesting to throw them away in the trash for all he cared. I ended the story with one final teaser with the deer looking at Larrson and toying with the idea that it was going to be a permanent change for him going forward.

***

If you have any more questions about anything about this post that I missed, send me a message or leave a comment. I’ll gladly clarify or talk more about anything from this story.

Once again, thank you for your support.

***

If you enjoyed this story consider supporting me on Patreon!

For five dollars a month, you’ll get access to the Author’s Notes on this post and others.

At ten dollars a month, you’ll get access to exclusive member polls, to suggest and shape my monthly suggested story.

The link: https://www.patreon.com/RiTFaC

#BDSM #Gay story #male domination #male submission #writing tutorial #writing techniques #author's notes #weight gain #furry

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 3 months ago

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Author's Notes on Patreon Suggested Story: February (2022)

Going forward, I will publish Author’s notes that are at least one year old to the public.

I hope you enjoy this behind the scenes format of this post while I continue to work on the next story.

***

Link to the story in question

This story was directly inspired by both Buffy the vampire slayer and the Shin Megami Tensei videogame series, with the concept that humans could summon occult creatures with the power of technology and the internet.

Fun fact: Factoring the average age of college students these days, the idea of finding decades old, long since forgotten, forbidden knowledge on the infinite vastness of the internet is a viable story hook now. In fact with the increasing trend of 90’s nostalgia and the enjoyment of the ‘Occultish Dark Web’ nowadays, I wouldn't be surprised to see a mainstream horror movie or T.V do use this as a premise.

When I started this story, I wanted not only to have the demonic punishment for each human have an icon-ish twist of fate, but I also wanted the catalysts for the story to be that the summoning and binding technique failed because of the limits of technology and the terrible resolution of the digital pictures back in the day.

When I first drafted this, I was debating if I should have the character be college kids or full adults and after thinking about it I realized no same 9:5 working adult would ever be caught dead doing this so late at night.

For the sake of avoiding extra story write work by only briefly introducing the characters and their connections at the start with basically; the Jock, the nerd roommate, and the occultist wannabe.

To start the story, like all good “mortals getting in too deep with demons”, I had it take place in the middle of the night, during a full moon. The setting of story was set in an art department modeling room because of the hypothetical needed space for the summoning circles. When the summoning began, I threw in some wind and blew out the candles for a classic villain entrance.

To tie into the greater theme of an incorrect demon summoning through the limits of the internet scans, I had the Eroztic be ‘almost but not quite right’ and then being miffed about his body turned out.

Fun fact: Eroztic was just a modified name of Eros, the Greek god of love, which I’m surprised hasn’t been used before in some way or another.

One of the best parts of this story was writing the dialogue for Eroztic, having him criticize the spelling of the summoning circle while completely ignoring the perceived entrapment that he was in. I really wanted him to act as someone who was holding all the cards he just hasn’t shown them off yet.

Then it all comes to a head when the demon casually informed Justine that they used the wrong binding circle for him and there’s nothing holding him back. From that point, I was able to jump directly into the demonic punishments. I tried to have all the punishment either be iconic punishment or serve his needs in some way.

The jock’s muscles were drained for the ‘need’ of the demon to regain his old, proper, body back. The occultist’s punishment for talking back to the demon was reducing him to a living fleshlight, and Billy was mentally changed for the need to bring his other demon friends over. While describing the jock’s change was pretty straightforward since it’s just a reverse muscle growth sequence. It was Justin’s change was one I really wanted to shine a spotlight on, since I had never written inanimate transformation before.

For Justine’s segment, I just looked at all the other porn media that explored this topic and mixed that in with old cartoons that used ‘toon-physics’ (shout out to the ending of Who Framed Roger Rabbit) and my own personal experience rolling and folding pool toys or costumes away for storage.

Once that transformation was done, I had Billy get mentally blasted with magic until he agrees to obey with slight hints that his body changed along the way. I had fun with the fake out of Eroztic asking pretty standard computer questions, that would have taken legit technical skills and resources back in the day but now can be done by practically anyone with a smartphone.

It ends with Eroztic talking about his plans to make demon summoning a virtual and viral sensation so he can bring his other friends to this realm too, just like in the SMT games.

After the past few grounded stories, I enjoyed flexing my supernatural story prompts for this piece while leaning into the darker implications and endings for some of these characters. While I don't practice it often, I firmly believe that not every story should have a happy ending for all its cast.

***

If you have any more questions about anything about this post that I missed, send me a message or leave a comment. I’ll gladly clarify or talk more about anything from this story.

Once again, thank you for your support.

***

If you enjoyed this story consider supporting me on Patreon!

For five dollars a month, you’ll get access to the Author’s Notes on this post and others.

At ten dollars a month, you’ll get access to exclusive member polls, to suggest and shape my monthly suggested story.

The link: https://www.patreon.com/RiTFaC

#BDSM #gay story #male domination #male submission #writing tutorial #writing techniques #author's notes #demon #TF #transformation #brainwashing

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 4 months ago

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Service to your handler itch.io re-release

I just wanted to officially announce that my first Choose Your Own Adventure story, "Service to your handler," is out on itch.io! It is the exact same story as the one I released two years ago but instead of having to download the file you can play natively on your web browser. Link to the story in question: https://ritfac.itch.io/service-to-your-handler

#BDSM #BDSM story #BDSM stories #male domination #submission #gay story #gay smut #gay hypnosis #hypnotism #hypnotized #hypnokink #pov #good ending #bad ending #Twine #twine story #cyoa

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 4 months ago

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Werewolf Party announcement post!

GOOD NEWS EVERYONE! After about a year of hard work in my spare time, I am delighted to announce that my Choose Your Own Adventure story, “Werewolf Party” is officially released! It is a POV story starring ‘you’, the late-night pizza delivery college student, delivering a stack of pizzas to the ‘WUF’ fraternity house, the most popular frat on campus.

The whole thing clocks in at over 48,000 words in its entirety with five tonally unique endings for the reader to discover, along with exciting choices for you to make within each. The story is a simple text-based HTML file made with the Twine program. It should run on almost any device, although it is best read on a phone.

Because of this file format, to experience it, you will have to go to my newly created Itch.io page! It is hosted there along with my previous CYOA story, “Service to your Handler.” Link to the story in question: https://ritfac.itch.io/werewolf-party

To further get everyone excited about this LONG awaited adventure, here are kink tags of this story. It is alphabetized to avoid spoilers:

-Tag yourself!

“Werewolf Party” is completely free for all and there is a Pay What You Want button with the suggested price of $15 USD. I figured that this story has at least five highly erotic moments and three dollars a ‘pop’ is not too unreasonable of a request. I do encourage everyone to read through it first and then support as much money as you think is appropriate, only if it is financially viable for you at this time.

While money is nice, it means much more to me if you leave a comment and share this with all of your fellow like-minded monster fucker friends. I hope this story blows your socks off!

I believe that there is no way to download the file from the website but if you want the file I can send it on telegram. To all my Patreon supporters, contact me for a free copy.

*** With that massive project done, what’s next for me? You all will be happy to know that between the various editing and programming phases of this CYOA, I have three new stories fully drafted! They are two kink stories, one legit horror story, with another in the process of being written right now. On top of that, I have three Author’s Notes fully typed and on the editing block. They comprise my thoughts on the Werewolf Party and the two most recently published stories. I plan to get back to regularly publishing short stories, with their accompanying Author’s Notes, AND restart the monthly story polls for my $10/month Patreon supporters. I also hope to have the luxury of opening up writing commissions by the end of the year. *** In personal travel news: I will be attending both PAX EAST, in Boston and Furcationland in Maine over the next few months.

If anyone is attending either of those conventions, feel free to drop me a line! -Red redinthefaceandcheeks.tumblr.com www.furaffinity.net/user/ritfac

https://bsky.app/profile/ritfac.bsky.social

https://www.patreon.com/RiTFaC

#Werewolf #BDSM #Furry #NSFW #Transformation #male domination #male submission #tf #body tf #POV #choose your own adventure #twine story

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 7 months ago

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The Continued State of RitFac: November 2024

Pardon the lack of any published stories or Author notes. The long radio silence is because the current story I have been working on since March 2024 has finally entered the editing phase. Now I finally feel comfortable enough with this project to share with all of you the big project. The story is a Choose Your Own Adventure story, and it is BIG. Currently, the biggest story I have ever tackled is clocking in at 71k works and 200 pages at the time of writing this.

It will be a POV Story where you, a meek college student pizza boy doing one last delivery order to the fraternity house WUF, the most popular, established fraternity on campus.

It is taking so long because it is true to the original vision I first came up with earlier this year. This adventure will have five endings, and if you are cultured about werewolf erotica, you can guess what each one focuses on. I also tried my best to make sure that each path was totally unique from the others, which has led to being a huge undertaking on my side. I do not want to give too much away about these stories, but some of the tags that will be included in this story will be: -transformation -paws -maws -torn clothes -leather gear -group sex -cumflation -sheaths One of the reasons why this project is taking so long to complete is that I have been giving myself plenty of time and breaks to prevent myself from experiencing burnout. So, with all those juicy details, what comes next? I still have to go back to edit and finalize the story so that there is continuity with the detail and tone of every ending. Then once that has been reviewed and edited, I have to import all the text and programming notes into the Twine game engine. Then I have to run QA checks on all my programming and then select a website to host the thing.

These are all daunting in their own right, but not impossible.

Because of the size, scope, and effort of this particular project, I will host it on a website shop with a suggested Pay What You Want price of about $5.00.

Do not worry, will be sure to allow the Pay What You Want price offer to accept $0.00 as payment. If you enjoy it, you can kick a few bucks over the enjoyment. I do want to reconfirm that after this CYOA is published I will be going back to writing more of my regular-sized stories and resuming my Author’s Notes series. While working on this project, I have still been jotting down a bunch of new kinky story ideas that I have in the drafts just waiting for me to use them up right after this project is completed. Make no mistake, I am chomping at the bit to write anything else besides this adventure. On a slightly personal note, I am happy to announce that I will attend two furry conventions in the new year! I will be attending Anthro New England as well as FurcationLand in 2025. I'm quite excited to attend and if you are in either one of those areas at the time, let me know! Finally, with the current internet and political landscape, I want to restate all of the other platforms I am on and where you can find me and my work:

Tumblr [https://www.tumblr.com/redinthefaceandcheeks] Furaffinity [https://www.furaffinity.net/user/ritfac/]

Patreon [https://www.patreon.com/RiTFaC] I have also become way more active on Bluesky now with more constant and droll updates on the editing process:

BlueSky [https://bsky.app/profile/ritfac.bsky.social]

Again, thank you all for the support.

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 1 year ago

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State of RitFac: July 2024

Hello everyone, apologies for the lack of content and updates for the past few months. I just wanted to provide you all with an update of the upcoming story.

The Choose Your Own Adventure Werewolf Story has become much bigger than I first anticipated. It has all of the story branches and endings I wanted from the initial drafting stage, which is leading to a bit of the size problem in the writing stage. Despite that, I still want this story to be exactly what I first imagined.

I have written three of the endings, and in the process of typing and editing them while finishing drafting the rest. I do not want to over-hype this might be the biggest writing project I have done by myself. And it’s going to include a LOT of topics.

Once everything’s done I still have to dump it into a Twine program, code all of the branches, and prepare it for distribution.

Because of the nature of the story format I also have to find a website or file hosting place to hold and share the story. I'm probably going to upload it in a place with a Pay What You Want feature, simply because I have put a lot of work into it and I think it has enough value that some readers might feel inclined to add a tip.

Do not worry, it’ll be a place where you can still pay “$0.00” if you want.

Until I get this done, I thank you all for the continued support and I hope you enjoy the final result when it gets here.

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 1 year ago

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The Horned One comes [Commission]

This story was commissioned by Dragonmate7

A moonlight glow blanketed the rural land, trees, and neighboring farmlands. One of the only sources of artificial light was shown through the windows and the gradual opening of the front door of the one-story ranch house.

A brown and gray furred Sergolf stepped out of the house with the chorus of pleasant goodbyes by the new owners, and the remaining guests of the housewarming party. “Take care Fahen.” “Thanks for coming and drive safe!” “Good choice with the cheese platter. I said it before, but you’re looking sharp with your antlers off.” With one final wave back, Fahen shut the door behind him, straightening himself up, and cast his steps towards the long winding dirt road that eventually led to where he parked his car. While his friend’s new house was nice, because of its location right between two plots of vast farmlands there was no real driveway to speak of. Because of that, everyone had to park on the side of the main road and walk down.

Fahen let loose a deep sigh as he unconsciously rubbed his head and felt the mohawk he was finally able to grow out and style now. Even as he did so, his fingers still gravitated towards sensitive holes that marked where his antlers had been.

A cool night breeze rolled across the neighboring farmlands and brushed up against Fahen, forcing him to wrap his arms around his torso and quietly curse himself for choosing to leave his windbreaker in the car. He then brought his foot forward and compelled himself to start the walk back to his car.

The stark country night contrasted against the warm light of the company that he just left. While Fahen was not afraid of the dark, he was not immune to the fact that the pale moonlight added a hint of eeriness to the surroundings which was only compounded by the aftermath of the few drinks he had at the party.

As the sergolf continued his walk into the serine night, Fahen began to warm up to the still nighttime air, he unconsciously uncrossed his arms and let them drop to his sides as he lifted his head to take a look at the sky. The sight overhead was awe-inspiring and caused Fahen to drop his mouth in astonishment. Among the huge moon hanging in the sky, there were more stars than he could ever see in the always busy suburban area where Fahen lived. Out here he could see hundreds and hundreds of sparkling specs that comprised the cosmos.

Fahen continued walking with his head craned upwards, getting lost in the celestial sights before an annoying part of his brain informed him that it would be wiser to bring his eyes down and keep them straight ahead. The sergolf reluctantly obeyed and pulled his gaze back down toward the ground just in time for him to make the first turn in the dirt road.

It might have been the stunning sight of the starry night but Fahen reevaluated the quiet farmlands. As he walked on, Fahen’s mind started to wonder what it would be like to live here out here, to get away from the hustle and bustle of the tedious city life. To never have to join an online meeting or go through the hassle of navigating a mall again. Instead, he could live here between the stars and the earth, living off the farmland.

Another bend in the path brought an abandoned old barn into view. The barn was a good ways away from the road, and far enough for it to be someone else’s property, but Fahen could still see all the details of it. The late night made it difficult to make out the color of the building itself, but the moon shone the holes in the structure that made it clear that it had entered well into the neglected and disrepair stage of its life.

But despite, or because of it, the barnyard door was wide open.

Even in that state, Fahen could not help but imagine the work he could put into it to bring it back to its old glory. Even with Fahen’s basic knowledge, he knew it would take a lot of blood, sweat, and tears.

He would need to give it a proper evaluation, reinforce the frame, provide it with a fresh coat of paint, and then flush out the interior. Maybe put something on top of it, like a weathervane.

Fahen could not help but imagine the pride he would feel when he delivered that final nail in the last fix-it-up product which brought it back to its proper splendor. The sergolf slowed his pace as he approached the abandoned barn house, his eyes remained transfixed on the building as he took in the intangible aura of potential that radiated from the structure. All as if the new life, a better life, was calling out to him.

Another turn in the path brought Fahen towards the closest part of the barn. As he neared the sergolf slowed his pace even more, coming to a standstill as his eyes became transfixed on the worn-down barn with its front door swung open, exposing the dark inside of the building.

Fahen just stood there, staring at that old building, basking in the potential splendor of it. His mind continued to flirt with the idea of what living out here would be like that would be. Working in the barn lifting heavy things up and down with his well-toned arms all day, working up a sweat… it seemed like a perfect fit for him.

From underneath, the sergolf’s foot slowly moved him forward, off the dirt path and towards the abandoned barn.

As he walked on to the grassy field towards it all the logical parts of him knew that what he was doing was stupid and possibly even illegal if the owner caught him but all those concerns were soothed by the itch in the back of Fahen’s brain, compelling him to walk inside and just have to look around. He just wanted to see what was on the inside, to see if it was as really ruined as it was on the outside.

He just needed to know.

Fahen continued his near hypnotic trance, with the grass crunching under his feet, as he continued towards the open maw of the barn door. Soon the sergolf was right underneath the threshold and he crossed through.

When he stepped into the old building, it took a moment for Fahen’s eyes to adjust to the new darkness. Despite that, he continued to walk into the middle of the floor until he was able to see the full extent of the inside. As he stood in the middle of the floor, he started to slowly turn around and marvel at the room and let his mind wander around the area. Sure there was old machinery pushed to the side and discarded lumber planks piled in the corner, and the ceiling had holes in it, but Fahen was still caught up in the wonder of the infinite potential he could harness with this space.

Fahen let out a deep sigh as a smile crept across his face.

From behind him, Fahen heard a soft step, followed by the sensation of something striking him in the back of the head. Even though the contact was only for an instant, Fahen’s entire body screamed in disgust as the sergolf became dizzy and his eyes became unfocused as his legs began to buckle beneath him. Fahen was lucky enough for his body to fall backward, allowing him to land on his back instead of face planting into the bare floor.

The sight of the ceiling spun around him as a huge figure draped in shadow loomed over him. The sergolf tried to push out a question or even a cry for help but his lips and tongue stumbled over each other, producing a feeble cry as a response.

The figure said nothing, instead, it bent down and leaned in closer, obscuring Fahen’s entire vision. He felt the heat from the assailant’s breath just before he felt the contact of lips press against his own. They were massive lips, soaking wet, and completely encompassing the bottom of his face. The moment of contact brought on another, a stronger bout of that… wrong feeling. Fahen tried to fight back but his arms remained still, lying by his side as he felt his lips starting to be forced apart as a slimy tongue began worming inside of his mouth coating everything with that same wrong feeling.

That horrible feeling redoubled as the tongue moved inside of his mouth, as sensations of malice flashed across Fahen’s mind. The feeling was so overwhelming that it took all the strength he had to remain conscious.

Eventually, the stranger’s tongue pulled back, along with the lips, leaving a thick viscous substance in Fahen’s mouth. The substance still retained that horrid sensation that stained Fahen’s mind. With that asulter’s lips removed, Fahen tried to force another yell for help but the noxious substance was thick and filled his mouth as if it was peanut butter. Fahen tried to will his tongue and mouth to spit out whatever that thing was but it started to solidify, sealing his lips shut from the inside.

A crackle overpowered the muffled struggles of the sergolf. The sound was sticky and something that could only be described as decaying static.

“You are mine.” was the last thing Fahen heard before he slipped into darkness.

…

Fahen woke up with an attempted jolt but was stopped by his paralyzed limbs. His eyes took in the darkness of the night, seeing the faintest outline of the decaying barnyard ceiling above.

The sergolf tried to will his body to action but the most that his body could do was offer a slight head shake and a series of frantic berths through his nose. Any words that he wanted to say died at the back of his mouth where that thick substance filled his mouth.

There was a moment of Fahen squirming in his confined body against the still silence of the night before it was interrupted by the same static crackle. It started as a low rumbling that built up to a roaring thunder that filled the air and demanded full attention.

The sound filled Fahen’s mind, ping-ponging around until something inside his head and he was able to categorize it as laughter. Hearing the sound for a second time Fahen realized that ‘static’ was not the correct word to describe it, it was just the closest thing to it.

The crackling laughter continued as the sound of footsteps joined in moments. From the top of Fahen’s vision, he saw a massive frame, lumber into view. The first thing that he noticed was the antlers, big, thick, and sprawling out each one ending in sharpened points.

The antlers were attached to a bare skull with its jaw open, moving along in a mocking pantomime of the laughing that it was making. The skull was bone white and gleamed in the few beams of moonlight that were able to make it through the barn. Set into its eye sockets was a glinting green spark set into the far back of the head. It looked less like a pupil or a twinkle in one’s eyes and more like a pair of dying stars.

The creature continued to walk closer and Fahen was able to see the rest of the stranger. At the base of the exposed skull was a neck composed of what looked like flayed flesh, of exposed muscles. But what would have been a gory red and pale white, was colored the same green as the eyes with pitch-black strains of sinew and tendons. The neck was connected to broad shoulders and sturdy limbs of what could have been the body of a caribou that could have been a weight lifter.

As Fahen was able to see more and more of this…creature, it became more clear how much the skull did not match the rest of the body. The initial panic he felt faded away to abject terror.

The ‘laughter’ concluded with a click of bone on bone once the creature came close enough to loom directly over his prey. The creature then began to pace around Fahen, keeping his dead star eyes locked on Sergolf’s body.

Its mouth then began to move back up and down as different types of sticky and static sounds emerged from it. Like before, it took a moment for Fahen to parse the sounds before he could identify that it was talking and a bit longer to realize that it was speaking in his language.

“A good catch… good catch indeed. I had my doubts that my lure would not find someone before this vessel ran its course but fortune always smiles on me.”

While the sound dominated the room, the words themselves seemed to be distant, as if it was a radio that was tuned to just a degree off from the station’s frequency.

“What a fine specimen… it’s so fine and exquisite… So pure and untainted. He lost his horns too! What luck! That will make things much easier this time around.” The creature then moved back towards Fahen’s head, stopping at his torso.

“The only thing maring it is the fabric that it wears. I must see more,” with that, the thing that had the body of a caribou raised its hand, palm up.

Fahen felt the dirt ground fall away as this stiff body slowly rose, drifting up to the hulking monster. The moment the movement occurred Fahen frantically tried to move his body again, to do anything to break free or even just roll away. But it was all in vain.

As he was gradually lifted upwards towards the awaiting creature, he recognized that there was nothing underneath him. No wooden planks or metal slab pushing him up. There was nothing but empty air underneath him. The skeleton-flesh creature flipped its hand around, and the levitation stopped, leaving Fahen suspended a few feet from the ground at the thing’s waist level.

Fahen watched the creature’s hand as he saw the creature’s hand flicker as if blurred out of focus before refocusing once more. It only happened for a split second and when it stopped the caribou-like creature’s hand now had the pointer finger extended and at the end of it was a pitch-black talon protruding at the end.

Eyes still glued on the sudden claw, Fahen watched the unnaturally sharp talon slowly approach his body. The sergolf’s courage failed him at the last moment, clenching his eyes shut and trying to turn his head away as the talon hooked onto the hem of his shirt.

~Riiip~

The sound was as fast and sharp as the monster's finger. Fahen felt a layer fall off of him and heard it softly land on the floor. He felt the invasive exposure of the air rub up against his body and he waited for his body to register the eventual pain that was going to come next but nothing did.

Nothing continued to happen for the next few tense moments of calm.

Fahen’s curiosity eventually overcame his fear and compelled the sergolf to pry open his eyes to see what happened to him. To his astonishment, his vision reported that his body was still intact. The thing just tore off the clothes he was wearing, which left his fully exposed naked body floating on that intangible platform holding you up.

The creature just stayed in its place, as the sunken, sparkling eye socket scanned the naked Fahen from his feet to the top of his head, examining him like a trophy as it muttered to itself.

“Yes, yes,” it chattered with that unsettling static way of speaking as it continued the inspection, “without those pesky fabrics I can see it all so clearly, the fine fur on top of hearty muscles just underneath and the sturdy bones that holds it all up. This is much better than the host I have now. For all of this caribou’s impressive muscles and strength, if the core form is not compatible… then it does not maintain, I see that now.”

Even though the creature/monster clattered away with nothing but its exposed jaw bones, Fahen could practically hear the salivation in its voice

“There are so many pesky forms on this plane to select… it makes it so difficult to find the correct one, let alone one that can maintain my presence for a prolonged time and it was such a messy lesson to eventually learn.”

As the monster said that, Fahen noticed a clump of muscles on its pecs that began to violently spasm before it looked like it was forced to calm down by sheer will.

Fahen was just able to follow the nonsensical conversation to realize what the monster was actually saying as another fresh bout of terror pulsed through his restrained body.

“But you… your body has everything I will ever need and ... I believe it will be able to sustain me indefinitely, but before that happens, the host needs to be properly empty and conditioned.”

As the creature was done talking, the hulking green creature lowered his taloned hand down onto the sergolf’s hips. All that Fahen could do was watch as the talon slowly lowered down onto his exposed frame. His nerves betrayed him yet again forcing him to take a sharp breath just before the talon punctured his skin.

There was no pain, but that did not mean it was unpleasant. The moment the tip of the talon pressed through, Fahen felt a bolt of unholy energy shoot out from that point and flood into his body, leaving no corner unchecked.

The creature effortlessly dragged his taloned finger through Fahen’s flesh. The talon curved and swooped, lifting itself up multiple times only to land in another spot. When Fahen realized that the creature had something planned for him outside of tearing his insides to shred he carefully opened one eye and craned his neck up to take a look.

From over his torso, the sergolf was able to see that the creature was inscribing a series of runes just above his groin. There was no blood drawn, even though it was plenty deep enough, and within the carved-out crevices, the same green energy of the creature was shining out from it. The initial scare of the marking being carved into his body quickly faded away as his eyes focused on the intricate lines and patterns.

From the unknown language that it was written in, the meaning seemed to be beamed into your head.

“The absolute property of The Horned One. A pointless body, made into an empty vessel for a greater purpose.”

“There,” the presumed Horned One chattered as it pulled away his claw after putting on the finishing marks, “Now your fate is sealed. Now that you and your body are mine, it’s time to fully explore this specimen in its entirety.”

The Horned One’s skull began to blur out of focus, like his hand, and the empty space of the jaw of the monster was now occupied with a long green and black tongue. It was longer than it had any right to be and drenched in thick drool. It writhed in place as the end tried to dart towards Fhane’s groin.

The Horned one stepped around, circling toward the lower half of the sergolf. It was only then, through all the horrors that had happened to him since stepping into the barn did he realize that he was fully erect. Fahen’s mind reeled from that fact and needed to be coaxed back to fully understand the implications.

There was no way that he was enjoying any of this … when did he even get hard? Did it happen before or after he woke up or when the insignia was carved into him? He could not remember and was not sure he wanted to know.

The realization and fear filled Fahen’s mind as his eyes he witnessed the abominable creature reach for his feet, gently grasp his ankles, and slowly pull them open as he walked towards his groin. The Horned One did not even get past the sergolf’s knees before the tongue was in range, darting out to stroke Fahen’s cock. The newly formed tongue started at the taint and ran up the shaft to his head, teasing the most sensitive area at the top.

The sensation still felt as wrong and rotten as all the other instances of contact with the monster but this time there was an undercurrent of pleasure flowing underneath.

As The Horned One closed the gap, the rest of the tongue joined in and wrapped down, bounding the rest of the shaft in the tongue. Once fully engulfed, the tongue began to twitch and pulse, massaging Fahne’s cock with unnatural coordination. The drool must have been dosed with aphrodisiacs since his cock started to become much more sensitive, taking in more detail of the tongue’s texture with each pulse.

He did not want to admit it but he could not deny the fact that his body was heating up and as it continued he wanted to squirm under the supernatural restraints.

The Horned One walked as far as he could up to Fahen’s waist as his massive body would allow. Fahen then felt himself rise even more, bringing his body from waist level, all the way up to the beast’s maw. When Fahen’s junk was right under the hulking beast's nose, The Horned One fully opened his maw and past the row of exposed teeth was now an intricate layout of green muscle tissue, dripping with the same slimy drool that coated the tongue. From Fahen’s angle, he saw that the newly appeared mouth went all the way back to where a throat would be.

‘It looks soft.’

That was the last thought that crossed Fahen’s mind before The Horned One swooped his head down engulfing Fahen’s tongue-wrapped cock in one go.

It was so soft. All it took was a constriction of the tongue and newly formed throat muscles for Fahen’s body to be pushed over the edge and betray him. On automatic response, the sergolf took a sharp inhale through the nose as he felt the muscles in his groin tense as his cock struggled to spasm against the soft and squeezing interior of the mouth as a load of cum came barrelling out of him.

The orgasm was so intense and so voluminous that it caught Fahen off guard, especially considering his predicament. Against better judgment, his body let out a depraved moan that traveled up the throat only to die once it encountered the slime gag that was filling his mouth. The whole thing left Fahen a little light-headed and it took him a while to come back to his senses, reunderstand his surroundings, that The Horned One’s mouth was still relentlessly sucking away, and most importantly, realize that he was not only still hard but his body was slowly working backup to another orgasm.

Soon, faster than he ever expected, Fahen was approaching the edge again with no signs of slowing down. Trapped and confused, the sergolf braced himself by gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. As he felt the second climax forming within him, his mind drifted back to the message in the rune that was placed on him.

“A pointless body, made into an empty vessel for a greater purpose.”

As he mentally finished that last word, he felt his body give way as another powerful orgasm erupted from him as he splattered the insides of The Horned One’s mouth. Somehow the second one was more powerful than the first one, in both intensity and volume. It made Fahen a bit light-headed while knocking the breath out of him.

Fahen’s mind crawled back to consciousness. Just as he was wondering if this monster was going to continue, he felt the creature’s mouth perform one last suckle before he released his oral grip. Fahen saw his still erect cock slide out of The Horned One’s tooth-lined jaw as the beast brought his head up to regain eye contact, accompanied by a loud gulping sound.

“Good, my mark is working and your essence is so delicious,” the Horned one said with wicked delight as he stepped back and brought his massive muscled arm up to wipe a blotch of Fahen’s cum off of his back molars.

“While I am having my fun.” The horned one continued as he stepped over to Fahen’s side, “You should have a taste of what you’re going to be.” With that, the monster lifted his arm closest to sergolf’s head. As he raised his thick muscular arm the invisible platform began to tilt upwards and around bringing the still restrained and gagged Fahen right towards the crevice.

The under area was just as smooth and barren as the rest of the skinless muscular body, but as Fahen looked at it the surface of the armpit area started to become fuzzy and unfocused, just like the jaw. A half second later the pit came back into focus, now accompanied by a dense damp forest of black body body jutting out of the green muscle. The moment that it came in to focus on it, Fahen’s nostrils were affronted by the wave of potent and overpowering musk. It smelt like a combination of tree rot and gym locker rooms.

The sergolf was about a foot away before the accent stopped.

“Silly me,” the Horned One said, “ I keep forgetting that the beings on his plane need the full use of their face to savor things.”

With his spare hand, the beast snapped his fingers and the thick jellied slime that was occupying Fahen’s mouth instantly lost its structure and began to melt. The sergolf instantly began to spit out the mouthful of water-like slime, but that did not stop some from sliding down the back of his throat.

Once cleared, or the best that he could do with just his mouth, the invisible platform began to ascend once again, closing the gap between Fahen and The Horned One as the pungent aroma doubled with every inch closer.

Fahen tried to turn his head away but the forces at play forced his head back, to greet the mess of hair face first. With nothing else to do, the sergolf held his breath and braced for impact as his head collided with the pits. Both the crevice and the dark body hair completely engulfed Fahen’s head. He could feel the damp coarse hairs pressed up against every part of his face, from forehead to chin. On top of that, the sergolf could feel both the body heat and the intangible heat of the pit’s musk as it advanced up his nose even without an inhale. Despite all of that, Fahen held his breath and kept his lips pressed together in silent protest.

If it was the only thing he could do, he was going to commit to it and make sure to do everything in his power to keep his dignity. The second crawled by and transformed into minutes in still silence as the sergolf’s lungs began to smolder from the stagnant air. Eventually, the smoldering fire in his lungs began to blossom to a full burn as his eyes watered from the pain. Yet Fahen held tight.

“Now now now,” the static voice of The Horned One crept into Fahen’s ears, “You are already marked and fated, why do you try to resist me? You are only hurting yourself from this…” eldritch voice dropped to a whisper that seemed to be beamed directly into Fahen’s brain as it commanded, “Take a breath and savor everything I have to offer.” As soon as that line was stated, Fahen felt his diaphragm begin to relax as the long-held breath rushed up his throat and out of his nose. In a panicked response, the sergolf tried to claw back the escaping air with a sharp inhale but it was already too late. The Horned One’s musk barreled through Fahen’s sinuses and kept going until it reached his brain. The scent was so much more powerful than it had any right to be. It had that same forest rot and gym locker small but this close Fahen’s nose picked up the undercurrent scent of raw, undeniable power. It was so intoxicating and lit up every single pleasure center in his brain and knocked Fahen’s mind off kilter once again.

At that moment, the more primitive part of Fahen’s mind seized control and began to force the lungs to work overtime, one part to replenish the depraved oxygen to his body and one part to greedily scoop up more of that magnificent scent. At first, it started out as a series of quick rapid breaths before it transitioned towards deep, dedicated breaths through the nose. Each breath would light up Fahen’s body with absolute pleasure.

The scent was so magnificent, so… Right.

Fahen could not get enough of it. His body struggled against the paralysis once more, not to break free but to wrap his arms around the hulking body to bring himself closer to the rainforest of hair. As a desperate compromise of everything that he physically could do, Fahen’s feral mind decided to open his mouth and thrust out his tongue.

Fahen savored the experience of his tongue dragging across the patch of hair in front of him as well as the savory sweat that grazed his taste buds. Even the taste lit up the same pleasure spots in his brain. Combined with the smell he was desperate to keep collecting, Fahen’s body and mind went completely feral. He snorted and grunted in his attempt to take in more and more.

Through the scruffy hair and toned muscles underneath, Fahen felt The Horned One let out an amused static-filled chuckle, “That’s right give into the glory of it all, bask in the pleasure of my presence, it is your purpose.”

“What a good fortune that you recently shed your antlers,” The Horned One continued as he brought his arm down even more, squeezing down on Fahen’s head even more while ruining the sergolf’s mohawk.

Fahen heard the words but was too preoccupied with the task at hand to answer, even if he wanted to . He just continued to huff and slurp, trying to take it all in.

“I can already tell that your perfect body is truly enjoying this” The Horned one continued.

At that, Fahen felt a pair of massive fingers brush up against the tip of his cock and he was forced to face the revelation that he was hard again. The knowledge and the sensation from his sensitive dick only threw more fuel to the fire raging inside of him. Despite all his longing, all he could do was crane his neck forward to press his nose and mouth even deeper into the monster’s pit, scooping up all that wonderful experience.

Soon he felt The Horned One go from teasing and playfully batting his erect cock to actually grasping it between his big meaty fingers and stroking it. Between the combination of smell, taste, and now the touch of his cock, Fahen’s eyes rolled to the back of his head with this pleasure.

He was drowning in bliss.

Fahen lost track of time. He had no idea how much time passed wedged between that sweaty armpit. All he recognized was that another orgasm was building up from deep within him. This time, Fahen did not put up any resistance, he just relaxed and let the load come rushing out of him. The orgasm itself flooded Fahen’s mind pushing him from a state of bliss, right into delirium.

Even with his face buried, he could tell that the load that he had just blown into the beast’s hand was just as massive s as the other two, possibly even more.

“That’s a good vessel” The Horned One mewed as Fahen felt the demon’s hand pulled away from his still throbbing cock.

“So delicious,” it remarked once the Horned One licked his hand clean with his writing tongue. “I must admit, seeing my new vessel get worked up like that is making this body react the same way.” Still slurping away, Fahen felt The Horned One twist his torso back towards him, as he felt two massive hands firmly grasp his sides. He was janked free from the damp pit and whatever invisible platform he was pinned to.

The moment he was removed from the spell holding him, Fahen regained full control of his limbs. While he was returning to his senses with a breath of fresh air, he celebrated with a quick flex of his fingers and elbows. Even that was short-lived as the sergolf was then flipped a full one eighty degrees, literally head over heels. His vision blended the green, black, and darkness of the night into an abstract mess until his eyes were able to readjust to his new surroundings.

In front of him, Fahen could recognize that he was now leveled to a smooth and featureless green groin. From at his own waist, Fahen felt the breath of the Horned One radiating onto his erect dick.

”I am still not satisfied yet, and you are nowhere near empty,” said The Horned One, “let us get a bit more comfortable.”

There was a sudden shift from The Horned One’s posture as worried confusion dashed through Fahen’s mind. He then felt the demon’s mighty body start to bend and flex as the sergolf felt himself be lowered backward back onto the dirt ground.

Once laid out and in position, Fahen’s vision was one of The Horned One’s groin against the decrepit barnyard ceiling.

“There,” the horned one said with a canceled pant, “Something a bit more accommodating for both of our bodies. Fahen then felt The Horned One’s tongue reintroduce itself to his cock as it darted across his leaking head yet again. The sergolf felt the demon lower his entire body onto him before he felt the beast pull back.

“Oh, how forgetful of me, you still need something for your mouth, don’t you?” as The Horned One lifted his hips away from Fahne’s face.

Knowing what was going to happen next, Fahen fought through the fatigue and kept his eyes fixated on the smooth green muscular groin. Even with the sergofl’s full concentration, his eyes still were unable to stay on the groin and became unfocused as the area shifted and changed. Once the groin regained its clarity, Fahen’s eyes widened as his mouth dropped with fevered anticipation.

The Horned One’s cock was fully realized and swinging freely in the air.

It was thick, uncut, colored an unnatural obsidian, and glistened in the night air. It must have been at least thirteen inches as it skidded across Fahen’s nose. While the sight was impressive in its own right, what got Fahen’s body excited was the thing that came right after it materialized.

A moment after the huge cock and balls formed, a breeze flew through the decrypted bran, right through The Horned One’s legs and up Fahen’s nose. The scent was as potent as what was rolling off of The Horned One’s pits.

The bliss soaked mind of Fahen did not need to be given any demands to understand what was expected of him. His mouth fell open and his tongue lolled out, as his neck lifted his head to greet the magnificent cock. He was just able to graze the tip of it with his tongue, but even that bit was enough to get that salty yet earthy taste of the newly formed cock.

“Good, the vessel is eager now. It won’t be long now” The Horned One said as he lowered himself onto his vessel.

As the huge cock entered past Fahen’s lips, he felt his tongue desperately dart around the huge shaft, eager to lick off any precious sweat while making sure not to impede its travel to the back of the mouth. He felt every inch of the cock slide inside of him, towards the throat muscles that were already positioning themselves to welcome the guest.

Fahen closed his eyes and let out a stratified moan as he felt his throat expand and stretch to accommodate both the length and girth of it all.

There was no pain, just the constant content feeling of being stretched out. He was about to wonder how much more was left when his eyes felt the set of heavy balls gently collide with them. Now Fahen’s nose was planted firmly in that sweet spot between the end of his shaft and the start of his balls.

Once fully hilted, the words “There you go… enjoy the moment,” were delivered into Fahen’s mind as he felt The Horned One readjusted himself and lowered his massive body onto the sergolf’s pinned groin.

The sergolf took in a deep decadent sniff as he set his mouth to work, slurping up every part of the massive cock as his throat tried to find the right motions to massage the part that was shoved down there. From below, Fahen felt The Horned One deliver a toothy kiss to the top of his cock before he wrapped his tongue around it and took it into his mouth once more.

Experiencing that blowjob, now with a musk soaked cock shoved down his throat, sent Fahen back into a frenzy as his newly freed body spasmed from the over-stimulation. He must thank The Horned One for all that he has done.

At that point, he was unsure if he had anything left to give. How much has he given so far? He could not recall, but it was not enough.

To Fahen's distant surprise and relief, he then felt the familiar sensation of build-up forming from deep inside his groin. The sergolf just kept sucking away, slurping up the wonderful precum that now started to fill his mouth and throat, all while The Horned One continued his otherworldly mouth technique.

Once the sergolf felt that his next orgasm was approaching the point of no return, he bent his trembling knees, got his feet from under him, and at the last minute thrust his hips upwards, to send his seed into the depth of The Horned One’s mouth as a proper tribute. Even though Fahen knew it was coming and even tried to brace himself, the climax was still powerful enough to knock the wind out of him.

Once the high of delight subsided, Exhaustion fell upon him like a lead blanket and forced Fahen’s knees to give out bringing his ass back to the ground. All he could do was lay prone on the ground, taking in the sensation of The Horned One finishing slurping up his load as his cock sat idling in his throat.

Eventually, Fahen felt The Horned One slowly relinquish the still erect cock from his mouth and pull his cock out of Fahen’s throat. Through the haze of exhaustion, Fahen saw The Horned One getting up to his own feet and he pulled up to his full height to tower over him.

The demon was as large and imposing as ever, his caribou body was more translucent with the muscles looking like they were composed of slime. Yet despite that, his skull and antlers remained as solid as usual.

“I'm impressed that you have been able to keep up with me for so long, “ The Horned One said in almost an appraising tone, “… but all good things come to an end and while I am neither good nor ending, you are.” the demon added with a glint in his sunken eye sockets

With that, The Horned One turned his back to Fahen, to show off the set of perfect perky ass that he had no doubt formed when Fahen was not looking. He then stepped backward and straddled over the sergolf and bent his knees, lowering himself down onto Fahen’s hips. The Horned One lowered himself, he reached behind him and slowly pulled his cheeks apart, exposing the welcoming hole that was buried underneath the sweaty supple cheeks.

In this spent state of delirium, Fahne could only watch the set of green and black cheeks begin their descent down onto his sore yet still rock-hard cock. A shudder went through Fahne’s body as he felt the soft, welcoming cheeks caress his shaft before being pushed through the asshole. It continued uninterrupted all the way down to Fahen’s balls. It felt just like everything else that he experienced so far, it was wonderful.

Once fully in, Fahne saw The Horned One let go of his ass and brought his arms forward to support himself from the front as he arched his magnificently sculpted back.

“Keep your eyes on the ass, vessel. This is going to be mind blowing,” he said as he began to lift his hips back up again. Fahen just obeyed as he saw the huge ass slam back down on him, sending shockwaves through his body before rocketing back up again to repeat the process all over again. There was no warm-up for even warning, The Horned One just went full speed, riding Fahen’s cock with reckless abandon. The pinned sergolf could do nothing but watch the green ass rise, fall, and jiggle as every shockwave of the impact sent his mind back to a state of blissful Now.

In that exasperated state, he lost track of time and how many times The Horned One slammed his ass onto him. The only thing that mattered was to witness it happening, while his cock shooting load after load deep into it. Fahen lost track of how many orgasms were milked out of him, they all just blended into each other.

The only thing that broke Fahen’s trance was when The Horned One finally through struggling pants said, “I can’t hold it together anymore… here it comes.”

The Horned One slammed back down and brought his hand towards his groin.

Through the mental haze, Fahen was just able to make out a geyser of green cum shoot up straight into the air. It easily cleared the hulking from and was endanger of colliding with the ceiling beams overhead before it eventually reached the apex of its accent and started to fall back down. Fahen did not even have the wits about him to close his mouth as he saw the hot gooey globs splattered all over him.

From his waist, The Horned One’s form shuttered as he kept pushing out a near constant string of cum. Once he was thoroughly drained, the creature brought his now translucent arms up and extended out to the side. He then leaned back and allowed himself to fall upon his perfect vessel. At the moment of impact, The Horned One’s body from the neck down lost its form and the green slime that comprised him crashed around upon and engulfed Fahen’s body.

Once fully encasing the sergolf, the goo began to move, pulling into the vessel as if it was being soaked through the segolf’s skin and into every possible hole as The Horned One’s skull began to set itself onto his head. As the skull was fixed, the glowing light in the back of the eye sockets retreated further inside. Fahen felt the pressure inside of him build up as The Horned One’s presence invaded from all sides. He felt himself get muscled out of the figurative captain seat of his body. Even if Fahen wanted to fight back, he knew in his soul that the demon’s will was absolute. The Horned One was merely claiming what was rightfully his, there was no point in trying to contest it.

He just welcomed all of it, he allowed himself to let go of the reins and let himself get dragged out of the brain and pushed down past his torso.

With the hostile takeover complete, the skull’s eye sockets ignited with a roaring light as the limbs began to twitch back to life. The arms bent themselves to allow the hands to get leverage to push off of the ground while the legs initially scrambled to find a way to assist the movement. Soon the limbs and all the muscles came together to bring the body up on its two feet. Once standing it immediately started to examine itself.

“An absolute perfect fit,” the Horned One said with perfect clarity as he inspected his new form, “this one is going to last me forever.”

From the neck down, it was the body of Fahen gray fur and everything, but the muscles were more defined and bludged against his skin. It was the head that was the biggest change, sitting at the base of the neck was The Horned One’s horned skull shining like a pearl against the dark. The only change made was between the branches of the mighty stag antlers Fahen’s blue mohawk stood upright, which the new owner carefully ruffled with some initial intrigue.

“Now I never have to go hunting for new bodies, I'm finally free to do what I originally came for-”.

The Horned One then cut himself off as he noticed something within his groin.

“Oh, the vessel thought that he could seek refuge and have me not notice?” the perfect beast said with wicked glee as he brought one of his hands down to massage his balls.

“In that case, why not send you off in style.”

The Horned One spider walked his hand back up to his new shaft and began stroking. It started slow at first, with him relishing the sensation of his body in action before bringing his other hand and speeding up the tempo.

It did not take long until The Horned One let out a self-indulgence grunt as he said, “Say goodbye to your body forever, little vessel.” As soon as he said that, The Horned One aimed his cock upwards and shot the last remaining essence of Fahen’s out of his body, accompanied by a thick string of cum. The load soared through the air and landed on the pile of torn clothes that were once the sergolf walked in with.

With a bony smirk, The Horned one then walked over the pile of damp torn clothes as he strode out of the barn and into the dark forest.

***

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