November Suggested Stories

Here are three stories for this month! I hope you all enjoy them.

 Story #1: WWIDTY: Practice Dummy (from boyn2changes)

What would I do to you today? Tell me, do you like sports much? If you don’t, well, don’t worry too much about it, why don’t you come on over here and sit down next to me on the couch, and we can watch some games together. After all, the rules are simple, and the players are kind of cute, don’t you think? You seem a bit suspicious, and the guys on the screen, well, they’re covered in so much gear you can’t even really tell what they look like underneath. I chuckle when you say that, and agree. Still, isn’t that kind of sexy in and of itself? You don’t seem to believe me, so I ask you if you’ve ever worn gear like that before.

One thing leads to another, as things often do, and I get you geared up--lightly, at first. A jockstrap, compression pants and shirt, a jersey, thick athletic socks. I tie you to the bed in the gear, and I tease you, and the sensations of my hands, my straps, deadded slightly by the gear you’re wearing, drive you into a strangely erotic frenzy, until I’m massaging your cock through the pants and jock, and you cum, filling the pouch with your load--the first time in your life you’ve ever shot hands free.

We don’t mention the gear again after that session, but we both know you can’t stop thinking about it. You wear it when I’m gone, groping and massaging yourself through the front of the pants until you cum each time, and when I check the gear, I can tell it’s getting sweaty and musky from more and more use--and I decide we should have another session. This time, we put even more gear on you--jock with a cup, pads on your shoulders under the jersey, cleats on your feet, helmet on your head, and we tie you back down. I call you my practice dummy, and this time, you can take so much more punishment, can’t you, with all the padding? The impacts are...so erotic, especially when I slam something heavy down on the cup around your cock, something that would crush your balls and make you cringe feels like...nothing--and then I vibrate the cup, and you fill it with another massive load--and we both know, after this, that something in you is changing.

Who suggested it first? Did it matter who said it? You started wearing your dirty compression gear under your work clothes, thrilling in your little secret underneath. You only wear a jock with a cup for underwear now--it makes you so horny, especially knowing you can’t touch it, or feel anything, with your clothes on. You start going to the gym as well, of course, bulking up and slimming down. The gear just gets muskier and muskier, and you take it off less and less. Soon, you’re even sleeping in it. Soon, you can’t remember the last time you took it off.

Over a long weekend coming up, I tell you we’re going to try something a bit new--that I want to lock you in all of your gear for the whole three days--that the whole time, you’re going to be nothing more than my practice dummy. You’re scared, sure, but also thrilled. I’ve been modifying your gear so it can all take small padlocks, and on Friday night, you’re locked in--even into your helmet--and then I tell you we’re going to the gym.

You’re nervous--but the mouthguard locked into your mouth keeps you from objecting too strongly. I take you to the gym, run you through your usual workout, and everyone stares at the fully equipped football player, wondering what you are doing...but eventually, they lose interest. You’re just a dummy after all, not worthy of anyone’s attention, not really--at least, that’s what I keep telling you. That you’re just a tool, an object, nothing more than the pile of gear you’re wearing. You shudder once during your workout, and I realize you came--cum dribbling out the catheter I slid into your cock to make it easier for you to piss while in your gear (as for shitting, I made sure you could still pull down the back of your pants at least) and your blush can be seen, barely, through the bars of your helmet.

The weekend passes, and when we are done--you don’t want to come out, not really. In fact, I think you’ve already forgotten you could come out. No, I have other arrangements for you already made, and I drive you to the nearby college, where a friend of mine works as a coach--you’re going to be his new assistant, of sorts. Out on the field, you’ll be a tackle dummy--player after player will slam into you, ram you into the ground and the grass, the constant beatings all taking points off your IQ--though I imagine it’s already quite a bit lower than it was--gear doesn’t get to think much after all. After practice, you’ll be the players cumdump too, and their urinal, if they feel like it. I think you’ll get plenty of use--and you’re going to love every second of it, Dummy.

***

Story #2: A Special Recruitment (tauro2world & Rick Whitechest)

Todd had, for as long as he could remember, wanted to join the army. Part of his conviction was that the army was a family tradition--not only had his grandfather and father both gone into the army, so had Todd’s older brothers--well, Marcus had gone into the Marines, but that was close enough. Since he was a young teenager, Todd had been introduced to the various recruiters in the town where he lived, he participated in all the training exercises, all the information sessions--as far as he was concerned, he was ready to head right off to boot camp, and now that he’d finally graduated from high school, well, it was time.

His appointment was in the afternoon at the recruitment center, and was just supposed to be a formality, really--signing his enlistment forms, and his final physical--but he knew everything was all set for him to head off to boot camp in a few weeks. However, when he got to the office, he discovered, from the receptionist, that he wasn’t going to be meeting with his usual recruiter, but instead with Marshall Blackburn, a fairly new sergeant at the office who Todd didn’t know well at all, aside from the fact that he was...well, massive.

He was several inches taller than the other recruiters, with hairy forearms and hair coming out of his chest, with perpetual stubble all day long. He hadn’t spoke much when Todd had been around him, and the other recruiters...well, there had been this strange vibe between them and Marshal, but Todd didn’t really know what might be the issue exactly. In any case, he was ushered down the hall to Marshal's office, and found himself sitting across from the hulking fellow in the small, cramped quarters--and Marshal gruffly introduced himself, and started going over the paperwork.

The meeting started out normally enough, going over the forms, the sergeant not seeming too interested in anything much, but as the session wore on, Todd began to...notice that something was off. The room was stuffy, and too hot. He could see sweat beading on the sergeant’s forehead, and then, he could smell him everytime he reached over, the strong musk of the sergeant’s pits...and every time Todd caught a whiff of it, he felt his heart race slightly, for reasons he didn’t want to admit.

See, Todd was gay--had always been gay, knew he was gay, but still deep in the closet, not wanting his family to know, but the sergeant was, well, turning Todd on more than any man he’d ever been around before. He started to notice something else too, that the sergeant seemed...to have picked up on something. He was slyly smiling as he went over the forms, and kept reaching over further, almost like he was testing Todd, and the questions got more personal, asking Todd if he was going to be missing any girlfriends, asking him if he’d fucked anyone lately, was too personal of questions for Todd’s liking, and he didn’t know how to answer.

“Fuck boy,” the sergeant said, sitting back in his chair, “I know I’m real damn horny--fuck. Get’s damn hot in here in the afternoons, and my musk just fuckin’ makes me want to nut all over the place. How ‘bout you boy?” the sergeant said, groping his package, “Seems like you’re enjoying it too, from that bulge in your pants there.”

He’d been made. Todd hauled out of the chair and headed for the door, but the sergeant got there first, pinning Todd against the wall, holding him there with his bulk, with his musk, one of the sergeant’s big hands groping Todd’s hard on, and he shushed him. “Now now boy, I knew ya as soon as you came in here the other day--that’s why I took your appointment, so we could have a little time to discuss a...special recruitment opportunity for young fellows like you.”

The hand that was down the sergeant’s pants came up and cupped over Todd’s nose and mouth, and he could almost taste the sergeant’s musk, his cum...and Todd felt something...happen. Something in his body, something strange. There was a sudden heat, all over, deep in his muscles and his bones, and then the sergeant had to step back, because Todd had...grown.

He was taller, and also thicker--which was saying something, because Todd had gone in the office with a stellar physique to begin with. Now though, his chest and arms were more developed, his legs thicker...and he was horny as all hell, hornier than he’d been in his life. He stepped up and started kissing the sergeant, at least until the older man shoved Todd down to his knees and had the boy suck his cock, and as he did...he could feel it again, that heat, that growth. Something in his was changing, something...was different. When he finished, and the sergeant stood him back up, he was still the man he’d been...but he also wasn’t the same at all.

“Welcome, boy, to my squad of homo-infiltrators. Together, we’re gonna corrupt these straight fucking army brats and make them all into proper fuckers--how does that sound to you?”

It sounded pretty damn sexy to Todd--and later that night, when he and the sergeant had the lead recruiter--once straight, but now addicted to their musky cocks--between them, being spit roasted, Todd knew he’d found a place in the exact squad he need to be in.

***

Story #3: The Retirement Party (chris d)

Jack couldn’t really care less about the party--hell, he’d tried to worm his way out of it even, but in the end, he hadn’t been able to escape it. The three founders of the company were all retiring together, after running things around here for close to thirty years, and now Jack was part of the new guard rising up to fill their shoes. In fact, Marvin, the CEO, had confided in Jack that he was planning on passing the mantle of leadership directly to him after the party, and so Jack had figured that the least he could do was show up and give the moldering old farts a proper send off.

Much to his surprise, there were only six men there--the three retiring fellows including Marvin, and the three up and coming stars of the company, including Jack. The older men had reserved a private room at a restaurant nearby the office, and as the food came out, and the wine...well, Jack started to feel a bit strange. Woozy at first, but then he was having a hard time even standing upright, and Marvin parked him in a chair at the table, the world spinning around him as he tried to get his bearings. The other two young men seemed to be suffering something similar, and the three older men were all laughing and having a great time--but the laughter was turning cruel, the three older men mocking them, toying with their limp bodies.

“You thought I’d give my company to some little twerp like you!” Marvin sneered into Jack’s face, “I’d never do something like that--but you have something I can use for sure.”

A special bottle of wine came out, and the three older men divided it among themselves, making sure to get every drop, and then drank it back after toasting to themselves. Jack couldn’t see what happened exactly, but after a moment, the older men started to feel hot, and horny. They stripped their way out of their suits until they were naked, their cocks all rock hard, and each took one of the young men and started to molest them where they were sitting. Jack tried to cry out for help as Marvin groped his body, but there was nothing he could do as he was dragged up and laid out on the table, Marvin tugging down his pants and forcing his old cock into Jack’s ass with just a bit of spit--and as soon as it was inside him...something started to change, something was very, very wrong.

There was a chill coming from his hole, from where Marvin’s cock was fucking him, and it was spreading, throughout his body. He couldn’t see himself, but he could feel some of the changes, his muscles being swallowed by fat, his own cock and balls shrinking up into his body, the aches and pains appearing as his body wore out--but he could see what was happening to Paul and Simon, the other young men on the table being fucked by the older men, and they were...aging. Their hair was falling out, their faces were becoming wrinkled, and he imagined the same must be happening to him as well. Reginald and Willis, who were Marvin’s two lieutenants, were in turn growing younger, their bodies trimmer, their hair full of color. He could feel Marvin fucking him more roughly as he gained more stamina, until he came, flooding Jack’s now old ass with cum, and he felt the chill disperse, but his body didn’t change back.

The now three young men all congratulated each other on their youth, while the three young men felt the paralysis begin to ebb away, allowing them to force themselves up from the table and look down at themselves, at their old, flabby bodies, covered in grey hair, and none of them could believe it. Jack tried to go for the door, but tripped and fell to the ground, Marvin looming over him, telling him he can’t be going just yet--no, the three of them are going somewhere else.

The effect of the potion they drank, it turned out, needed to be refreshed each month with another fuck for the three men to keep their youth--still, they had worked out a good solution to the problem. They forced the three older men into their chairs again, and forced another potion on them--a memory potion, and once all three of them were zonked out, Marvin told the old men exactly what sorts of lives they would be living at the retirement community not too far from the office where the three young men would keep working for the foreseeable future.

In the morning, Jack woke up in his bed in the small apartment he had, feeling hungover, but recalling with fondness the night he’d spent with his son Marv--especially the wonderful fuck his son had given him. He...loved his son, after all. He’d do anything for him, anything at all. There wasn’t much else he could do for the world. He got dressed, took his medications, and headed for the dining hall, where his two old friends, Paul and Simon, were already eating. The three old men fell into their usual banter quickly enough, and eventually found a fourth to play bridge with for the afternoon. There they stayed--content--watching their sons run the business, happy for their success, and for their monthly attentions, happy they could do something, at least, to keep their sons happy, successful, and most of all, young for as long as the three of them might live.