Albert didn’t know what he had done to set Wesley off on him, he really didn’t. It wasn’t like he was weaker or more nerdy than other people. He was decidedly average in almost every way - short, mousy brown hair, unremarkable physically - and because of that he flew under the radar for everyone but Wes.. Whatever the reason, Wes took one look at Al on the first day of high school and decided that this was going to be his target for the next four years. And so it was. Year after year, Al was the victim to hundreds of Wes’s stupid attacks. Stealing his underwear during gym, raiding his locker, swirlies, even just general beat-ups. He stuck through it, thinking that after long enough, Wes might grow bored and find another person to pester, or perhaps he could just stick it out for four years and be done with him. He might have, too, had someone not approached him after school, following a particularly brutal shakedown. Albert was skulking behind the school, huddled in a mass and drying his tears as he tried to figure out how much money Wesley had taken from him this time, when something blocked the warm afternoon sun from his face. He looked up to see a student that he’d never seen before. He was tall, lean, and dark haired. He had fair skin and green eyes, but otherwise he was just as plain as Al was. Perhaps a year older? The stranger knelt down next to Al. “Wes again, huh?” Everyone in school knew of Al’s problem. No one had pitied him enough to talk to him about it, though. Al nodded. “You don’t know me, and you’ll never get a chance to know me. I’ll keep it simple. I have something with me, a sort of device, that has the power to grant the user wishes, no matter what it is. Al, you deserve it. I want you to have it.” Al couldn’t help but scoff. This sounded like something out of a scifi novel, or maybe a fantasy book. There was nothing in reality that could grant wishes, and even if there was the chances that a stranger would have one, go to his school, and then offer it to him just to get Wes of his back was astronomically small. He said as much. The stranger grinned at him. “I thought you might say that. I can’t say I blame you. Tell you what - if you ever get desperate enough, come back here. You’ll find it behind this brick. You can use it whenever you need.” The stranger reached to the left of Al’s head and pulled a brick out with ease, pushing some sort of stick in the new hole and replacing the brick. It looked slightly ajar, so that Al might find it later if he looked, but otherwise the brick was entirely unremarkable. “Remember, it’s always here.” Al nodded and the stranger left him. He didn’t bother looking at the device. He thought that it was all a fake, perhaps something Wes did to make fun of him. After drying his tears, he packed up what remained of his things and went on home. Time passed, and Al eventually forgot about the incident. He continued life as normal, tortured by Wes time and time again, not putting much thought to it. It was how life went, after all, and what was there he could do about it? Wes was bigger than him in every way, and no teacher wanted to go through the headache of trying to discipline the monster. So life passed until one morning, when it all became too much for him. It was 11 in the morning, and the school’s marble hallways echoed with the sound of students rushing towards their next class. The narrow walls filled to the brim as classes let out, girls and boys alike packing in to rush to their lockers, rush to their classes, and maybe find time to talk to their friends between it all. Albert pushed up his glasses, held his books close to his chest and pushed into the crowd. Al was a pro at navigating the busy streams of people going about their business without attracting too much attention. He never liked attention; attention tended to bring teasing, which made him blush and squirm, and that only ever made things worse with Wes. Luckily, the short stature that his bully teased incessantly was generally his saving grace in the halls. He was almost impossible to see if he didn’t want to be seen. “Hey, fag!” A baritone voice echoed through the halls. Al stopped cold. How in the world did he always managed to get caught by Wes? Just before his classroom, too. He could feel the giant boy’s presence behind him, as well as smell the rank scent that was uniquely Wes’s. Despite his better judgement, he turned around. Wes leered down at the smaller boy. “That’s right, bitch. You remember what happened last time you ignored me, dontcha?” Wes said. Al nodded, looking down at the ground. He hadn’t been able to hide the bruises from his mother that time. “Guess you learned somethin, didn’t ya?” Wes said with a sneer. It somehow managed to make his piggish face look even fatter. Albert didn’t reply. This suited the older boy just fine. He simply held out his hands, and Al obediently slipped his wallets into them. Wes kept Al there in the middle of the hall as he went through the leather wallet, pocketing gift cards, cash, and a little bit of change. The stream of students parted around them, most realizing what was going on, but too busy or scared to do anything about it. The piggish brute’s eyes lit up as he found something buried deep within a wallet. It was a pristine trading card, put into a card sleeve. Al’s eyes widened. He had thought he’d kept that at home! It was worth a fortune, but even more importantly it was something that his father gave him, and after he passed Al held onto the card as the last thing of his father’s that he had. “What’s this?” Wes said, holding up the card. Al couldn’t respond. “James McCaffrey, 1998. I don’t recognize the team.” Al said nothing. “I think this is mine now.” Wes went to stuff the card into his back pocket when Al finally found his voice. “No.” “No?” Wes arched an eyebrow. “No!” Al’s voice cracked and he lunged for the card. Wes kept it easily out of reach. “Wes, please! Anything else, but that’s important to me!” That was the wrong thing to say. The brute chuckled, lowering the card a bit to look at it again. “Must be, punk! It’s taken care of so well, would be a shame for you to lose it. Tell you what. You can have it back.” Al choked on his own breath. Was he for real? A glimmer of hope rose within his chest. “After I’m done with it.” The hope died. Wes chuckled, yanking the card out of the sleeve and bending the corners. Al whimpered, frozen with fear and unable to do a thing. The bully inspected it in the light again before hocking a loogie, spitting on it. The cardboard curled a bit as it absorbed the wetness, and Wes rubbed the snot in so that it stained the wet bits of card stock. This might have been bad enough, but Wes shoved it down the back of his ass, scratching around back there before bringing it back up. Now the card was bent in several places and covered in a brownish-green film of sweat. Al was on the verge of tears. He wasn’t finished. Making sure Al was looking for every bit of it, Wes did his best to destroy the card. He rubbed it on his hairy pits, chewed on it, ran it through his greasy, clumpy hair, balled it up and even shoved it down the front of his pants, bringing it back up with a healthy covering of smegma. Only then did he toss it to the ground. Despite its disgusting condition, Al picked it up and tried to straighten it out. It was ruined. Wes grinned. “Adios, pal.” Al couldn’t hold back the tears. He made his way to the office and sat there crying. The office ladies did their best to console him, knowing exactly what had happened, but nothing could make his grief go away. It was like Wes killed his father a second time. Nothing could help… at least, until Al remembered that incident from long ago. It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing. He knew that he needed to get to that device. The end of the school day couldn’t come soon enough. Even his teachers noticed his eagerness to leave; rather than stay after seventh period to chat with his history teacher (and thus miss the bus which Wes generally rode, clearing himself of his tormentor), he rushed straight out the door to the back of the school. Waiting until he was sure the coast was clear, he began to examine the wall where he remembered the encounter happening. It was sure to be there. It took him a long while, but eventually he found the spot where he had been sobbing, and after careful examination he found the brick loose, just as he expected it to be. He knelt down, carefully wedging his fingers in the groove and pulling at the brick. It took some wiggling, patience, and scuffing of his fingernails, but eventually the brick came loose, falling the the ground and shattering. Behind it was a small stick, white in color. It was smooth and clean. Al reached in, fishing it out. It was cool to the touch, and almost slick. At the very least the encounter wasn’t a dream, but he was still unsure that the stick would actually do anything. What were the chances, after all? Albert was a reasonable person, and reasonable people did not believe in insane things like magic, wish-granting sticks. Still, he had to give it a shot. He was out of options at this point. Al closed his eyes, concentrating on his wish. He wished that Wes was a better person. At first he felt nothing, but as his wants became more acute, he could feel the stick warming up, almost becoming hot. Just as he felt that he could hold it no longer- “Whatcha got there, faggot?” Al gasped, and in his surprise he couldn’t even resist Wes’s grubby fingers snatching the stick out from his hand. Wes held it high as he inspected it, sneering. “What’s this? Something to stick up your ass? Fag.” Al jumped up, trying to grab it, but failed miserably. “Wes! Give it back, it’s mine!” Al said between jumps that Wes easily brushed away. “Doesn’t have your name on it, does it? It looks like you found it!” Wes replied. “It’s mine, give it back! Please!” Al felt helpless. Whatever it was, it was his last hope, and of course he had the bad luck to have Wes come back at just the wrong moment. “Nah. I think I’m gonna keep it.” Wes chuckled, sticking it down the back of his ass, where he kept a strange amount of things, and began to walk away, whistling a wet tune. Al sank to his knees, holding back a sob. His best chance, gone. Eventually he gathered himself, drying his eyes and starting on the long walk home. Stupid thing probably didn’t work. -- Al strolled in the front door, breathing a sigh of relief. School was bad, but home was always his respite against the stress of the outside world. He tossed his backpack to the side, looking around the spacious entryway. It was nearly a perfect picture of a family home - the wall to his right was filled with family photos, pictures of him or one of his two sisters doing sports or playing, and occasionally one or two of his grandparents. The only thing missing were pictures of his mom and dad. His father was, of course, dead, and his mother thought it stuck up to hang pictures of herself in her own home. Al couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head. He would have to get her a picture of herself for Christmas, so she’d have to put it up. She was always too humble. He made his way out of the entryway, taking a left into the livingroom and plopping down on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. The smell of apple pie hung thick in the air, complimenting the tan and cinnamon colored walls of the room. He closed his eyes, basking in the scent, and had almost dozed off before his mother called from the kitchen across the way. “Al! Wanna get in here and help me get dinner ready?” Albert sighed but smiled, stretching before standing and walking across the hall. Diane stood about five feet tall and wore her black hair in a bob that complimented her narrow chin and pronounced cheekbones. It was plainly obvious that she had been beautiful once, but the toll of single parenthood had taken its toll, and now she was tired and stressed. Crow’s feet were beginning to form at the corner of her almond eyes and she was more of a pear shape instead of the hourglass she once was, but her smile was still warm and welcoming as ever. “There you are! How was school, Al?” Diane nodded at her son as she removed a pot road from the fridge. Al faked a smile. “Oh, you know, the usual.” He slid past her, opening the spice drawer and mulling his options over. “Albert.” Al sighed. His mother always knew. “Just a problem with Wes again. It’s no biggie, same as usual.” Diane shook her head. “He must have some real problems at home if he’s picking on you that much. Maybe one day he’ll realize what a bad person he’s been and come over to apologize.” She came up behind him, glancing at the spices in his hand and picking one. He nodded, putting the other back and beginning to season the meat. “Maybe, Mom, but I really doubt it. People like Wes are just trash, you know? There’s nothing redeemable about him.” “Al! You know I don’t believe that’s true.” “Well maybe you don’t Mom, but I do! He’s going to end up in a trashy trailer park, probably less than ten miles from here, and he’s gonna live there in a wifebeater chugging beer until his heart gives out.” Al didn’t really believe that, but he hoped it. “Al, that’s not a nice thing to say about someone.” Diane thacked him on the back of the head gently, but she couldn’t hide an amused smile. “Everyone is redeemable, even him. Who knows? Maybe if you show him some kindness, he’ll come around.” Al chuckled. “Moooom-” “Don’t you Mom me, mister! It could work, it really could!” He was about to reply when the doorbell rang. Diane set down the butter she had just taken out of the fridge and went to go answer the door. Al wondered who it could be. “Oh, you must be Wes!” The lid came off the spice bottle. Al was too startled to stop it, and dumped the whole bottle on the roast. -- Wes said that he had come to apologize to Al, and to return something to him that Wes thought might be his. Both the boys sat at the kitchen table while Diane fawned over the pot roast, trying to save it. Al openly glowered at Wes, who was doing his best to look like an angel. He was failing. “I’m so glad that you came to apologize!” Diane said, smiling over at Wes. Al was right, he was ugly on the outside, but at least his heart wasn’t. “Al never believed you would, but I knew you had to be good somewhere inside. Al blushed as his mother told Wes that, but Wes smiled back, baring his unbrushed teeth. “Of course, ma’am. I just felt bad after taking something of Al’s today and had to give it back.” The two conversed a while while Al glowered, disdainful of everything Wes was bringing into this house. His mother might have been fooled by Wesley’s good boy act, but Al wasn’t. He knew Wes was planning something, but he couldn’t figure out what. He didn’t think the boy was smart enough to plan, but if he was here, ‘apologizing’, it had to be for some nefarious purpose. Wes wasn’t the type to apologize or be sorry, and Al sincerely doubted that the bully had a change of heart in the last hour or so. Maybe just his presence was Wes’s plan. Albert’s home was a paragon of relaxation, and it was being invaded by the culmination of what was bad about the world outside. The happy teal walls seemed dingy now that Wes resided within them, and while the smell of apple pie still filled the air, it was tinged with the mossy musk that seemed to cling to the bully’s unwashed frame. Even the sounds were different - his mother’s voice was as soothing as ever, but hearing it followed with Wes’s guttural tones was like watching a crossover movie nobody wanted. “Al?” Albert was jerked from his stewing by his mother’s voice. He blinked, making it clear he hadn’t heard what she said. She sighed with a small smile, saying it again. “I said, Wes here is ready to give back what he took from you.” Right. The whole reason Wes had supposedly stopped by. Al turned towards the bully, who held the same white wand that Al had taken from the bricks, and that Wes had snatched away from him. Sure, it was covered in brown and a thick coating of grease from his ass, but it was the same thing. “Yeah, I kinda felt bad after I figured out what it was I guess.” Wes said. Al didn’t want to touch something so disgusting, but he held out his hand anyways, palm open. Wes ignored him, continuing as he held the wand to the light. “I dunno, I guess I shouldn’t have taken it. It’s really important to you, right? It’s supposed to grant wishes.” Wes chuckled a little, and Diane did, too. She thought it might be a joke. “I tried it, but nothing really happened so I guess you can have it back. You need it more than me anyways. Your life is shit.” Diane’s smile disappeared immediately. “Now Wes, I don’t-” “It really is! Your dad’s dead, nobody likes you at school, and you got someone like me riding your ass all the time. Your life really sucks.” Wes was hitting Al where it hurt, but Al refused to show it. “So no wonder why you needed something like this. Your life getting better would be a wish come true. But it doesn’t work.” Al gritted his teeth, shoving his hand in Wes’s face. “If it doesn’t work, just give it back.” He was disappointed it was bunk, but he could- “Because if it worked, I could say something like… ‘I wish your mom was my fucking slut.’” The air went cold. Everyone could feel the difference, but while Al and Diane were confused, Wes was just smirking, reaching down his pants and fondling himself. Al expected his mother to scold Wes, snatch the wand from his hand and send him packing, but it didn’t come. The boy looked at his mother with confusion. Diane was shaking, face flush as a series of changes coursed through her body and mind. Parts of her were creaking back to motion that hadn’t worked in years, and she felt a warm arousal radiate from her pussy across her body. She knew that she was wet, and pretty soon it was showing through her jeans. Her nipples stiffened, and she looked at Wes with a mixture of horror and arousal. “M-Mom… mom, kick him out!” Al demanded, standing. “Mom!” His mother wasn’t listening, instead dropping to her knees and shoving her hand down her pants as she crawled to Wes’s crotch. She stuck her head in the musky, murky pit and huffed, shivering at the rancid smell. Instead of disgusting her, it sent shivers down her spine, and with that went any trepidation that had been building inside her. She lived for this cock, and while she knew it was wrong she wanted nothing more than to worship it, worship Wes, no matter how terrible he was. Wes chuckled, snorting a bit in his laughter and grabbing Diane by her hair, rubbing her face in his moist crotch. She gagged at the smell, but even there the tinge of arousal was evident. Al backed away, horrified. The wand really did have powers, and to see them used like this! His face flushed, a rage swelling in his chest. How dare Wes steal his deliverance? How dare Wes invade his home? How dare he turn his mother into some slut? For the first time in his life, Al felt something of a backbone forming, took a step forward with his fists raised. Wes smirked. “Bad move.” Al faltered, and when he did Wes thumbed the wand again. “I wish Albert would sit in his chair like a good boy.” The mousy kid felt compelled to sit and, despite struggling not to, he eventually did sit back down. Wes grinned and pushed the table out of the way so that Albert could see his mother whimpering and moaning at the bully’s smell. He unzipped his pants, unleashing a fresh wave of moist musk, and Diane couldn’t help but moan as the stench curled her nose hair. Drool rushed into her mouth unbidden, and she began to slobber copiously on his pants. “C’mon slut, save it for the main course.” Wes didn’t wait long to let her have it, pulling his pants down as he sat. He was hard, and as soon as it was freed from the rough fabric of his jeans, his cock bobbed up in the air, pre flinging as it moved. It was long, longer than anyone of his temperment deserved, and thick too. Its foreskin hung an inch or so off the tip even at full mast, and veins crossed it here and there, throbbing to the beat of his heart. It was shiny with grease, and the soft skin hanging off the tip drooled with smegma. It was a beast. Diane and Al both couldn’t contain their gasps of horror, but the wand did its thing and soon enough Diane was squealing with delight, slobbering up and down the bottom of the shaft with her tongue as she struggled to hold his balls in both hands, large as they were. Wes relaxed, spreading his legs and sagging in the chair in pleasure. Al struggled to control his revulsion. “Take a good look.” Wes said between moans. “This is the prettiest you’re gonna see yer Mama ever again.” Al shook his head, puzzled. “W-What do you mean?” The bully grinned and thumbed the wand. “I wish that Diane would be the perfect slut for me.” Diane pulled away from the cock and gasped. She looked down with wide eyes, holding her stomach. Al finally mustered the strength to get up and rushed to her side. “Mom! What’s wrong?” Al said, throwing her arm over his shoulder and pulling her to a standing position. Diane didn’t answer. She just looked down at her body, and after a few moments began to frantically disrobe. Al blushed, but he’d seen worse today, and his innocence couldn’t be too offended. Soon enough Diane was naked, and all could see what was happening. The sags and wrinkles that came with age were beginning to melt away; her body was beginning to firm up in ways that it hadn’t in years, and soon enough, her body was young again, perhaps thirty years old. Both Al and Diane marvelled at the change, but more change came soon enough. Diane hissed through her teeth as her body continued to morph. She looked down, but she couldn’t see her feet. Her breasts were swelling up like balloons, then beginning to sag down further and further on her body. Her areolas grew to the size of pepperonis and her nipples swelled. They were sensitive enough that just the slight wind from the central air caused her to shiver. They reached the top of her groin before they were done growing. Diane couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of her body, but her son and his bully were given the full view. Her ass was swelling just as her breasts were, becoming rounder and fuller. They looked like they might have settled on this side of realistic proportions before their growth exploded. They became wobbly as they grew to the size of watermelons and continued on, becoming like a shelf attached to her rear. Diane’s legs shook before collapsing beneath her. She slid onto her back, her ample ass propping her up a bit. Her eyes were wild, darting between Al and Wes, but soon enough they settled on Wes. She turned red as her hands unconsciously slid to her cunt, fingering herself just at the sight of her lover’s disgusting cock. “Mom.” Al, ever the loyal son, crouched down next to her and put his hands on her breasts. “Mom, I”m here, I’m going to stop whatever’s happening and-” Whatever he was going to stay was stopped short as he noticed a strange goop running down his hands. He looked to his right and saw that his mother’s swollen nipples were lactating milk. The milk was yellowed, chunky and smelled like it was left to rot for years, but it was milk. Al blanched, wiping his hands off on his jeans and losing balance, falling to his ass. Diane looked down, barely able to see her nipples, and with a huge effort reached down, grabbing her breast and heaving her nipples up. She stared at the disgusting concoction coming from her body and gurgled. She lifted her head, wrapping her lips around her engorged nipples and suckled. She made a face at first as the sour milk flooded her mouth, but after the first swallow her features relaxed and began to smile. She sucked it down eagerly, whimpering and moaning and kicking in pleasure. The milk seemed to spark more changes. Hair began to sprout across her body as Diane suckled at her own teat like a hungry pig, even squealing a bit as Al watched in horror. It started at her crotch, soon rivalling any bush from the 70s and quickly surpassing it. The mat of hair spread up to her lower abs, skipping her chest and sprouting again in her pits. She raised her arms, as if to give her audience a better look as the curly black hair in her pits grew thicker and coarser. Soon it was dense enough and long enough to braid. Her eyebrows became bushy and thick, each one straining to meet the other, and finally it began to sprout across her breasts. It was almost like chest hair except curlier and coarser. It was thick enough that it was impossible to see the flawless skin beneath it. The BO soon followed. Al’s nose wrinkled, followed by Wes’s, and soon both of them were gagging at the scent. It was as if Diane had never heard of a bath, and in fact actively rolled in filth just to say ‘fuck you’ to anyone who would bathe. To Diane, however, the smell was heavenly, and soon enough Wes adjusted to it too. It roiled off her crotch and pits in waves that pushed her son back from disgust. The last set of changes began to sink in. Her jaw became stronger, more square, and her grunts and groans became deeper. Both boys watched in shock as her pussy began to change. The hole closed, soon becoming like a small pink scar, and for a moment she looked sexless. Then her clit began to grow, forming a mushroom head and a thick, veiny shaft. His cock was soon joined by a few bumps on his taint, bumps that bloated and swelled until they became very real and very virile balls. Diane didn’t bother looking down across his breasts, but he could feel his cock and balls growing, and he threw a hand down their to pleasure them as they entered this world. His package grew as his pleasure did, and soon it was a sight to behold. His balls lay gurgling and active on the cleft of his ass, each about the size of a softball, and his cock stood out from his groin like a flagpole. It was sized like a small one too, about a two feet of thick, veined cock. His foreskin hung a few inches off the tip of his cock, and it drooled cock cheese at a rate even Wes’s cock couldn’t match. Wes and Al stood in shock at the changes, Al gagging while Wes furiously jacked off. He had no idea he was so into men, especially disgusting, big-titted beasts like Diane was. Albert pushed down his revulsion and moved in towards his mother again, kneeling by her side. “M-Mom?” He said. “...Mom?” Diane snorted once and glared at Al. Al blinked, fear gripping his heart. His mother had never looked at him like that. He tried once more. “...Mom?” Diane spit out his tit and growled at his son. “I ain’t yer fuckin Mama, cunt!” Al reeled back from the hatred in his mother’s voice. “Do I fuckin look like a dyke, bitch? I’m a fucking man!” Al fell on his ass as Diane rose to his feet, crossing his newly muscular arms across his breasts. His cock and balls hung over his son’s stunned visage. “My name’s Toilet. I ain’t yer fuckin Mama, but you can call me Daddy, got it?” Al nodded, unable to do anything else. “Good.” Toilet stepped over Al like he was nothing, kneeling in front of Wes. His long black hair, which now came down to his ass, flowed behind him. Wes said nothing, merely watching to see what Toilet would do. Toilet had no hesitation; he lowered his head, taking Wes’s cockhead in his mouth and swirling the tongue around inside the foreskin. Wes groaned, gripping his chair to keep himself on it. Toilet closed his eyes and started to go deeper with every thrust. Soon the shape of Wesley’s cock bulged clearly in the slut’s throat, every vein accounted for. The wet gurgling and heaving sounds filling the room would make anyone else thing Toilet was struggling, but in reality he simply loved making those noises, keeping himself at the edge of vomiting. Wes loved the sounds too - he had an affinity for ruining slut throats on his cock until they vomited, but Toilet was able to hold back and make the feeling last even longer. This continued until Wes’ whimpering and moaning became louder and louder, and just before climax Toilet pulled off, drool pouring from his mouth. He stood with a satisfied smirk, jacking off his cock as he did. “You like that, Master?” He said, and Wes nodded. “I’ll do anything you want. But first…” The stove dinged. The apple pie was done. Toilet strode to the stove, giving his son and his owner a good look at his jiggling ass as he bent over to open it up. He took the hot apple pie out with his bare hands, seemingly unaffected, and set it on the stove top. The smell of it was overpowered by his own BO, but even the sight of it looked amazing. Both Wes and Al drooled despite themselves. “Looks like the food’s done! Do you boys want some?” The huskiness in his voice belied a hidden intention, but Al ignored it. “Yes please!” Al said, getting up. Maybe Mom was still in there somewhere. Maybe this all was her faking- “Hold up, bitch.” Toilet growled. Al stopped in his tracks. “I said the food’s done, but it’s not perfect yet.” Toilet gripped the base of his cock, dipping his massive tip into the pie’s top and letting loose. A torrent of piss flooded out of his cock, thick and almost orange, filling the pastry to the brim and threatening to tear it apart. He stopped his stream early, rubbing a handful of smegma on top before sitting at the table. His balls hang low to the ground, cock laying on the tile. Al was stunned. Why had Toilet ruined the food like that? Wes seemed undisturbed and sat down at the table too, ready to eat. “But Master,” Toilet said as Wes reached in for a handful. “It’s not done!” Wes froze for a few seconds, then grinned as he began to understand. He climbed up onto the table, pulling off his pants entirely and hovering his fat ass over the pie. He let out a few wet farts, his asshole glitening with moisture, and groaned as he let out thick, sloppy log after log onto the pie. They curled up perfectly, and Toilet groaned in hunger. When Wes finally finished, the pie and its tin was entirely engulfed by Wes’ shit. “Perfect.” Toilet said, burying his head in the pile before snarfing it down. He oinked and snorted as he shoveled shit into his mouth, and soon enough he began to shit too, letting it coil onto the chair and slide off. When he pulled his head away from the disgusting mess of food on the table, the pie was untouched, but the shit was all gone. His face was smeared with the brown stuff, and it was caked into his silky, beautiful hair. Wes grabbed the rest of his whore’s hair and used it to wipe his disgusting ass, until almost the entire thing was knotted, shit-covered and greasy. Toilet sat back down in his pile of shit and grinned. The shit squelched under his weight, plopping to the floor. “You can have the rest, Master. I only eat shit and piss now… and anything worse you can come up with.” Al stood there, stunned through all of this. How could his mother be reduced to this? His mom, this Toilet, wasn’t the person he knew and loved. Mom would never eat someone else’s shit, would never shit all over the chair and bathe in her own filth, and she certainly would never let a good apple pie get ruined like that. Wes dug in as Al fell back onto his ass. The realization sunk in. This wasn’t his mom anymore. His only surviving parent was a disgusting pig. Al got up again, heading towards the door. “Oi, fuckboy!” Toilet yelled. Albert froze dead in his tracks. “Don’t think you’re getting away, whore.” Toilet stood, stomping up behind Al and grabbing him by his hair. Al squealed, trying to pull away unsuccessfully. “You’re my fucking son, bitch, and you’re gonna stay here and take anything I give you!” Al fell to his knees, still trying to pull away. “No! Please no, I’ll leave, I’ll let you live here, I’ll find somewhere else, I’ll go to a different school, I’ll-” “Shut the fuck up.” Wes said, interrupting. Both Toilet and Al looked up at attention. “Al, you’re gonna listen to your Daddy. And your Daddy is my whore, which means you listen to me. You’re gonna stay here as our toy until we tire of you. You’re not going to leave, not going to go to school, not gonna get any rest until we decide you’re boring. And we’ll decide what to do with you then.” Al shook his head, unbelieving at what happening. Toilet had no such reservations, crowing and rubbing his son’s head. “You hear that? You and me, we’re gonna have a lot of fun! Hope your faggot ass like shit, cuz that’s all you’re gonna eat.” Al let out a wail of dispair, and Toilet chuckled, picking him up by his hair and slamming him on the ground. He lowered his massive ass over Al’s face, muffling his cries, and once he lined up his asshole to his son’s screaming lips, he pushed. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Hey, Toilet.” “Yeah?” Al sat at the table, naked and idly rubbing his cock. Toilet was still sitting on his son’s face, casually shitting down his throat and sucking at his own tit. Al’s stomach bulged obscenely. “You got other kids, right?” Toilet grinned, remembering his daughters. “Yeah. And soon they’ll be just like me, won’t they?” Al merely grinned, and looked away.