Cooper's Transformation Ranch

I was on a long-haul delivery, my truck rattling down the road, when he caught my eye. A younger guy, backpack on, innocent face grinning, his thumb up.

I pulled my truck to a halt, and motioned him to get in. He ran up eagerly and took the seat next to me. To his credit, he barely even flinched at the smell of sweat, stale beer, and cigar smoke in my truck cab.

"Where you headin' to, boy?", I drawled.

"Down to Austin, if that's ok", he said hopefully. I nodded, and started the truck back up.

"You British?", I asked him. He nodded, and explained he was on a gap year at university, and had come to visit America.

"Welcome to Texas, then", I said. I reached up and took off my cowboy hat, then placed it on his head. He laughed a bit, but I could already see him looking a little dizzy. The windows were closed, and it was getting warmer. My scent was filling the truck, the ripe and powerful musk of a rugged, hairy older man.

I reached down to the glove box and pulled out a cigar, then lit it up. He watched me curiously, as the end blazed alight and I sucked in some fragrant, woody smoke, then blew it out.

"Would you mind...would it be ok if you didn't...", he stammered. I turned to him and blew warm smoke over his face, and he turned red with a blush as he shuddered in his seat.

"What was that, boy?", I said idly. I could see his pants starting to tent, the confusion in his eyes growing as he tried to fight the feelings growing in him.

I unbuttoned my flannel shirt, and pulled up the black vest beneath, showing off my hard, firm hairy gut. His eyes were locked on me, staring at the space above my brass belt buckle. Slowly, I pylled it free, then started top unzip my pants. He stared at my bulging underwear, his mouth dry.

"What are you...I'm not gay...", he mumbled.

I ignored him, and pulled my cock free. It bounced out into the air, thick and veiny, and he instinctively reached for it.

"No, boy. With your mouth", I ordered.

"I'm not gay...", he said again, but his body had other ideas. He was climbing down off his seat, crawling over between my legs. I spread them, and put my attention back on the road. I let him fight his desires, barely paid any attention as he inhaled the scent of my sweaty balls, struggled to resist the need to taste my fat meat.

I grinned a bit as I felt his wet tongue slide along my shaft, and his head drop down onto it.

"Good boy", I said, and patted his head. I didn't even need to look, I could feel his desperation and eagerness as he sucked, nuzzled and gagged on my cock. As my hand stroked along his head, I felt his skin starting to grow soft and dry, the feeling of smooth flesh turning to the texture of cotton. It took him a moment to realise, but soon I felt him gag and try to pull back.

I looked down, and saw that he was staring in horror at his hands. The fingers were fusing together, becoming mittenlike, while the flesh was turning black, the grainy texture of fabric taking over his skin.

He tried to crawl away, but I pressed his head down harder on my cock, and ignored his muffled and confused cries of fear. His head crumpled under my hand, his whole body hollowing out, becoming lighter and smaller.

His clothes fell away, and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes as the black fabric took over his face. I pulled him up further, then shoved his stretched-out mouth down around my balls and dragged the rest of his changing body over my cock.

He felt his limbs fusing into the layer of fabric that he was becoming, his mouth just an elasticated sock opening, his lower body nothing but a sack of black fabric.

I squeezed him around my cock, idly teasing and playing with myself as the miles went past. I could feel his emotions, faintly. Fear, horror and disgust at first. Slowly fading into confusion, pleasure. As my precum oozed into his former flesh, my throbbing cock rubbed against his fabric, it became harder and harder for him to think.

Human minds don't last long in nothing but a piece of cotton. His thoughts were becoming scrambled, his mind just turning into the sensation of my cock, the taste of my pre, the smell of my sweat.

I growled, my bearded face twisting into a grimace of pleasure, as I shuddered and nutted a thick, hot rope of cum into his body. Jets of seed gushing and soaking him, saturating every inch of his fibres with my seed, my taste, my mark.

I sighed and grinned. The cum made it permanent, which always made it feel even better. I'm a man of my word, though.

My old ranch was looking pretty dusty and worn-down as I rode back towards it. Damn, had it really been that long? The fence was nothing but a few rows of lonely sticks, the sign on my gate had fallen into the dust, and my ranch house looked like it was halfway to falling over.

I climbed down off my horse, my boots raising clouds of dust as I landed on the ground, then started to tie him up against a post. One more thing to handle with him before I stabled him up though. I stroked his heavy head and looked him in the eye.

"So, said I'd turn you back if you asked me to. How about it?", I said in my gravelly accent. The horse looked back at me dumbly, nothing but animal instinct in his big black stallion head. I knew his mind would have crumbled by now, but when the guy tried to rob me a few months ago, I did promise I'd turn him back from a horse once I reached home, if he asked.

I left him there for now, and climbed up the porch into my house. The door was hanging open and the inside hall was covered in sandy dust. I reached down and pulled my left boot off slowly, feeling the worn and muddy leather slowly slide free. As my hairy, rough foot pulled out, the boot crumpled slightly, the leather gone soft from years of hard use.

I pulled the other one off too and sighed with relief. I lifted the pair up and grinned at it, ignoring my own musky smell oozing from the leather.

"You were good boots, boy. Hope it was everything you wanted", I said. I felt no reply or consciousness from them, not that I was expecting to. Guys that I turned into my boots didn't keep thinking like humans for very long. The warmth and weight of my feet, the taste of my sweat, the smell of my masculine musk, all combined into a brain-crushing effect. I could sense their thoughts while wearing them, and most of them descended into nothing but horny and needy begging after a week or two. After a few months, generally nothing but moans and shuddering.

This guy had been my boots for two years, and had long since stopped having any human thoughts. He only felt pleasure and contentment, his mind fully converted into that of the spirit of an object.

I pushed open the door to my cellar, and where I store my collection of former humans. Down there I had whole shelves of old boots, men who's spirits had fully succumbed to becoming objects and could never turn back.

I had been planning to just give this pair a space on the shelf, but I was surprised to find my cellar was already occupied. Sitting in the middle of the floor was a naked man, one of my boots pressed to his face as he inhaled the scent, and his other hand wrapped around his cock as he pleasured himself to it.

He pulled the boot down in shock as he heard me walk down the stairs, and a blush covered his face as he grunted and sprayed all over himself with his own seed. I raised a bushy eyebrow and watched as he scrambled to grab his pants.

He was red-haired, a little muscle to him, maybe some farmhand. He was young, maybe in his early twenties. Well, all guys are young to me, that's how it gets when you're over a hundred years old, but visually I still looked like a gruff, bearded old cowboy in his late forties.

"Gonna tell me what you think you're doing in my house, boy?", I growled. He covered his junk with his hands, then seemed to realise something.

"Wait...you're him! You're Cooper!", he said in awe. I wasn't sure how I felt about my reputation preceding me.

"I heard you're a wizard, that you got branded by the devil's cattle iron and it gave you powers! M-my name's John, I, uh...I'm sorry, I've been sneaking in here, and I just...", he stammered. I sighed and kept walking until I was towering over him, while he still kneeled naked on the floorboards.

"I want to be your boots!", he finally blurted out. I noticed his eyes were locked staring at my bare feet, his face flushed and hot with desire. I ignored him for now, and carried both my newest pair and the ones he had been huffing, to place them both on the shelf. Then I crossed my arms and looked down at him

"You know what you're asking for here, boy? You really understand what that would mean?", I say. He gulps, his dick already getting hard again just from staring at my feet. Damn, this boy was obsessed.

I lifted one of my feet and showed him my wide, rough sole. It was dirty and blackened from my long trip. Not a lot of bathing gets done out in the wilds. I expected him to flinch or recoil from the musk, but he actually leaned closer.

"It's no picnic, no fun little trip. It's one way. Everything you are just becoming leather, becoming an object. Wrapped around my feet, no way to say no, no backing out. Forced to taste and smell my dirt and sweat even if you get sick of it. Before long your mind would start to melt away, become part of the boots. Each step my weight would crush down on you, wipe you away more. Eventually you wouldn't even think at all, not how a human does. It'd be just experience, sensation, the mind of an inanimate object with no desires. That really what you want of your life?"

He looked up at me with no hesitation, and nodded.

Well, I'm not one to pass up new boots, or to give a second warning. I shoved my foot forward, pressed my rough toes into his mouth, and he gagged on them as his body started to shift. His flesh becoming more malleable, his bones softening as my power filled him. My foot slid right over his tongue and down his throat, as his head started to reshape and conform to fit me.

His eyes watered, but to my surprise he actually pushed himself forward and helped push my foot deeper. Damn, this boy really wanted it. I wondered if he had been influenced by the desires and needs of the countless boots down here, or if this was just how he was.

His skin started to toughen and become darker. It creaked as it grew thick and leathery, the tanning of fine leather spreading down his body, while his insides started to hollow out. He reached down to his shaft and started trying to stroke himself, but I growled a warning.

"No, boy. Your pleasure isn't important any more. You are my property, and what you want isn't relevant."

He immediately pulled his hands away and tried to nod. Damn, I wish all my victims were this obedient. As his body flexed and shifted, the shape of it becoming less and less human, I reached down and pulled his lower body over.

I pushed my other bare foot towards his tight ass, even as I watched it turning brown and firm. He gurgled and shuddered as my toes slid into him, my feet filling both his behind and his throat. Then, when I was ankle-deep, I started to pull.

He moaned and started to sweat. I knew he was feeling his whole body strain and shift in a way no human would ever feel. With a slow sensation, like pulling taffy, his entire body split in two.

He would still feel both parts, feel and taste and smell my unwashed feet in every part of him. Already his limbs were shrinking away into the brown leather, his facial features disappearing as stitching appeared along his sides. I watched as the last of him melted away, until I was wearing just a seemingly ordinary, heavy pair of brown leather boots.

I stood up, and felt him moan with lust as my weight pressed down on him. 'Thank you', I heard in his mind. I didn't reply. I'd already forgotten his name, and he was just property now.

I wrapped my hairy arms around the guy straddling my waist, and thrust into him again. "Oh fuck, fuck!", he moaned. I grinned, my huge cock throbbing inside his ass, and reached down to squeeze his butt. "You like that, slut?", I said. He nodded, his face flushed red and his cock bouncing against my chest. A few feet away, his boyfriend was sitting on a chair, watching us with a mixed expression of arousal and humiliation.

I'm a transformation bull, for hire. That means people pay me to fuck their boyfriends and turn them into things. It's lucrative, and it doesn't half make you feel like a stud. I pulled a cigarette out of my mouth, and blew smoke over the guy I was fucking. He whined, his cock leaking pre and close to bursting.

"I'm so much better than your boyfriend, aren't I? My huge cock makes his look like nothing", I said. The guy I was fucking nodded, and whined. "Yes! Yes, you're amazing!", he gasped. The boyfriend blushed, his pants tenting. I stroked my hands along the guy's back, and looked up at him.

"You want to be mine for good, don't you? Just an object that I can do anything I want to. My property", I said. My voice was deep, and commanding. He reached down to stroke his cock, and I shoved his hand away. Then he nodded again. "Yes! Make me yours! I don't care about anything else!", he said.

That's what I like to hear. I held my hands firmly at his hips, and squeezed. He gasped as his skin started to change. A matte white colour spread up from my fingers, across his tanned skin and over his chest. It looked like thick white cotton, and he raised his hands to stroke across it, feeling the rough fabric texture. Then the colour spread down his arms to his wrists, and his arms flopped limply at his sides, as they weakened and became too heavy to lift. His fingers merged together, becoming mittenlike as his arms flattened and hollowed out. Then they started to shrink, pulling up against his shoulders and getting smaller and smaller, until they disappeared.

His legs crumpled, turning white and gaining a thicker texture of cotton. They squeezed up around his crotch, his asshole getting wider and more loose around the base of my shaft, as his lower body turned into the wrinkled and soft opening of a large white sock.

He wriggled and flopped on my cock, as his insides started to become hollow and empty. His skin getting thinner, as he felt more of his body become nothing but a cotton shell around my dick. His own cock shrunk and turned white, the leaking pre stopping as his hard shaft got smaller and smaller, and merged into his sock form. Finally, his hair receded, his head becoming entirely cotton. His mouth was just a fold in the sock fabric, and his nose, eyes and ears all closed up and vanished. The large sock on my cock twitched once, and then went still.

I shuddered with pleasure. My cock was still leaking pre into him, and he was forced to taste every drop, while smelling my unwashed balls too. I looked over at the sock's boyfriend, who had watched everything with silent lust and excitement. I beckoned him over, and he crawled up between my legs.

"Kiss your boyfriend, cuck", I told him. He pressed his face to the sock, inhaling the ripe stink of my sweat and precum that was already soaking it. "Make me cum, seal his fate", I ordered him. He reached forward, and gripped the warm sock. Then he started to pump and rub my throbbing shaft through the fabric. I could feel the nervousness and mixed confusion of the sock's thoughts, as a sort of tingly fearful sensation against my skin.

I growled, and shuddered as my cock erupted with cum. My hot, thick jizz spraying out and soaking the top of the sock, making the fabric darken and grow heavy and warm with goo. I sighed happily, letting myself cool off before slowly peeling the sock up, and shoving it in my pocket.

As I got up and started to get dressed, the boyfriend started getting nervous. "Er, you're going to give him back, right?", he finally said. I pushed my feet into my boots, and got up. Then I looked down at him.

"Boy, you read my contract right? If I cum in your boyfriend, it's permanent, and they're mine. This sock is going to be my cumrag. But if you want to come to my place and lick my cumstains off the thing, I charge by the hour."

"That...that's really my boyfriend?", the young man next to me asked. I had just walked in to his house less than an hour ago, and I was sitting on his couch, my huge leather boots propped up on his table. It had taken a lot of convincing, and a lot of proof with texts and direct messages, but he was slowly starting to realise that yes, his boyfriend was gone, and was now my right boot.

He placed his hand on the top of the smooth black leather, and squeezed it. I could feel the boot shiver slightly, the telltale tiny bit of motion left in a newly-transformed object. "Could you...please take your foot out of him?", he asked, an edge of anger and distress in his voice. My cock twitched in my pants as I saw him struggling with his emotions.

"Listen, mate, this was all legit. He belongs to me now, I can put my foot in him, hell I can piss in him if I want. He's an object, he doesn't have any rights", I said. He squeezed more tightly against the leather, and bit his lower lip. "He never told me about any of this. I never knew he wanted to be an object. We were supposed to have a life together, we had so many plans...can he ever turn back?", he asked.

I shook my head. "Nope. I've jizzed on him, and that seals it for good. He's an object now, forever", I said. I reached down, and gripped the sole of the boot, slowly pulling it off my foot. My sock beneath was damp and hot with sweat, and the ripe musk of my feet filled the room. He flinched at the smell.

"Look, come sit here", I said, patting the couch next to me. He looked at me with disgust and anger, but slowly sat down a few inches from me. I scooted closer to him, and put my arm around his shoulder, then pulled the boot up and placed the front of it over his face. He blinked in shock, but as he inhaled, he started to blush. "It...smells like him...", he mumbled. I nodded. "It IS him. Everything he was, everything he could have been, is all in this leather now. Why don't you kiss him?", I said. He breathed in the scent, and reached up to hold the boot. He pressed his lips against the leather, and I could see his pants starting to tent.

"I'm sure he did love you, and in his right mind would have stuck with ya. But a lot of guys, when they're objects and they get all horned up and needy and excited, they make dumb decisions. Don't be too hard on him", I said. He squeezed the boot tighter. "I can't imagine choosing to throw your future away just because it feels good...", he said.

I squeezed his shoulder, and smiled. "Why don't you try it? One day with him, a last goodbye. You can be my sock, and stay inside him. Warm and tight and pressed up with him. Understand what he was feeling. Might help you let go", I say. He frowned.

"I don't want you just cumming on me and making me get stuck that way", he muttered. I shook my head. "Don't work that way. They gotta consent or I literally can't get cum on them. It's a magic contract thing", I said. He hesitated for a long while, sniffing and inhaling the boot. Then he nodded.

I pulled him up onto my lap, and wrapped my arms around him. My hands slid up under his shirt and I started to rub and massage his skin. It began to darken, a black fabric texture spreading along his belly, and up to his arms. He shuddered as he felt himself softening, his body becoming warm and unbelievably sensitive. The stroke of my fingers through the cotton parts of him made him flinch and whimper. "I'm not sure about-", he started to say, before my hands stroked over his mouth and it sealed closed. His nose and mouth drooping slightly, becoming the tip of a black sock. His eyes rolled up in his head as he shuddered, and his cock pulsed and twitched. He tried to reach down to stroke himself, but his hands began to droop, becoming weak as they deflated. His whole body started to get thinner, hollowing out inside as his organs and bones vanished, leaving only the warm soft shell of his skin. His eyes closed over, and he crumpled, landing in a pile of his clothes on my lap.

I reached down and fished him out from his shirt, now nothing but a warm black sock. I pulled up my huge hairy foot, and stretched him over my toes and up along my ankle. He shivered as he felt his entire body be filled head-to-toe with my strong, firm foot. The scent of my musk soaking into his fibres along with the dampness of my sweat. As I pushed him into the dark, sweaty heat of my boot, his former lover, he was forced to constantly experience an endless assault of scent and heat.

I left the room, my weight crushing down on his changed body with every step. My toes filling his mouth, his face pressed into the dirty sole of my boot. I could feel his voice in my head so long as I was wearing him, the sign that he was not yet a permanent object. "Oh fuck, this stench...this taste. Do you ever wash your feet?!", he whined. I ignored him, wanting him to get the full object treatment. I got in my truck and drove to work, hearing him grumble as I pressed down on the pedals. It was a hot day on the construction site, so soon my boot was swimming with sweat, and he was gagging and coughing as his entire body was soaked. I didn't respond to any of his complaints, but I noticed as they slowly started to change in tone.

"Fuck, it stinks", became "Damnit...so much sweat". Then became "Why does it feel...why am I so...", and eventually up to "Fuck...more...step on me...fuck!"

Finally the evening came, and I headed home. I got in and pulled off my boot, a cloud of vapour oozing out from inside as I felt the fresh air hit my soaking wet new sock. I peeled him off, and dropped him on the boot, keeping one toe pressed to him so I could hear his voice.

"I can't take this...why do I feel so horny?! It's like I've been getting edged and pumped all day! Every taste just makes me need it more! Why can't I cum?", he whines.

"You only orgasm if I do, boy", I told him. The sock twitched and curled slightly, recoiling. "I can't allow that. I have a whole future, I'm going to get promoted at work, I have so many plans...", he said.

I rubbed my bare foot up and down over him, making him gasp and whine. "I'll just leave you empty here, then. You'll turn back in the morning", I said. The sock fabric reached up, clinging to my soles. "No, please! Please I need it! Fuck, I need to cum!", he gasped. I pulled my cock out, and slowly started stroking it.

"Are you sure?" I said. "YES!", he screamed. I stroked and pumped my thick shaft, pointing it down at the damp, smelly sock. Soon, I grunted and moaned, my cock splurting out thick, long ropes of cum. As they arced through the air, in the instant before they landed on him, he said "No, stop-".

Mick woke up, sweat dripping down his face as he was jostled awake from his dream. He rubbed his forehead, panting. He had been having the weirdest dream. A gang of young punks, all pulling off their rank, smelly shoes, and rubbing their feet all over his face. Pinning him to the ground, forcing him to taste their sweat and inhale their scent.

He shuddered, and looked down at his throbbing, leaking morning wood. He'd been constantly assaulted by dreams like that ever since the other day. He worked as a security guard at the mall, and had gone up to some young punk that was smoking pot in the parking lot. Some college freshman or similar, with a band t-shirt and ratty jeans. Before he'd been able to say anything to him though, the guy had just pushed off one of his dirty converse shoes, and propped up his long, unwashed bare foot on the sidewalk. Mick had looked down at it, and breathed in that dirty, musky scent. So electrifying and vibrant and strange, making his heart pound faster.

He had ended up wandering off and leaving the stoner alone, but he'd had these confusing feelings ever since. He found himself stopping outside the windows of mall stores, staring at converse or socks and almost drooling. He shook off the memories, and started getting dressed in his uniform. But as he was pulling on his blue pants, his fingers brushed over something rough and sensitive on his asscheek. His cock bounced when he touched it, as it sent pleasure rushing through his skin. What the fuck?

He turned, angling himself in the mirror so he could get a better look. Imprinted on his ass was a rough white circle, with a red star in the middle. The converse shoes logo. He blinked in shock. He touched it again, and almost moaned, his cock gushing with pre.

This was getting too weird. He needed answers. He pulled up his pants carefully, and headed to the mall. The whole drive there, his weird feelings only increased. His butt on the seat felt intensely pleasurable, and he had to adjust his seating constantly. When he arrived, he got out and looked around behind him, pulling his pants down slightly to check things out.

Around the logo, his skin was changing colour. It had darkened to a matte black, and when he touched it, it felt like stiff fabric. He looked in his side mirror, and was shocked to see his hair had receded, leaving him bald and smooth. His skin looked strangely pale, too.

He hurried over to the parking lot, and saw the same guy that had started all this. He was wearing his same band t shirt, and smoking again, but this time one of his long feet was bare. Mick stomped over, shaking slightly with nerves. He couldn't drag his eyes away from that unwashed bare foot.

The smoker leaned back, and lifted his foot up in the air. Mick's mouth felt dry. He wanted to yell and roar, and demand an explanation. But instead he took the foot in both his hands, and started to rub it. He pressed it against his face, inhaling the smell, feeling the warmth. He needed more.

He ripped off his work shirt, and wriggled out of his pants. Then he lay down on the floor, naked, and rubbed the stoner's foot over his chest. Fuck yes, that felt amazing. This is where he belonged...

His legs started to change. The black fabric spreading down his thighs and calves, and up to his feet, completely replacing his skin. He felt his lower body bend up, and fold around the stoner's ankle, his butt now raised in the air and showing that logo proudly on the side of the younger man's foot. Mick's back felt stiff as it started to turn white, his skin toughening into rubber and forming a ribbed sole texture against the floor. His arms wrapped around the foot atop him as he started to shrink, with his hands and arms also becoming that same black fabric. His cock throbbed and twitched desperately, so close to orgasm.

The stoner reached down, and pulled on his dick. It stretched out, becoming longer and thinner as it turned white, and became loose and floppy. Yet it felt no less pleasurable, as it was strung out into a long shoelace. The stoner began threading it through holes in Mick's skin, criss crossing it and pulling him tightly around that dirty, sweaty foot.

As Mick's head began to transform completely into white rubber, he opened his mouth wide and slid it over his new master's dirty toes. They wiggled against his tongue, as his face attached to the edge of the black fabric, and his head became the toe cap of a new converse shoe.

"Do you like them?", I asked the cute guy lying next to me. I was sitting naked on his couch, one arm up behind my head as he admired and worshipped my body. He stroked his fingers along my abs, gently tracing over the lines and colours of my intricate, detailed tattoos. There were faces, monsters, symbols, a whole array of colours and lines and shapes.

He was clearly entranced. He shivered as he stroked my pecs, and then licked slowly along my inked skin. I grinned, and wrapped my arms slowly around him. Some snakes around my biceps made for a good symbol of how dangerous my embrace could be. I kissed him, my face pressing against his mouth as he grinded and pressed against my body. "They're amazing...you're amazing...", he whispered breathlessly.

I pressed my huge, throbbing cock against his much smaller one, and bit his lower lip gently as I held him firmly. "How much do you like them?", I said. He blushed and shivered a little. "I love them. I want to worship and kiss them and touch every inch of you!", he said.

"Say 'I belong to you. I surrender my mind and body to become your property.'", I commanded him. He giggled a little, and nuzzled me. "Ok sir. I belong to you. I surrender my mind and body to become your property", he said.

He looked up into my eyes, and suddenly flinched as he saw the glowing black scleras, and the bright red pinpricks of my pupils. I smiled, with teeth too sharp to be human. "Much appreciated", I said to him, a wisp of smoke oozing from my mouth. He tried to pull away from me, but his legs didn't obey him. He looked down to where he had been straddling his waist, with his legs around my hips. His flesh was slowly sinking into mine, melting down into me like he was sinking in quicksand. As I drew him in, his body changed colour. Pale, smooth twink skin becoming green, and red. Vibrant inks and colours swirling as he flattened, became weak.

I grabbed his arms, and pulled them around my chest. His fingers sank into my back, stretching out and turning into black ink as they curled out across my shoulders, becoming wing patterns. His arms flattened, melting into my skin and merging with the other patterns and colours. An extra leg on a dragon tattoo here, a splash of colour in a barbed wire pattern there. All of his flesh, and body, becoming part of my patterns and colours.

Only his torso and head remained, stuck to my chest by the flattened, merged sections of his limbs where they had fused into me. He started to panic, tears dripping down his cheeks as he fought helplessly. I smiled, and pressed my fingernails into his back, digging them in and drawing them down along his skin, making his back arch as it started to fuse into my torso. "L-let me go! Please!", he begged. I pressed my hand to the back of his head, and looked into his eyes. A glimmer of hope sparkled for a moment, before I shoved his face firmly between his pecs. His muffled screams shivered through my skin as his whole body sank into mine, spreading among my tattoos. Every inch of his flesh melting away into colours and shapes, filling out my body more.

Soon there was no sign he ever existed. I lazily stroked my cock, pumping my fat and hard meat until I sprayed my sizzling hot demonic cum over my chest. The sting of it made me shudder and grin, knowing that my latest victim was feeling my hot musky jizz drip down him right now, as he was trapped forever under my skin.

Cooper leaned back against a rock outcropping, his pistol gripped in his hand. Chips of stone burst from the edge of the rock, sending dust and grit flying along the hard soil as gunfire hammered his makeshift hiding place.

"Come out come out, Cooooper", called a mocking voice from a high stone platform. Cooper gritted his teeth. The bandage around his arm was starting to stain red from the gunshot wound he took earlier. If his reactions had been a fraction of a second slower, he would be dead. He looked down thankfully at the thick leather boots he was wearing. One of the many of his belongings which granted him speed, strength and endurance beyond that of normal men. Due mainly to how they were made.

He turned, and fired a shot, his bullet exploding an oil lantern set up nearby. Darkness spread over the canyon walls as the light was snuffed out. All around him were tattered tents and broken barrels, the result of his earlier skirmish. "Give it up, McKay! I took down your gang, it's just you and me now", Cooper shouted. His deep voice rumbled over the walls.

There were no bodies lying among the tents, but here and there were odd, out of place object. A boot, a hat, a horseshoe. The remains of the gang members who went up against Cooper's special gun. McKay's laughter echoed around the canyon. "They were only human, Cooper. Not like you and me. If you hadn't done it, I probably would have ended up turning them into whiskey as soon as I got bored anyway."

Cooper pulled down his hat, and tossed it. As expected, it bounced in the air as McKay fired a perfect shot even in the pitch darkness. Cooper rushed from his cover spot to a nearby boulder, and rolled into safety just as McKay fired another shot mere inches from him.

"Why did you have to go and get a conscience, Cooper? Do you remember when you turned that nice innocent farm couple into socks? And their son into a pair of chaps! You used to know how to have FUN!", McKay shouted. Cooper didn't reply, but his glare darkened.

"McKay, let's end this man to man. Twenty paces", Cooper shouted out. Then he clenched his gun. "Golden bullets", he finished.

There was a long pause. Then he heard a rustling sound, and a thump, as McKay dropped down from his sniper perch. "Well well. Maybe you do still know how to have fun, my old friend", he said. Cooper stood up, keeping his gun ready, and left his cover. McKay stood in front of him, the man's black longcoat matching his black hat. The only colour on him was a red neckerchief. His handsome face was adorned with a neatly groomed black beard, very unlike Cooper's scruffy, grizzled appearance. McKay held up a gleaming, glimmering golden bullet in his gloved hand.

"I've been waiting for this chance ever since you left us, Cooper. I've kept this one just for you. You'll make such a nice addition to my collection", McKay said. Cooper emptied his own pistol, and slid a similar bullet into one of the chambers. They walked up close, and McKay blew him a mocking kiss. Then they stood back to back, McKay's black longcoat against Cooper's dusty, tattered leather duster.

They started walking away from eachother, step by step. Just as they reached ten paces, McKay turned, and lowered his gun. Cooper felt it in his boots, that twang of warning. He leaped to the side, and rolled as McKay's bullet ripped a new hole in his flapping duster, but didn't touch his flesh. Then he twisted, and fired.

A golden sigil appeared on McKay's forehead, as the bullet landed true. He touched his skin in disbelief. "You got me, brother", he said. He fell to his knees. Cooper stood up, and walked over, holstering his gun as he did.

"You never appreciated the value of objects who want to be worn, McKay", he said. He tossed aside McKay's hat, and pulled off his coat, before starting to strip the tall man bare. Soon, he was kneeling naked in front of him. McKay shuddered, and panted, but each time he tried to resist, the glowing mark on his forehead would pulse and burn. He could do nothing as Cooper turned him around and forced him to bend over. The grizzled, hairy cowboy unbuckled his belt, and lowered his pants, then pulled out his thick, hard cock, and thrusted it into McKay's ass.

McKay snarled, and dug his fingers into the soil. Cooper thrust again, pushing deeper, slamming his cock over and over into him, until he was as deep as he could go, with McKay's rear pressed firmly to his groin. Their flesh started to grow hot, as it merged and melted together. McKay grunted, his face flushing red as he felt Cooper's blood begin to pump through his body, hot and fierce and strong.

Cooper leaned down, and stroked his hands up and down McKay's chest. McKay panted, shuddering with pleasure as every touch of Cooper's rough, hairy hands. McKay's legs started to shrink, becoming soft and limp as they were drawn up against Cooper's balls. They pressed into them, merging into the flesh and disappearing. His arms shrank too, getting smaller even as he tried to rub and stroke his own ultra-sensitive, throbbing chest. As they disappeared, Cooper started to stroke and pump him harder, making clear, salty pre dribble and gush from McKay's mouth.

McKay's hair began to recede, drawing up into his skin as his face turned more and more red. His head arched up, then started merging and drawing down into his neck. A thick vein became visible from his waist up along his chest, as his shape started to become more simple, more phallic. His nose and ears merged into his head, as his mouth thickened into a vertical slit.

He got harder, firmer. His whole body felt stiff and hard and hot. He could feel an intense pressure building up at his base. Cooper could feel it too. He huffed, shuddering with pleasure, and it finally burst. Hot, thick fluid erupted up through McKay's body, as cum spurted from his mouth and splattered all over the canyon floor. Rope after rope of it, buckets of cum, then gallons. Enough to paint the walls with thick, hot seed and leave a gigantic puddle on the ground.

With each load that left him, McKay got smaller. Shrinking down more and more, as the last of his features vanished. Soon, as the last spurt of cum dribbled from his mouth, he was nothing more than a heavy, fat twelve-inch cock, hanging from Cooper's crotch.

Dan sat down for a break, and popped open a beer. It was a hot, sweaty day on the construction site, and his shirt was soaking wet. His friend Cliff sat down too, and Dan looked over to the bearded, rugged other man.

"Thought you were bringin' your son along today?", Dan said. Cliff reached down, and pulled off his work boot. His socked foot was revealed, the black sock soaking wet with sweat. Dan wrinkled his nose as the stench of Cliff's rank unwashed feet filled the area.

"I did. Josh has been refusing to get a job and help out around the house, so I told him he better shape up, or he'd help me at work. He didn't shape up, so here he is", Cliff said. He reached down and slowly peeled the black sock off his large, hairy foot, and dropped it.

The sock bulged and twitched. It slowly inflated, the fabric forming arms and legs. The hollow interior solidifed, and the fabric began to change to a flesh tone. The opening closed down into a mouth, and finally there was a naked young man in his early twenties, panting on all fours at the site. His skin was glossy and dripping wet with sweat. He gagged and coughed.

"F-fuck! Dad, your feet stink! It's all I can taste! Fuck, I feel like it's soaking into all my skin!", Josh whined. Cliff shrugged. "Get used to it, boy. You've got ten minutes for our break, then we're back to work", he said.

Dan tossed Josh a bottle of water, and he guzzled it greedily. Soon, though, his ten minutes were up. Cliff grabbed him by the shoulder, and he squirmed and tried to wriggle away. "Dad, seriously, I'll get a job! I get the point, just don't shove me back in that horrible boot!", he whimpered. Cliff shook his head. "I gave you plenty of chances, boy. I said you'd help out for a month, and a month it's going to be", he said.

He lifted up his dirty foot, and pressed it to Josh's face. The younger man immediately began to feel weak. His arms and legs flopped limply to his sides, and his skin began to darken. The black, fabric texture spread down from his face and down his neck, then across his chest. He started to deflate, while his mouth opened out wide. Cliff picked him up as he started to shrink, and pushed his toe's into Josh's mouth, stretching his fabric body out against his foot.

As he pulled it all the way up, Josh's limbs merged into his sock form, and his face melted away into the plain black sock. Cliff then pushed his foot back into the boot, and for a moment there was a faint disgusted whimper as Josh was trapped in the humid, stinking prison of his dad's work boot.

I twisted the key in my truck, turning it off, and then stretched out. I had to take a moment to adjust my work pants. Being out all day doing manual labour sure can get a guy sweaty. Under my orange jacket, my shirt's pits were soaked with sweat, and my jockstrap was feeling even worse. Though not as bad as my boots, felt like my feet were swimming in a swamp of sweat down there. The stink that was gonna come off when I take them off at home could probably peel paint!

Still, only one more tree to take down, then I could head home. I hopped out of my van, and walked around to the back. Only to sigh in annoyance. The tree I marked yesterday had an occupant. Some scrawny college student, with dreadlocks and fashionably torn jeans. He had chained himself to the tree. I walked over and looked him up and down, then scratched my beard as I took him in. He looked at me hatefully.

"I won't let you harm mother gaia, tree murderer!", he yelled. I rubbed my face. I really didn't have time for this today. I just turned and opened my van, then pulled out my chainsaw and placed it down on the ground. He gulped a little nervously. "Y-you can't cut this down with a person here!", he said. I sat down on the bottom of my van, and reached down to my work boots.

"I ain't gonna, boy. Laws are laws. But laws don't say nothin' about listenin' to objects when it comes to trees", I said. He looked confused, and watched as I tugged and twisted my work boot, slowly working it down off my hot, aching foot.

When it came off, the sweat and stink from my foot was literally visible for a moment, as steamy vapour oozed from my soaking-wet black socks. He winced, his nose twitching, as even from this distance the stench of hard-working, unwashed blue collar man was like a hammer to the senses. I tugged off my other boot too, and sighed as I stretched my toes in the damp, wet socks. I let him squirm a little, seeing a hint of regret that he chained himself so tightly and couldn't get any distance from my rank feet. "What's the matter boy? Can't handle a real man's stink?", I asked.

I hooked my finger into the top of my sock, and slowly peeled it down, revealing my huge foot. My rough soles were wet and glistening with sweat, and the fresh smell of it added to the musk in the air. The sock literally dripped as I bundled it up, and grabbed the other one too. I walked forward barefoot, and grabbed his head. Then I forced him mouth open with my thumbs, and pushed my rank wet socks into his mouth.

He gagged and struggled, the chains clanking as he tried to get away. But he was forced to taste my stinking socks and breathe in the pure, nasty stink of my feet. I leaned down and picked up one of my boots from where I had dropped it earlier, and pressed the opening over his face. He moaned and tried to yell out, but his voice was muffled by the sock gag. "See that?", I said. "Hole in the sole. Needs replacin'. That's half the reason my dogs are achin' so bad today. Who'da guessed I'd find a replacement all the way out here?"

I pulled the boot away, and saw that the boy's tongue was now sticking out from his mouth. It had swollen and stretched, the pink flesh becoming tough, brown leather. I tugged on it, and grinned. His look of shock and confusion was great to see, as he tried to understand why a boot tongue was sticking out from his mouth.

I reached down to my pocket, and grabbed a utility knife. Carefully, I started cutting away his clothes, ripping down through the trendy shirt, expensive jeans, and Calvin Klein underwear, until he was naked and shivering in the air. With each drop of my sweat that oozed into his mouth, his body changed more. The dark rough brown texture spreading over his cheeks and down his neck, then across his slender, waxed chest. His arms started to grow thinner, becoming limp and soft. As they got smaller, he was able to pull them out from the chains and try to reach up to his mouth, only to see his hands shrinking down, becoming cylindrical and thin. His arms becoming boot laces, and shaking for a moment, before dropping helplessly to his sides.

His chest heaved, as he breathed in deep, his body feeling warm and tingly and odd. Holes formed on his chest, and I took his limp arms and threaded them gently through each hole, criss-crossing them as I tightened up the front of the work boot he was becoming.

His back, which was uncomfortably pressed against the tree's bark, started to become rough, and firm. The discomfort fading as the skin there bulged and swelled up. The colour deepended, becoming a dark, matte black, as treads formed all along his back, and his boot sole grew in. His legs squeezed together as the leathery texture overtook them, merging and reshaping his lower body into the front toe of a boot.

I looked down at his short, slender cock, which was rock hard and leaking pre. I gripped it, and stroked it slowly, pumping it up and down as I saw his mouth opening wider, thickening into the opening of a boot. His eyes pushed to the sides of his head, his hair receding and disappearing. His cock pulsed in my grip, as he unloaded a few ropes of hot dripping cum down onto the forest floor. Then, his cock and balls shrank away, and merged into the leather of his new body. He shrank, dropping to the floor as he fell from the chains, and landed in front of me. A fresh, new work boot.

I picked him up, and pulled my socks out from inside him. Then I rolled them back over my feet, and pushed my strong, dirty foot into his mouth. He could feel my foot entering him, filling him completely. Forcing him to taste and smell my rank, powerful stink right from the source. I stood up, and stretched my muscles.

"You've got a real job now, boy. Protectin' my feet", I said. I felt a little shudder from my new boot. Disgust, or acceptance? With each stomping step of my heavy feet, a little more of him would fade into his new life. More of his thoughts focusing on my feet, my weight. On being a boot.

Old man Cooper stretched, and scratched his belly. It was hard and firm, as tough as wood but hairy and rough. His shirt was stained with sweat from working all day under the sun, and a few beads of sweat glistened on his dense, dark beard. He turned to the young farmhand next to him, who was hammering nails into one of the fences on the old cowboy's ranch.

"Well Corey, I wasn't sure y'all had it in you, but you've impressed me. What do you say I offer you a special role? Somethin' I'd only offer to someone I can trust to have my back and...support me, you could say", he said. His beard twitched slightly with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Well Mr. Cooper, you know you can count on me, sir!", the farmhand said with an innocent smile.

Cooper leaned down, and pulled on his boots. They were old, and well-worn, the leather cracked and scuffed. He tugged them off slowly, and revealed his huge, hairy feet, glistening with sweat. The soles were darkened with dust and dirt, and the powerful, woody stink of the old cowboy's musk filled the air.

"These boys have been good to me for goin' on ten years, but they're on the way out. Boy, you ever thought of bein' an object?", Cooper said. Seeing Corey's reaction, the older man raised a hand. "Now now, I know it sounds bad. Y'all only hear about criminals becomin' a sheriff's smallclothes or suchlike. But hear me out, boy. As my boots, you'd feel no pain. Only pleasure, from every step I take, the pleasure and warm feeling of being owned, an' havin' a purpose, a reason to exist. No stress, or worry, ever again. You'll know exactly what you're for, why you exist. An' I'll treat you right. A man's boots are important, and he's gotta show them respect. You'll be my partner in many ways. Closer to me than even the ladies ever get!", he said.

The farmhand hesitated, but his eyes were locked down as he stared at the old cowboy's huge, hairy feet. He gulped. "Truth be told sir...I am quite fond of your boots. I've thought about that sorta thing once or twice before. Ah reckon gettin' to serve you is a mighty fine honor indeed!", he said. He looked over at the old boot, then back to Mr Cooper's sweaty feet. He grinned, and nodded. "Ye-Yes sir! Please make me of use to you, I will serve you well sir!", he said eagerly.

Cooper grinned too, an unusual expression to see on the gruff, surly old cowboy. He slapped Corey firmly on the shoulder. "Damn boy, I'm proud of ya. Ah reckon you'll be the finest boots I ever did own!", he said.

He reached down, and grabbed Corey's shirt, before pulling it up over the younger man's head, revealing his slender chest. Then he unbuckled Corey's belt, letting his pants fall down, and pulled them off along with the farmhand's own boots, one by one.

As he stood up again, he rose an eyebrow as he saw Corey's cock, standing hard and firm. "Well ain't that a sight. I ain't had no idea you was...that way, if you catch my drift. I guess that explains a few things!", he said. Corey blushed, and awkwardly held one hand over his throbbing cock. "S-sorry Mr Cooper! Thank You Mr. Cooper! This is kind of a dream come true sir, in more ways than one...", he mumbled.

The old cowboy ruffled Corey's hair and grinned. "Damn boy, you'll make even better boots than I hoped! I ain't never met a man more suited to be worn", he said. He gently pushed Corey down onto all fours, the younger man standing naked with his hands and feet on the dusty ground of the ranch.

"This'll feel mighty strange, but just don't fight it. Let the changes flow into you", he said. Then he sat down, and lifted one of his large, dirty feet, and pressed it to Corey's mouth.

The older man's toes were sweaty and ripe, and the stink of the old cowboy's thick, woody, musky aroma filled Corey's nose, even as he tasted the salty and earthy flavour of his unwashed feet.

His toes pushed in deeper, Corey's cheeks stretching as his toes pushed back against his throat. At the same time, he lifted his other foot, and pressed his toes against Corey's tight asshole. It slowly stretched, a little uncomfortable at first, but even as the second and third toe pushed in, it didn't hurt like he'd expect. Instead, the stretching in his rear felt oddly blissful. It made his cock bounce and leak, as the old cowboy's entire foot started to push up into his ass.

Corey moaned, and shuddered with the strange sensations. The thick, manly smell of the mature cowboy's feet seemed to fill his lungs, flowing through his mind and making it impossible to focus on anything but this bizarre pleasure. He expected pain, but was instead getting one of the most pleasurable and intense feelings he had ever imagined. He looked up at Mr Cooper, his face red with a blush, as he felt his mind fill with an odd set of new thoughts. He had always been attracted to the rough old cowboy, but now he felt different. Cooper was everything. Cooper owned him. Cooper was his whole world.

The old cowboy looked down at Corey with a fatherly smile one more time, before pushing his feet in deeper. His toes pushed down into the younger man's throat, stretching it out as more and more of his feet filled Corey's body. The rest of his other foot slid easily deeper into Corey's ass, until it moved past the ankle, and even further.

Corey's neck and chest stretched slightly, his insides feeling strange. They shifted and gurgled, his organs starting to stretch and squash out of the way, no longer needed. His skin felt dry and firm, the colour deepening. It took on a deep, tanned shade, before getting darker, becoming a glossy, leathery brown.

The old cowboy tugged his feet, stretching them away from eachother. The sensation for Corey was indescribable. His whole body was stretching and tugging on itself, his midriff weakening, pulling out taut. Until finally, with a shocking sensation of sudden, electric pleasure, he split in half.

Cooper stretched out his legs, and looked down at Corey. The shape of the boy's body was already altering, conforming to fit his feet perfectly. But it was possible to still see the faint hints of legs shrinking away on his left boot, and arms on his right boot. Corey could feel his new boot soles forming, a sort of hard, strong sensation in his two split bodies. His limbs shrank away, disappearing as he no longer needed them. The leather took him over, covering away all his features, everything he didn't have a use for.

His nose and eyes slowly flattened, and closed. But he found he could still see. His vision was now strange and distorted, focused on the ground with two viewpoints, one from each boot. And though he no longer breathed, at every moment he was constantly smelling Cooper's scent. It was so much stronger, more rank and masculine now. It was like his senses were enhanced, to better taste and smell and worship his owner's body.

Corey could no longer feel any of his limbs. His entire mind was nothing but Mr Cooper's scent, the taste of his dirty feet, the pleasure of being completely filled by a man who owned you. His mind started to degrade, thoughts becoming jumbled, happy, and confused.

"Thank...you.....Mister.....Coop....." were his last human thoughts, as he shuddered and accepted his new permanent fate. Cooper flexed his toes, feeling the heat and warmth inside the boy's new body. That humid, warm comfort that showed his boots are happy and content. He stood up, and rubbed his back. Corey could feel the old man's weight pressing down on him, the forceful thump of each step he took.

He no longer truly had a brain, but he was still in some way conscious. Not thinking, but aware. Tasting every drop of sweat Cooper's huge feet oozed into him. Soaking his degraded mind with that smell. His thoughts were now the thoughts of an object, of boots. The desire to be owned, to do a good job. The pride of being a treasured possession.

I'd been going out with Andrew for a few months, and it was going well, for the most part. I was certainly enjoying using his ass and mouth whenever I wanted, and making him treat me like a king. Seems like he didn't agree, because he texted me saying he was breaking up because I was "too possessive".

Possessive? I'll show him possessive. He was still logged in to his Manazon account on my laptop, so I opened it up on his account, and went to the "sell myself" section. It was easy enough to fill in all his details and passwords, and then log back out and quickly into my own account to buy him up before someone else snapped him up.

Boy was he surprised when I showed up to his house, and dropped my pants to show I was going commando. It was all legal and signed for, he was my property now. I pushed him to his knees, and forced his head against my crotch, my throbbing cock ramming into his throat. His skin started to turn soft and dry as I fucked his face, the colour changing to a deep, artificial red. He tried to resist, but his arms wrapped around my waist, and he was forced in closer to my unwashed balls. As his arms started to flatten and stretch out into a waistband, I reached down and grabbed his legs, then pulled them up under my taint to fuse with the rest of his body. He flattened out, his features disappearing into red fabric. The last of it to go was his shocked eyes, as I rammed my cock deep into his throat one more time, before he shuddered and became nothing but a jockstrap.

His name being on the waistband is a nice touch. Will help remind me who he was once I get this bad boy rank and sweaty from months of wearing. No one leaves me unless I say so.

Mike had been really pleased when he got his latest job. Overseeing the cookie dough production at ManCookies paid well and seemed like a good gig. He was a fan of the product, too. ManCookies were one of the tastiest cookies on the market, with a warm gooey center and a great sugary taste.

Of course, it was no secret that they made their cookie dough from willing volunteers. Human objects had been on the market for years now, even foodstuff. It was a little odd, but people had gotten used to it. He hadn't really thought about it much, until now.

He stared at the machinery as he was guided through his training. On top of a large metal plate, was a man-sized, man-shaped lump of cookie dough. Its arms and legs were spreadeagled, and its head was just a round, wet ball of dough, with an open, silently moaning mouth. Between its legs, a large mound was twitching and throbbing, shaped like an erect cock pressing out and bulging against the dough.

"Inspecting the merchandise, eh?", a deep voice said. Mike gulped, and turned. It was Gary, the guy training him. Gary was a hairy and muscular older man, his blue work shirt straining around his wide chest. He patted Mike on the shoulder with his large, rough hand. "This one's gonna need a little longer on the plate before he goes to the mixer", he said. Then he pulled Mike along. "Come on, need to show you how to keep things running smoothly!", he said.

Mike followed, trying to pay attention as he was taught the various machines and systems. But he couldn't help thinking about that guy, melted and changed into dough. Finally, they came to the end of the talk, having looped around the factory, and Gary stopped at the initial segment of the cookie dough conveyor. "Right, any last questions?", he asked. Mike shook his head, and Gary clapped his hands together, before starting to unbutton his shirt. "Great! You'll do fine taking over from me. I'm looking forward to retirement!", he said.

Mike stepped back, confused as to why Gary was stripping down. The older man's hairy round belly was left bare, and he reached down to pull off his shoes and begin peeling off his socks. "Why are you taking your clothes off?", asked Mike. Gary stopped, and sat down in just his slacks on a chair.

"Oh, didn't you know? I took the ManCookie special retirement package. Usually folks have to go through a long set of tests and trials to become cookie dough, but employees can choose to skip straight to the front of the line instead of a normal retirement package. Your first job is going to be me, new guy!", he said eagerly.

Mike was speechless. He just stared as Gary pulled off his pants and boxer briefs, and revealed his thick, rock-hard cock. He walked past him, and climbed up onto the conveyor, before lying down. His cock stood straight up in the air as he got comfortable. "Right, give me a spray and let's get started!", he said.

Mike hesitated, but this was his job now after all. He nervously pressed a button to douse Gary in the transformation serum. Some taps above the conveyor sprayed out a fine mist of fluid, soaking the older man's body. He shuddered, his cock twitching and throbbing as his body started to glisten and look damp and wet.

"Give me another good spray, boy. Need to get rid of all this body hair, ain't no one want a hairy cookie!", Gary shouted. Mike pressed it again, and the mist sprayed down once more. Gary's hair, and the fuzzy body hair all over his skin, slowly started to recede, as it pulled down into his body. His pale skin was starting to change colour too, becoming a creamy shade of brown. His arms felt heavy, and damp. He slowly lifted one up, and as he did, it let blobs and droplets of sticky dough on the belt under him. He shuddered with pleasure, and flopped it back down.

Mike pulled another lever, and a shower of chocolate chips dropped down onto Gary's body. The ones that landed on him would stick and sink down, oozing into his increasingly wet and goopy form. He shivered, thrusting up against the air and clenching his fingers as the chips bounced and scattered all over him.

"Fuck, I can taste them...I can taste my own dough too...", he mumbled. Mike adjusted his pants, and realised he was tenting them with his own erection. He pressed a button to start the conveyor moving, and followed Gary as he progressed through the factory. With each spray, he would lose more of his appearance. His fingers slowly merging into just a blob of dough, his cock softening and pressing against his chest to just become a throbbing bulge. His ears and nose sinking into the round dough ball of his head, followed by his eyes.

Finally they came to the edge of a huge vat. Gary was barely recognisable now. He was just a vaguely humanoid blob of dough, with loose shapes where his limbs once where, and a slight depression in his head for his open, moaning mouth. Mike looked down at the vat, and his cock throbbed even harder.

Other dough-men were being dumped from their conveyor belts, into a massive mixer. Each one would land into it, and then start to hump and writhe loosely. Their faces were visible as they moaned and struggled against eachother, while the massive, slow mixer would gradually pump and squish them together. Fusing and merging them into one massive, undefined blob of dough. It was like a slow, sticky orgy.

Mike pulled a lever, and watched as Gary was dumped down into the vat, landing with a sticky squelch atop another mostly-transformed man. Soon, he was mixed and mashed and there was no sign of him left. Out of curiosity, Mike went to the other side of the factory, and watched as blobs of dough were extruded out onto a new conveyor, to be moved along and baked. He wondered if any of the slightly-twitching blobs might be part of Gary.