Fucking an Intruder into a Pet

Greg was **** in his hopeless sex life. Ever since his last failure of a date, Greg's imagination has been getting more lewd and graphic. Right now, he was imagining a man's man breaking in and, after finding him in such an embarrassing situation, had his way with him. He pushed himself onto the headresting pillows, being dominated by a figment of his imagination.

His asshole puckered for a stranger's cock, but something else began speaking to him. The soft pillows on either side of his cock were too stimulating for his brain to stay on the bottom fantasy. He was fucking, not getting fucked.

" N nng, w as tha t it? "

" Shutit fa tass. B e luck yy I—— "

In a fraction of a second, Greg had overpowered the intruder and stripped him clean. His 6 inches, still hard, lined its way in between two of the softest cheeks in the world.

" L et me sho wyou h ow it 's done! "

Greg would fuck the guy over turned tables for the entire morning, his dick never getting tired. As the he smashed the pillows in real life, the image of the burglar began to change. A 5 o'clock shadow sucked into a smooth face. Trimmed brown hairs lightened into long bleach-blonds. Gruff gasps pitched upwards into flamboyant moans. Tight and trained muscles shrunk into weak twink twigs. A pair of pecs and 6-pack abs melted into tiny moobs and a belly. A girthy 8 inch dick with low-hanging billiard balls below microsized into a less-than-an-inch chode and compacted raisins.

That was all circumstancial; the only thing that mattered was fucking the giant pillows, and imaging all the ways they could be bigger. cotton, polyester, fat, plastic lifts; the more Greg wanted to fuck a fluffy butt, the more he put into them.

The whimpers, the haze, the cushions—it all felt real. The pillowcases tightened around his penis, and the fabric began to bounce like flesh. For once in his life, Greg believed he was fucking actual, real ass————

His cum shot out like a pool toy. It was 11:30, nearly the end of the morning, and Greg was hit with 7 hours worth of orgasms. His dick, still hard somehow, stretched a hole before it constricted back. There shouldn't be a hole. Greg looked down at what was supposed to be two pillows.

The gay stereotype in his bed moaned passively as more cum squeezed out of him. He rubbed the gut that grew underneath him—originally adonic, made thin, filled to the brim. He moved the sweat-covered, bleached-blond hair out of his face before pushing himself up. He felt his massive curves roll over his owner's cock. When he kissed Greg, he felt his cock pop out and a torrent of cum cover the bed. He didn't care though.

"That... was amazing. You're amazing. I never want to do crime again... but I don't think I even can."

As Greg was suddenly making out with a boy that definitely wasn't there before, he felt down his body. A quarter of it was a disgustingly thin chest, the next was an overinflated belly of an orgy's worth of sperm, and the remaining two were the pillows he had been fucking, but bigger. He squeezed down on them and felt a unbelievable mix of natural fat, silicone, polyester, and cotton. As a moan vibrated in his mouth and his dick throbbed, Greg knew that this was only the beginning.