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Speaking of main story...Will this all be a sort of fever dream by Graves? The cannonity of this special mini series would be quite the interesting addition if it were truly real! I'd also love the chance to ask for some guidance in writing my own stories, should you both grant me this Christmas wish this year. 😉

So question for you younger guys who hunt for older …. Where do you look? Is there an app that’s better than others?

Logan43, you’re a great story teller! I love this story, wish you’d continue it…

Thank you!

Chapter 7: Raisin' Bran Bran didn’t stop running. The house felt wrong—too quiet, too large, every hallway stretched just a little longer than it should have. His bare feet slapped against the floor as he tore through the second-floor hall, breath ragged, heart hammering so hard it hurt. Somewhere behind him, he could hear movement. Not frantic. Not chasing. Walking. That terrified him more than anything. He burst into his bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame, fumbling with the lock even though he already knew it wouldn’t matter. His hands shook as he crossed the room in three strides and threw himself at the window. “Come on—come on—” he hissed, yanking at the frame. It didn’t budge. The cold had contracted it tight, the wood warped just enough to trap it in place. He shoved harder, ignoring the pain in his palms, panic climbing up his throat. Outside, the snowstorm raged—white and violent and unreachable. “Fuck!” he shouted. He spun and bolted into the attached bathroom, nearly slipping on the tile as he lunged for the second window. Same result. Frozen shut. No give at all. For a moment, he just stood there, chest heaving, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were wild. His face was pale. He looked like someone already being hunted. A sound came from the bedroom. Soft. Deliberate. Footsteps. Bran backed away from the window slowly, dread sinking deep into his gut. His mind raced—stairs, front door, anything—but he already knew the truth before he acted on it. They were everywhere. He rushed back into the bedroom—and stopped dead. Derek stood in the doorway. Lighting a cigar expertly and blowing the smoke out at the flame on the tip before looking at Bran. Naked. Relaxed. Smiling. Behind him, filling the hall, were the others. Noah. Evan. Paul. Zach. All of them unclothed, unashamed, eyes completely black, expressions eerily calm. Bran’s breath caught. “Guys,” he said hoarsely, hands raised. “Guys—what the hell is this?” They didn’t answer. He tried authority first. Reflex. “I’m the president,” he said. “This isn’t funny. You need to fucking let go.” Derek frowned slightly, like he was considering something. For a heartbeat, Bran felt hope spark. Then Derek spoke. “Bran… That doesn’t matter anymore.” The words landed flat and absolute. “We serve the Alpha now,” Derek continued. “And whatever the Alpha asks for… it gets.” The brothers stepped forward together. Bran turned to run. Bran lunged for the hall. And he didn’t make it three steps. Hands caught him before he’d taken a full step—too many, too strong. He twisted and slammed an elbow back on instinct, felt it connect with something solid, but it didn’t slow them. Not even a little. The brothers moved with quiet coordination, grips firm and practiced, like they’d done this together before. “Stop—wait—” Bran gasped, thrashing as panic took over. “Derek, listen to me—this isn’t you!” Derek stepped in close, calm as ever, eyes empty. He didn’t touch Bran at first—just watched him struggle. “You’re wasting energy,” Derek said. “You’ll need it for what’s about to happen...” That was when Noah moved. Bran barely saw it happen. A wet sound, a sharp chemical stink—and then something warm and viscous struck his face. It burned and tingled at the same time, crawling across his skin and seeping into his senses. His breath hitched violently as dizziness slammed into him. “No—no—” he tried to say, but the words tangled and fell apart. His legs buckled. The room tilted. The brothers caught him before he hit the floor, lifting him effortlessly as his vision blurred at the edges. The world felt too bright and too dim at the same time, like his brain couldn’t agree on what it was seeing. “Easy,” someone murmured—Paul, maybe. The voice sounded pleased. They carried him down the stairs. Bran fought to stay awake, counting steps, biting his tongue until he tasted blood. The living room lights swam into view, wreckage blurring together—broken decorations, overturned furniture, the tree shattered on the floor. At the center of it all, sitting on the couch in the same spot he had been hours earlier, was the Alpha. Bran felt it before he saw it. Pressure settled over him, heavy and absolute, pressing down on his thoughts until even fear struggled to take shape. They tossed him forward carelessly, and he hit the floor at the Alpha’s feet, breath knocked from his lungs. He looked up. Ty sat beside the Alpha, close—too close—watching with an eager, empty expression. One massive hand rested on Ty’s head possessively, stroking like you would an obedient animal. Ty smiled dreamily and pushed his head against his hand. Bran’s stomach dropped. “No,” he whispered. “Ty… what the fuck did they do to you?” Ty didn’t answer. He just smiled. The brothers formed a loose circle around them, blocking every path out. The Alpha regarded Bran silently, head tilted, studying him like a curiosity it had already claimed. Bran realized then—with a sick, sinking certainty—that this wasn’t about punishment. This was about finishing something. The Alpha rested a massive hand on Ty’s head. Ty stiffened, then relaxed, eyes turning fully black as if something heavy had settled into him. When he spoke, the voice that came out was not entirely his—layered, resonant, echoing faintly in Bran’s skull. “Tonight,” Ty said, smiling, voice deepening into something evil, “you will be the last, Bran Coletti.” Bran shook his head weakly, trying to push himself backward, but hands pinned him in place. Christmas lights snapped tight around his wrists and ankles, their bulbs warm against his skin, pulsing faintly as if alive. “I will watch,” Ty continued, his voice cold and ancient sounding. “As each of your brothers will give you their attention.” The words slid into Bran’s mind like hooks. He thrashed again, muscles screaming, but the circle only tightened. “No,” Bran gasped. “Why—why are you doing this? To me?” The Alpha finally moved. It leaned its head slightly to one side, studying him with something like mild curiosity. When it answered, the voice bypassed Bran’s ears entirely and pressed straight into his thoughts. Because you invited us. Images flickered behind Bran’s eyes: the basement door. The cold. The storm. The latch left loose. A host opens the door, the Alpha continued calmly. A good host accepts what follows. Bran’s breath broke into an angry sob. “I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I didn’t—please— Fucking let me go!” He spat upward in a last, desperate act of defiance. A hand struck his face hard enough to snap his head sideways. “Show some damn respect,” Derek said sharply, puffing on the cigar, standing over him now. “The more you fight, the worse this gets. Keep it up and he’ll make you more brainless than Ty.” Bran tasted blood. His ears rang. He looked up through watering eyes and saw Ty watching him closely. Ty frowned at Derek for a moment—confused—then smiled again and nodded, pleased. “It’s not so bad, though,” Ty said softly, before shyly looking up at the Alpha. “It’s nice being close to the Alpha. I’m his pretty boy, he likes touching me best. I like when he plays with my mind and makes me feel good. He likes hearing my voice talk for him, too. He’s a good master.” The words broke something inside Bran. The Alpha’s presence pressed harder, its attention sharpening. You will endure more than the others, it told him. That is the price of being first among them. Hands closed in again. First, he felt as Nate slowly kneeled behind him, pulling hard on the lights binding his wrist as he slammed as hard as he could deep into Bran’s ass, making him scream out in agony. He tried to pull away, look at anywhere else in the room, when Noah grabbed his hair painfully and pulled his head up to face the Alpha, who quietly watched and relaxed back, legs spread as he gently pet Ty’s head, guiding him gently to his groin and rumbling with pleasure as Ty began to deepthroat his cock. Without warning, he heard as Noah let out a gasp and slammed hard several more times as his ass began to flood with cum, Noah calmly licking and biting his neck. With a wet plop, he felt as Noah pulled out, and finally able to move his head, he looked down and saw a foul looking puddle of black cum begin to drip out of his ass and onto the hardwood floors. He watched as Derek, his former vice president, patted his younger cousin proudly on the shoulder, gently running a finger on his forehead and smiling as they ran over two strange protuberances. Derek motioned at one of his brothers, and a half empty box of cigars was brought forward, with Derek smiling and reaching in, cutting it expertly and smelling the stick of tobacco. He held it out towards Bran with a smile. “Want one, man?” Derek asked, puffing hard on the one in his own mouth, “Makes this a lot fucking easier.” “Fuck you man…. Fuck you,” Bran growled out, watching as Derek simply shrugged and shoved the cigar into his own mouth and lit it up, inhaling hard and blowing a thick cloud of smoke in his face, chuckling darkly as Bran began to cough and tear up. Quietly, Bran watched as the other brothers surged forward, each grabbing their own cigar and lighting one up, puffing happily and murmuring their thanks to Derek, before blowing thick clouds of smoke at his face. Suddenly, he felt Derek plunged deep inside his ass, groaning happily. “Yeah, bitch, fucking take my pig meat,” he groaned, fucking him hard and fast like a jackhammer, making him tear up and cry from the brutal assault on his ass. For several minutes it continued, Derek slapping his ass and asking him if he wanted him to knock his privileged ass up. Suddenly, he paused, looking over at the second largest creature standing behind the Alpha’s right shoulder. “Can I shoot my pig load in him now, Daddy?” Derek asked, taking slow long strokes inside him like he was waiting for permission to shoot. One nod from the creature and suddenly he felt as Derek slammed hard and deep inside him, releasing a massive load inside him. Derek suddenly smacked his ass hard. “Fucking milk that load out, whore,” Derek muttered, groaning as Bran’s ass tightened involuntarily as he pulled out, “And don’t let me catching you losing a single drop of that dirty jizz.” Bran let out a pitiful sob, feeling humiliated at the way his former friend was talking to him as a strange feeling slowly started to course through him. He shook his head, fighting the feeling as he felt Derek shove him forward and Evan stepped forward next, a case of beer in his hands as he handed each brother a bottle. Evan towered over him, somehow with a branch from the tree in his hand and began to smack his back and ass with it, his skin burning as the skin began to get scraped and scratched. Suddenly, his frat brothers let out a collective sigh and each one began to piss on him, showering him with warm, acrid urine. It sprayed in his face and on his skin, with Evan aiming almost expertly as his hole before plunging deep inside and filling him up with more piss inside. He wanted to scream and cry, beg for them to stop when Evan let out a huge groan as he, too, unloaded his foul cum inside. Suddenly, Evan pulled out and he felt as his ass erupted out in a torrent of piss and black cum on the floor. Paul knelt beside him, actually seeming to comfort him, telling him gently to let it all out, to relax, to breathe. He looked up and almost for a second though maybe Paul would help him. “Chop… please… help me get out of here. They can’t fight against all of us,” Bran begged, thinking maybe Chop was actually on his side. “Sorry, man… this is going to happen. I’ll make it feel good for you though. I promise…” Paul said, sighing sadly, as he hocked up a large ball of spit in his mouth, and spit squarely on his hole before crawling behind him and slowly began to shove his too-sharp nailed fingers into his ass. “FUCK! NO FUCK!” Bran screamed, feeling as more and more fingers stretched him out painfully, “I’M NOT GONNA GET FISTED BY A FAGGOT PIECE OF SHIT LIKE YOU!” Suddenly, he felt as the Alpha’s mind grabbed his and squeezed painfully. We don’t like that word. You’ll pay for saying it, Ty and the Alpha echoed coldly, as Paul let out an angry sigh, his fist shoving hard into his ass and stretching his anus to accompany the massive hand. Bran screamed, cursed, begged—his voice growing hoarse as the Alpha allowed the pain to crest, then suddenly withdrew it all at once. The silence afterward was worse than the agony, leaving him shaking, drooling, barely conscious. He lay there, humiliated and broken, mind slipping. Ty approached him again, black eyes shining with devotion. When he spoke, the Alpha spoke with him. “Submit,” the voice said gently. “Or be emptied of everything that defines you...” Bran sobbed openly now, tears streaking down his face. His resistance crumbled under the weight of it—fear, betrayal, the awful certainty that he was truly alone. He nodded. The Alpha’s satisfaction rolled through him like a tide. Bran’s nod felt like betrayal even to himself. The Alpha’s presence swelled at once, filling the room like a pressure front rolling in. Sound dulled. Light flattened. The circle of brothers tightened, their silhouettes steady and patient, as if they’d been waiting for this exact moment. Good, the Alpha said, the word settling into Bran’s mind like a weight. He felt as Paul began to punch fuck him, the pain in his ass screaming in pain until he felt Paul press several fingers hard on his prostate, slowly massaging the gland from inside him, making him gasp and moan in confusion as he felt more of the Alpha’s presence flood his mind. Eventually, Paul pulled his hand out with a wet sound and shove his dick inside him and cum hard, Paul’s meaty hands firmly gripping his hips and fucking him back against him. Last, Zach stepped forward, cigar glowing in his mouth as he forced Bran, now shaking uncontrollably, back into a sitting position, and began to dig his nails into his skin and scratch his lean chest hard, leaving welts of blood as the other frat brothers stood before him and began to shoot ribbon after ribbon onto his skin, each shot dribbling into his cuts, into his eyes, into his hair… and making the burn as Zach forced his mouth open and shot a load into his mouth. With a firm, clawed hand, he felt as Zach closed his mouth and leaned forward. “Swallow it, bitch boy,” Zach said, grinning evilly, “Drink my tainted seed down like a good slut.” Bran complied, his mind feeling broken, unable to do anything but comply. Hands adjusted his restraints—methodical, practiced. The Christmas lights hummed softly, warmth spreading where they touched, making it harder to tell where his body ended and the bindings began. Bran tried to focus on something—anything—to hold himself together. His name. His title. His rules. They slid away from him. The Alpha leaned closer, and Bran felt his thoughts being sorted—lifted, examined, discarded. Fear surged, then drained. Anger flickered, then dimmed. Pride cracked and crumbled. The process was not hurried. It was careful. These pieces will not serve, the Alpha decided. Bran cried out as the pressure spiked again—every nerve lighting at once—then vanished, leaving him hollow and trembling. He gasped for breath that felt too thin to matter. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed softly. Someone else murmured approval. The Alpha withdrew the pain again, just as abruptly as it had come. Bran sagged, drooling, eyes unfocused. The absence of sensation was worse than the pain had been. It made room for something else to settle in. Listen very carefully to me, the Alpha said, and Bran did. He couldn’t help it. What remains of you can still choose. Choose ease. Choose belonging. Or I will remove the rest and leave you as nothing but a drooling husk. Images pressed in—his brothers transforming alongside him, skin turning black, large horns sprouting out of their heads. Muscles growing that no amount of work in the gym would be able to produce. Their cocks lengthening and thickening, balls growing massive. His mind stalled at the idea, strangely pleased that this would be what was waiting for him. The idea of resistance felt heavy and pointless. The idea of letting go felt… simple. Ty stepped into his view, smiling with uncomplicated devotion. He didn’t threaten. He didn’t plead. He just watched, content until the Alpha spoke through him. “Just give in. Join us and it can all be yours.” Bran’s last defenses faltered. He felt as his cock suddenly hardened, his body humming pleasantly as he felt something inside him shift. He looked down and saw the black spiderweb of veins spreading out of each scratch… the puddle of piss and black cum from his ass on the ground no longer looking repugnant and instead… inviting. Even tasty. The Alpha’s satisfaction was immediate and complete. There, it said. Now you understand. Bran’s breathing slowed. His thoughts smoothed. The frantic edges of panic dulled into a blank, receptive calm. He was still aware—enough to know something essential had slipped away—but the urge to reach for it was gone. The room steadied. The circle relaxed. And Bran, no longer fighting, waited for what came next. The Alpha waited. That, more than anything, broke what was left of Bran. No rushing. No spectacle. Just the unbearable certainty that the moment would happen whether he moved or not. The pressure in his head eased slightly—not enough to free him, only enough to make thinking feel like wading through syrup instead of fire. Come willingly, the Alpha said, voice settling deep and heavy inside Bran’s skull. Or be carried. Bran swallowed. His throat felt raw. He looked around the room one last time—at the wreckage, at the shadows, at the brothers he no longer recognized. Ty met his eyes and smiled with simple, unthinking contentment, as if nothing in the world was wrong. Something in Bran finally gave way. He nodded again. Slower this time. Deliberate. Hands loosened the bindings. Someone helped him upright. The room swayed, but he stayed standing, guided forward step by careful step. Each movement felt like surrendering another piece of himself, not all at once, but in small, irreversible increments. Slowly he kneeled down in front of the Alpha and nervously took its massive cock deep into his throat and sucked it, reverently cupping a ball in each hand and groaning at the weight of each in his hand. The Alpha gently grabbed his head and shoved it down, shooting a load down his throat before pulling his head up and nodded. He suddenly felt the urge to stand up and climb onto the Alpha’s lap, and in one solid motion pierced himself to the core on the cock, fucking himself as hard as he could on it until with a deep growl, the Alpha shot again in his ass, black cum flooding him and filling him up in a way he never realized he needed. With one final slam down, he felt as his cock erupted and began to coat the Alpha’s body in his uncorrupted seed. The Alpha’s presence enveloped him completely. Thoughts that had once defined him—responsibility, authority, pride—were lifted and peeled away. Memories blurred, not erased, just made distant and unimportant. The frantic need to resist dulled into a quiet, obedient calm. Good boy, the Alpha said, satisfaction rippling outward. Bran felt himself accepting what he was being shaped into—not because it was right, but because the idea of fighting no longer made sense. The house felt steadier now. Warmer. Whole. He watched as his fellow frat brothers surged forward, licking his untainted cum off the black skin… his mind flooded with pleasure, enjoying watching his brothers consume the last pure part of him as he continued to feel his body painfully empty itself of the cum, set on giving that remaining part of himself to fuel their conversion. His strength gave out at last. The world tilted. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, soft and inevitable. As consciousness slipped away, Bran’s final clear thought wasn’t fear. It was relief.

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I am looking for a serious and motivated sub, beginner or not, eager to learn and evolve into a relationship based on trust, exchange and respect for limits. Discretion, maturity and communication are essential. If my ad interests you, write me directly on Telegram: Mistressjessica5122 Kik me : misjessicahm512 Teams: hoh391453@gmail.com Zangi number -1015610752

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