No one’s first spell is the greatest. A first spell is usually like first sex–awkward, not at all what you were expecting, and something you can’t take back. I was a wizard sure–but before I knew that I was a nerd, and gay, and the target of every bully in my high school. Tim was a linebacker on the varsity team, and he was as cruel as he was stupid. He cornered me after school one fateful day, dragged me into the locker room, and tried to force one of his unwashed jockstraps into my mouth–without knowing what I was doing, the world shifted between us, and suddenly it was him shoving the jockstrap into his mouth…and sucking on it…and…moaning, as he groped his cock. Needless to say, I didn’t want to be anywhere near this scene, and so I beat it as fast as my short legs could carry me.
I avoided him for days, as best I could, but he caught up to me eventually. But while I expected him to bash my head in, instead he was begging me to fix it, whatever I had done to him. I tried to tell him that I had no clue what he was talking about, but he refused to say anything. Just when I thought he might open up, Zane–another linebacker, and well regarded as one of the dirtier guys at school, found us–but instead of them both teaming up to bully me–he ordered Tim to come with him–and sure enough, Tim followed, though from his face he was none to happy about it, and more curious than anything else, I followed after them both. They went into the bathroom and took the handicap stall together–I peeped through the crack, and found myself watching Tim sucking and licking at Zane’s filthy jockstrap–crusted with piss and cum, Zane humiliating him the entire time, before fucking his throat. Zane left, leaving Tim in the stall, face coated with cum and tears in his eyes.
He told me, that at first, it had just been his jockstraps that he was obsessed with, but then, one practice, he’d caught a whiff of Jack’s–the quarterback–and immediately he’d been unable to resist him, begging his team captain to fuck his ass after practice–after worshiping his jockstrap of course. Jack had essentially owned him for a day–until he’d smelled Zane’s even filthier jock, and he’d started worshiping and serving him instead. He’d tried smelling Jack’s again, but suddenly it did nothing for him–he needed the filthiest jock he could find, and he didn’t know what to do. I, of course, didn’t know what to do either. I had no idea I was even a wizard at that point, but I promised him I’d try to do something. That was Friday–but come Monday, Tim had disappeared–he never returned to school again.
The whole town was worried–but clues were scarce. That said, I had more information than anyone else. I found out that Tim held down a part time job working at a gas station frequented by truckers–and I had a sneaking suspicion as to what might have happened to him, but who would believe me? Even if they believed me, what good could they do? I thought about telling the police, but before I could, the guild intervened and took me in for proper training–still, I always wondered what had happened to him. So when I graduated, I tracked him down with the intention of freeing him from the curse I had never meant to cast in the first place.
Now, keep in mind that I might look thirty, but I was training for close to twenty years. Finding Tim was still easier than I had expected–first spells always left a rather strong trail through the world, if you knew what to look for, and so I traced his path. I found the trucker–now in his sixties–he had rode off with that weekend, unable to help himself. After that, he ended up living at a small truck stop diner a few states over for a while, enslaved to the previous owner and chef, before someone even filthier picked him up–another trucker, who he remained with for a quite a few years, before a chance run in at a biker bar brought me to his current home.
A single wide trailer which looked like it had never been cleaned. The man who owned him was unemployed, but made a small living off running drugs with a local motorcycle gang. Tim hadn’t left the trailer in years, by that point. Even if there was someone filthier than the biker, it was doubtful he would ever have a chance to find them and escape. But I also discovered that with each subsequent owner, the spell had grown stronger–eroding more and more of Tim’s mind away until serving jockstraps–and his owner’s cock, was all he could think about. He was chained in the small bathroom beside the toilet, surrounded by a pile of filthy laundry, soaked in piss, that served as his bed. He seemed to be well fed, at least, judging by how large he was–if I had to guess, around three hundred and fifty pounds–his hair and beard long and unwashed. Still, a promise was a promise–I tried to free him, only to discover that this new mind had no interest in being free. I was at least five years too late. I can’t say he didn’t deserve some of what happened to him–but…well, that’s the way curses work, I suppose. Now, are you going to cooperate, or would you like to see what I can do to you now that I know what I’m doing?
Bracken's Corner 