“Please, I know…I know I’m fucked up in my head, to come up with shit like that, but you have to help me, you’re the only one who can help me, I see that now, I get it!” Shane said, on his knees in front of Evan, who was looming over him, the room full of hazy with the smoke from both of their cigars. Evan had been waiting for this. He’d known it was coming, but it hard to anticipate when, finally, someone would truly understand what they’d become.
A few months had passed, since his first session with Evan, but it already felt lifetimes away. It didn’t…it didn’t really matter anyway, since it had never been real anyway, Shane reminded himself. Sure, it…felt real to him, but that’s what made his own mind so screwed up–he couldn’t tell what was real anymore. He’d kept coming over here, demanding that Evan change him back, that he give him his old life back–back when he was stud, when his wife could look at him with laughing, when he didn’t feel compelled to suck the cocks of all the men who fucked her, no matter what it cost–but he saw the truth now, he hadn’t been willing to believe Evan, when he’d first tried to tell him, he’d been so skeptical, but what other explanation was there?
“I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses, Shane, it’s good to hear. Now get up and have a seat over here, let’s talk about your breakthrough. So, you finally realized that those old memories of yours, those ones where you’re some young, muscular hotshot asshole lawyer, those were all false memories, right?”
Shane nodded, a bit hesitant now that he heard it said out loud, but…but there couldn’t be any other explanation, right?
“It’s good of you to realize that, but why do you think you created those memories, Shane?”
“I…I don’t know. They’re just…there. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Well, I happen to have a theory, you know. I think, Shane, that you created those memories so you could put the blame for your shitty life on everyone around you, and deflect that blame from yourself. I mean, if I was the one who changed you, then you aren’t responsible for you’re loveless marriage. You aren’t responsible for chasing all the cock you can find. You aren’t responsible for the fact that you can’t stop smoking those cigars you hate so much. You aren’t responsible for the fact that you can’t win a single court case, not without blowing the judge, the other lawyers, and sometimes the jury. That you’re a failure in every way. It’s hard for anyone to realize their a waste of space, a worthless person, but that’s what you are, don’t you see?”
Fuck, why was he so hard? No, not just hard–listening to Evan catalogue all his failings as a man, as a person–he had his cock out and was jacking off, just thinking about how…how much of a failure he was, and realizing that, he started sobbing. “Please, it’s…it’s too much! I’m…I’m almost broke, I can’t find any new clients. I don’t know what I was thinking, I–someone like me can’t do this!” He tried to keep speaking, but he broke down, still stroking his cock, and Evan got up and crossed over to where he was sitting, stroking his balding hand, running it through his bushy mutton chops.
“I know Shane, but this is what I do, you see. You were never meant to have a life like this, you realize that, right? A fuckup like you can’t be trusted with anything important.”
I-I don’t think anyone can help someone as fucked up as me though,” Shane said.
Evan chuckled, “Always the skeptic, to the end,” he said, “At least let me try.”
“Why…why would you ever want to help someone like me? Someone as worthless as I am?”
“Oh Shane, because this is what I do! I help people. Now come on–would you like to suck my cock? You always feel better after a load of cum, and you always get cranky when you haven’t gotten enough.”
Shane nodded. “Would…you fuck me sir? I’d…like that.”
“If you insist.”
Shane got down on his hands and knees, and Evan slid into him. It was so much easier, now that he’d finally accepted the truth. He’d fought for so long, but what other possibility was there, really? He was just a failure, there was no way around it, but that brought up another question–now what? He couldn’t keep going at this, he wasn’t meant for this for a life like this, but he wasn’t sure there was any life someone as worthless and stupid as him could ever possibly manage. He pushed the thought away, and focused on smoking his cigar, on how good his hole felt, how deep Evan’s huge cock could go, his own cock close to blowing, but he held back, not wanting to make a mess–he always felt so terrible whenever he made a mess, and he’d been trying very hard lately to only cum when someone had given him permission to do so. He wasn’t very good at it, and not many people would give him permission, but all the same, it was common courtesy. Evan finished inside him and stepped back–he felt empty, but better than earlier. Freer, somehow. He pulled his pants back up.
“Now what do I do,” he asked, “I can’t go back there, I can’t face that anymore.”
“Did you forget already? Evan said, “I’m a life coach, Shane. Just leave it all to me. We can find something for you to do that you can be happy with, I think. All you have to do is trust me.”
Shane tried to object, but Evan’s hands were already on his skull, massaging the thoughts from his mind, the world fading from view again. Everything was being pulled from him, and he let it go. It wasn’t for him to worry about, after all. He would only make things worse if he tried to interfere. Instead he let himself drift off into a void, hopeful that when he woke, his only hope was that his life would be something more suited to a loser like him.
Bracken's Corner 