“Hello Officer Carson, I believe you arrested one of my daddies today.”
Carson looked up, and say the young man across his desk, staring at him. His eyes were chilling, somehow, and he quickly looked away, and back at the report he’d been writing. “You mean the faggot I caught blowing a guy behind a cafe? Who are you, his son?”
“Oh no–I’m his boy.”
Carson remembered the older man mentioning a boy before, when he demanded payment. “Well, whoever you are, we’re holding him at least overnight. You can bail him out tomorrow.”
“Oh no, I won’t be bailing him out, you’re going to take me to wherever he’s being held, release him, and let us go on our way.”
There was a force to the young man’s words, similar to the old man’s had had earlier. But before, when the man had spoken, he’d found his body compelled to act–this merely felt like a…strong suggestion. But whether it had something to do with him breaking free of the man’s control earlier, or simply because the boy hadn’t been as forceful as he could be, it wasn’t clear. One thing was certain–there was power there, and a latent threat, but while Carson might not understand how the boy’s power worked, he also didn’t think there was anything the boy could really do to him. “No–No, I won’t be doing that. Now why don’t you leave, and you can collect your perverted father tomorrow.”
“I never said he was my father–I said he was my daddy,” the boy said, perturbed, “and you would do well to do as I say. I can be rather…petulant, I’ve been told. There are worse things I could make you do, then get a nice blow job from one of my daddies.”
“I don’t know what sort of shit you have going on, or how any of that happened earlier,” Carson said, leaning close, “But that won’t ever be happening again. Now leave.” He met the boy’s eyes again, and this time, didn’t look away, no matter how icy they seemed. But a second later, when he couldn’t break the contact…he was no longer sure if he’d been the one to choose to meet his eyes or not, and a knot of fear started growing in his gut.
“You should have been afraid of me a minute ago, when I was willing to be a little patient. Besides, if you’re going to make me leave my home, and make one of my daddies drive me all the way into the city, just because you can’t enjoy yourself, well, then I can at least get something out of it, right?”
This wasn’t right–he wasn’t right. The eyes were no longer simply intense, they were boring into Carson’s mind. His vision was losing focus, and beginning to spin around the axis of the boy’s eyes, and soon, they were the only stable thing in a sea of color, even his body ceased to exist, and what remained of Carson, the boy…was putting a cramped little box, a partition of a mind, and the rest of him…the boy was making something else–someone else. The spinning began to slow down, and the world began to return, but it wasn’t the world Carson remembered–not quite. At last, he was able to yank his eyes away with a shuddering sob, and look down at himself–and if Carson had been able to, he would have screamed.
This wasn’t his body. These weren’t his clothes. He was still in a police uniform, but instead of being cleaned and starched, it was wrinkled and heavily stained, smelling like it hadn’t been washed in a week or more. He had a gut which stretched the shirt out enough that gaps were appearing between the buttons, displaying slivers of a filthy undershirt below, and his arms and chest had lost almost all of their definition, leaving him looking weak. He felt his age, more than his saw it–the aches, the dim, blurry vision, the difficulty hearing–but he did see the beard–the thick grey beard hanging down to his gut. He tried to figure out what had happened to him, tried to remember who he’d been, but that was when he discovered that not only was this not his body, it also wasn’t his mind.
Officer Carson was sixty years old, and would have retired had he not lost his retirement due to…poor life choices at a casino not far out of town. He was on desk duty all day long, and spent most of the day eating, and…and fantasizing about his fellow officers, thinking about pleasing them, about how good it would feel to have his ass or mouth stuffed full of their big cocks. Yeah, he was a slutty, fat, officer daddy, and…and he looked at the boy–no, he looked at his boy, and all he felt was love, and desire, and also complete and utter terror. He’d disobeyed his boy, a direct order from his boy–what in the world had he been thinking?
“Don’t get too comfortable, daddy. After all, we still need to go get Daddy Emil out of holding, right?”
“Yes boy, I’m…I’m sorry boy, right away…” Carson said, his voice raspy and quiet. He hauled himself up out of his chair, feeling how much he ached, and led the way away from his desk, towards the holding cells. He was nervous, each time he encountered a fellow officer, but while they all regarded him with utter disdain (which he rightfully deserved, of course) they did all recognize him. His old self–that officer no longer even existed. The only knowledge and evidence of his was locked away in a small corner of his mind, which was growing more and more distant by the minute. They were alone in the elevator a moment later, heading down, when he turned to his boy, “Am…Are you going to change me back? Please–I didn’t know…”
The boy just laughed. He was still laughing when the elevator stopped, and Carson’s heart sank even lower than he’d imagined it could, as they headed for the cells.
Bracken's Corner 