“Count backwards from 100 slowly, slave, and then you may force your way out. Take a look at yourself, and then come find me at the computer.”
Cameron started counting, and heard Master’s footsteps recede out of the room. While he laid there, counting quietly to himself, he tried to piece together what, exactly, his body was feeling. There was some pain–quite a bit of it really–but nothing too prominent, just some aches in his joints which he might expect after a trip somewhere, confined like this. But why put him to sleep? Where had this even come from? Master had never shown much interest in fetish play before this. He hit fifty, and realized that his voice sounded a bit odd as well, but passed it off as distortion from the mask he was wearing–though it seemed different from the one Master had put on him before. Was it? The shape was slightly off. From ten to one, he could barely stand waiting, but he made it, and started wriggling in the suit, trying to get the zipper to creep down. It was hard work, and he felt tired and sore and weak, but he managed to get it down past his head, and then pushed it open with his shoulders, letting him free one arm, and then the other. He pulled off the mask and looked around–they hadn’t gone anywhere! They were still in the bedroom, though the light was different, certainly. He got the zipper down further, and that’s when he noticed something was off–his usually flat stomach was not flat at all, but as he unzipped the rubber, he revealed a massive, flabby gut covered with grey and white hair.
Cameron didn’t know how to react at the sight. He stopped unzipping felt it–it was certainly…him. Had Master taen him to get his body reshaped? But then why the sack? He kept going, eager to get free now, and at last he managed to get out entirely, pulled the IV from his arm, and the catheter from his cock–but as he did, his cock kept leaking, dribbling piss onto the floor as he stood, and moved in front of the mirror, and found himself looking at…someone else entirely.
How much could this have cost? This was no minor set of modifications. Cameron looked to be at least sixty now–and an unmodified sixty–with a thick white beard, a shaven head, a septum ring through his nose. His gut hung down, blocking view of his cock and balls, but they seemed smaller than before, and the hair was everywhere. If he’d thought Master was fat and hairy before this…well, Cameron now had a much thicker pelt, and was heavier than him by at least fifty pounds. The weight was all concentrated in his gut, however–his arms and legs seemed thin and weak, and shook slightly as he stood. Piss was still dribbling, running from the head of his short cock and under his balls, where it hit the floor. He tried to clench, but his body didn’t even respond. Still, as horrified as he was, he had orders; he walked out on shaking legs and followed Master into his office the next room over, where he was sitting, naked, masturbating slowly to something that sounded like porn playing on the screen.
“Come slave, come take a look at this,” Master said, and Cameron obeyed, walking around behind his Master, one hand cupped under his cock to try and catch the piss, and found himself looking at a livecam. He didn’t know the man who was on top…but he did most certainly recognize the man getting fucked. It…was him. His face, his body, his…voice. He didn’t know what to say. Master turned in his chair, looking at Cameron’s surprised face, and started stroking faster. “Fuck…you’re fucking face, you stupid fuck…” He grabbed Cameron by the thick beard and tugged him down, “suck me off and drink my fucking cum, slave!”
Master didn’t last long–thirty seconds–and when he finished, he wiped his cock on Cameron’s new beard, smirking down at him, and Cameron…he just looked back at the show, at the stranger fucking his ass somewhere, and started to mutter, but didn’t know what question to try and ask first.
“It’s been five days, slave, since you were last awake. You’ve been delivered to a slave processing facility, which–thanks to your upgraded chip–is working on proprietary mind swapping. This isn’t the body you had a few days ago, slave, but it is your mind. You’re prior body is in the hands of that Master there. He felt his slave deserved a reward for excellent service, and I offered your body as that reward. You will be living in his, instead, for the time being. What do you think? Are you enjoying it so far? Be honest.”
Cameron looked down at himself, at his old, obese body, his hand overflowing with piss still dribbling out, and looked back up at Master, tears in his eyes. “I…I hate it. Did I upset you? Did I do something wrong? Is this punishment?”
No slave–this is service. Your body, and your mind, are mine. My property. That means I get to decide what to do with them. Still, that body…while pretty, was rather boring. I find variety to be much more interesting, among other things. As for your…leak down there. Do get that taken care of? The master who owns that body removed its ability to control any aspect of its bladder–they enjoy…diapers. I bought some–they’re in the bathroom. Please go secure yourself, and then we can chat a bit more regarding some…changes we’ll be making to your lifestyle, while serving in this body.
Bracken's Corner 