Author: wesleybracken8258

VIP Package (Part 5)

Jeremy sat, and watched Samuel fuck himself on Mr. Bishop’s massive cock. He didn’t watch because he wanted to–he kept trying to force his eyes to look in any other direction, but Mr. Bishop had ordered his undivided attention, and so he sat, and took it all in, and felt…sick to his stomach. It wasn’t just that his husband was having sex with another man in front of him–part of it was how fucking ugly that man was: old, massively obese, obviously a total pervert. It was also…the fact that Samuel hadn’t once bothered to even look over his shoulder at him. Jeremy wasn’t even sure if Samuel even knew he was sitting behind him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if this was realy Samuel at all, anymore.

It was hard to say for sure, given how drunk he’d been in his room two days prior, but his husband seemed to have changed even more than before. He really was fatter–and not just by a few pounds. His entire body type had somehow shifted over the course of a few days. Where before, Samuel had been a seasoned muscle bear, the man fucking himself and crying out in pleasure didn’t look like he could be much older than twenty. It was…his skin. He could remember noticing that detail before, but his entire body was just a perfect, pale peach. Barely a freckle or a mole, and not a single hair that could be seen anywhere, aside from on the top of his head, and even then, the thin, short hairs had become a startling blonde. It couldn’t be possible, people couldn’t just change like that, but he could still see that birthmark on his shoulder–it was the one mark that remained on his skin at all. It had to be him, but then how was any of this even possible?

“Boy–I think we should change positions, for a bit, you’re giving me a cramp. Be a good boy and bend over the table–look that husband of yours in the eye, while you push back on my cock.”

“Yes daddy,” Samuel moaned, and without even dismounting, he twisted himself around the shaft, facing Jeremy now, and slid down so he was standing on the ground–the massive member remaining deep inside him the entire time. Mr. Bishop leaned back a bit, legs wide, and two waiters pushed his chair a bit closer to the table, allowing Samuel to thrust his hips back and fuck himself while leaning over the table. Jeremy could see both of them now, his husband’s eyes staring at him–they were so…cold, and uninterested in him–and Mr. Bishop, smiling at him around that cigar of his.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Jeremy?”

“Fuck you–what the fuck did you do to him?”

“Oh, the salon here is capable of the most fabulous makeovers. You can be anyone you’d like, provided you can afford it, like me.”

“This is fucked. You can’t fucking do this to people! We aren’t your fucking slaves, you sick fuck.”

Mr. Bishop just laughed. “You, Jeremy, work in finance. Hedge funds. Your husband works as a corporate lawyer. Just who, exactly, do you think you serve every day already?” Mr. Bishop waited a beat. “Me. Men like me. You make me money. You could very well have made me the money I’m paying to control you right now. Besides, it’s not like you won’t be duly compensated for your…services.” He took a long drag off his cigar, and when Jeremy said nothing, he continued. “I’m honestly surprised you care so much for him, the way you so casually fucked off with that whore the other day, and all those other days. Poor Sammy here didn’t have much choice but to numb himself, to just stop caring about you. It was easy, after your last rebuff. He has more important things to worry about now anyway, don’t you boy?”

“Yeah daddy, like your big cock!”

“Yes, just like that–pretty much only that, in fact.”

“I don’t know how you know any of that shit,” Jeremy said, “But–so what, this is just some fucking game to you? You get to just fuck with our lives for fun, because you’re rich and you can?”

Mr. Bishop leaned forward a bit, and spoke in Sammy’s ear, “He caught on quicker than you–he really is the more cynical one. Fuck a little faster boy, I’m getting close.” he leaned back, and kept smoking, while Sammy picked up the pace, sweat pouring from his smooth skin. “Yes. Because I can. And because the two of you were going to be miserable anyway. And because you’d be divorced within the year. And because if someone is going to ruin your relationship, I might as well be the one to do it, since I’ll actually enjoy watching the two of you fall apart. Or who knows, maybe a change of pace will give the two of you a better appreciation for one another. Oh fuck boy, that’s it–here it comes. Daddy’s gonna fill up that boyhole nice and full.”

“Oh fuck daddy, yes! Fill me up nice and full!”

With a smoky groan, Mr. Bishop’s balls began pumping a massive amount of cum into Sammy’s guts, and the young man’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body shivering–after all, his daddy’s orgasms was ten times more powerful for him than one of his own. Mr. Bishop looked out at the table, and shook his head. “Oh Jeremy, you didn’t eat any of your meal. You must be starving.”

“I couldn’t very well eat without being able to look at the plate,” he spat back.

“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to eat something else then–something…more suited to your palate. Boy, please feed your husband all of that cum in your ass. After all, that’s now your favorite food in the world, right Jeremy? Other men’s cum felched from the dirty ass of your slutty husband? I’m sure you can remember all of the many times you’ve eaten it now.”

Jeremy felt like his mind was twisted out of shape, but a moment later, everything was clear–especially all of his new memories of sucking cum from Samuel’s ass. He knew that they weren’t real, that they hadn’t actually happened, right? Or…or had they? In either case, as Sammy moved around the table, he quickly got down on his knees behind him, pressed his tongue to his husband’s crater like hole, and started lapping up the cum dribbling helplessly from it, quaking with pleasure and hunger. The load was massive, but he ate all of it while Mr. Bishop watched, humiliated and yet…so satisfied in other ways.

“Alright–Sammy, a friend of mine wanted to use you for an evening. I told him he would have to wait a day or two, but he should be happy to take you tonight only. He’s in suite 23. You’ll obey him like you would me, but return to our suite at midnight, understand? If he turns you down, then I want you to find as many men to fuck you as possible before midnight, and then return home.”

Sammy nodded, “But what are you doing, daddy?”

“Oh, your husband and I have an appointment in the Salon this evening. Don’t worry, I’ll be there tonight when you get back.”

Sammy nodded, gave his daddy a kiss, pulled on his skimpy bathing suit and ran off, leaving Jeremy alone with Mr. Bishop. “You’re a fucking sicko,” he said.

Mr. Bishop just laughed, and led the newest part of his VIP package to the Salon, for a makeover of his own.

VIP Package (Part 4)

The next morning, Jeremy woke up, and wasn’t quite sure what to make of what had happened the night before. Most of the details had been lost in the drunken blur, but he was certain it had been Samuel waiting for him in the room, and yet…it hadn’t seemed like Samuel. He certainly hadn’t behaved like Samuel, or even looked much like him. For a bit, he tried to convince himself that it hadn’t actually been him at all, but then how could he explain the birthmark, or how he’d gotten into the room, or how he’d even known who Jeremy was? Still, he’d seemed…out of his mind, first trying to jump his bone, and then he’d just up and left. Where in the world had he even gone? After his hangover subsided, he searched the ship, high and low, but quickly discovered just how much of the ship was, in fact, off limits to him.

The boundaries were as invisible as they were strict; he would be heading down an unmarked corridor, when a member of the staff would appear–seemingly out of nowhere–and escort him back to the main concourse, with a gentle, pleasant reminder not to be too much of an explorer. He found himself growing a bit obsessed with the ship’s VIP passengers, but as hard as he sought them out, he was unable to even find one to talk to. They all seemed to be cloistered within their own section of ship, none of them bothering to mingle with the rest of them. They had a separate dining room, separate floors, separate rooms, separate casinos…he again accosted the help desk, and was rebuffed even faster than before. Samuel was safe, and when the cruise ended, he would be returned–they spoke of him with the same care they would  discuss a piece of lost luggage.

Samuel ended up back in the room that evening, hoping that Samuel would come back–but he didn’t. This was, somehow, even worse. Could things have been different if he hadn’t gotten so drunk the night before, and maybe managed to fuck his husband? Would things be different if he hadn’t fucked everything else up already? Why was he even blaming himself? This was fucking Samuel’s fault, running off with some fucking rich fuck behind his back! But in the room…he hadn’t seemed happy. He’d seemed terrified and desperate. Jeremy didn’t know how to process any of this; he’d never been good with relationships and feelings. Around midnight, he went out and got drunk again, and then continued his bender early the next morning after work, not planning on stopping until the cruise was over, or Samuel showed up with an explanation.

The staff cut him off around three in the afternoon, after he got into a one sided screaming match with another guest he’d stumbled into by the pool bar, and the staff insisted that he get something to eat. Two men escorted him to a dining room, Jeremy protesting and raving. They were entering the dining room–a massive, three story tiered room, and he looked up, and there, on the third floor overhead, next to the railing, he saw him. It was Samuel, sitting at a small table across from some old fat fuck, laughing his fucking head off, and all Jeremy felt was rage. He threw off the two hulks helping him walk, and staggered over to the nearest stairway, ignoring the “VIPs and Guests Only” sign, and got up a floor. The staff above was already waiting to intercept him, but he just started screaming out Samuel’s name, but his husband didn’t even notice…until he tried the name ‘Sammy’. At that, his husband’s head turned in curiosity, saw him, his eyes rolled, and he turned back to the old man across from him, who had been watching Jeremy’s entrance with a smirk. Cursing and punching, the staff dragged Jeremy back downstairs, where he supposedly belonged, and deposited him at a table–but if he hadn’t felt like eating before, now the thought of food did nothing for him at all.

The waiters brought him platters, he asked for booze, and was turned down. He tried to steal a bottle of wine from a table near him, and was intercepted before he could even stand up, like the fucks knew what he was thinking. He felt trapped in a massive room, convinced that he could hear his husband’s unusually high laughter drifting down from above, and he was certain it was over. His marriage was over, his life was over–and then a member of the staff approached him, and said that a VIP guest had requested that Jeremy be added to his package.

He listened, numbly, as the man gave him the same limited explanation that had been given to Samuel at the pool, and he had only one question for the man, when he’d finished the offer. “If I agree to this, I can go upstairs?”

“Guests who have been added to VIP packages are granted access to VIP exclusive areas and events provided their VIP has given them permission to be there. This is covered in more detail in our terms of service, which again, I am required to strongly suggest you read before providing your affirmative consent.”

“I don’t want to read it, I agree.”

The staff member smiled, and presented a small screen to Jeremy–he pressed his thumb to it, but barely felt the shock race through him, as drunk as he was. It froze him in place all the same, and the man inserted his VIP control chip at the top of his spine. “Thank you for helping us provide our VIP members with exceptional fantasy experiences. Please follow me, and I will take you to your VIP, where he will assume control of you for as long as you remain a part of his VIP package.”

Jeremy had a difficult time understanding what the man was talking about, and he’d already stood up and followed him for several paces before he even realized he was walking. He wasn’t stumbling like he had been, either–as drunk as he was, his pace was perfectly even–nearly robotic, in some way. The anger in his gut began to melt into fear–is this what Samuel had gotten himself into? At the top of the stairs, the waiter let him directly to the table where his husband was sitting with the older man, or rather…on the old man. Samuel was straddling him, naked, the man’s massive cock buried in his hole with Samuel moaning in pleasure, gripping his daddy’s rolls of fat tight.

Mr. Bishop turned to Jeremy and smiled. “Hello there, Jeremy. I wasn’t planning on inviting you to join us for another day or two, but since you’ve proven to be rather…nosy, I figured, why not move on? My boy was getting a bit boring, all by himself, anyway. Do have a seat. We’ve already eaten, but I’m sure the waiters can find something for you.”

February Suggested Stories – Ready For Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

For everyone donating at least a dollar to my Patreon, you can see three little short stories written from people’s suggestions earlier this month. Hope you all enjoy! I’ll have this month’s exclusive $5 and up story up here soon as well!

Thanks again for all of your support!

February Suggested Stories – Ready For Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

VIP Package (Part 3)

“I still don’t understand what the fuck that fucking means!” Jeremy screamed at the buff young man behind the desk, who simply maintained the same plastic smile all of the fucking men on staff had, and nodded along.

“Yes sir, you’ve said that several times. I can assure you that your husband is safe, and will be returned at the end of the cruise, or earlier, if our VIP guest chooses to remove him from his package prior to arrival back in Florida.”

“Who the hell is he fucking that’s so fucking important he can’t spend his vacation with me?”

“I can’t disclose any information about our VIPs, sir.”

So what, he just fucking disappears on a fucking a boat, with some fucking stranger?”

“He’s providing a vital service for the cruise line, and will be handsomely compensated at the end of the voyage.”

“Oh, and now you’re telling me he’s a whore, too?”

The man behind the desk thought a moment, grinned, and then nodded, “Perhaps, in a sense, if that helps you understand. But that’s still not quite precise enough. However, I cannot clarify further, because I cannot disclose the nature of our VIP packages to visitors in the midst of their fantasy voyage.”

“Some fucking fantasy.”

“Would fucking a member of our staff help, sir? I can offer you someone on the house, if you’d like.”

“I’m going to call the fucking cops when I get off this fucking boat, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Our company has filed and been granted a special waiver, and at sea, our vessels are classified as sovereign nations. Even if you told the police, they would have no jurisdiction. That said, further threats against our ship can be considered an act of war, so I would encourage you to leave, and not press the issue further.”

The man’s eyes, had turned stony, and the grin, while pleasant, was…also menacing. If it was a bluff, it was crazy enough to sound possible. Samuel was the lawyer–all Jeremy knew how to do was ride the markets for hedge funds. Still, it was clear that this muscle fuck wasn’t going to give him any answers, so he did leave the cruise ship complaint office, frustrated, but also terrified and confused. The last he’d seen Samuel, he’d been napping at the pool, while he’d gone off for a quick fuck with a cute guy next to them. Well…quick had turned into a couple of hours, but Jeremy hadn’t figured Samuel would mind. They…hadn’t exactly been getting along well, and this cruise probably wasn’t helping much. Samuel was just…so easy going about all of this shit, and all Jeremy wanted was for him to fight for him, to show him that he was wanted. He didn’t want to keep pulling away, but the more distant he got, the less Samuel seemed to even care. Here’s where it had gotten him: alone on a massive ship, his husband keeping some rich fuck company as…as something similar to a whore, and he had no fucking clue about any of it. So he did what he’d always done when things went south–he got shitfaced at the nearest bar.

He was, at first, only going to do a shot or two to steady his nerves. Then, he just needed a couple more before that bear a stool or two over looked a little more handsome. Then, after slurring and flubbing his pickup line and getting firmly rejected, he decided to call it a night. He stumbled back to his room, managed to get the key in the door, and he hoped against everything that Samuel would be in there, ready to clean up another mess, and he’d just…demand they talk about this, about everything. He’d apologize for everything, ask for everything to be right again, to make this work. But there wasn’t going to be anyone in there–he was gone, probably for good, now. He managed to get the key in the door, and nearly fell through it when it opened, and when he looked up, sitting on the edge of the bed…it was Samuel, or at least, he thought it was. It was hard to tell, when the world didn’t seem to want to stop twirling.

“Jeremy? Jeremy! Oh god, oh fuck, I didn’t think I’d see you again, but I begged daddy, and…and I had to do such dirty things, but he said I could see you baby, he said I could be with you.”

“S-Samuel? Is that you?”

The man looked a bit taken aback. “You fucking–that’s not my name! My name is Sammy! What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shook his head, “I’m…I’m sorry, he’s still in my fucking head, but it’s ok. Just…don’t call me that, I don’t want to be called that anymore.”

Jeremy focused, trying to clear his head, leaning against the wall beside the door. When he opened his eyes, the swirling had eased up, and he could see…Sammy there, on the bed. It…was his husband, he could see that, but he wasn’t quite the man he remembered. No, Samuel had been buff, and greying, and…a fucking hot top, when he was in the right mood, but the man in front of him…no, it couldn’t be him. For one thing, he was fucking fat–probably 350 pounds at least, with no real definition, just flab, and all of it perfectly smooth. His face was smooth, and looked so young, the rest of his skin without a fucking blemish at all…aside from a prominent birthmark on his right shoulder, which Jeremy knew intimately. He couldn’t process this, what in the world was even happening. “I…I must be hallucinating, you look like a fat fucking…boy, or something.”

“Oh…Oh fuck…” Sammy groaned, “Oh fuck, say…say it again.”

“What?”

“Come on Jeremy, you know, call me what I fucking am.”

“What, a…fat fucking boy?”

“Fuck…fuck me daddy, fuck!” Sammy got up from the bed, grabbed Jeremy, and shoved him towards the bed, where he landed, and Sammy climbed on him, tearing his clothes off, finding his cock. “It…seems so small…but I don’t care. Daddy said you wouldn’t be enough for me, but I don’t care! I don’t…I mean…” Jeremy was trying to protest, trying to get a handle on what was happening, as Sammy stroked his cock, but he was both too turned off–and too drunk–to get hard. “Fuck…Fuck you! You fucking…you’re fucking worthless, he was fucking right! You…you can’t give me what a boy like me needs, fuck, I…I need a, I need my daddy!” Sammy shouted, and fled the room, leaving Jeremy befuddled on the bed, and he passed out not long after that.

VIP Package (Part 2)

They reached their destination floor after a few moments, and stepped out onto a level of the ship Samuel hadn’t explored–and he realized a minute later, after walking across the plush carpet in his bare feet, looking at the gold trimmings and elegant decor, that he was probably not even supposed to be aware that this floor existed. It wasn’t like Samuel and Jeremy hadn’t splurged on decent tickets, booking a fairly large room with an ocean view right below the main deck, but he had seen those astronomical VIP packages on the website…is this what that bought?

The waiter rounded a corner, and Samuel followed, finding himself in a spacious, high ceilinged lounge–or whatever you might call something between a restaurant, bar, and bathhouse. There was a haze of smoke hanging in the air, a mix of pot and tobacco, and in the haze he could see men lying around the room, fucking, relaxing, and looking out the windows through binoculars at the deck below–where Samuel had been lying a moment earlier–occasionally consulting a small tablet they had with them.

The waiter led him close by the window, where an older man was sprawled across a fluffy sofa, wearing a silk robe which had fallen open, exposing most of his body for anyone to see. He was…not quite Samuel’s type. He usually went for muscle bears like himself. A bit of a gut was alright, as long as the guy could carry it well, but anything like this man–Mr. Bishop, the waiter had been calling him–was quite simply out of the question. He likely weighed close to 450, or perhaps even 500 pounds, the rolls of flab cascading around him, almost like he was a massive pillow, a part of the sofa itself. The one thing standing apart, quite literally, was the massive, erect cock jutting out from the flabby rolls. It was…impossibly large, at least a foot, if not longer. Realizing he’d been staring at the cock a bit longer than he’d like, he jerked his eyes away, taking in the flabby body coated with a thick layer of grey hair, and up to his face. He had a thick, well trimmed beard, glasses, and was smoking a cigar. Mr. Bishop smiled when he saw Samuel there, and set down the glass of whiskey he’d been sipping. “Ah, I can’t believe it! I’d never thought a lawyer–but then, hope springs eternal. Come boy, have a seat with me, don’t be shy.”

Samuel tried to resist, but like before, his body was far more keen to obey Mr. Bishop’s voice than his own desires. He sat down, gently, on the edge of the sofa, only for Mr. Bishop to grab him and pull him back, so he was reclining against his fat body.

“Is there anything else I can do for you sir? Someone else for your package perhaps?”

“Oh no, Samuel here will suffice. Though do schedule an appointment for him in the Salon, in one hour.”

“Of course, Mr. Bishop. A pleasure, as always, to have you sailing with us.”

The waiter left, and Samuel heaved himself up and away from the man, tried to stand, but his ass stayed stubbornly planted on the sofa. “Please, I don’t understand what’s going on. I’m…flattered, really, but this isn’t what I thought this was.”

Mr. Bishop laughed, smoke pouring from his mouth. It’s alright boy, I’ll be happy to answer some questions for you, in a moment. First, however, I want to…take care of a few things. Samuel, please go unaware for programming.”

He had no clear recollection of what happened next. He seemed to be…floating. Present, but everything in his mind turned off, and open. Mr. Bishop was speaking to him, and he would respond on occasion, but it seemed…unimportant. Natural. And when he awoke, a few minutes later, this loss of memory didn’t unnerve him–even though he knew it should terrify him out of his wits. He was standing now, looking down at the fat man, still reclining in front of him, like nothing strange had happened at all. “What…just happened?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Mr. Bishop said, waving a bit of smoke away with a hand, “Now, I’ll answer a few questions for you, at least, until you can’t control yourself any longer, and have your way with me, boy.”

He leaned on that last word a bit, and when he did, a mild shot of pleasure raced through Samuel’s body, from the top of his spine, right to his cock, and he moaned, breath quickening. He looked at Mr. Bishop again–no, at…at Daddy again, and…and where before he’d been quite turned off, he found himself beginning to appreciate the man’s appearance a bit more than he had. “What…why did that feel so good?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one. Every time I address you, boy, you’re going to feel an escalating sensation of pleasure, and find me more and more attractive each time. We’ll see how long before you can’t stop yourself from climbing up and fucking yourself on my massive daddy cock, boy, like the slut you’re going to be, soon enough.”

Those two slammed into him with more force than the first. Samuel’s cock was hard, his ass twitching, and looking at Mr. Bishop now…fuck, he suddenly was finding the old, fat fuck attractive. He shook his head, trying to clear it as best he could, fighting whatever was happening to him. He needed answers. “Please, please stop this, this isn’t what I wanted.”

“Silly boy, you still think this cruise is about what you want?” Mr. Bishop saw Samuel’s knees start shaking. Mr. Bishop heaved himself forward on the couch, grabbed Samuel by the crotch, and pulled him closer. He stumbled forward, and collapsed in front of him, on his knees, staring at…at all of that fat. But he didn’t want this…right? “I can see how you might make that mistake, and think that the fantasy in the name of the company implies a fantasy for everyone. And sure, mid level guys like you, there are a few fantasies for you, boy, like that whore who talked your husband into bed with him, and that bear you were eyeing down at the pool. Sluts, hired by the company, to please upper deck passengers, and you never even know it. But no, the real fantasies that come true, boy? You have to be a real VIP for that, like me. And my fantasies? They’re rather…complicated.”

Samuel had stopped listening. He was too busy ripping off his swimsuit and climbing up, straddling his daddy’s massive frame and slowly dropping himself onto his massive cock, not even taking the time to lube it up with more than a handful of spit. He needed it inside him, needed this beautiful daddy to fuck him. The waiter arrived an hour later, to remind Mr. Bishop of his appointment at the VIP Salon, and he led Samuel away, towards the back of the ship, for his first proper makeover.

On vacation!

Hey all. I’m going to be travelling for the next couple of weeks, visiting our friends in The Netherlands. Posting shouldn’t be interrupted at all, but no guarantees. That said, the husband and I might be out on the town on the weekends. If you’re local and see a couple of American bears hanging around, you never know who you might be chatting up!

VIP Package (Part 1)

This story takes place in the same setting as the caption story “Cruising” I posted a couple of months ago. The stories are unrelated, but it might help establish some background for ya’ll. Here’s Part 1 and Part 2.

Samuel rolled over on the chaise under the hot, Caribbean sun, looking over at Jeremy. His husband was rolled away from him, talking to a stranger on the other side–flirting really, but then, everyone around them was flirting. This was the Gay Fantasy Cruise Lines after all, and it delivered. Was there anyone who worked for this company that didn’t have a perfect eight pack displayed at all time? He listened to the two of them chat, Jeremy trying too hard like he always did, and wished Jeremy would talk to him like that, at least on occasion. It was the second day of the cruise, but he estimated that the number of words the two of them had spoken during their vacation was less than two hundred, and nothing of any substance, sexy or romantic or otherwise. Were they on this cruise to save their relationship, or put it to sleep? He rolled back over and shut his eyes, enjoying the sun, if nothing else. He feigned sleep, heard Jeremy get up off the chaise, and take off.

It wasn’t the sex that bothered him. He’d never been the jealous type. But wasn’t this supposed to be a vacation for them? Together? He couldn’t even invite Samuel to come along for a threesome? He opened his eyes, staring up at that deep endless blue, and sighed. He’d known this wouldn’t work, but regardless of their ailing relationship, they both had needed a vacation. Maybe freeing himself from one rut would help him get out of a few others. He sat up, stretched, and looked around the deck of the ship, certainly pleased with the view–and more than happy with the stares he was getting as well. It wasn’t like either of them was lacking in the looks department. They each spent a good chunk of time keeping themselves fit, and even though they’d each just passed the big forty a couple years back, Samuel was quite pleased with the muscle bear he’d become–a bit of grey in his goatee and chest hair, a little weathered around his eyes, hairline receding slightly, but without becoming unsightly. If Jeremy was just going to spend the whole cruise fucking instead of dealing with anything deeper, there was no reason for him to bother, right?

He cruised another bear on the other side of the pool for a minute, gauging interest, when a member of the hyper-muscled waitstaff stepped between them, smiling down at Samuel. “Thanks,” Samuel said, waving him off, “I don’t need a drink or anything.”

“Actually sir, one of our VIP members has taken an interest in you, and has requested that you be added to his package.”

Samuel looked around the man at the bear, surprised, then back at the waiter, “What does that mean?”

“Men who opt to become part of a VIP member’s package have their cruise fee refunded, receive a significant stipend for each day they remain a member of the package, as well as other benefits. Any modifications are of course removed at the end of the cruise, though some after effects have been reported. Affirmative consent is required. Terms and conditions apply, of course. Would you like to read them? I am required to advise you that you should do so.”

Samuel, a professional in the legal field, was a bit taken aback by the string of jargon, but he’d never really been one of shy away from risk. Besides, it was just a cruise, right? “Sure, why not? I consent.”

“Very good sir, Mr. Bishop will be pleased. Now, if you would just press your thumb here…” he presented an small electronic screen. He pressed his thumb to the screen, and immediately an electric shock shot through him, paralyzing him. “Now, just a matter of administering your control chip,” the waiter bent Samuel’s head forward, and pressed something cold and metallic to the base of his neck, and a piercing pain sent sharp pain to the end of what seemed like every nerve in his body. “The chip will be removed at the end of the cruise, or when your VIP no longer desires you to be in his package experience. Thank you for volunteering, and helping make our VIP’s experience on Gay Fantasy Cruise Lines an unforgettable experience!”

The paralysis was wearing off, and Samuel was able to reach around behind his head, and feel the bump at the base of his neck. “What the hell did you just do to me, you fuck?” he shouted.

“I did advise you to read the TOS, if you’ll remember, as required. Now, follow me, and I’ll escort you to your VIP.”

The waiter stepped back, and Samuel wasn’t about to follow this crazy fuck anywhere, but much to his surprise, he stood up–his body disobeying his own mind entirely. “What–how the fuck did you do that? You fucking, this is fucking insane! I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Don’t worry, once we reach your VIP, I’ll transfer complete control to him. Now, come along, and don’t make a scene.”

Samuel followed behind the young gymrat, watching his tight ass swing back and forth in those tight trunks they all wear, sailor hat perched perfectly askew, and he hated him. He wanted to drown him in the pool, he wanted to savage him, but instead, he simply followed the smug, crazy fuck off. Samuel was still assuming, at this point, that the VIP had been the bear he’d been cruising, but at the corner of the pool, they kept going straight, towards the entrance to the ship. “Wait, where are you going? I thought he was back there?”

The waiter looked back, over his shoulder, “Who, that bear you were looking at earlier? Oh no! Mr. Bishop is up in the VIP lounge. He’s been watching you for most of the morning, along with a few other candidates I was prepared to invite to join his package if you declined. He’ll be very happy to know that his first choice agreed! It always makes me so happy when our VIPs are happy, you have no idea!”

“I should at least tell my husband–”

“Jeremy will be notified of your new status, when he’s done with the guest he left with earlier.”

They got to an elevator, stepped inside, and started to rise. Apparently, he should have read that fucking fine print–and now, who knew what the fuck he’d gotten himself into.