The Alpha’s Pet (Part 2)

Jasper groaned as he woke up, surprised that he didn’t hurt more–he couldn’t remember much from what had happened earlier, but he could recall Daryn straddling him, and wailing on his face with both fists at once–what on earth had possessed him to get Daryn riled up like that? He…he knew better than that, didn’t he? He brought his hands to his face, and while nothing hurt…nothing felt quite right, either, but it was difficult to say what was off. So much had gone screwy since they’d moved into this apartment–he didn’t even quite feel like the same person anymore. Still, he should be thankful. A brute like Daryn could have done some serious damage to him–he’d have to be more careful…more…deferential in the future. Yeah–as long as he let Daryn get his way, things would be fine.

Then he sat up in bed, looked down at himself, and choked off a scream. This wasn’t his fucking body–what in the fuck happened? He’d been toned and ripped before, but now his body was pudgy and soft, with a small gut and wider hips. His cock was smaller, his balls were a whole lot smaller, he was missing most of his body hair, and he was even missing his fucking tattoos. No wonder his face had felt strange earlier, because his fucking beard was gone too!

“Well Jasper, it was a good contest, but I’m sorry to say that you lost.”

He looked over and found Mr. Wadsworth in his room with him, standing there like it was perfectly normal for a landlord to simply appear in the room of one of his tenants, especially with that tenant naked. Jasper didn’t know what to say, just sputtered a moment, and then looked back down at himself.

“Don’t worry–you’ll fit in just fine. After all, this space is much, much too small for two alphas, don’t you agree? You don’t want to be an alpha do you?”

“N-No…but what…how are you here?”

“Just be careful, Jasper. If you don’t keep yourself under control…well, you, might just find these changes have just started. Still, I can assure you, that the more tastes you got of the alpha here, the better you’ll feel…”

The voice was fading, and a moment later, he was alone again–with no memory of the man being there aside from a vague unease and the warning he’d left. Keep control of himself? What in the world could that even mean?

Jasper got up and found some clothes that fit him–in fact, it looked like all of his clothes would fit his new frame, which was a comfort and a relief. Maybe…maybe that had just been some fucked up dream or something. He did sometimes have…weird dreams about Daryn, but he pushed that away, and went back out into the common areas of the apartment, only to nearly fall to his knees at the scent. It was fucking…everywhere, and it smelled fucking amazing. What in the hell was it? It wasn’t food, it was…he knew it from somewhere, but from fucking where?

“That you Jasper? About time you got up, you lazy fuck.”

He managed to keep his head focused long enough to get into the main room, where he found Daryn at the table in the kitchen, naked, eating breakfast…but it wasn’t the Daryn he remembered. No, this Daryn was a fucking beast–at least three or four inches taller than before, with hair covering his body, and…and fuck, he could see his seven inch flacid cock just…just dangling there…

“…this fucking sty up today, got it? I don’t want–are you even fucking listening to me, you fucking idiot?”

It took him a moment to realize that Daryn had been speaking to him that entire time he’d been transfixed by his roommate’s massive cock. “S-Sorry, I…what?”

“I said, you’re going to clean this fucking place up, right? It’s a fucking mess.”

Jasper looked around, and saw that almost all of it was Daryn’s crap, but he knew better than to argue about whose responsibility it was, and Jasper assured Daryn that it would get picked up.

“Good–now I gotta get to class, and to practice. What are you doing today again?”

“Oh…uh, I have class too, and–”

Daryn walked up to him, looming over Jasper…and he realized he must have shrunk too, or else…fuck, why was his cock so fucking hard? “What are you doing today, dumbfuck?”

“I…uh…I’m cleaning up…sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Five minutes later, Daryn was dressed in some athletic gear, gym bag thrown over a shoulder, and he left without another word. Jasper just sat down on the couch, trying to wrap his head around what was going on. Had…Had they fought the day before? Wasn’t he different–a jock like Daryn? That seemed silly to him–he was too fucking weak to ever be a jock, right? Still, he didn’t have to just…take the abuse, either. This was all Daryn’s mess–Daryn should clean it up!

But in the end, he did as he’d been told, and skipped class that day to clean up the apartment. He tried not to think too hard about why he was doing it, or feel too bad about how he’d just rolled over and let Daryn boss him around. He tried not to think about how…hard he kept getting when he smelled one of Daryn’s sweaty shirts or jocks, or…or how he’d jacked off in the bathroom, after discovering Daryn had pissed in the bowl and just left it to stew. He wasn’t going to let this get out of hand. He was a person too, after all. Maybe not as…important a person as Daryn, but a person nonetheless.

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 1)

To both of them, at the time, the idea had seemed amazing. Ditch the fucking awful dorms, and their equally awful roommates–who were constantly on their fucking case about needing to pick up their clothes and cumrags off the floor, or figuring out what’s stinking in their gym bags–and live with each other instead, in an apartment not too far from campus. Daryn and Jasper decided to put their plan into action, and by the time spring semester rolled around, they had said goodbye to their shitty college living situations, and hello to living with their best friend–two football jocks, beer buddies and lazy slobs–it seemed like the perfect solution to their problem. That is, until new problems started to arise within a few weeks of the two of them living together.

What those problems were was difficult for either one of them to explain–it wasn’t that either one of them was used to competition, and in their own ways, each was at the height of the jock pecking order, and they knew it, but being forced into this close of quarters, the two of them felt somehow threatened in a way neither of them could really explain. It was subtle at first–Daryn getting pissed off that Jasper was taking up the entire dinner table with some project, even though Daryn didn’t want or need the space–the sheer fact that Jasper had claimed it unnerved him all the same, and he felt some desperate need to claim it for his own. This same sort of territorial squabbling expanded until it encompassed every common area of the apartment, and the two jocks eventually forbid one another from entering the other’s room–under what penalty neither could say, but they would do…something, right?

It was easier at school, and in the locker room and on the field it was like nothing was even wrong–and neither one of them knew how to discuss what was happening with their teammates or their coaches–or with one another. In fact, especially at home, the two of them couldn’t even really have a conversation any longer–every time it seemed to devolve into one argument or another. It was so frustrating that Daryn decided he might as well just move out–but their nice landlord, Mr. Wadsworth, sat him down and had a nice chat with him. He couldn’t just leave, could he? Abandon his entire territory to his rival? No–that most certainly wasn’t an option at all, and so he marched right back into the apartment, grabbed every bit of crap of Jasper’s he could find and threw it into his room.

Eventually, even sports became difficult. The two of them would constantly squabble about plays, they would fight for coach’s praise, they would be in constant competition for the fastest time, the highest jump, the most push-ups. Everyone could sense that something was wrong, but neither jock would discuss it–just give the other and angry look and head home. They rarely spoke anymore, and especially not in the apartment. The two of them would simply avoid one another as much as possible, glaring and grunting and growling if the other came too close to them. They stopped showering, their musk just another weapon in their arsenal–but it was Jasper who broke the truce. While Daryn was at class one morning, he drank as much as he could, went into his roommate’s room, and hosed down as much as he could with his piss. In the heat of the moment, it seemed like the most logical course of action–he had to claim it, right? It had to be his…but more than that–Daryn needed to be his, and this would show him that. That Jasper was the boss, the alpha, the ruler. He laid down on Daryn’s bed and started jacking off, snorting and grunting, keeping himself on the edge until his roommate arrived, smelled what had happened, and flung himself at Jasper with a scream.

Neither of them had a clear memory of what happened after that. They fought of course, and much to Jasper’s surprise, it was Daryn who had the upper hand on him, and relatively quickly. Built for defense, thick as a wall and quite tall, no matter what Jasper threw at him nothing would take him down. What Jasper did have was speed and agility–but not quite enough stamina. He began to tire, and Daryn used that opening to drag him to the floor and start beating him to a pump for defiling his room. It…should have stopped there. Daryn stood up, swaying a bit, looking down at what he’d done, shocked and horrified at how he’d lost control like that, but Mr. Wadsworth–he could hear the older man’s voice. He wasn’t done yet. No, he wasn’t quite done. There was…one last thing.

He got down and rolled the groaning Jasper over on the carpet, ripped down his shorts, and worked his cock into his friend’s ass. This. This is what he needed to do. If he didn’t do this, then Jasper could recover–he could fight back, but that couldn’t happen. No, Daryn was in charge. Daryn was the alpha here, and this is how Jasper was going to learn that. Jasper kept trying to crawl away, kept begging Daryn to stop, to come to his senses–he just grabbed him by the hair and fucked harder until at last he exploded deep within Jasper’s guts, and as he did, both of them felt some strange energy from the room surrounding them infuse them. A moment later, they had both passed out on the floor, the older man looming over them, chuckling–now that the contest had been decided, the real fun could begin.

Last Chance for Suggestions!

Hey all, I’m still open for suggestions for this months Patreon supporters! Anyone contributing one dollar or more each month can offer a suggestion and gets to see the results around the middle of the month! If you’d like to help out, you can leave your suggestion in the comments here. I’ll be closing the thread tomorrow, so if you have something you’d like to see, now’s the time–or else you’ll have to wait until May.

Where Boys Become Men (Part 10)

There were a few surprises along the way, of course. A year and a half after they’d begun their release plan, they were ushered away for an unexpected cognitive session down at the lab. Neither of them was really sure why, and when they got there, they discovered that a third subject was already strapped in, and that they both were going to join him for a session. Harry managed to pick up that the other subject was a level three who had suffered a demotion as punishment, but what that meant for them neither of them knew, until the session began, and they found themselves introduced to their father, Edgar. He was surprisingly resistant, and neither of his boys could really understand why. He would get angry suddenly, or start begging, and the memory stream would have to reset, but after a long time, he started to give in and accept these two handsome young men as his own flesh and blood. After the extended session, the three of them were escorted to a new cell–a much larger one with a king sized bed–and after a long family fuck none of them could resist, they all fell asleep in one another’s arms.

Daddy put up quite a fight for a while. He wasn’t always much help in their work simulations on the farm, and he was prone to bouts of depression–staring at himself in the mirror as he slowly aged into his 60’s, hair turning white, his body losing strength, his beard and what remained of his hair growing long and bushy. He kept trying to tell his sons that they needed to fight back. That together, they could resist and escape. In the end, daddy had undergo further cognitive sessions before he finally gave in and allowed himself to be believe, before be allowed himself to be happy with his two handsome boys.

Of course, all three of them would have bad days, on occasion. Tanner would remember something strange, get a thought in his head that he didn’t deserve this, that he was being persecuted and treated unfairly. Usually his brother could give him a rough fuck, and the pleasure would push those bad thoughts away–and over time, they dimmed and all but disappeared. Harry, on the other hand, could turn…suddenly cruel, and violent. Tanner might break something, or mess something up, and his brother would fly into a rage, beating him and fucking him until his daddy hauled him off and forced him to calm down. And of course, whenever their daddy got depressed, his two boys could cheer him up by plowing him at both ends for a couple of hours. They all could sense that they needed one another–that they’d been meant to find each other, that without this family of theirs, they’d never truly be happy.

All three of them began meeting with the head warden, to assess their fitness for release. It wasn’t too long after that, when the three of them were told that after six months of final cognitive and lifestyle work, they’d be released and could return to their family farm. All three of them were so excited that they could go home soon. None of them really knew where they were, or why they were even here, but they all knew that getting out was something to fight for. Now, in addition to cognitive sessions, filling in the last few gaps in their collective memories, they would have styling sessions as well. The two brothers had ended up looking almost like identical twins, aside from their difference in age, and the mutual styling didn’t help–giving them both shaved heads and thick beards down to their solid, hairy guts. The one thing different was their tattoos. Tanner was extremely excited when he got most of his body covered with images of pigs, since they were his favorite animal, while Harry had his arms and legs covered with an intricate motif of gears and machinery–fitting, since he was so good as a mechanic. Their daddy didn’t get much in the way of tattoos, but that was alright–he didn’t do much work on the farm anymore after all–he was there mostly to keep the family in line. He might have resisted at first, but now, family was the only thing that really mattered to Edgar–he’d die before letting something happen to his sons, or before letting one of them get any ideas in their heads about running off or leaving the farm.

At long last, nearly seven years after entering the facility, Tanner was released with his family, and driven a few miles away to their family farm. It was exactly like he remembered it, even though he also knew he’d never been there before. He ran to the pig stys immediately, excited to see all of his boars, hogs and sows. He was going to be in charge of the pigs–he could do that. That’s why he had tattoos of pigs on him, so that he wouldn’t forget what his job was, and he always had his brother to help him out if he got stuck, or if he had a machine that needed fixing. Harry always had grease on his fingers and face from tinkering with his machines, but Tanner always liked it–it made him taste sexier, when they two of them would take one of their frequent breaks from work to roll around in the dust or the mud and fuck each other’s brains out.

Every few months, their family would grow, too, as another member of their very large family was released from the facility to join their kin. It was always fun, getting to know the newcomers–what they liked, how they tasted, who they liked to fuck. They were usually cousins of Tanner’s and Harry’s, though occasionally another daddy would join the group to help keep the younger men in line. There were even a few cubs on occasion to help out with some of the easier farm work. Their roles on the farm were always clear, however, written and tattooed right on their skin, so none of them could ever forget their roles in life. They never had to want for anything, either–the facility kept them well supplied with food and other goods, and within the year, the farm was bustling and turning quite a substantial profit. Tanner, in the end, was happy. He hadn’t become the man he’d expected to be, but as he lay with his little brother at night, head nested in his musky pit, listening to the rest of his family snoring softly, he couldn’t imagine any kind of man he’d rather want to be.

Where Boys Become Men (Part 9)

He did, eventually, get led into an office with a warden he recognized, who in simple words explained to him that, as a one, his cognitive skills had been severely curtailed. “We do this to make your chances of recidivism lower.”

“Recida-what?”

“We don’t want you to get in any more trouble, Tanner. You don’t want to be in trouble, do you?”

Tanner shook his head, no, but something made him suspicious, made him feel like he’d been tricked somehow, but he couldn’t piece enough thoughts together to really form anything coherent.

“Now, why don’t we go meet your two. We’re very excited that you’re going to be helping us with a new release program, Tanner. We think this is going to be perfect for you–you’ll love it. I promise.”

“I just want to go home,” Tanner said, as he was escorted back to block C.

“You will soon. But first you have to be able to remember where your home is.”

“I know where…home is…” Tanner said, but the memory was foggy, “I think I does.”

“It’ll clear up in time,” the warden said, and opened the door to a cell. It was identical to the room he’d been in with Marcus, but someone else was in there, waiting for him. “Good morning Harry. This is Tanner–he’s going to be your one.”

“No, I don’t want a two!” Tanner said, trying to back up, “Twos are mean guys. Twos make me feel bad.”

The guards pushed him inside, and the other man approached him–and pulled Tanner into a hug. “Hey–it’s alright,” Harry said, “I’m gonna be here for you. I promise.”

“Harry will take good care of you, I know he will. He’s going to make an excellent two, aren’t you?”

Harry nodded, “Yes sir!”

“That’s good. Now, your bands will be linked from now on–Harry, I’ll let you and Tanner here get to know each other a bit, so you can have the day off from work, and an extra daily allowance.”

“Really? Thanks!” Harry said, his face sincere only because he didn’t seem capable of subterfuge. “Come on Tanner–we have the whole day for us!”

The warden left, and Tanner pulled himself away from Harry’s thick arms. He was big. But not nearly as large as Tanner was, but the idea of being under someone’s thumb again was filling him with anxiety. “Please don’t hurt me. I don’t wanna get hurt anymore.”

“Hey, it’s alright! I don’t like hurting people. I used to do that, but I don’t want to anymore,” Harry said, and stepped closer, “You smell real good, you know–you wanna have sex? We can fuck if you want. I like fucking.”

“You…you want me to choose?” Tanner asked, feeling a bit daunted by the possibility of having to decide something. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. “I…like sex. But I…kind of need a cigar.”

“You like cigars? I like pipes. Let’s smoke, and then fuck.”

Tanner thought that sounded like a good idea. He smiled, as Harry ordered him a pack of cigars–nicer ones than Marcus ever let him have–and after they’d both lit up and shared lungfuls of smoke for a few minutes, Harry guided Tanner’s mouth to his cock, and he got his first taste of his new two’s cum–the first taste of many more to come.

By the end of their first week together, Tanner had discovered that Harry was a very different kind of guy than Marcus had ever been. He didn’t order Tanner around as much, didn’t demand his complete submission. He was more than willing to listen, and would even take suggestions–though Tanner soon discovered that his new brain found the idea of deciding anything more difficult and terrifying than anything else. It was easier to just follow along and do what Harry told him to do–not because he had to, but…because Harry seemed to know what he was doing.

Other than that, his life was similar. The two of them would do their work in virtual reality once or twice a day, and then have the rest of their time to themselves. He noticed after a few days that the work sessions they were doing didn’t seem to be as varied as they had been with Marcus. In particular, they always took pace in the same location–a rather rundown looking farm in the middle of nowhere. The tasks were a bit more complex as well. They were taking care of virtual livestock and shoveling out manure, repairing broken down parts of the various buildings on the farms, or even fixing the trucks and tractors on occasion. Harry was the one who had to do the complex stuff like that, with Tanner fetching tools and helping him lift the heavy stuff on occasion. Taking one look at the complex mechanics of an engine made his head spin–he didn’t know how Harry could do it.

Outside of work, they fucked a lot, ate a lot, and smoked all the time. Tanner liked Harry’s pipe–the tobacco always smelled so sweet, the way it mixed with his cigar. He wanted to switch, but Harry wouldn’t let him–he said he always got so turned on, seeing tanner with a thick cigar in his mouth. The sex was more equal too. Harry did like to top–and Tanner liked to bottom–but on several occasions, usually after some pleading and begging, Harry would let Tanner fuck him as well. Beyond that, they watched a lot of porn, and a movie or two on occasion, but it was hard for Tanner to focus on a narrative. Porn was easier. There were some guys, and then they fucked–he didn’t have to try and understand a story to get what was happening. He just had to get turned on, and suck Harry’s cock.

Each week, the two of them would be escorted back to the lab for more cognitive work. Tanner was terrified the first time–he didn’t want them to make him even stupider, but when they assured him that these sessions were just to help Tanner and Harry get to know one another better, he went along willingly. As long as Harry was there too…he felt a bit safer, at least. These sessions, unlike the first one filled with painful shocks, were more like…dreams, but very vivid ones. He was always there with Harry in them, but they felt more like memories, than anything. After a couple of sessions, while chatting with the warden afterward, they finally realized why they got along so well–they were brothers! How both of them had managed to forget this fact eluded them, but knowing they were with family made them both very excited–and made their sex much hotter too.

In fact, both of them found themselves becoming obsessed with the other’s musk. All it would take was one whiff of the other’s smelly pits or ass crack to drive them make them horny–and neither of them could really stand to be apart for very long. Soon, the brothers were inseparable–never straying more than a couple of feet away from one another, knowing that as long as they were with their brother, they would never have to be alone again.

One significant change from before, however, was that neither of them was in control over their hormones any longer. Their bodies were certainly changing, but in more…subtle ways than before. Perhaps the most obvious shift was that they both were growing older–their hairlines receding, wrinkles appearing around their eyes, a few flecks of grey tinging their beards. Harry stopped around his early fifties, while Tanner looked quite a bit older, with quite a bit more grey in his beard and hair. He might be the older brother, he figured out, but Harry was the one who was always going to be in charge–just like things ought to be.

Where Boys Become Men (Part 8)

They took Marcus first, and an hour later, the warden and guards came to escort Tanner back to the conference room for his own hearing. It was the same set of five as before, including Jackson, but none of them seemed surprised by the changes which had been forced on him over the last year, since the last time he’d sat before them.

“As you know, Tanner,” the head warden said, “We’re discussing your status as a provisional level one subject. At the end of this hearing, we will either determine whether to continue provisional status at some level, or classify you permanently. We are particularly interested in your experiences as a level one under Mr. Ambrose. How would you describe your last six months?”

“It was terrible. I hate that fucker.”

“I see. Please elaborate as best you can.”

“He made me do all the fucking work! He hated me, he’s always hated me, apparently, despite the fact that I made us both fucking rich as provisional candidates. He’s lazy, he’s cruel, and he’s selfish, and I hope you fucking make him my fucking one after this, so I can fucking show him what it’s like.”

“We have already made an assignment in Mr. Ambrose’s case, but we won’t be sharing that decision with you,” another warden said, “but tell me, what would you like to see happen to him?”

“I’d want us to switch positions. I want fucking revenge, alright? I want to show that fuck how good I was before, and how fucking cruel I could have been. I’d fucking ruin his fucking holes…his fucking body.”

“See?” Jackson said to the panel, “He can only deal with this through the frame of tit-for-tat,” then turned to Tanner, “Do you think you deserved anything that Mr. Ambrose did to you, for your past behavior?”

“Fuck you,” Tanner said to him, “This is all your fucking fault anyway, you fucking told me they wanted to see fucking strength, you fuck, and now look where I fucking am! Look what this fucking place did to me!”

Another warden looked at Jackson, who shrugged, and chuckled, “I told him to show strength of character, and he wildly misunderstood what I meant. I may…have primed him somewhat.”

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you! I don’t fucking deserve any of this fucking shit! I’m going to tear this fucking place apart, when I get the fuck out of here, you’ll fucking see. You fucks are going to fucking regret messing with me.”

“Well, I think we’ve heard enough to make a decision,” the head warden said, “he obviously still demonstrates a complete lack of understanding, compassion, and empathy. I suppose that leaves us with three options. We can continue his provisional status and hope he comes to some sort of epiphany, which appears unlikely. Or we can designate him a one or a zero.”

“You know my thoughts on this,” Jackson said. “He’s hopeless. Break him as a zero and be done with it.”

“I highly doubt that further attempts at education will assist him,” another warden said, “He’s…particularly resistant to any form of self-criticism. Still, I don’t think he is without use. After all, he did submit. Remove the ego and he’ll be harmless.”

“I tend to agree, but more time in the provisional program will definitely be wasted on him,” one of them said, and the rest of the panel nodded.

“Alright–will each member of the panel announce your vote?”

“One.”

“Zero.”

“One.”

“One.”

“Zero.”

“Subject will be designated a one, and placed on a release plan. Any resistance will be met with automatic, and permanent, placement at the zero level.”

“Well, at least make sure the fucker stays the fuck out of civilized society, at least,” Jackson said.

The head warden thought a moment, “That can be arranged.”

“Wait–that’s it?” Tanner said, “That’s all I fucking get?”

“Subject is approved for pilot release plan Gamma as a level one subject. Solitary detox won’t be required, his current shape is workable. Guards, please take him to the lab for initial cognitive treatment.”

“No–No please, I’m sorry! Just tell me what you want from me and I’ll do it, I swear,” Tanner shouted, as the guards dragged him from the room, “I don’t know what you want from me!” He didn’t get anything else out before the guards tranquilized him, and his entire body sagged between their arms.

The lab was close to the conference room–a white, sterile room filled with doctors in lab coats. He was strapped to gurney, wires and needles poking into him, all focused on his brain. He was certain it should have hurt, but he couldn’t feel much of anything, but he tried to stay awake as best he could, he fought, against the sleep overwhelming him, but when the first shock ripped through his mind, he howled and collapsed back, unconscious.

He didn’t know where he was, when he awoke. He wasn’t even quite sure who he was. He was mumbling, but it was gibberish–he wasn’t quite sure how to find the words he knew should be in his head…but everything felt so jumbled up all of a sudden. Two doctors unstrapped him from the table and helped him stand up on his shaking legs–he tried to ask them questions, tried to ask them what had happened, and they assured him that after a few exam he would get his answers. They made him walk. They had him write his name, but that was difficult. He couldn’t quite grip the crayon they gave him, and remembering letters…he ended up scrawling “Toner” across the page, and even though he knew it wasn’t right, they seemed satisfied, and directed him to the next task. He knew the puzzles should be easy–putting shaped pegs in like holes, stacking blocks, basic math, but every challenge required all of his focus and attention and even then he couldn’t finish half of them.

“Think we did too much?” one of the doctors said.

“This is what the wardens requested.”

“He’s pretty stupid, even for a one.”

“Yeah, but trust me–in Gamma, he’s not going to need wits.”

“Please–tell me what happened. Why is thinking so hard?” Tanner managed to ask, his tongue thick in his mouth.

“Just a couple more tests, Tanner, and we’ll have a nice chat–I promise.”

Where Boys Become Men (Part 7)

Tanner tried to speak, but with a prick he felt exhaustion overwhelm him. One of the guards caught him in his arms and helped him fall to the floor, but Tanner remembered nothing, until consciousness returned to him, and he found himself lying on the ground, close to an hour later.

“Excellent,” the doctor said, “you’ve got the hang of it.”

Tanner tried to stand up, tried to speak, but his sleepiness was still wearing off.

“You lied to me,” Marcus said, “Why did you lie to me?”

Tanner tried to force out an excuse, but found his tongue was tied up somehow.

“You’ll find that it’s impossible to lie to any superior from now on, Mr. Wilkins,” the doctor said, “Try being honest–it’ll come naturally to you soon enough.”

“Tell me why you lied,” Marcus repeated, and words spilled out of Tanner’s mouth, almost unbidden.

“I didn’t want to look like an idiot, for ending up lower than a meathead like you.”

“Meathead?” Marcus said, glowering at him.

“Please–let’s move on. We’re already a bit behind,” the doctor said, and motioned to the main room, where there were two large chairs against the wall. “Both of you, please have a seat, and I’ll load up a simulated work session.”

The chairs were quite comfortable, Tanner found, until the bands appeared, securing his arms and legs to the frame, and a helmet descended–covering his head and blocking out all light and sound. He felt a prick from his band, a wave of euphoria, and then…he was somewhere else. A wide field of dirt stretching in every direction, two shovels, and Marcus standing beside him.

“This is a basic simulation,” the doctor’s voice came as some disembodied spirit in the empty air, “While the facility does utilize hard labor for most subjects, you both will be taking part in our virtual beta program. Each day, you both will enter a simulation and be given a series of tasks or quotas to complete. Your credit allowance for the day will be determined by how well you succeeded in the simulation. Marcus, as the Two, you will receive the entire allowance and be able to decide how to spend the funds. You can retain complete control of the funds, or divide it as you please. Also note, that you retain complete authority over your one within the simulation as normal. Now, to end the simulation, as a team you will need to dig five holes in the ground, three feet in each dimension. Guidelines will appear on the ground to guide your progress.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Tanner said.

“Come on, let’s get to work, I guess,” Marcus said, handing Tanner a shovel.

Together, they each started digging a hole. Despite the simulation being virtual, it felt completely real–Tanner could even feel his sweat, and smell Marcus’s musk on the still air. Marcus finished first and sat for a moment–Tanner went to join him, but Marcus shook his head. “No, you keep digging–you’ll get a break when we’re done.”

Tanner couldn’t disobey the command, and so he kept digging, and digging, and digging. Marcus would help, but more and more he would relax a bit, shouting suggestions and orders to Tanner, obviously enjoying his position of authority for a change. Eventually, they did finish–the simulation ended and the helmets removed themselves from their heads, the straps allowing them to stand. Tanner found that his muscles actually ached like he really had been in that field all day, and he stood on shaking legs in front of the doctor.

“Well done. You are both required to complete one simulation a day, but you may volunteer for more if you so desire. Please keep in mind that your actions in the virtual reality will impact your physical forms–we monitor your behavior and provide hormones based upon that. Hence, why you both feel the effects of physical exertion, despite having not moved at all. Marcus, you will find your first allowance in your account–spend it wisely. I will check in over the next few days to make sure everything is going smoothly.” The doctor and the guards left, leaving them alone again.

“Get on the bed, you fucking asshole–we’ll see who’s the fucking meathead before too long,” Marcus said, and the sneer told Tanner than his situation may have gone from bad to worse in ways he would have never imagined. Indeed, Tanner had been utterly oblivious to the extent that many members of the gang had resented him, but Marcus in particular had always felt he deserved a bigger piece of the pie, that Tanner disrespected him on a regular basis, that this was exactly what he deserved.

The days settled into a routine rather quickly. The tasks they were given through the VR system were all oriented towards physical labor–digging holes, hauling heavy rocks, cutting lumber, clearing brush–all without much meaning or any context at all. Early on, Marcus helped somewhat, but he always forced Tanner to work longer and harder than he ever did. Back in their apartment, he toyed with the idea of forcing Tanner to quit smoking to save credits, but decided to give him a meager supply of the cheapest variety–never quite enough to scratch the itch Tanner had grown accustomed to satisfying. Marcus would determine their hormone packages, their meals, their entertainment.

It was clear after a month, to Tanner, that they were both changing again. He was taller and packing on even more muscle than before, while Marcus had begun to soften slightly, putting on a slight gut. Soon, Marcus was doing almost no work at all in their simulations, forcing his “workhorse” and “meathead” to do everything, threatening him with punishment if he missed the quota meant for them both. Tanner tried to object, early on, but each time he resisted Marcus would devise some humiliating new punishment or desire for him to try and satisfy, and he learned to bear the burden as best he could, but kept the hatred nurturing in his heart all the same. One day, the table would turn, he told himself. All he had to do was wait, put up with it for now, but once the wardens saw how Marcus was treating him, they’d show him–then Tanner would be the one back on top.

Still, he hated himself more. This massive body which should be able to pound Marcus into the dust, and he couldn’t lift a finger to oppose him. All he could do was beg for his cock, beg for cigars, doing anything to try and please his master in order to get a bit more allowance for himself. He felt inhuman, and seeing Marcus expand in size, growing flabbier each day as he ate massive meals for himself, leaving Tanner subsisting on protein mash, it was somehow worse than the solitary had been, being trapped with this fucker day in and day out. He counted the days down to their two hearings–knowing that even if things didn’t get better, they would hopefully be different.

Where Boys Become Men (Part 6)

All Tanner could do with his mouth was shout and scream incoherently as the two guards who had escorted him in, carried him out, hauling him like a sack of trash down several corridors until they arrived at the solitary ward, and heaved him onto the floor of a cell, shutting the door and abandoning him there. It was several minutes before feeling returned to his body and he could stand again, looking around at where he had been deposited. It was a small dorm similar to where he’d lived with Jackson the year before, but somewhat smaller and with fewer furnishings. He tried the door, but it was locked and sealed tight. Lastly, he tried his band, looking to see if it could tell him anything, but it too had gone dark, just like before. There was a TV with a decent movie and porn selection, there was a tablet with a digital library, but beyond that, he was alone.

The first few days were almost pleasant. He hadn’t had privacy is ages, not truly. He had a small humidor which refilled with a supply of cheap cigars each day. He could do whatever he wanted, within a very small scope of want. By the end of the first month, he felt like he would go insane. The guards wouldn’t speak with him when they delivered his meals. He had a one hour socialization session with his new warden each week, but all that did was remind him of what awaited him after these next six months.

Three months in, he’d figured out which guards were willing to be merciful, and would agree to fuck his ass when they brought his meals. It wasn’t much–but at least it was contact. At least he had a few minutes every few days where he felt good, where someone would want him, at least for a moment. By this point, the hormones he’d purchased for himself had been scrubbed from his system, and he looked essentially as he had on his first day in the provisional block–hulking, hairy as a caveman, and terrified to death. The changes that came next were less obvious. Up to that point, he’d mostly stuck to watching movies and reading–he preferred reading, because getting lost in a book helped the hours move faster than watching something broken into definite two hour blocks. But as the last few months wore on, it was harder to focus on the text, he would run across words he should have known, but which had disappeared from his memory. It was frustrating, and so he largely abandoned the tablet, watching movies–but more and more, he found himself watching the porn channels, masturbating all the while. The room reeked of smoke, sweat and cum now, but he barely noticed any of it–or bothered to shower much at all, the scents around him only fueling his sexual drive further. Physically, the changes were subtle as well. His cock was shrinking somewhat, back to a more modest four inch size, but on his frame it looked puny, if thick as a beer can. His muscles had filled in further, as had his gut–and his hands and feet had grown as well. Even his face seemed different–more angular under his beard, with a heavier brow and his hairline receding slightly. He hated his reflection–both because he was so objectively ugly now, but also because he found his image so…fucking arousing.

After six months, which had felt like a miniature hell, Tanner was willing to do anything, to go anywhere, as long as he didn’t have to be alone anymore. He had an introductory session with his warden, but he found it difficult to follow everything the man was talking about. As a provisional level one, the older man said, he would be placed in a six month cohabitation and dual training with a provisional level two, in order to better judge their capacity for reform. After those six months, he would have a second hearing with the warden panel, and they would determine whether to continue the provisional relationship, or designate him as a permanent two or one for and moved into a formal reform and release program. Tanner spent much of the conversation simply begging the man to let him see his parents, or his lawyer, telling them that what they were doing was illegal, was inhumane, but the warden showed no sympathy. “I’m afraid, Mr. Wilkins, that you won’t be seeing your parents again. You knew that was a risk when you signed your release forms.”

“I didn’t!” Tanner cried, “I didn’t know any of this, I didn’t know!”

“I’m afraid ignorance is no excuse. Guards, please escort Mr. Wilkins to his cell–an assistant warden will meet with you both later today to provide a more detailed orientation.”

The guards hauled Tanner off again, and led him to another area of the facility–C Block. If Block A was order, and the provisional block was anarchy, block C was silent. There was no one anywhere in the hallways, no common areas–just row after row of doors, looking more like a concrete hotel than a prison. He was escorted to his new room and pushed inside, the door shutting behind him, and he found himself, again, in a small apartment like he’d been in solitary, if slightly larger than before. His heart rate quickened, now that he was back in a place like this, terrified that he’d be alone again, but a young man emerged from the bathroom, and he nearly cried–he wouldn’t be alone at least. If nothing else, he had company. Then, looking at his roommate’s face a moment longer, he realized that he knew him.

“M-Marcus?”

“Holy shit–Tanner? Is that you? You ended up here too? What the fuck! Everyone in the gang was certain you’d be headed for the top.”

Marcus had entered the provisional block around the same time as Tanner had, but they hadn’t met until a couple of months in, when seeing how viciously he’d fought one of Tanner’s goon squads one morning, he offered Marcus a position in his growing enterprise. If Tanner had been the light–offering protection, greasing wheels, organizing patrols–Marcus had been the dark. As one of the leaders of the offensive squads, he’d spend the day shaking down everyone who had refused Tanner’s gracious and reasonable prices for safety. They chatted a bit, catching up. Marcus had been pulled out of the provisional block a few days after Tanner, but he told him that the system had started to crumble as soon as Tanner had left–the gang had broken into factions warring outright over territory and control–Marcus had been glad to escape the fallout, only to end up being assigned as a provisional two.

“How’d they grade you?” he asked Tanner, “You must be a two at least.”

“Yeah–same as you,” Tanner lied, and moved to another subject.

It wasn’t too much later that their door opened and a younger man in a lab coat entered the small space, with two sizable guards. “Marcus Ambrose, and Tanner Wilkins, correct? I’m Dr. Logen. I’ll be overseeing your provisional period here in C block. Now, I’ll be turning on your bands, and giving you an introduction to what your time will be like here for the next six months or so.”

The screens on both of their bands lit up again. Tanner examined his, but it had almost no functionality at all, beyond the ability to order supplies for credits–of which he had none.

“Now Marcus, as the provisional two in this relationship, you will find that you have ample means of controlling and disciplining your provisional one.”

“One? Who’s the one?” Marcus asked.

The doctor raised an eyebrow, and looked over at Tanner, “He is, of course. I’m going to put him to rest for a bit, while I go over some of the details with you.”

April Suggestions (OPEN) | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

It’s the start of a new month, and so that means it’s time to open up the story suggestion box again! Do you have an idea for a short story you’d like to see me write? Every person contributing one dollar or more a month can suggest their ideas, or collaborate on someone else’s idea for the next few days. I’ll take my favorites and turn them into stories later this month. I’ve had a lot of fun with these the last few months, so come and tell me what you’d like to see!

April Suggestions (OPEN) | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Where Boys Become Men (Part 5)

By the time his first year was done, everyone knew his name–and most of them feared him. The gang had become a company at this point, and a rather wealthy one. If anyone wanted to travel the halls safely, they knew not to count on the guards–they counted on Tanner and his guards–or else they were certain to be raped by Tanner’s goons. He had more credits than he knew what to do with. He finally found a hair suppression package, and while it also made him bald, he was finally clean of that disgusting coat of fur that he’d learned to live with but still hated. He could pay anyone to service him, whenever he wanted-he hadn’t been fucked in months, and it was nice being a top again. When the guards came soon after to escort him to his assignment hearing, he actually asked them if he could stay–the guards just laughed, told him no, and hauled him off. He worried, fleetingly, about whether his company would survive, but why should he care? He wasn’t going back there–no one came back from an assignment hearing, that he’d heard of. He wasn’t even sure what an assignment hearing was–he knew it involved a panel of wardens determining a candidate’s future path through the facility, but no one really knew what those paths were. Of course, he knew about Jackson’s path as a level five candidate, and he assumed there were levels all the way down to one, but he didn’t have to worry. He’d done well as a provisional candidate, in his mind–he’d reformed the place, for goodness sake! Everyone was much safer, provided they were paying him to be so. They should be thanking him for doing the damn job their guards were refusing to do.

The guards led him to a small conference room, where five people were seated at a table. One of them was Jackson, though he was dressed in civilian clothing without his band–he must have been released at some point in the last year. He looked good, actually–Tanner wondered if he might want another round with Tanner’s cock, it was substantially longer than it had been when he’d been an initiate, and in his opinion, he as much more skilled with it. He sat down in front of the panel, and they began speaking about his performance and character in the provisional block–and the confidence he’d felt began to wither with doubt. They didn’t seem happy with him. If anything, they were quite distressed by what he’d done. There were lots of statements like, “We’ve rarely had someone display such a cold, calculating, and callous approach to the welfare of their fellow candidates,” and “the mere fact that he never even pursued legitimate means of obtaining credit demonstrates his utter contempt for society’s laws and customs.” He looked to Jackson, but the man avoided his gaze–the one time he caught his eyes, the emotion was difficult to understand–equal parts pity, fear and deep contempt.

“I don’t understand,” Tanner said at some point, interrupting them, “I thought–I mean, if there’s no rules, then what does it matter what we do down there? I was making people safer! I got raped my first fucking day in that damn block–now, newbies have a week grace period! I fucking did your guards damn job for them, and now you’re mad at me?”

“So, you really believe that what you did was not only worthy of praise, but also moral?” an older man asked.

“Yes! That’s how the world works, right? I mean, I was successful. I had more credits than anyone else. I thought we were supposed to want credits, right? Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Generally, greed counts against you,” said another panel member.

That stunned Tanner into a moment of silence. “I wasn’t being greedy, I just thought it was a game.”

“A game he says,” the panel member said, “This is why he should be classified as a one.”

“I just think that with the right rehab, he would make a fine two,” a member replied.

“Do you really think that’s worth the risk?”

“If we just motivate him in the right direction–”

“He has no instinct for the right direction,” it was the first time Jackson had spoken. He spoke to the panel, but was glaring at Tanner, “I lived with him for two months, and while I knew he was never going to amount to a four, or even a three, I never would have imagined this. He belongs with the zeros.”

The panel was silent, considering the thought.

“What’s…I don’t understand what these numbers mean.”

“We’re discussing what level of candidacy to assign you, Tanner. Didn’t you read the packet we provided you a week ago, in preparation for this hearing?”

He recalled the packet, handed to him by a guard, but he’d ignored it.

“I think we’ve deliberated enough. We appreciate your input, Jackson. The vote will be put to the five committee members present. Please indicate your score for the candidate, and we will average the result.”

“One.”

“Three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Zero,” said Jackson, the final vote. The malice in his voice was very apparent, and somehow this wounded Tanner more than anything else. He remembered that advice Jackson had given him, before all this had happened.

“You told me–you told me I had to be strong!” he shouted at Jackson, but he didn’t reply–he just stared Tanner down until he averted his eyes away from him.

“The candidate’s average is one-point-four; The candidate will be designated a level one candidate, with a possible promotion to level two upon later review.”

“No–No! I fucking deserve better than this!” He shouted, standing up from his chair. “You can’t just fucking do this shit to me! I didn’t know what I was doing, it’s not my fault that you don’t give us any fucking direction in there! What the fuck did you expect to happen?”

“We expect you all to reveal your innermost selves and desires,” one of the warden’s said, “and you made yours quite clear to all of us here.”

He stalked forward, but with a prick from his band his legs turned to jelly underneath him, and he collapsed to the floor of the conference room.

“Guards, take the subject to solitary. Reset his hormone levels and begin him on a basic level one regimen. Once complete, the subject will begin a provisional level one reeducation program under the direction of Warden Bitterman.”