When my son told me he that someone was bullying him at school, I hadn’t imagined it would be a teacher. Apparently Mr. Wilson, his English teacher, was a bible thumping conservative–and as soon as he’d found out that my boy and I are gay, he’d started flunking him on nearly every assignment.

Now, I’ve raised my boy right–he’s going to be strong, masculine man like his dad when he grows up, but while I knew he could take care of himself in a school yard brawl, I figured a more nuanced approach would be best here. I went in and tried talking like a reasonable man, but Mr. Wilson didn’t want to hear it, and the administration was no help…so I took matters into my own hands.

My son’s off at college now, and Mr. Wilson is in my basement. He doesn’t want to be there right now, but he’ll change his mind soon enough. I have four years to get him pretrained so I can hand the leash over to my boy as a present when he graduates. My boy’s first slave–goodness, how time flies.

Gifts from a Magi – Part 1

Jake had a problem. Well, not so much a problem as a set of circumstances which were conspiring together to make him as unhappy as possible. First, was the fact that he was graduating this coming weekend, ending his college career and he had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He had no job lined up, barely any money in his bank account, and after he’d come out to his family a couple of months ago, he…wasn’t exactly going to be welcomed back there with open arms either. Then there was Rand, on the left in the photo.

He was Jake’s best friend. They’d lived on the same floor during their freshman year, and had lived together ever since, even renting an apartment together as seniors. Rand was the first person Jake had come out to, and Rand in turn had been one of Jake’s biggest supporters at college. He was the one who’d convinced Jake to come out to his parents and quit living the big lie. Of course, this culminated in situations three and four, where Jake had fallen in live with Rand–even though Rand was straight as could be. Jake was…annoyed by this fact, but he treasured what relationship they did have, or at least what they had for the moment, because Rand was flying out the monday after graduation to start at his new job across the country, leaving Jake here…alone. And so, in his desperation, Jake was willing to cling to anything which might resolve this in someway which didn’t end with him alone, and possibly on the streets. Even a crazy idea like this one. He pulled the strange leather cocoon out of his drawer again and turned it over in his hands.

Jake had a thing for BDSM. He hadn’t delved into it too much, but he did like going out to leather clubs and hooking up on occasion. He’d been to most of the fetish gear shops in the city around the college, and had become pretty friendly with some of the regulars. He’d even played around with a few of them, and found a few fuckbuddies, but he’d always felt like he was saving himself for Rand, as sad as that was. He was talking about his problems with one of the shopkeepers when a strange man clad from head to toe in a shiny leather uniform had come up and introduced himself. His hand had been strangely cold and clammy to the touch, and something about his eyes bothered Jake, but he’d listened to the man’s offer. After getting the rundown on Jake’s situation, the man pulled out a strange, leather bodybag and gave it to him. When Jake asked what it was, the man said it was a solution to his problems–all he needed to do was get Rand into the cocoon, and then, twenty-four hours later, Rand would be a whole new man–Jake’s man.

Jake had been appalled by the idea at first–who wouldn’t be? And the man had been vague as to what exactly was going to happen to Rand. The man said it would turn Rand gay, but he also kept mentioning other changes, which he never elaborated on. Jake had tried to refuse the man’s offer, but he’d walked away, leaving Jake holding the leather. He’d stashed it for a week now, but he was starting to feel like he didn’t have a choice–he had to try, even though it was wrong. Still, he had no idea what would happen when Rand got into it, or whether he would even survive in the hot leather sack for a whole day, but he couldn’t help but think he needed to try. Hell, if he ruined their friendship, at least it would be over before Rand left him for good, which is what it felt like. But Jake still felt like he had to be honest to Rand first, and tell him how he was feeling.

So, that afternoon, as Rand was packing, he brought him a beer and they sat down, and Jake told him everything–about his fears of joblessness, of his unrequited love, of how he desperately needed Rand in his life…and while Rand didn’t freak out, he told Jake that he couldn’t be everything Jake wanted him to be. That he had his own life to live, and his own dreams, and that while he would always care about Jake–as a friend–he needed to leave, and Jake was furious. That settled it–he had to try the cocoon–he had to.

He went to the kitchen, popped open a couple of beers, roofied one of them, handed it to Rand and proposed a toast to life long friendships…and an hour later, Rand was so out of it couldn’t stop Jake from lying him down in the cocoon, apologizing and professing his love the entire time he fit him into the leather and zipped it up over his face. As soon as the zipper came up over the crown of Rand’s head, the tag broke off and the teeth disappeared, leaving only a stitched seam. Rand struggled inside for a few minutes, Jake watching with something between terror and horny fascination as his movements grew weaker and weaker–and then he was still.

Jake came over and could feel nothing, neither a breath nor a heartbeat, and his first thought was that Rand had suffocated and died. He tried prying apart the leather, cutting at it with scissors, a knife, stabbing it, anything he could do to rescue the man he loved, tears streaming down his face, but nothing marred the impervious leather. He thought about calling the cops, or an ambulance, but what would they say? What would they think? What had he done? He had to find that man, the one who’d given him the cocoon in the first place. It was his only chance. He left the apartment, giving one last look to the leather encased Rand, and drove downtown.

He trolled the leather bars and the bathhouses, he searched the fetish shops open late and the adult bookstores, but he never found him. He was reduced to wandering the streets, too terrified to return to look at what he’d done, but the eventual light of dawn, and his own exhaustion drove him home. Rand was still there, on the floor where Jake had left him…but something was different. The cocoon was a slightly different shape, like Rand was growing larger inside of it, and the leather itself had changed, gaining creases and cracks in the surface like it had been spent years uncared for by anyone. He put his ear to Rand’s chest, and faintly he could hear the pulse of a heartbeat, and the sheer joy he felt was overwhelming. He was alive in there–and changing. Perhaps the man had been right after all.

Despite his nerves and residual panic, Jake fell asleep and woke up in the early afternoon, rushing to check on his friend. The cocoon was looking quite worn now and almost…brittle, but even though it appeared weak, it still refused to be cut. The cocoon had continued growing, while remaining skin tight against Rand’s form, though it was looking quite a bit less like Rand at this point. Jake realized that he had no idea what was going to happen once the twenty-four hours had past–would Rand be a completely different person? Jake felt his nerves start up again, as he checked the clock. When exactly had he done the deed yesterday? He couldn’t remember. It had to have been sometime between five and six in the afternoon, and it was now four…this wait was going to kill him, but he couldn’t leave…what if Rand woke up and no one was here to meet him?

Jake tried watching TV, he tried reading, but nothing could take his eyes off the cocoon for long. Eventually he pulled over a chair and just sat down, watching and waiting for something to happen–though he had no idea what he was waiting for, exactly. He found himself getting caught in fantasy after fantasy, Rand emerging from the cocoon transformed into his own ideal man, with rippling muscles beautiful blow job lips and a tight hole. Jake had always fancied himself a top, and as he thought about what might come out, he found his fantasies turning more and more twisted. He would show Rand for denying his love–he would beat him. He would lock him in chastity. He would train him to love him as much as Jake loved him back, and they would be happy forever.

Rand’s first movement caught him off guard, the odd lurch and groan from inside the now thin, leather skin. Jake knew he should do something, but he could only sit and watch as Rand’s struggling increased, and he began ripping and tearing at the cocoon crumbling around him, and Jake caught the first glimpses of the new Rand. He had stripped him down to his underwear before putting him in the cocoon the day before, so when a leather booted foot burst out, he was taken aback, especially when he saw the thick hair covering the thigh, and he grimaced.

Jake had never been a fan of body hair–he was more one for smooth muscle. He’d actually suggested to Rand that he start shaving his chest a year ago. As more and more of Rand emerged from the casing, he realized that Rand whad become someone far removed from his dreams and fantasies. He was hairy, for one–really hairy, that glimpse of the thigh had been the tip of the iceberg. His chest was covered with a thick pelt, and when his head burst out, framed by a mane of wild, greying hair with a thick, long beard beneath, he couldn’t help but let out a sound of disgust. He couldn’t even bring himself to get down and help him as Rand struggled to his feet, staggered over to a chair and plopped down into it with a gasp.

“Fuck…” Rand muttered, his voice deep and gravelly, “God I need a smoke…” He pulled a carton of cigarettes and a lighter out of his vest, lit one and took a deep drag, letting out a thick plume of smoke into the room.

Jake’s face twisted up. He hated smokers…it was a filthy, disgusting and deadly habit. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He was so caught in his disgust, that he almost didn’t register Rand talking to him. “Hey–Hey! Jake, what the fuck did you do to me, man? What the hell was that thing?”

Jake almost couldn’t get the words out, but the did come, and he told Rand the story, told him about the man, and the cocoon, and that he couldn’t imagine living without Rand, so he’d drugged him and forced him into the cocoon. Jake left out the part about how he now found Rand absolutely repulsive…but he started noticing how Rand was was now looking at him, while he played with his pierced dick.

He finished his story, and they both sat in silence for a moment, before Rand spoke. “Well, I guess you got what you wanted–I have to say that you look damn cute over there–so if this is the way things are going to be, I could get used to it. Now how about you come on over here and give me a hand with this? Daddy’s fuckin’ horny.”

Jake couldn’t move for a second, he couldn’t even speak. Rand had become everything he was least attracted to, an old, dirty smoker with a thick pelt of body hair, he fought the urge to vomit at the suggestion of even coming into contact with him. “No…No you don’t understand, this isn’t what I…I mean, I’m not…”

“Hey, you’re the one who did this to me,” Rand said, “And I’m touched Jake, that you wanted me, and now I want you…oh fuck do I. I can’t wait to plow that hot ass of yours.” Rand got up out of the chair, tromping over towards Jake who quickly got up and put the chair between them.

“Stay the fuck away from me, you’re fucking…you’re disgusting!” Jake said, and Rand stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.

“What–You think I’m…” Rand said, his face growing redder, “You’re the one who fucking did this to me, Jake. You’re the one who wanted me to fucking love you, to want you, and now I do. This is what you fucking wanted–and I don’t give a fuck whether you want me or not, I’m gonna have that ass of yours, bitch!” He grabbed the chair away from Jake who tried to run around towards the front door and escape, but Rand tackled him to the floor. Jake fought, and he fought hard, hitting and scratching at Rand’s face until the big man pulled back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rand shouted.

“Get out you fucking freak!” Jake screamed back, “I didn’t fucking want this, get the fuck out before I call the fucking police!”

Rand looked back and forth, from the crazed Jake on the ground to the door, and before he could stop himself, he was crying. He saw the clothes Jake had stripped off him the night before, he bundled them up in his arms and fled out the door, leaving Jake shaking and sobbing in the living room, alone.

*****

To be Continued Tuesday

One Change #3 – Justice

With this power, why wouldn’t someone go around trying to right a few wrongs as well? Certainly a few changes were devoted to trying and correct injustices made against people in the past and to try and give criminals and bullies what they deserve. Here was a good example–Mr. White.

He looks like a nice man, right? A good neighbor, a delightful old character? Unfortunately, he had a history of abusing children, and when the person responsible for these changes learned about what he’d done from a grown victim, he knew that something had to be done about it. It turned out that Mr. White had an entire basement in his home where he did his work–so the Changer decided that–before Mr. White had harmed anyone, he should have been kept locked up in a dungeon himself.

Not very pretty no, but fitting. The new Mr. White was kept chained in a cage in a basement by a cruel master–aside from the times he was being fucked, fisted or beaten into submission. Sure, the new Mr. White didn’t know why he deserved this treatment, but it was better to spare his victims as far as the Changer was concerned. Besides, the new Mr. White had long since accepted his role, after nearly fifty years of slavery, and he derived plenty of satisfaction from it now.

Of course, not every punishment needed to be so extreme. Sometimes it was better just to force the culprit into a fitting new life, as was the case with Vinnie.

Living as a redneck, he was fond of bullying and beating up anyone remotely resembling a faggot in his eyes, and the Changer could sense that this was born from his own questionable sexuality. Vinnie also loved violence–it helped him get off. So, instead of being turned on by violence, the Changer decided to make him thrilled by men looking at him instead.

The new Vinnie certainly wasn’t a redneck–he’d moved to the city as soon as he’d saved enough for the train ticket. He’d wanted to be a star, but he’d settled for being a stripper at a local bear and leather bar. He loved the work, and the men loved him–his confidence, his thrill at being watched. The Changer was happy to find that this new Vinnie, living open, was much happier than the old one, and considered his work well done.

David hadn’t known he’d had any spiritual issues until his first meeting with The Guru, but now, he was well on the way to enlightenment–he hoped. He wasn’t sure why The Guru had invited him to his training compound for a week long retreat, or why The Guru had insisted he stay for an extended retreat once there, but he knew it was for his own good.
He particularly loved the hours he spent meditating. He now work his ropes at all times, to ensure he was was constantly reminded of how he was bound to The Guru, in both body and soul. The Guru had recently complimented David on how large his nipples were getting, and the compliment alone had been enough to send David into an orgasm, and he’d profusely apologized for his improper ejaculation, and allowed The Guru to punish him for eight hours to show how remorseful he was.
Watching the Enlightened stroll the campus, eyes glazed over, huge plugs up their asses, their cocks in eternal chastity, David knew he would be among their ranks one day–but until then, he would continue his meditations, and obey The Guru’s every command.

Image Vignette: The Life Sucked Out of Me

This, was me.

This was me before I met my master–before I got the life sucked out of me.

I should explain. I was a hotshot cub, and my real fetish, the one I couldn’t get enough of, was bondage. Something about getting hogtied, of having all the power stripped away from me was the biggest turn on in the world. I was always on the lookout for some top to strap me down and do whatever he wanted to me–unfortunately, I found out the hard way that what some predators want can be…unconventional.

He messaged me, something about an officer wanting to come make an arrest someone aching for punishment. It didn’t have a photo attached, but the scenario sounded fucking sexy. I’d always loved cops, especially in uniform, so I messaged back with an address, and said I’d be waiting for a warrant. My reply came from a knock on the door. When I opened it, I had just enough time to take in the silver daddy filling out his leather uniform, chuffing on a big cigar and damn, was he hot. Older than I usually liked my men, but he would do just fine.

Then, he had me shoved up against the wall and his handcuffs around my wrists, the entire force of his weight on me, the cigar in his mouth heating my ear. “Oh yes, you’ll do nicely…good and young and fresh…” he said. He pulled out a chloroform soaked rag and covered my face, and before I could even get out a safe word, I was asleep.

I woke up back in the lair, in one of master’s playrooms, although he wasn’t my master then–not yet. I woke up bound to a wrought iron bed, my hands in mitts and chained to the posts, my legs spread eagle to the bottom corners, and stripped down to my jock, and my harness. I struggled for a few minutes, and even the terror of an actual kidnapping was enough to quell the raging hardon distending my jock. It was a scene right out of my most twisted fantasies, and I was loving it, and yet, what did he have planned for me? Would he let me go?

I don’t know how long until he returned, it could have been minutes or hours, but he did come back, still in uniform. “Hello boy–welcome to my sanctum,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll learn to love it here, like the rest of my thralls. Still, I’ve had a few passings lately and I need to replenish my…stock. Still, the first time is such a pleasure, I’m sure neither of us will mind.” He grinned, and I saw something I hadn’t in the doorway–the fangs. I freaked. I begged, I pleaded and fought and struggled, while he removed one of his gloves, licked his finger, and ran the saliva up my chest. The sensation was indescribable, the burn of the spit became pure pleasure coursing through my body, and in my sudden convulsions of delight I felt my cock began to leak, and he bent over, sucking the precum from my jock. “Delicious…you will be a feast, I can already tell–I won’t have to eat for days!” He pulled back my jock, revealing my red, throbbing cock, and he looked up at me, “Well thrall, are you ready to have the life sucked out of you?”

Before I could say a word, his mouth was around my cock, and I screamed from the pain of his teeth sinking in, my sudden, forceful ejaculation, and the pleasure from his spit dribbling down the shaft of my cock. He began sucking, and I swear, I could feel him latch onto my very spirit, and begin drawing it from my body.

My hair began to recede at first, and turn grey, my brilliant red goatee turning pure white, as the changes worked their way down my body. My chest hair turning grey, my skin taking growing pale, toned body growing fat until I had a prominent gut, cheeks becoming sunken and sallow. I had no energy to fight, I could only lay there and allow the vampire to have his way with me, to take my youth, feed from me. I thought things couldn’t get worse than that, but they did. I could feel him manipulating my mind, erasing my memories, replacing them with love and devotion to him. I was made to serve him, to obey him, to be his thrall. It consumed my mind, it is all I can think about any longer.

I do not know how long it took for him to feast upon my soul. The men I have seen him eat since then, he can drain them in minutes, or hours. Sometimes, when I enter the room to clean up, there is nothing but a husk, or a pile of dust, but I was lucky. He chose me, he remade me into his servant, and I will be forever thankful.

When he was sated, he stood again, wiping the cum and blood from his lip, and I saw him, my master, in his true form, restored to his glory.

The hole where my soul, my will had been minutes or hours before now ached with a burning need to service him, to obey his every command until I should pass on. He released me from my bondage, and I accepted my new bonds of the spirit, kneeling before him, now old and decrepit, worshiping and servicing his massive member, and then he gave me my task.

I bring him men. Any man will do, but my master prefers them young and willful. I pose as the lonely daddy, the sugar daddy. I buy them drinks, I ply them with drugs, I bring them to the master’s lair and he feasts, and in return, he gives me strength. Small trickles of youth from a kiss, or his cum, which will keep me alive for a few more days, long enough to bring a new victim, and receive what I need most. I am a thrall of a vampire, and this…this is me.