“Ok, look cute–not too cute though. Don’t want anyone thinking we’re too snotty.”
“I know dear.”
“Good…not good enough. Look away, over at something.”
“I don’t care, just–look like there’s something interesting going on, over to the side there. You’re with me, you love it, but there’s stuff going on too. Mystery gets likes.”
Good…yeah, that looks great.”
It was the closest Nate had gotten to an actual admission that he was in a relationship with Mark–well, with Mark and his instagram account. Everything had to be documented–and staged just right so he could keep building his followers. He’d spent an hour on Nate’s wardrobe just this morning–and he was already exhausted, and wondering if this was what he really wanted. Sure, he was hot, and internet famous…
Nate sighed, while Mark uploaded the photo. When it was done, Nate watched the likes, and follows, rack up on his own page something fierce. It did feel good, didn’t it? Then, much to his surprise, an email popped up in his inbox, from some company named Arctos. He asked Mark about it.
“Oh, some weird as company, keeps trying to get me to be an influencer for them. Don’t know why–I am so not their aesthetic. Go take a look.”
Nate went to the site–and sure enough, the page was full of big, hairy, bearded men–the exact opposite of them in most every way. Nate laughed, but couldn’t help but be a bit curious. A little later, while Mark was watching TV, he got back on his phone, and clicked the offer–just to see what they wanted. The screen changed into a swirling pattern of red and black-like flannel, but…so much more than that. It was fascinating, and Nate couldn’t look away from it, no matter how hard he tried.
“What the–who the fuck are you?”
Something shook Nate out of his focus on his screen, and Mark was standing there, looking at him with utter disgust…but he just didn’t understand. “I…Look at this offer man, I think…I think we could do this,” Nate said, his voice…deep, gravelly, and so sensual all of a sudden. He turned the phone towards Mark, and as soon as he saw the swirl of pattern, he too went blank…and Nate watched his twinky boyfriend start to grow, packing on muscle, packing on hair, a thick beard pushing out of his chin and cheeks…and fuck, did he look sexy as a bear.
Needless to say, Nate and Mark have never been happier, and the influencer deal with Arctos has been working out great. Of course, a lot of Mark’s followers were confused at first, how they went from following a slim twink to a burly, hairy, bearded bear…but the flannel he was wearing smoothed out their concerns quickly–and lots of them used the link provided to purchase the shirts for themselves. After all, who…wouldn’t want to be just like them, those two sexy bears in the photo?
Quinn was certain that the mirror was doing something to him. It wasn’t hard to figure out, of course, but while he was a bit…terrified, in all honesty, it felt so good to let go around his reflection that he was willing to just embrace it. He didn’t know whether the idea came to him on his own, or if it was planted in his mind like so many others, but he knew, somehow, that the easiest way to get Taylor into bed with him, would be to…to get him to look at the mirror himself. Get the mirror inside him, somehow, in the same way in was inside him.
Of course, Taylor spent most of his days working out, and he wasn’t particularly keen on being interrupted, so Quinn had to wait until the late afternoon, when he heard Taylor tromp up the stairs and towards the kitchen, probably to start making himself dinner. Quinn was ready though, and he intercepted him before he could get started.
“Hey man, could you come look at something in my room real quick? I just wanna know if I should ask the landlord about it.”
Taylor’s brow furrowed, “What’s up?”
“I think my window has a bad seal or something, I can hear some wind through it.”
“I’d just call him,” Taylor said, and continued into the kitchen, “Mr Woodrow’s a good guy, he’ll sort it out.”
“Just come listen real quick, would you? I don’t want to call him for nothing. Maybe I’m just imagining things.”
Obviously annoyed at his routine getting disturbed, Taylor followed Quinn up the stairs and into his room. Taylor went over by the window to listen, while Taylor went and stood next to the mirror. After a moment, Taylor shook his head. “I don’t hear anything, but maybe we should call him just in…”
Taylor had looked back at where Quinn was standing, and ended up looking right into the mirror next to him. Quinn knew it must have worked–he could see that same…shimmer in his eyes that he saw in his own reflection, when the mirror…had him too. He cautiously walked over to his muscular roommate, laid his hands on him, feeling his body still clammy with sweat from his workout, and Quinn shuddered. This close to him, he could…smell him now, and fuck, he smelled rank, but it wasn’t…bad. It was just strong, and heady, and Quinn’s cock got hard just from leaning into Taylor’s pits for a sniff.
“You ok Taylor? Don’t worry, we’ll…we’re going to have lots of fun this evening, isn’t that right?”
“See…the mirror is…is mine, Taylor. And as long as you’re in it, that means you’re mine too, doesn’t it? You have to do everything I say. It will feel good to do everything I say.”
Taylor nodded, and moaned now, his own cock tenting out the front of his shorts, leaking a bit.
“Get on your knees boy, suck me off.”
The voice that came out of his throat surprised Quinn. It was gruff and…and deeper. Not quite his own, but it was…his. Taylor got down, pulled down the sweatpants Quinn was wearing, and started sucking on his cock, hungrily, and Quinn had to lean on the wall to stay standing, his eyes drifting over to the mirror, seeing himself there, his burly, fat, hairy body getting serviced by this hot, musky jock…there was a twinkle in his eye, just a suggestion really…
“Get up,” Quinn said, “Go down into the kitchen, bring me some snacks. Daddy’s hungry boy.”
“Yes…daddy,” Taylor said, and stood up, leaving the room and heading for the kitchen. Quinn worried that being away from him and the mirror might snap him out of it, but a few minutes later, Taylor arrived back in the room, eyes still shining, arms loaded with beer, and snacks, and Quinn’s mouth started watering at the sight.
Quinn ordered Taylor to feed him for a while, while he just relaxed on his bed, telling Taylor in between mouthfuls how much he was enjoying this. How he wanted his daddy to be happy, how he loved feeding him, how serving him in whatever way he needed just felt so good to him, made his cock hard, made him want to service him more and more. Quinn took over his own eating, and ordered Taylor to start worshiping his body–especially his belly. Told him that Taylor loved being muscular, but that servicing fat men like daddy was what he was born to do, what made him feel complete.
The mirror was getting…restless. It wanted to be fed, as much as Quinn did. He ordered Taylor up, told him to face the mirror, brace himself and bend over–daddy was going to breed his boy for the first time of many. They had no lube, but Taylor’s hole was hungry and wet, Quinn’s thick cock was leaking profusely, and they slid together like it was all part of some larger design. “Oh fuck, jockboy, fuckin’ hell you feel real nice around daddy’s cock…” Quinn moaned, and started fucking him long and deep. “Yeah, stupid fucking jockboy–good thing you have a nice daddy around here to keep you in line. You love doing everything daddy says, it makes everything so much easier for you, doesn’t it? Easy, and you get to feel good too. You just let all those complicated thoughts drain away, right there into the mirror. From now on, you just need to worry about getting bigger, and keeping daddy as happy as can be, you fucking got it? Oh fuck boy, here it fucking comes!”
It was the first load that Quinn hadn’t shot into the mirror since arriving at the house. It felt explosive, and bright, like he was firing hot light right into Taylor’s body. His boy groaned, reared up, and shot his own load all over the glassy surface, where it shimmered for a moment, and then melted into the surface, and both of them felt the mirror’s hold over them ebb away, Taylor turning around, holding his aching head.
Quinn was…nervous. Would he remember, or would he not? “Fuck daddy, thanks! You’re dirty jockboy needed that real fuckin’ bad…” Taylor said, leaned in and gave Quinn a deep kiss, massaging his big belly as he did, and Quinn melted into him, pulling his boy close, knowing he was his from now on. His…and the mirror’s. “Alright boy, that’s enough for now–get down there and make daddy some dinner.”
Taylor gave him a wide, and kind of stupid, grin. “Sure thing daddy! I love cookin’ for you!” Then he was gone, and Taylor relaxed, snacking on the food his boy had brought him, but already hungry for dinner–and for another round with his boy’s hole after that.
Mr Woodrow was more than happy to accomodate the two of them a few days later, when they suggested that they move into the basement together, converting the larger space down there into a studio apartment for them both, the mirror hanging on the wall within easy view of the entire room. It was a few days after that, when Marcus, the third member of the house arrived to move in, a week before school started.
Mr. Woodrow was there, waiting for him, ready to give him the tour. It was a beautiful house…but Marcus struggled a bit, when Taylor came bouncing up from the basement to give him a hug, and tell him how excited he was for him to be living there with him and his daddy. Marcus…couldn’t really recall who this was at all, at least not right away. Mr. Woodrow helped talk him down, and when Quinn got home from his job later that evening, working as the foreman for a construction company, everything made a bit more sense…kind of. He’d met Taylor at school, and been introduced to his boyfriend, Quinn, not long after that. Quinn was in his early 30’s–and hadn’t gone to college, but they were…well, love was a weird word for what they had, but it seemed to work for both of them. Taylor was studying exercise science–badly, really, but he was good enough to graduate and probably find work. But for the life of him…Marcus found it had to believe he would be friends with them…for some reason.
But Marcus settled into one of the rooms upstairs, and started unpacking–and like Taylor and Marcus before him, he too, discovered something…odd in his room as he did.
Alright, so what’s Marcus going to stumble upon in his room? As always, you get two choices in the poll. The patron only poll is over here, and votes are weighted five times as much!
It was Eta Alpha Sigma’s first party of the year, and so of course that meant it had to be as loud as the boys could make it–the frat president, a senior named Evan–had told his bros to make sure of it. The college they attended was in a small sleepy farming town away from the states big cities–you could say that EAS’s first party of the year was always the towns wakeup call that school was back in session, after its quiet summer.
As usual, it didn’t take more than a couple of hours before there was the sound of the siren, and a patrol car pulled up in front of the booming house. It was tradition, really, and Evan knew what to do. He stepped outside, and walked down to where the cop was getting out…except it was a new face he didn’t recognize. The way things had usually gone were like this–frat president would give police chief his bribe for the year on the first night of the party, and cops wouldn’t show up after that for the rest of the year. “You’re a new face, man,” Evan said, already counting out hundreds he’d gotten from his wealthy father.
“Last sheriff retired–newly elected in August. Just started this week,” the new sheriff said. He came around, and his shirt read “Sheriff Dinvers.”
“Well, Mr. Dinvers–here’s the deal. Two thousand dollars in your pocket, and you don’t show up here for the rest of the year, got it?”
Apparently, he didn’t, because before Evan really knew what was happening, the sheriff had him against the car for attempting to bribe an officer of the county, handcuffed him, shoved him in the back of his car, and drove off–and the party continued on, none the wiser that the frat president had just been arrested.
Evan threw a fit, naturally, threatening Dinvers with all sorts of legal trouble once his father heard about this–but he realized, quickly, that they weren’t heading to the police station–instead, the sheriff drove him to a large warehouse, drove into it, and parked. “Now boy, I campaigned on change in this town, and a whole lot of us who live here are pretty sick and tired of you fucking frats making our lives hell nine months out of the year. I know all ya’ll got rich fuck parents, and I don’t give a shit–because I know how to get results–and I get a little something I like out of the bargain too.” The last part he whispered into Evan’s ear as he dragged him from the cop car, and over to a chair facing a screen in a little room. Evan fought and screamed, but the sheriff injected him with some sort of drug–and Evan calmed down quickly.
The sheriff bound him to the chair, pointed him at the screen, and turned on the projector–and a spiral started playing on the wall, along with a strange soundtrack–almost words, but layered on top of each other so Evan couldn’t quite tell what they were saying. The sheriff put in some earplugs, and as Evan sank into a drug induced trance, he went to work, cutting away the boys expensive clothes–and then the real fun began–he turned on the shaver and buzzed away the pretty boy’s hair–the first of several changes he’d be making to the president’s image tonight.
No one knew where Evan had disappeared to, until late the next day, when the patrol car arrived, dropped Evan off in an orange prison jumpsuit, his head shaved, and holloweyed like he didn’t sleep a wink all night. The frat was pissed, of course–they wanted to know what they were going to do for revenge, but Evan just told them to calm down. They’d sort it out, but first he needed to rest. Alone in his room, he looked at his bare head, then pulled off the jumpsuit, carefully, feeling the welts and bruises on his back where the sheriff had…flogged him. Evan had begged him for it, his cock had exploded in the middle of the session, and that’s when the sheriff had put this on him–he looked down at the metal chastity device, riveted in place, and shuddered. Evan…had his orders. He knew what he had to do, if he ever wanted that to come off his cock again.
He came clean a couple days later. Everything–the bribes, the embezzlement, the coverups for crimes by the college and by the fraternity themselves, the rapes, the beatings, the occasional death by hazing during pledge week–all of it. He’d agreed to a reduced penalty with the county sheriff for coming clean, and within a week, EAS had been dissolved on campus, the brothers all caught up in their own parts of the scandal as their wealthy families tried to shield them. Most transferred to other colleges, a few faced charges of their own. The other frats on campus knew that a warning shot had been fired all the same–the town wasn’t going to let their antics go anymore–they had better shape up, or they would be next.
But Evan didn’t care about that. All he could think about was the words running through his head, how…good it had felt, chained to the wall, the feel of that flogger on his back, his aching cock trapped in this tiny cage. He found himself alone in the office with the sheriff, and he broke down, and begged him to release him. He’d done everything he’d asked for, he’d followed his orders to the letter–just let his cock go, that was all he needed…wasn’t it?
Sheriff Dinvers just laughed. “Pig–I don’t think you’re done here, not by a long shot. I told you if you did as I said, you’d earn a chance at getting that cage off–remember that?” He said, and pushed his boot between the boy’s knees where he was kneeling, tapping the cage with one toe of his shiny black boot. “What do you think, you wanna try and earn it? Then lick my boot, pig.”
Evan gave a little squeal of indecision. He knew–he knew–that if he did this…his old life was forfeit. The sheriff had him right where he wanted him. He…could leave. Get the cage off somewhere, even if he had to tell his dad what he’d done. He’d disown him, sure, but…but what he wanted was the feel of that flogger again. To feel the whip the sheriff had threatened him with. Feel that cock in his hole again, do anything for this rough, masculine, domineering…
His tongue was on the boot before he could even really form the thought–and he knew he was lost. The conditioning was too deep already, and he…wanted it. “That’s a good pig–why don’t you come on home with me, and we’ll have some fun?”
Evan didn’t finish college that year. He dropped out a couple of weeks after selling his stuff, told his dad he didn’t want anything to do with the family anymore, and left–he didn’t tell anyone where he was going, but he didn’t go far–he moved right in with the sheriff, so his real training, and transformation, could begin. He lived down in the dungeon, eating a strict–and massive–diet. If he was going to be the sheriff’s pig, he was going to have to look, like one, wasn’t he? He packed on weight, and he was educated in all manners of sex–piss play, fisting, bondage–but it was the pain he loved the most. When he’d been a good pig, and done all his chores, and made his weight goals, and shown he was worthy–Master would undo the cage for a session, and beat the pig raw until he came, and then lock him back up again–and cuddle with him upstairs in the bed, tending to his back, admiring the growing web of scars forming on the young pig’s hide–and tell him how proud he was of him.
A couple years later, a new deputy joined the force. He was the sheriff’s cousin, or so he said. He was a tubby fellow, but capable, and more than willing to help out the department in whatever way they needed. He always had his collar buttoned to the top, his tie knotted tight–so he could hide his slave collar underneath. He was also always mindful of his cuffs–less he expose the riot of perverse, piggy tattoos his uncle–his master–had started putting on him. But his back was always kept clean–just the scars there, showing him for what he really was. A fat pain pig, and that was all Evan wanted to be, for the rest of his life.
I have four new suggested stories for patrons available now, based on suggestions from earlier this month. First, we have a tale of a young gay man given an opportunity to seek justice that had been denied. Second, we have a man struggling to lose weight, who decides to try hypnosis for assistance. Third, a man with a slobby neighbor finally learns why he seems to be the butt of every joke. Lastly, there’s a new drug spreading like pigweed through a rural community, with some interesting side effects.
They’re available for every patron supporting me at the $5 dollar level or higher! You can find more details about my Patreon page here, if you’d like to support me. Below is a sample from the second tale, to whet your appetite!
“And the files are really free?”
Ken looked at the chat he had with his friend online, and then went back to the site they were chatting about. It seemed a bit…sketchy, in all honesty. Some guy offering free hypnosis files to help guy’s quit smoking, or help them with their workout goals, or whatever else they might want. His friend, another bodybuilder, had been seeing some pretty impressive results, if Ken said so himself, and he attributed all of them to these files. Looking over the site, he saw that the guy also did erotic hypnosis, and that quite a few of his files seemed rather, well, perverse.
“Yes, they’re really free. He’s just some old guy who does it in his spare time. What are you so worried about, even? He can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do–that’s how hypnosis works.”
It was true, or at least, that’s what his friend kept saying to him. Ken sighed–he’d been stuck on this plateau for so long, he just wasn’t sure if there was anything that could really help. He’d been a big guy–fat, that is–and he’d decided to try and get into shape. It had been going well–he was down fifty pounds already, hovering around 210, but he hadn’t been able to keep it up, and he was getting frustrated. What did it really matter, he supposed, if they worked or not? In the end, he filled out a submission form on the site, detailing some things about himself, and what he wanted from his files, sent it off, and didn’t expect much from it. But the next day, he got a reply, with the guy asking for a video conference. His friend hadn’t mentioned that, but he threw caution to the wind, and found himself chatting to an older fellow about his interests. He seemed nice enough, and his natural charm disarmed a lot of Ken’s initial worries that he was just some pervert. The guy got a feel for him, and then said he needed to hypnotize him so he could find an induction that would work. The man put a few spirals on Ken’s screen, asking him to just relax. The first few didn’t seem to do anything, but the fourth…well, the next thing he knew, he woke up with a start, and the old man was back on the screen, grinning from ear to ear. He told Ken he would have the first file for him in a few days, and signed off.
The sensation had been…disturbing, but not unpleasant. He felt more awake and alert than usual that afternoon, and his workout was great–he had so much focus–but it didn’t last. He waited for the first file, and it arrived as promised, after a few days, along with the directions to watch and listen to it twice a day–once before his workout, and once before going to bed. He watched it that night, and didn’t even remember getting into bed, but woke up feeling relaxed and refreshed. He watched it again before his workout the next day, and that same focus was there, but even stronger. He could, just, do more. Push himself further. He was so pleased with the results, that when he got home, he was giddy…but something also felt a bit off. He went to jack off before bed, and before listening to the file…but couldn’t seem to get hard, for some reason. He watched the file again, and went to bed, but the next day, discovered something new–there was something on his cock.
It was a tight cage, held in place with a small padlock. He was so unnerved by it, that as soon as he found the key on the counter he unlocked it…but when he did, he felt…immediately guilty. He needed to be locked up. It was important to him. How else would he be able to focus on his workouts, if he wasn’t locked up all the time? He’d just…masturbate all the time, and forget to workout, and then he’d be some fat slob, jacking off all the time, and he didn’t want that, he didn’t want that at all! He quickly put the cage back on, hid the key, and got ready for his next workout…
Here’s the final chapter of this interactive. I’m back from vacation, and getting back into the swing of things. Later this week, I’m going to post an update on some process stuff that will have an impact on posts around here–nothing too major, but more of a clarification. I’ll have a new start to an interactive up next week!
Max fought him at the end of the school year. Told him that all of this had gone to far, told Daddy Johnny that he didn’t realize that the gun was warping him as well. Johnny was insistent–he was only giving Max what he wanted after all, what they both wanted. Max tried to run, but he didn’t get far–not with the amount of control Johnny had over him. He tried to fight, even managing to give his daddy a fat lip, which only angered Johnny more. Finally, he begged–and that was the last thing Max remembered before the gun fired, and he felt time warp around his mind again–but unlike the last few times…he could almost feel the time passing. A weekend felt like a moment, but even a week had been…noticeably longer. This time, however, it felt like days–days lost in that yellow haze, unable to do anything, or think anything, or see what was happening to him outside of himself. He had time to be terrified. Had time to wonder if Johnny was ever going to wake him back up again. Had time to wonder if he had made a mistake, had time to doubt himself, and then doubt his doubts, and then back again. Distantly, if he focused, he could…hear himself speaking, or other people speaking at him, but it was always garbled. He could almost feel himself, feel sensations, but they were so quick, more like a flicker, that he barely had time to realize something had happened, before it had already passed him by. At long last, the yellow haze lifted from him, and he came back to himself, back to the present, but all he could do was roll around on the ground in pain and confusion, as his mind tried to reconstruct what had happened to him.
“That’s it son, just take a few deep breaths, take your time. Daddy’s here for ya…”
He knew that voice. It was Johnny’s voice, more or less, but the drawl was deeper, and his breath reeked of cigars and beer even more than it had before. Or…or did it? He could remember other things now, remember…his daddy–his Pa–and…but wasn’t there something wrong with that? He hadn’t been his dad, he’d been his…his…
There was a blank there. That was new. His memory was just…gone. He could recognize the hole, he knew that there was some past there, something between him and Pa–before they were father and son…but…but that didn’t make any sense! Pa had always been his dad after all, hadn’t he? He could remember something then, remember…going somewhere familiar, a home somewhere, with a man and a woman, and Pa did something to them, made them forget Max, and…and then it was gone too. There was just Pa. Pa and…and his grandpappy, and Uncle Beau of course. They all lived here, on Pa’s farm. It had been grandpappy’s farm, but he was too old to do much with it now, so he’d given it to Pa, and Beau helped out on the farm too, of course.
He forced himself upright, or at least, he tried to. He was bigger than he should have been, bigger than he’d been before, and his physique was wildly different. Before, Pa had been…keeping him muscular, but the body he had now–while thick and strong from working on the farm all day long with Uncle Beau, was also massively fat–so fat, he had a massive, stinking apron hanging over his waist, down past his cock, even. Horrified, he hurried into the bathroom, looking at himself in the filthy mirror–his head shaved down still, scalp tanned a deep brown from hours and hours in the sun. He had even more tattoos now–tattoos everywhere, even on his face–that and a good number of piercings, including a massive, door knocker sized ring in his nose. His mouth gaped, and he saw he was missing most of his teeth now as well–whether they had rotted out, or been yanked out, he couldn’t remember clearly–but Pa…liked the feel of his boy’s gums around his cock more than teeth anyway, that he could recall.
He turned around and saw Pa clearly for the first time as well. The years–it had to have been years–had blown him up even larger, and older. He was easily over 500 pounds, with a thick, tangled beard, wearing nothing more than some filthy stained underwear around the house a size or two too small, leering at his boy and groping himself, enjoying the realization sweeping over his boy’s mind. “Decided five years oughta do it boy, get ya real good ‘n cemented in here. Wouldn’t be givin’ be anymore a that dumb talk about leavin’, like there’s anything wrong with this, right Piggy Boy?”
Something happened in his mind, when his dad said ‘Piggy Boy’. It…turned off, almost, or something else turned on. He grunted, fell onto all fours, and crawled over to him, shoving his face into his dad’s filthy groin, snuffling about for his cock, feeling his own harden in his own fat pad. Johnny just laughed, and watched his pig son start sucking on his dad’s cock, grunting like a sow in heat, and then turned around, bent over, and Max dove into his father’s nasty unwashed asscrack with the same fervor as he’d gone after his cock.
There were heavy footfalls, and a massive Beau stepped into the room from outside, sweating from the early summer heat. “Fuck bro–ya had tah pig him out right now? There’s work we gots tah do.”
“Oh shut up, Beau, and give the pig a fuck–he’ll come to his senses faster that way anyway.”
Beau nodded, unable to disobey his older brother, and started fucking the pig’s ass. Beau had been a problem that first summer, when he found out about the gun. He’d had this stupid idea that he ought to be in charge of the family–but Johnny had set his straight on that. Now he was just his stupid, muscular brother–good for farmwork, of course, but not so much for thinking. He did love the farm’s pig though, and whenever the pigboy got out of line, Beau was more than happy to get on his leathers, and give the pig a good round of punishment in the cellar.
Max came half an hour later, plugged at both ends by his father and uncle, and he was horrified at how he’d lost all control–but he also realized there was no way back for him–not now, not ever. And later that night, cleaning out his grandpa’s fat folds while the old man sat and watched TV, giggling like an idiot–he even found himself enjoying it. A week later, he couldn’t even remember much of anything else–and not only did he forget that life could be different, he didn’t want a life other than the one he had.
The longer Max was in his trance, the more difficult it was to recall what had happened, right away, when he came out of it. The memories didn’t come back in a real orderly fashion, and it was hard for his mind to sort out what came first, and what came later–all of it was just…there, in his mind, from what seemed like to him, one instant to the next. It was only worse when he came out of his Spring Break trance–nine days of memories to try and grapple with in a few moments–all it did was give him a headache, and he clutched his head, trying to make sense of it.
“You doing alright, son?” a deep voice said, a voice he knew, a voice that…sounded like Johnny’s, but was gravellier, with a thicker drawl. He was afraid to look, afraid to remember what his daddy had put him through over the last week or so, but as the headache subsided, he could begin to remember pieces.
Most of what he was remembering was a farm. Johnny hadn’t told him where they were spending their vacation, just that he was looking to get out of the city, and he’d found somewhere cheap for them to reside for a week. Apparently, it was cheap because Johnny had offered Max as a workhorse for the week, at a little farm outside of town. He had seemed…straight to him in some of his memories, but then he could also recall the taste of the old man’s cock, and his ass, and…and had Johnny hypnotized him too?
He looked up at Johnny, taking him in, as he was now, as he had changed over the course of the week. He was smoking one of his cigars, as he did now nearly all the time, but his more casual western gear he’d been wearing ever since they’d started hanging out with Beau had been replaced with grubby overalls, and no shirt–showing off this thick chest and shoulders covered in greying hair. He looked to be even older now, easily in his mid fifties if not a bit more than that, and there was something else, something…he could taste, and smell, but whether it was his memories, or something in the room, he didn’t know–at least until Johnny got down and helped him sit back up–and he caught a whiff of him.
Johnny hadn’t showered all week long–or even longer than that. His usual scent of soap was gone, replaced by a rank musk that Max was not expecting–nor was he expecting his body’s reaction to it, which was to lunge into Johnny’s pit and start sniffing at him, feeling his own cock starting to swell in desire at the scent. “Yeah, that’s it son–the scent of daddy’s bringing some of those memories back?”
They’d arrived at the farm, and Johnny had hypnotized the old man, worked on him too, over the week, and before too long, the two of them were sitting on the porch, smoking and drinking while Max did the heavy work around the farm, servicing his…his daddy, and granddaddy whenever they needed it. Showers were skipped, and soon, all three of them were reveling in each other’s muskiness–and…and all of it was too damn much. He pushed past his daddy, with all the will he could muster, and ran for the bathroom. He wanted to get clean. He had to get clean, he needed to wash these memories off, wanted to…to be normal again! But when he turned on the faucet, and the water started flowing, he wasn’t ready for the fear and panic that sank into him at the sight of it, and he shut it off right away. Trying to control his breathing, he looked at himself in the mirror, and his jaw dropped at the sight of himself–naked at the moment, and he remembered what had happened a few nights before.
Johnny had gotten him his first tattoos. On one shoulder was a heart with the word daddy written inside it, in script, with an arrow through it, and across his back–he could feel it, and remember it, were the words “Daddy’s Boy.” He was hyperventilating now, and daddy came it, gave him a tight hug, his musk swallowing Max up, as he breathed in more and more, and he could feel himself…settling down.
“That’s a good boy, just relax, son. Everything is fine…” Johnny cooed in his ear, and he felt…so safe, with his daddy, and he kissed him, and he licked him, and his daddy fucked him, and it was too late to realize he was even supposed to be in class by that afternoon, he was too focused on daddy’s needs to really care. He did make it to class the next day, but his own wardrobe had been replaced as well–now it was only overalls, and sleeveless shirts, exposing his new tattoo for all to see, daddy enjoying his embarrassment over his new mark, and told Johnny he had plans for some more over the coming weekend.
But this had gone too far, surely. He pleaded with his daddy, told him that this was too much, but daddy just scoffed at him, dragged him into the bedroom, and gave his boy a good beating for even suggesting that his daddy didn’t know what was best for him. Now, summer was approaching, and Max knew he had to try and get out before Daddy could trance him out for the entire summer–because he was worried that if that happened, there wouldn’t be a way back for either of them, ever. But summer came early–Daddy was growing restless in the city. He hated it here, wanted to be back in the country, and he wanted his son to be with him. Max begged, but Johnny put him under, and told him that, come fall, he could come back out for a while–but until then, Daddy had some work to do.
This next chunk is going to be the finale! Below, in the polls, you can see some ideas for how the ending might end up shaped. I’ll use three or four, depending on how well they all work together–some are mutually exclusive to some extent, but I’ll figure out how to work in what people want to see! You can vote for three options in the poll, and the patron bonus poll is over here as well!
This was a fairly close race between the redneck road trip and the leather dom, so I decided to just combine them a bit!
Max had gotten used to living his weekends as memory over the last few weeks. Johnny would get ready to put him into his trance on Friday evening, and then in one burst of light, it would be Monday, and for a few minutes, he would recall the last weekend on fast forward–seeing who he had serviced, what Johnny had made him do–but this long weekend, as he came out of his trance, he remembered that, right away, things had gone differently. Before this, Johnny had always kept their activities to themselves in the apartment–this time, however, as soon as he was under, Johnny had told him to go get in the car.
They drove for a little while, heading out of town on the highway, but ended up pulling off outside of the suburbs, and found their way to a sizable farmhouse outside of the city, nestled in some woods with plenty of privacy. Johnny told him to stay put, and he got out of the car alone, went up to the door, and gave it a knock.
Max couldn’t see who was at the door immediately, and it felt like a little time passed before Johnny returned, told him to get out, and he saw who lived in the farm house. He was an older fellow, easily in his late fifties or early sixties, with a thick bushy beard, sucking on a massive cigar. While his skin looked like he had worked outdoors for most of his life, his western shirt and jeans were well tailored, and didn’t look particularly dirty–he appeared to be retired, and somewhat wealthy.
The man was obviously in disbelief that Max was really hypnotized. He put him through a few paces, once Johnny had given him the ability to command Max as well, and it was clear, from the sizable bulge in his pants, that he was…excited. He offered Johnny a cigar inside, and they went in–and so the weekend began.
The man, by the name of Beau, but who Max simply referred to as Master, had retrofitted the house’s old root cellar into a sizable sex dungeon–and beginning that night, Master put Max–and Johnny, to some extent, through a crash course in leather, bondage, and service. It was clear that Johnny was rather…infatuated with Beau as well, and taking a submissive role of his own–when Johnny didn’t do as Master ordered, he would often get punished himself–though never as severely as Max was, over the course of the weekend. During the daytime, Max was put to work outside around the farmhouse, which was a bit more rundown than it had seemed in the night. He only wore boots–and in retrospect, he was horrifically embarrassed for himself, naked and out in the open, completely oblivious to anyone who might have seen him–but as far as he knew, no one had.
And now, it was Tuesday morning. He looked up and saw that Johnny had changed again–some of Master Beau’s more rural sensibilities had worn off on him. He had traded in the cigarettes for a fat cigar–a bit smaller than Beau’s, but still…handsome all the same, and he was wearing jeans and a western shirt like him as well. His hair had been clipped a bit short, and he now was sporting a thick goatee, and when he spoke, he even had a hint of a drawl, as he told Max that there were going to be some changes for him around here from now on.
In private, Max no longer called Johnny by name–he was only Master to him. He was now a boy in his service–which meant that when he wasn’t in school, he was charged with the domestics around the apartment–cooking, cleaning, laundry–everything, and of course, if he served well, then Master would…reward him. Max didn’t know if Beau had given the gear to Max, or if it had simply materialized while they were away that weekend, but there was now a sling in the bedroom, and for play, Johnny preferred wearing leather–preferred that they both wore leather, in fact. Furthermore, cigarettes disappeared from the house–Max now smoked cigars like his two masters–in addition to serving as the ashtray, at their discretion.
After the first week, Max was exhausted–it felt like he was working from dawn until night, between school, the gym and all of the new tasks Master Johnny had given him after their weekend with Master Beau. The cigars didn’t help, and were making him a bit nauseous, even after his cigarette habit. He was also…worried. Worried about Johnny, and worried about what the gun was doing to him, as well as to Max. Was…this just what Johnny wanted, or was there something else going on behind the scenes? Furthermore, Spring Break was looking–a nine day stretch, and he already knew that Johnny was going to insist he be kept in a trance all week long. Sure enough, that’s exactly what Johnny proposed, and he wished that he wasn’t so horny thinking about it.
I thought about coming up with more specific ideas for this, but I decided to go with something a bit more general instead. Below are some keywords for possible story lines I’ve had in mind, and I’ll combine the more popular ones as best I can! You get three votes–so pick wisely. Here’s the bonus patron poll as well.