Carter felt a hard slap across his face and he woke up, feeling a bit disoriented. Had he fallen asleep? He was in the basement, tied to the table–he remembered that, and fuck, there was Master, his Master, the Master he’d always dreamed of, standing next to the table. He had stripped away his suit, and was now dressed in his other gear of choice–a leather police uniform he’d had personally tailored for his bulk, which he kept meticulously shined. He was leering down at Carter, a cigar stuck in his mouth, glasses perched on his nose.

“You know Carter,” he said, “I feel like we should take a moment to…chat.” He walked down the length of the table, running the belt he had in his hand down the length of Carter’s young, firm body, watching his young student shiver with anticipation. “The first thing I want to say, is that I underestimated you, at first.”

“What…what do you mean, sir?”

“I mean, when you showed up in my office that evening, spouting all those crazy ideas, I thought you were rather insane. And then…well, and then things just kept changing. I mean, like most subjects, I’m only marginally aware that anything is different, but things are different, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know what–”

Harold suddenly brought the belt down hard, right across Carter’s semi hard cock, and he watched the young man fight off a scream. “I am really rather smart–after all, you made me that way. Please do not try and toy with your master and keep up these little games. I know all about your theory, and all about what you’ve been doing to me, with those phone calls. You don’t think I realized what you were doing? But I liked it, you know. I liked what you were doing to me, I like who I am, I can’t even imagine being someone else, and I have you to thank for that, but all the same, I do believe that your manipulations of me deserve a great deal of punishment. I do not like being manipulated, boy, and so I believe it’s time you learned your lesson.”

Carter realized then, what his momentary lapse of consciousness had been, and be began to struggle in earnest. But he hadn’t been changed yet…had he? There was a mirror hung over the table–his Master liked his boy being able to see what was being done to him–but would he even know if he had been changed?

“Now, you’re probably wondering what, exactly, I’ve made you believe. I haven’t changed you yet, don’t worry. I wanted you to be able to understand and witness what you are going to become. Because here’s what you believe niw, Carter–you believe that everything I say about you is true.”

Carter looked at him, eyes wide, “Wait…what? That’s…that’s not even how it works!”

“Are you certain? I mean, look at that tiny, miserable cock of yours. One inch long, and you can’t even get hard. It’s dwarfed by that massive ball sack of yours, which is incredibly sensitive to pain, isn’t it? And you love that, you love it when I beat your balls black and blue, don’t you slave?”

Carter shook his head, watching his cock shrink down to a tiny nub, even as his balls exploded in size, tripling by the time the growth had stopped, and then Harold began beating them with the belt, and Carter let out gasp after gasp of pleasure. Harold kept beating his balls, Carter happily begging him for more, begging him to hit harder, even as his guts twisted into knots from the pain.

“See slave? It works just fine, I think. Now, why don’t you take one last look at that young, slim body of yours? Because while I do find it incredibly attractive, I don’t think you deserve it, do you?”

“No…no, please, don’t…”

“Don’t what, slave?” Harold said, ceasing his wiping and walking up to Carter’s head, bending down so he can whisper in his ear? “Don’t what? Don’t make you some fat, worthless old man? Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, because that’s just what you are. You’re seventy years old, you weight five hundred and thirty-seven pounds, which looks even fatter on you, since you’re only five foot two. You’re completely bald on your head, but have a body covered with white hair, a thick mustache, a wrinkly face with heavy jowls. You’re a troll, a pervert, a masochist, you crave punishment at my hand, it’s what you live for. You’re worthless. You’re whole worth in this life is as my slave.”

Carter was shouting, trying to drown him out, but his eyes were locked with the mirror, watching his body contort. Watching his slim body disappear under mounds and mounds of fat, his miniscule cock disappearing under a massive apron. His hair was disappearing, aside from a thin horseshoe of white hair, and a mustache sprouting from his lip, even as his skin became lined with creases and wrinkles, heavy jowls over double and triple chins. He was shrinking on the table, his body pulling up into itself as he shrank almost a foot in height, his fat concentrating even more in his huge apron, which hung down almost to his knees. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but a leather glove wiped them away.

“Now, now, don’t cry. You love it, really. You know it’s what you deserve. It’s what you want–you want to be old and fat. You want to be worthless. You want to be a slave, a whore.” The thumb slipped into his mouth, and unable to stop himself, Cater licked and sucked at it, feeling his heart rate quicken, as cum started leaking from his tiny dick. “You’re addicted to cum. You’re addicted to smoke. You’re addicted to humiliation.” Harold locked lips with Carter and exhaled a full lung of smoke into him, and Carter, who had never felt the desire to smoke, felt need well up in him at the taste. Seeing the want, Harold gave his slave the cigar he’d been smoking, watching him suck down smoke, and lit a new one for himself. “Now, I think we need to discuss what sort of role you’ll have in this house, don’t you? After all, a worthless old faggot like you couldn’t possibly be a graduate student. Besides, you really aren’t very smart. You barely graduated from high school–you had no hope of going to college. You need powerful men like me to guide you–to order you around. You don’t feel right unless you’re obeying a superior man like me. So I think…I think you’re my personal slave butler. Waiting on me hand and foot, for the rest of your life–how does that sound? Heh, then again, it doesn’t matter how it sounds, because it’s simply true, isn’t it?”

Carter tried to fight it, tried to resist having his mind rewired, but he couldn’t. He was just so stupid–not smart like Master Larson. His master was a real man, a man worth serving, and Carter would know–he’d spent his whole life in service–sexual and otherwise. He was only fit to serve, after all. Still, he tried to push back, he tried to disbelieve, but his Master was too smart. He’d been outwitted, and he shed a tear for a life his old, feeble mind couldn’t even manage to remember.

“Now, now–don’t be sad, Carter. This big house you gave me probably feels rather empty right now, but in no time I’ll have it fully staffed with chubby cooks and bearish gardeners and plenty of sex slaves of all shapes and sizes. After all, I have so many students, wasting their lives with their youth and their protests and their drugs. I’m sure they would be so much happier with a life of servitude, don’t you agree?”

He did think so. After all, if Master thought something was true, why wouldn’t he agree with him? And besides, he was happy, after all. He’d found his true calling, at the feet of his master. Master Larson released him from the table, and Carter hefted his old, aching body up, got down on his knees and began kissing and licking his master’s boots, before begging him to allow him the pleasure of worshiping his cock. Harold was more than happy to oblige–and after he came in his new butler’s old, loose hole, he fisted him until the old faggot couldn’t take it any longer, and his tiny cock finally pumped a massive load of cum out into his fat apron. Still, Harold really did have to be on his way. He left Carter with a series of tasks to be finished by the time he returned from the school (organizing the dungeon, cleaning his fat filthy body of sweat and cum, cleaning the foyer and of course, dinner promptly at six-thirty for Master and one…perhaps two…guests) and then he hurried to the master suite to get changed, relishing the feeling of his shirt and pants, his starched collar cutting into his fat chins, the the vest pulled tight over his gut–and then drove to school, Carter’s sonic equipment in the back. He had a feeling his office hours were going to be particularly interesting today–he couldn’t wait to introduce some of his students to the joys of serving him in the rich, privileged life he now led.