Tales From a Barber Shop 3: Things Just Keep Getting Better
Tales From a Barber Shop 3: Things Just Keep Getting Better
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It had been several weeks since I had opened my shop, and it looked like I was a hit with the locals. Admittedly I did do normal cuts, but with a cute muscular skinhead slave doing the manual work like cleaning up, making customers coffee and sneaking under the cape to relieve the sexual tensions of my more excited customers, I was starting to become the place of choice for the discerning gentleman of specific sexual interests. To be honest, some of that was my own doing. It’s easy to get customers to return if you nudge them in the right direction now and again. I hadn’t done any major alterations recently as I was saving the pleasure. Too much becomes like a drug, and you end up making mistakes. I’m not the only one out there with special abilities and we try not to draw attention to ourselves.
It was a Saturday evening and I could hear Jock and Chris upstairs getting ready to go out. There was a lot of grunting and slapping, then a long series of frenzied banging as Jock took the edge off his sexual desire. In a way I pitied Chris a little. His leather daddy had a voracious sexual appetite and he liked to save it up on those long trips so his boy got the full benefit.
Eventually they came downstairs and I liked what I saw. They both wore matching black rubber kilts with sporran, polished until the rubber shone like mirrors. Jock had on a black rubber vest and yellow suspenders pulled over his shoulders. He wore heavy black ranger boots with yellow laces and had swapped his usual leather wrist bands for elbow length heavy duty rubber gloves. In his left hand was a chain running to a D-ring on a wide rubber collar round Chris’s neck. Chris was topless, showing off his nice muscular body. He also wore yellow suspenders, but his highly polished rangers were oxblood. He had spent hours mixing the red and black polish into the boots so that they glowed and the black highlighted the creases in the 30 hole boots.
Jock had added to the work in progress. Chris now had plugs of the Scottish flag in each ear, matching the ones in Jocks. I had asked how big they were, and Jock had told me they were now over 20mm wide. If Chris ever stopped being Jocks slave and decided to take them out, it wouldn’t do any good. At that size, the skin had been overstretched and the holes would never shrink back. He would have wide holes in his ears forever. I liked the new tattoo on his back of a crucified skinhead. It was very traditional yet strangely disturbing at the same time. I noticed that he had new tattoos on his elbows as well. Thick black spiders’ webs spread from the center of the elbow to quite high and low on each arm. They were intricately shaded and added to the thug look Jock was obviously going for. Chris had recently made the acquaintance of a couple of local skinhead thugs about the same age, and Jock had given him instructions to become as close as he could to them. His vocabulary was certainly rougher and less coherent, but Jock wanted him to get much deeper into the skinhead lifestyle so most nights found him standing on a street corner with them drinking cheap lager, smoking and taking the piss out of people walking past. A couple of times he had been warned by the police to behave himself. They both knew he was Jocks slave, and they respected that. Most people respected Jock; he had an air of violence round him like a cloud. No-one in their right mind went out of their way to upset him if they could help it.
“Ye sure ye won’t come out with us man?” asked jock as they left. “I’m sure I could find you a boy of your own to play with”.
“Thanks Jock, but I have some paperwork to be dealing with. Have fun tonight and try not to bruise the lad too much.”
“See you later then mate,” he said as they left, leaving me to my empty shop.
I liked these quiet moments. The sun had just gone down, and the city was slowly changing gear. Earlier it had been all serious and solemn, but now it was gearing itself up for a change of pace. Saturday night was for fun and the city knew it. A time for letting your hair down and casting caution to the winds. Unfortunately, it is also a time for the dark beast to awaken. There are things out there in the darkness, waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. True, I am one of those things myself, but I’m so sexy you just have to forgive me, don’t you….
The first I knew that the beast had awoken was when I was locking up the shops rear. From the alley at the side I heard the sound of a woman’s voice gasping for air as though crying with no breath left in her abused lungs, and the sound of running. Next there came the crash of a garbage can being knocked over and landing at my feet was a small black woman. She was quite young, and dressed nicely, if cheaply. Her makeup was more Avon than Dior, and her high heeled shoes were pretty but cheaply made. It was obvious that she was a woman of good taste but limited budget. “Help me…” she gasped as I stood over her and helped her to her feet.
I quickly ushered her into the rear of the shop and encouraged her to sleep just as a couple of white youths in their late teens skidded to a halt at the mouth of the alley. “Got you now bitch,” one of them said before he saw me then stopped, trying to pretend he hadn’t said anything. When I had helped the young lady up, I had done a quick surface scan of her memories. I hadn’t had time to do a thorough job, but it was enough to see that she was the victim of a robbery and possibly worse. I don’t tend to accept on face value panic memories, but she had been so scared that they were going to rape her that she had lost control of her bladder. In her panic she had clobbered one of them with her handbag and I could see a small bruise under his eye. He was also holding the bag so I knew there was no possibility of having the wrong guys.
Now, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not a nice person. If you think about it, what I enjoy doing most is to destroy someone’s past, present and future, replacing them with one of my own design. I don’t do it for love, or money, or charity. I do it for fun. I feast on their souls and leave them with a new life that has some sort of unpleasant sting in the tale. I don’t take their complete souls, I’m not a monster, but the ones I love the best are those containing some sort of evil. The more evil within, the tastier I find them. Good souls are fine when there’s nothing else available, but it’s the difference between a supermarket budget brand and a gourmet chef preparing the same dish with fresh, high quality ingredients. Given the choice, which would you choose?
The two arseholes standing in front of me were a prime example. Their souls were black and shrivelled and I could feel my mouth watering at the sight of them.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” I asked as they stood there in stunned silence. They were obviously surprised to see a knight in shining armour helping the damsel in distress.
“Look man, just hand over the black bitch and walk away. She needs punishing for what she did to my boy here” he pointed at his mate with the black eye, “And you don’t want to get in our way. We will hurt you if you do.” And he pulled a wicked looking flick knife out of his back pocket.
His mate gave an evil grin, revealing not too clean teeth, and they walked towards me. Damn, it’s too easy sometimes. Where’s the challenge? They always walk straight into it, every single time.
I backed into the shop, trying to keep a terrified look on my face. They swaggered in behind me gazing round at the old fashioned barbers’ chairs and the prints of old actors on the walls. The young lady was asleep on the couch near the back door, totally out of it.
“She fainted?” asked the vocal thug as his mate just hovered over her leering. He stroked her leg and slowly began lifting her dress.
“Stop that you pervert!” I yelled, and he spun towards me with a face like fury.
“Shut the fuck up, old man. One more word from you and I’ll cut you good.”
“Please, I’m sorry,” I begged, “It’s just that you should look your best when you touch a lady.” I said quickly. “Please, just sit in the chairs and I’ll have you looking fabulous in minutes”.
Yes I know it’s corny, but I like to do things in a certain way. Its all about style, you either have it or you don’t. and boy did I have it.
The two lads didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Without understanding why, they found themselves sitting in my chairs with a cape tucked nicely round their necks. Something one of them had said earlier struck me as I looked at their poor excuses for a haircut and smiled. This was going to be poetic.
I started with the more vocal of the two. Browsing through his mind, I saw that his name was Geoff and he was your typical white middle class upbringing bad boy. Bored with his life, he had drifted into crime when he was young, and had taken to it like a fish to water. His parents were too interested in themselves to take an interest in their only child. It was obviously society’s fault that Geoff was like that. They had given him everything he had ever wanted, and it wasn’t up to them to punish their little angel. It was a phase he was going through, and he would grow out of it eventually. I sighed. This modern world was such a mystery to me sometimes. In the old days, we would have strangled little monsters like him to avoid polluting the gene pool. Nowadays, the punishment is mainly financial and they pay for it by stealing the cash from someone else. Oh well, the train had arrived at the station. There were no more stops. It was time to pay the fare, and I was the ticket collector.
I turned to his friend with the bad mouth next. His name was Phil, but he preferred to be called Scuz. He had met Geoff at their local probation office, and they had hit it off. Their favourite pastime was to mug single women and scare them as badly as possible. They didn’t carry out the disgusting things they threatened, but most of the women were so frightened that they hardly ventured out again.
Running my fingers through his hair, I noticed that it had grown a lot longer, and was becoming very silky. It had a small natural wave to it that made it look thicker than it really was. Slowly, I began to braid it into tight corn rows and it darkened until it was totally black. At the same time, his skin gradually darkened to a light shade of brown, and his nose became flatter and wider. I finished plaiting his hair and looked at his new face. His lips were now thick and luscious, really kissable and slightly parted to reveal a row of perfect ivory white teeth. His eyebrows were viciously plucked, until all that was left were two very thin arches giving him a slightly wide eyed startled look. As an afterthought, his eyes became slightly slanted and became perfectly violet and almond shaped, revealing his mixed heritage.
Pulling off the cape, with a thought he was naked. The flabby specimen of youth sitting in the chair was a perfect example of bad diet. Too much fast food and not enough fruit. Slowly, the flab began to tighten. All over his body he began to shrink down until every muscle group was clearly defined. Slowly his body began to grow, until the man sitting in front of me had a perfect, slim, muscular body. It was obvious that he looked after himself. He wasn’t going for bulk just that highly toned look of a professional dancer. Clothing came next, and I decided on a pair of silver micro shorts and a tiny tank top that barely covered his pecs. On his feet appeared a pair of silver wrestling boots, tightly laced round his now very well toned calves. In his navel I put a gaudy, very feminine piercing that hung like diamante and glittered in the light, and in both ears were big hoop earrings. I looked at his face and makeup started to appear. Only light, but you could see the eyeliner and lip gloss enhancing his best features. The final touch was to cover all the exposed flesh with gold body glitter, and to put multiple bangles on each wrist.
Leaving him to sleep, I turned my attention to Geoff. I had high hopes for that young man and was going to enjoy every second of it.
I woke Geoff up slowly while I picked up the clippers. He looked at me with a slightly dazed expression on his face. I felt the confusion in his mind. He was wondering what he was doing getting a haircut, and who was the dark skinned man in the next chair? I relished his pain. It was going to be so clear to him soon, but for now, the fun was in the change.
“Don’t leave it so long next time, man,” I said to him as the clippers slowly bit into his unruly mop. “It makes it harder to clean you up. I recommend a weekly treatment from now on or you will end up having to start this all over again”.
“Uh, start what?” he said as the blonde hair fell to the floor.
“The treatment,” I replied. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
“Oh, the treatment” he said relaxing into my hands. The hair falling to the floor was now black and wiry. I lathered up his head and slowly started to drag the straight razor over every spot until his head was totally smooth. It was now also jet black and shiny. The skin had changed colour and he was almost the blue black of a central African native. The colour slowly leeched down and it was like watching ink running down a glass as his face slowly changed colour to match his head. His nose thickened and flattened out, and his lips puffed up, becoming jet black, with red lines towards the inside of his mouth where the blood vessels were close to the surface. His head swelled and he developed a ridge above his eyes which had turned dark brown. The whiteness of his eyeballs stark in the deep blackness of the rest of his face. I rubbed his head with a lotion that would slow the hair growth down considerably. He would only need to shave his head once a week now.
Pulling off the cape, I looked at the black body underneath. Slowly it began to expand. His chest was first, blowing up like a balloon until he had a massive set of pecs. His shoulders became incredibly wide, and his arms swelled until he was in proportion. He now had upper arms thicker than most men’s thighs. His neck thickened up until his head was resting on a huge slab of meat with no definition between his head and his chest. Lower down, his waist shrunk and his abs popped out. He didn’t have a six pack; I gave him an eight pack just for variety. His legs swelled up and lengthened and his feet became enormous. He was going to have a lot of difficulty getting shoes to fit now. Turning to his cock and balls, I doubled them in size. His now low hangers banged against his thighs as his thick meaty tube stuck out, ten inches long and still soft. It was going to be a monster when he got aroused. He was now the classic shape of a steroid using body builder. A wall of black muscle, he would stand seven feet tall in his bare feet. Dressing him, I put him in a pair of black slacks that left little to the imagination. He wore patent leather shoes on his feet, but no socks. Stretched across his torso was a short sleeved white t-shirt with the words “Door Supervisor” written in black across the back. I decided that a bit of colour was needed to break up all that black and white so in each ear was a large diamond stud, and his front tooth became gold. Round each wrist was a thick gold bracelet and a very thick gold chain hung round his neck. As an afterthought, I put a large gold sovereign ring on each finger.
Scuz looked at Geoff and gave a wolf whistle. “Looking good Boo,” he said in a very feminine slightly lisping voice. Gone was the white street trash of earlier. In its place was a very camp, extremely effeminate, 18-year-old gay go-go dancer of mixed race. His father was Jamaican and his mother was Chinese, leaving him with an interesting mix of features. He had inherited the best characteristics of each parent, and was indeed really pretty. He had been disowned by his family when he had come out as gay, and now earned good money in the local gay bar waitressing and cage dancing on the weekends. He also did a very good drag routine under the stage name Black Beauty but his friends called him Sasha and he had been dating the ebony god beside him for the last six months.
Geoff was now known as Mkwambe. His parents had fled from Africa when he was a small child, and he had been brought up in London for most of his life. He spoke with a thick cockney accent and was a total geezer. 25 years old, he worked at the local gay bar as a bouncer and had been body building since he was a teenager. Meeting Sasha had been a turning point in his life and he had given up the petty crime and thuggery to settle into domestic bliss with his new life partner. Sasha was very highly strung, and was prone to making everything into a drama, but was devoted to Mkwambe and totally faithful.
Mkwambe looked over at Sasha and smiled. “You look pretty too babe,” he said in a deep rumbling voice. “What do you think Taneka?” he asked turning to the sleeping girl on the couch.
Taneka woke up and stretched. “Sorry Hun, I fell asleep waiting for you two pretty boys to finish up.”
Taneka was now the cousin to Sasha. She regularly visited London to stay with him and his lover, and they both adored her. They treated her like royalty and she was thinking of moving down to stay with them full time so that she could study at the University of Fashion and Design. She wanted to be a fashion designer and it was obvious from her hand made clothes that she was going to be a good one. I had thought of various options, but this one seemed to be the best. Her previous life had been really shitty, so I thought it poetic to make her tormentors her helpers. They would be at her beck and call for the rest of their lives, and would punish themselves for their previous lives by helping her in any way she needed.
They stood up, Mkwambe towering over the much shorter Sasha and Taneka. Pulling out a nice fat wallet, he paid me for the two cuts and with his arm round his lovers’ waist, they left the shop.
I, meanwhile, flopped into a chair before I collapsed. That was fun! Jock and Chris couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to go out clubbing, but this was so much better. I finished locking up the shop and headed for my bed. Jock and Chris were staying out all night so I wouldn’t be disturbed. Tomorrow was another day and who knows what it would bring? I slipped into the deep peaceful sleep of the righteous and dreamed of black gods and pretty dancers.
Turning the Tables
Turning the Tables
This story is copyright of Peircedskin. Permission is granted to post on non-profit sites only, unless given express permission by the author.
Author’s note: Just as an aside, this story is in some ways a tribute to my favourite story of all time, The Amazing Andrew by Chester. Any similarities are not really intentional, but I did find that one section of this story resembled part of that one so I am giving credit to the author and saying Thank You Chester for inspiring me to write in the first place.
Once upon a time there were three little boys. Mind you, when I say little, I actually mean large and horny. But that’s how these things go I suppose. When you hold all the power in your large and meaty paws, there isn’t really a lot of growing up to be done. Until I got involved that is, but I jump ahead of myself here. Lets start at the beginning shall we?
The first of the boys was Brad. He was around six feet tall and well built. His biceps were larger than most cantaloupes, and he had a six pack to die for. Long blonde hair cascaded down his back and he walked with an arrogant come fuck me swagger which I found quite adorable.
Next up was Chris. He was the brunette to Brads blonde. His shoulder length black hair was usually pulled into a tight pony tail and though he wasn’t as big as Brad, the thick hair on his chest and arms was an extreme turn on for me.
The final member of the trio was Carl. He was more of the swimmer type. Slim build and short brown hair, he shaved all his body hair off to make himself look sleek and smooth. The only concession he made was to have a small well trimmed goatee.
The three of them were well into the whole surfing gig and used the language peppering their comments with words like gnarly and awesome, calling everyone dude, that sort of thing. If there was any justice, they would have been thick as shit but unfortunately they were all grade A students, with guaranteed scholarships to the university of their choice. They were also the three meanest bullies in the school. Many a student had fled in terror as they walked down the corridor towards them, and god help the poor sod taking a leak in the bathroom if they happened to walk in. Having your head flushed down the toilet then having them piss all over you is not the nicest thing in the world. Well, maybe for some people, but not for me at any rate. Trust me, having seen them get their long thick cocks out and let free the golden stream at first hand I know what I’m talking about.
As for me, my name is Malcolm. I’m nothing special. I’m 18, the same as the three guys, and very boring. I have an average body, average grades, average looks and don’t really stand out in a crowd. To be honest, this is intentional. I could be very different if I wanted, but my family makes it a policy not to draw attention to ourselves. My parents are your average pair of home makers. Dad works in an insurance office and Mom stays at home making the place look nice. They are second cousins or something, for various reasons we marry within certain bloodlines but try to avoid marrying too close. My grand parents on my Dads side were cousins but this is considered to be a little close. All sorts of tests had to be carried out to make sure the offspring wouldn’t be harmed. This is where I sprang from. Scrying showed that I would be the most powerful of my generation, so it was allowed. Didn’t I mention about me? Sorry, it just goes to show that power doesn’t grant brains!! I am a sorcerer. My whole family are sorcerers. And you don’t want to piss off a sorcerer. Dad had given me the whole lecture on responsibility and power, but when you boil it down to it’s basics, there is no good or evil, there is only justice. As long as there is justice, good and evil don’t come into it.
Anyway, after the whole toilet business, I was steaming. (No pun intended). I decided that something had to be done to teach these guys a lesson and if I couldn’t do it, then who could?
After I got home that day I decided to create something a little different for the guys. Instead of a specific spell, I thought it might be better to cast something a little more generic. I had all the ingredients I needed, including a sample of their DNA courtesy of their impromptu toilet training session, so the trick was finding the right incantation to turn the tables but allow them to pick their own punishment.
After several hours and a lot of paper crumpling I began the ceremony.
“I call upon the spirits to hear my plea,
Take the fluids I give thee and hearken.
Break the ties that bind these three
And make their lives darken.”
“The threads of fate I command to break
By changing the way their lives should be.
Alter the paths their lives should take
And what they hate so shall they be.”
Okay, so I’ll never win prizes for poetry, but it seemed to do the trick. As the last word fell from my lips, three thick black streams of smoke poured from the cauldron I was using (it was really moms big mixing bowl, but you have to make do) and twisted round the room. Locating the window, they shot away into the night and as I watched them fly away. I smiled. Justice would be done.
As the nominal leader of the group, Brad felt on top of the world. One does when one has all the power. A good athlete, he felt that the world should be at his command. The scholarship he had been awarded along with his two friends was just a case in point. They had worked damned hard to get a copy of the answers for the final test, and it just went to show that with enough money and determination you could achieve anything.
As he prepared to go out, he looked at himself in the mirror. Damn, he was fine. It was no wonder all the girls wanted his body. He remembered fucking Cindy in the back of his dads car the previous weekend. She had screamed like a bitch when his thick heavy cock had punctured her hymen. He hadn’t realised she was a virgin until that moment, but the bitch was fucking hot.
Flicking the long hair from his shoulders he put on his leather blouson coat and walked out of the door, his bubble butt looking hot encased as it was in skin tight denim jeans.
As he walked through the door he looked up at the clear summer sky and was thrown backwards as a thick black rope of cloud plunged into his chest. Dazed, he picked himself up off the floor and shook his head. What the hell was that? His head was a little muzzy, then cleared as he shook it. “Must have been static shock off the door handle,” he thought to himself and he walked into the clear night air without another thought.
As he walked into town, he had to pass a rough, seedy biker bar. The patrons were outside drinking and laughing, their bikes propped up at the side.
“Hey pretty boy,” shouted one of the drunk bikers.
Looking towards the men, Brad saw that it was one of the biggest men he had ever seen. Thick bushy beard, hair cropped on top, he had a greasy tail of hair going down his back. His heavily tattooed arms poked out from a dirty denim cut-off and he had thick rings in his ears and nose. “Fucking animal” thought Brad. “Wasted his life and thinks he’s all that.”
As he went to walk away, he felt a wave of dizziness pass over him and he was amazed as he turned to the biker and said, “Yes Sir?”
Yes Sir? What was that shit, thought Brad.
“Get your arse over here boy, you look like you could do with a beer.” Pushing one of the other rough looking men away from him, the biker made a space on the bench next to him. Brad moved to sit down, unable to control himself. As he looked at the biker all he felt was disgust, but he found himself unable to move away as a large glass of beer was placed in front of him, and a thick meaty tattooed hand came to rest on his knee. Taking a sip of the beer, he was embarrassed to realise that his cock was fully hard. More to the point, the biker knew it was hard too and started to rub his hand up and down the shaft through the denim. Trickles of precum soaked through the fabric and Brad groaned at the unaccustomed pleasure.
In defence, Brad drank more of the beer but jumped when he felt the bikers arm going round his shoulders. Brad was used to being the powerful one but this guy gave a sense of coiled power and suppressed violence that was turning Brad on big time. As he turned his head to ask the biker to stop, his head was grabbed and the biker thrust his pierced tongue into Brad’s mouth. Brad tried to pull back but the heavy hand on his neck was too strong and the tongue too insistent. All Brad could taste was the bikers mouth. A combination of beer and stale cigarettes which both repulsed and excited him. As he relaxed into the kiss he felt something inside give way and started to shoot hot thick spunk into his jeans. The biker pulled away from Brad’s mouth as his shuddering subsided and grinned. “Looks like daddy has a new bitch.” He said. The other bikers laughed heartily as Brad was taken round the waist and pulled into the rear of the bar.
The dark seedy room needed a good sweep, there was dust all over the floor and Brad could smell old stale beer and piss as he was half pulled, half dragged up the stairs to a dark damp room at the far end of the corridor. As the door shut behind them Brads nightmare began as he was brutally and repeatedly raped in every way it was possible for one man to take another. Something inside Brad died as he found himself enjoying the brutality he was experiencing and when he woke the following morning it was a very different Brad that left the room, hanging onto his new daddy’s arm.
Chris stood at the starting line coiled like a spring, waiting for the starter pistol to go. The other guys in the line up were no competition for him, the champion one hundred metre hurdler. As the gun went off, Chris flew down the track leaving everyone else behind. Vaulting the hurdles with ease, he won the race by a comfortable margin and lay back in the dirt getting his breath back, knowing he was the best.
“That was totally awesome, dude” said one of the observers as he walked past towards the changing rooms. Chris grinned in his direction but didn’t stop to chat. He was due to meet up with his parents after the race for dinner at a nice restaurant to celebrate his fathers acquisition of a new building contract. His father ran a small construction company and had managed to snag a large contract to put up a set of houses on some old derelict waste ground on the other side of town, beating off stiff competition from other larger companies. It meant hiring a load of new staff, but with unemployment as high as it was, his father didn’t feel it would be a problem.
Without thinking, Chris glanced up at the clear blue summer sky and squinted. What was that? Suddenly a thick rope of black cloud plummeted from the heavens and slammed into his chest. Chris was thrown backwards and passers by looked at him strangely. Shaking his head to clear the sudden feeling of dizziness he turned to the people round him “Must have tripped guys” and smiled. Everyone looked relieved as he walked away seemingly unhurt.
Stripping off his running gear, Chris stepped into the shower and started to soap himself all over. As he ran his hands over his hairy body he thanked whatever gods were watching that there wasn’t an once of spare fat anywhere on his body. He hated fat men more than anything and worked out like crazy to make sure he stayed as fit as possible. Shower finished, he quickly dried himself off and dressed in his smart suit with the matching tie and shoes. His hair was a problem, but he was inordinately fond of it so he carefully dried it and brushed it till it shone, then tied it up in his trademark pony tail before heading out for the waiting taxi.
As he entered the restaurant he saw his parents waiting in the bar and went out to join them. Hugging his Mom, he shook hands with his Dad before taking the waiting drink. Vodka and orange, plenty of ice. Just as he liked it.
“Got a surprise for you son, the new foreman I hired today is going to join us for dinner.” Said his Dad.
“I thought this was just a family thing, Dad?” replied Chris with some surprise.
“Well, he is new in town, and I thought it would be nice to introduce you to him as we’ll be working so closely together. You’ll like him. He’s a nice guy.”
Turning to towards the door he said, “And here he is now.” Waving, he called out “Bill! Over here, mate.”
Looking in the direction his father was waving, Chris did a double take. There was no way this guy was Dad’s new foreman. Bill was around six foot six, and stood out in the crowd. His head was completely shaved, but he had a long thick black beard which had to be about two foot long. Through the center of his nose was a large thick ring, and a bent pipe was clutched in his teeth belching out clouds of smoke every time Bill sucked on it. His stomach was immense. It stuck out from his front like a large beach ball and hung over the tight denim jeans encasing his mammoth thighs. As he turned to let someone pass, Chris could see his wide arse was held tightly by the fabric, and he wondered how the hell Bill was going to sit down without splitting the seams. He was wearing a thick red check shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a heavy leather waistcoat that had silver chain links instead of seams at the side. On his feet he was wearing heavy engineer boots that made loud clicking noises on the floor as he walked. Chris felt sick as he looked at the monstrosity his father had hired and was determined to have as little as possible to do with him.
“John, great to see you again. And Maggie, you look as lovely as ever. I can’t believe it’s been twelve years since we last saw each other. And is this little Chris?? Damn you’ve grown boy. And a fine looking boy he is too, John. You should be proud.”
“I am Bill. Glad you could join us. We tried a couple of times to get in touch, but you always seem to be on the move.”
“Well, I’m here for a couple of years at least. But never mind work, where’s the food? I’m starving”
And with that, Bill grabbed hold of Chris’s mom and started to whisper in her ear. She turned bright red, looked at her husband then dissolved in a fit of giggles. Rolling his eyes and grinning, he turned and winked at Chris who was trying to hide in the background. Just then, a waiter came to show them to their table and Chris suddenly found himself sitting next to Bill who smiled at Chris and then shrugged when Chris turned away to speak to his father.
“You don’t mind if I smoke between courses do you boy?” asked Bill. Now Chris hated smoking, and pipes in particular but he found himself replying “Not at all. I like the smell of a good pipe.”
Chris did a double take, then thought about it. There was no sense in being rude to someone who was obviously an old friend of the family as well as someone his father was going to be working with for the next two or three years. If Bill wanted to smoke, he might as well be gracious about it for the night.
Bill seemed to draw attention to himself and enjoyed it. Looking down at the modest portions that Chris had put out for himself, he started joking about picky eaters and eating like a pigeon, before piling Chris’s plate high with potatoes and meat. Chris felt the urge to empty his plate, to do otherwise would have been rude, and when Bill piled his plate up again, he forced that lot down too. As dessert arrived, his stomach felt stretched and bloated and he undid the top button of his trousers to take away the pressure. Bill saw this and joked about making room before piling a huge slice of gateaux onto the plate and watching until Chris choked down every morsel. Chris looked at his parents who seemed to be behaving quite oddly. Normally his mother would have been as conscious as he was about his calorie intake, and all she was doing was clapping as his plate was cleaned. His father was almost vague about Bill, saying all sorts of odd things that Chris didn’t understand about clubs and parties. There was something mysterious about both the statements and responses. Almost as though there was a joke and history that they didn’t want Chris to know about.
Eventually, the pressure on his bladder became too great and he excused himself. As he stood in the bathroom pissing, he smelt pipe smoke and realised that Bill had come in after him. As Bill stood next to him in the stall Chris felt a moment of panic as his cock suddenly grew hard and began to poke forward. Looking at Bills thick monster didn’t help either. It was really thick, and hung down at least twice the length of Chris’s. Through the end was a large thick ring, and as the stream of piss began, a stray ribbon shot off to the side and covered Chris’s cock with hot yellow liquid. Turning slightly to apologise, Bill saw the throbbing hard-on and smiled at Chris.
“Looks like someone likes what they see. Why don’t you get down and help me with this?”
Slowly dropping to his knees, Chris felt the overwhelming urge to take the yellow stream into his mouth. As his lips slowly closed over the cock head Chris closed his eyes and started to swallow. Gradually the flow lessened, and the cock began to grow hard. Bill slowly stared thrusting into Chris’s mouth until with an animal grunt he flooded the eager mouth with shot after shot of thick white spunk. Chris too came, spilling his seed all over the floor and just as he did, the bathroom door opened and in walked his father. “Have you guys fallen down the hole, or something?” he said as he walked in, then noticed what was happening in front of his eyes. “Oh fuck!” was all he could seem to manage.
Feeling the need to explain, Chris looked at his dad and tried to apologise, but Bill beat him to it. “You can’t really blame the kid, John. Like father like son, really. He wants it bad, I’m telling you. If the kid wants it, I’m more than willing to take him in hand and show him the ropes.”
“and chains, and whips, and toys if I remember right.” Grinned John. “Well, if it’s what Chris wants, then we won’t stand in his way. I know how this works, and he’ll move in with you tonight. Chris, do you really want this son?”
Chris was trying to say something along the lines of “hang on, want what?” but what came out of his mouth was “Yes Dad. More than anything.” And sealed his fate as he felt something inside of him shatter and blow away into the night.
“I’ll leave you two to finish up in here then. But hurry please, Maggie wants to move on to the coffee.”
As John left the bathroom, Bill grabbed Chris and kissed him deeply before slapping him hard across the face. “I’m proud that you have decided to become my slave, boy, but you need to be punished for your attitude earlier. As your mother is waiting I’ll make it an easy one for now, I want you to get on your knees and clean up every drop of spunk you spilled without permission.”
Chris dropped to his knees, his new position in life apparent. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but felt strangely eager to find out.
Carl was bored. He had spent all day at the beach trying to catch a decent wave, and the whole ocean was as still as a mill pond. Even the girls that usually hung around waiting for some hot surfer dude to fuck were gone. The air hung still and heavy, and Carl thought it might thunder later. As he picked up his board he started to walk up the hill to the car park where his step-fathers car was parked.
At the top, he noticed a pickup was just pulling up.
“Oh crap.” thought Carl. “Just what I need.”
Inside the pickup were a couple of the guys who worked the doors at the night club Carl did part time bar work at. Carl tried to avoid them as much as possible, as he thought they were the typical dumb muscle bound gorillas that most clubs employed as bouncers. Both the guys were 30 year old twin brothers and looked like a pair of matching book ends. They had completely shaved heads and were so massive that their necks were almost non-existent. Each of them had thick wide flesh tunnels in their ears and a stud in their lip. Both of their arms were covered in heavy black tribal tattoos and they talked in a guttural growl peppered with constant swear words. At work they usually wore the standard monkey suit with bow tie, their massive chests straining the fabric of the black shirts they always wore, but out of work they always wore high red boots with yellow laces and yellow braces holding up the various assortment of pants that they wore on a whim. Sometimes jeans, cut off to the top of the boots, other times combat trousers or camouflage pants, they were proud of being skinheads and let everyone know the fact.
Today they were both in matching jeans and polo shirt buttoned up to the neck. As they came nearer with a menacing smile on their piggy faces, Carl could see the outline of thick rings in their protruding nipples.
Just then, a thick rope of black cloud slammed into Carls chest and he fell to the floor gasping for breath. As he shook his head to clear away the fog that was clouding his thinking he felt his hair grabbed and yelped in the pain of his head being dragged up.
“Well, well. What have we here then? Fuckers on his own, without his posse of scum to back him up.” Looking at his brother, he raised his eyebrow and asked “Whatcha think, Bro? Got a plan for scumbag here?”
His brother looked for a minute, then grabbed Carls head and forced it down onto the highly polished red boot. “Lick it, cunt.” He ordered.
Carl struggled for a moment, then opened his mouth and stuck his tongue onto the glossy surface. As he did so, he felt his cock growing in his pants and started to get off on the humiliation of his ordeal. He didn’t know why, but the most important thing in the world to him at that moment was to do whatever the big skinheads demanded. Inside, he felt something snap and slither off into the distance, like a piece of thread under high tension had just been cut.
“Hey bro, cunt is getting off on this. Think we ought to go somewhere private where we can play in peace?”
“Fucking A man, looks like we got us a little playmate. If he likes this, then lets see how far he’ll go for a bit of skinhead meat.”
“We might have to make a few changes to him though.”
“That’s part of the fun mate.”
“Oi, cunt, on your feet. We’ve got a few hours before work, and it looks like you’re the entertainment.”
Carl looked up and smiled. “Yes Boss.” And he climbed into the pickup without a second thought.
Malcolm here again. After the spell, I had to go away for a few weeks and never got to see the results till I got back. Man, was I impressed. It looks like the spell was quite effective and I couldn’t believe what I saw when I got back.
All three of them had dropped out of school before finishing their exams, so no college or career in the future for any of them. Not that I was bothered, but it was nice to see that the success they were due to have had been destroyed. I used a small spell to see what their lives should have been like and what it was like now.
Brad should have had a great modelling career. He would have had great wealth and a great marriage, leading to a successful movie career and several Oscars ending his life as one of the grand old statesmen of the movie industry.
Now, he was the bitch of a very unpleasant biker named Scuzz. His once beautiful long blonde hair was now hacked off at the sides into a crude crop, with a dirty plait left at the back. His muscles had sagged somewhat leaving him with a beer belly poking over the top of the filthy jeans he was forced to wear at all times. His ears were pierced several times, and a thick ring in the center of his broken nose drew attention to the yellow teeth in his mouth. He smoked constantly, and the home made tattoos all over his arms and hands made him look dirty and uncouth. He was used as a sex toy by any man that Scuzz took a liking to and loved every minute of it.
Chris should have become a professional athlete. In his original future lay Olympic and European gold medals, a lucrative sponsorship deal and a career as a professional sports commentator.
Things had changed a lot now.
The first thing Bill had done was to shave off all Chris’s hair, leaving him totally bald, then made him grow his beard out. Once the beard was in he had Chris’s septum pierced and stretched up until it matched the one in Bills own nose. Chris was pierced in his nipples and cock as well, with a thick padlock through the end of his cock to prevent him from coming until his master gave permission. Bill spent many hours teaching Chris the best ways to care for, and smoke, his large collection of pipes. Chris had no choice, he had to smoke constantly or be punished in a variety of unpleasant and inventive ways. The constant diet of high protein and high carbohydrate had filled out Chris’s frame until he was now a fat hairy beach ball of a man, a perfect cub to his fat bear master. Chris now dressed at all times like Bill, and they were a regular site at the leather bars in the area, Chris with his masters cock in his mouth drinking the piss straight from the source. Bill had decided that Chris was going to join his building gang as a labourer and Chris was a regular sight in his overalls and boots, a large pipe on the go, fetching and carrying for the other more skilled workers. Eventually, Bill would move on to other projects and Chris would follow, destined forever to be an unskilled manual worker, enslaved to a powerful pipe smoking sadist bear.
Carl was the saddest case. He only joined in with the other two because he was so insecure in himself. Eventually, he should have grown away from them and developed a keen sense of right and wrong. This would have led him to become a law enforcement officer, then eventually he would have ended up as mayor of his small town and a life of contentment.
Unfortunately, this was not to be.
Carl was taken and forced to service the twin skinheads. They decided that Carl was just the slave they wanted, and made radical changes to his appearance and lifestyle. After shaving his head completely bald, they put him on a strict exercise regime with high amounts of steroids and protein to give him the physique and look that they wanted. His face filled out and became rounder, with the thick ridge above his eyebrows and the creased skin at the back of his neck so indicative of steroid abuse. His ears were pierced and stretched to the same size as theirs, and his nipples and cock were ringed to match. His lip was pierced with a large stud, and his left eyebrow sported a thick golden barbell. He dressed and acted at all times like a dumb skinhead, and gave up his bar job to become a full time bouncer. His two masters introduced him to the joys of rubber and given the choice, he would walk round in a sleeveless rubber vest showing off the thick tribal tattoos on his overly muscular arms. The padlocked chain round his neck showed his status and he went through life one step behind the two men so obviously his superior.
So that’s my tale. The story of three guys who got their just desserts at the hands of someone they didn’t even remember that well.
The moral of the tale is pretty obvious, don’t piss of a sorcerer. You never know when the tables will be turned.
Tales From a Barbers Shop 2: A Change of Style
Tales From a Barbers Shop 2: A Change of Style
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The roar of the Harley faded into the distance as my new friend drove off to his new day job. I was quite impressed with Bruiser, as he was now known, and didn’t think it was a bad effort for my first attempt in my new line of business. If they all turned out like him I was going to have a lot of fun. I just hoped they wouldn’t be quite so energetic next time. I had bruises on places I didn’t even know you could bruise. Still, it was fun, and I knew he would be back weekly to have his new look touched up. Mind you, as far as he was concerned it was the look he’d always had.
I fetched the broom and swept up the debris from his cut. I really needed an assistant for these mundane things. My time was far too important to waste on cleaning and tidying. And just then, the shop bell rang and in swaggered a police officer. He was tall and muscular, with a nice head of well cut blonde hair. About 25 years old, he seemed to be poured into his uniform, every muscle picked out and highlighted with his large package clearly on display. The way he wore his utility belt and the fluid strut as he walked into the room gave him an animal sensuality that made my cock spring to life in my pants, as though I hadn’t just spent the last 2 hours screwing and being screwed within an inch of my life.
“Good afternoon officer, can I help you?” I asked casually as he scanned my humble establishment with his sharp eyes.
“Just checking in Sir” he said, “We try to make sure all the new businesses in the area get a visit to make sure everything is ok and that there are no problems”.
“No officer, everything is fine. I have just seen to my first customer and it looks like I might be here for quite a while”.
“That’s good sir. We wouldn’t like to see anything awkward happen to such a fine establishment. If you understand my meaning Sir”.
I looked at him sharply. Up until that moment I hadn’t really been paying too much attention to anything except the shape of his body in his oh so fine uniform and wondering if there was going to be a way to get him out of it without using a little of my special touch.
“Are you talking about what I think you are talking about officer? I thought extortion and racketeering was not high on the polices agenda”.
“Whoa Sir, you misunderstand me. My colleague and I” he pointed out of the window to where I could see the shape of another man in a police uniform “are just trying to protect the local traders from the rougher elements in the neighbourhood. There are some nasty people roaming the streets and for a small weekly fee, we make sure that nothing untoward happens to your premises. A burglary, or a small fire so early on in your shops life could be disastrous. We just make sure to warn off any undesirable elements so you can continue to trade in peace”.
“Oh, my mistake then. And how much would it cost me to ensure I’m left unmolested?”
“Half your weekly take Sir. I understand its high, but we have overheads, people to pay off. You know how it works, you are a business man yourself”.
I looked at this insufferable young puppy in disbelief. Give him half my takings? I know I don’t need money as such, but it’s a good way of keeping score. It looked like someone had just made a life changing decision without realising it. I smiled to myself then, whilst still trying to look like the outraged barber.
“I suppose I have no choice in the matter young man. I suppose you and your partner will be wanting a new haircut every week too free of charge…”
I could almost see the cogs turning in his head as I spoke. Greed will always take the opportunity to take more. I have a low opinion of human beings and am rarely disappointed. They always seem to be so self serving and petty. I admit, they supply me with endless opportunities for mischief, but needs must when this devil drives as they say.
“Sounds like we have a deal Sir” he said relaxing slightly.
“Well there’s no time like the present is there officer? If you and your mate would like to hop into the chair I’ll give you a quick trim to seal the deal.”
“Hey Dave,” he shouted, “get in here. The nice barbers giving us a haircut on the house”.
“Great Chris. I need a trim” came a loud deep baritone voice from near the door.
Into the shop walked an older guy, around mid thirties. Short cropped hair grown slightly shaggy, with a nice beard both a week overdue for a trim. He was more husky than Chris and had the beginnings of a small pot belly that hung slightly over his utility belt, though he was still muscular. His hair was jet black and I could see the fur poking though the open necked shirt.
“Well gentlemen, if you would both like to be seated in one of my very comfortable chairs, I’ll get started.”
“Ok then Sir, but no funny cuts. We will be watching carefully and it will go very badly for you if you fuck it up intentionally” said Chris.
“Oh indeed not officer. Every customer leaves my chair totally satisfied. I guarantee it. Now, shall we begin?”
Chris sat in the first chair, by the window and Dave sat closest to me. I grabbed two capes and proceeded to tuck them in snugly. It was going to be a hard choice who to do first really, but I already had a couple of ideas as to the end result.
Turning to Chris first. I tilted his head back and ran my fingers through his hair, sifting his mind and nibbling gently on his dried up nasty little soul. I needn’t have worried too much at what I was going to do to him, as I found out all I needed to know. He was a complete bastard. He screwed women then dumped them crying after he had finished with them. Those he couldn’t get with his good looks, he drugged and had anyway. There was a trail of broken hearts leading all the way back to when he was 14 and he enjoyed knowing he could have any woman he wanted. I also found out that Dave was the junior partner in their little enterprise. Not innocent by any means, but more easily led by his charismatic and handsome partner. Chris knew that Dave had a crush on him so played it to the hilt and so had led him down the path of corruption.
“Just relax, Chris, this won’t hurt a bit” I said as I gently turned him to the sink. I washed his hair, then wrapped it in a towel to dry a little. He found it relaxing and started to doze off.
I then turned to Dave, and ran my fingers through his mind. He was quite a surprise really. He still had morals and was upset at the way Chris was destroying his dream of being a police officer. It was all he had wanted to do since he was a child, and Chris had spoiled it for him. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Dave was desperately in love with Chris he would have turned him in when it all started. Unfortunately, he was in too deeply now and couldn’t see a way out.
“Sleep my big furry bear, I’ll make things right again. And as my present to you, I’m giving you your hearts desire as well as my own”.
With that, I grabbed my clippers and started to run them slowly over Dave’s head. He moaned with pleasure and I could see him starting to move his arm up slowly up and down as he kneaded his rapidly growing cock. I took layer after layer of hair off, until I was down to the final shave, with no guard on. I had decided against shaving his head, but as I brushed the remaining loose flecks off I saw that he now had severe male pattern baldness. Round his head was just a horseshoe of hair dipping low at the back. Moreover, he appeared to have become ginger. Not the pale straw or deep dark red that’s almost black, but proper true, orange ginger. Freckles also dotted his scalp as his complexion altered to match his new colouring.
Turning to his face and beard, I decided that ginger hair and a black beard just didn’t work, so grabbing a bottle of shampoo, I washed his beard and eyebrows until all that nasty black had gone and his facial hair matched that of his head. He really did look cute now with the thick bristly red beard and with a moments thought he developed a few accessories. Through his septum grew a nice thick horseshoe barbell, small in diameter but nice and thick, with a ball on each end. His nose became thicker and flatter to match his new ethnic heritage. In the center of his eyebrows, which had become a nice bushy unibrow, sprouted a bar bell and in each ear a large 20mm thick plug with the Scottish flag decorating the center.
Removing the cape, I realised that the policeman’s uniform he was wearing really didn’t go with his new face so he became immediately naked. His body hair was now ginger as well, and he had a really nice freckle pattern all over his body. Slowly, his body began to inflate. I watched as his chest expanded with fat and his pecs slowly sagged into an impressive set of man boobs. His stomach grew till he looked like he had swallowed a beach ball, and his legs grew like tree trunks. His balls slowly grew then dropped becoming an impressively large, low hanging pair in a furry sack and his cock thickened and lengthened until he could barely get his meaty paw round it. Rings sprouted down the shaft and between his legs, and through the piss hole came several quite thick rings. Here was a man who knew what his cock was for and was determined to get as much fun from it as possible. I looked at his now thick long nipples and they became well chewed and sprouted two rings each. On his right upper arm a large tattoo of the Scottish flag appeared with the words “Scotland Forever” round it and on his left the words “Fuck The English” in thick gothic letters. I decided then, that enough was enough and dressed him. A dirty white wife beater appeared on his body, the copious body hair sticking out from every angle. A tartan kilt was next, with a wide black cracked leather belt round his waist. A sporran was next, and on his feet appeared a pair of thick grey woollen socks pushed down to the tops of a pair of dirty tan caterpillar boots. On each wrist appeared a wide leather band, and round his neck appeared a leather thong tied in a hangman’s noose.
I looked at my new masterpiece with glee. Gone was the submissive corrupt English police officer dreaming of a career that he had totally fucked up, and in his place was a dominant, aggressive, Scottish truck driver fiercely proud of his heritage and not giving a shit what anyone else thought. Mess with this guy now, and you would take your teeth home in a bag.
I left him to doze while I turned my attention to Chris. This was going to be fun…
Chris was still asleep when I turned my attention to him. I thought about making him match the huge leather daddy bear sleeping in the next chair, then decided against it. Something a bit more interesting was called for.
I unwrapped the towel and looked at the results. His blonde hair was now jet black, and he had a good stubble growth on his face. Pulling out the clippers I made swift work of removing all his hair, then covered his head in foam. As I shaved the remaining stubble from his head it took a few minutes to make him as smooth and shiny as a baby. Turning to his face, I shaved him nice and smooth round the mouth and cheek area, leaving him with a nice pair of sideburns which terminated at the edge of his mouth. They looked quite awesome with his nice shiny head and I deepened his tan so that it wasn’t quite so stark.
At the side of his right nostril a small hinged ring appeared and in both of his ears there was suddenly a stretching spike. From the looks of things, he was in the process of stretching the holes up to a quite significant size. In his tongue there was suddenly a bar bell with large balls on each end, and in the center of his now full and pouting lip was a small ring. This was a mouth designed to give pleasure.
Pulling off the cape, I swiftly removed his policeman’s uniform. Naked, he was magnificent. His chest was just a huge pair of muscles like continental slabs. He had a really nice six pack with a good coating of hair that he had trimmed and shaped to accentuate the shape and make them appear to be even better than they already were. He had a nice set of balls and his cock was as impressive as I had thought it would be with a thick meaty foreskin pulled down over the head.
With a nod, all of his body hair was pulled from his body leaving him with that freshly waxed look. Every inch of his body from the neck down was completely smooth now and his tan extended from his head all the way down to his feet, with just a small groin area and a thin line left white, as though he had been kept in the sunshine naked except for a small thong.
Looking at his cock, I removed the foreskin but left it slightly raw as though it had been recently removed and only just healed. A small padlock appeared through the piss slit and a bar bell poked through the center of it, cross wise. I do love to see an ampallang on a man and thought it was appropriate.
Moving up to his nipples, a ring appeared in each, obviously fresh and still not fully healed. They obviously needed working on as they were still small and pert, but I’m sure in a short space of time they would be big and well used.
Standing back to look at my work, I had a nagging feeling something was missing. With a thought, fresh unhealed tattoos appeared. From the look of it, they had been done today, before coming into my shop. On his right arm appeared a matching tattoo of Dave’s, a Scottish flag with “Scotland Forever” and on his left arm a large union flag with the words “English Scum”. On the left side of his neck there was a Celtic cross surrounded by flames and in a semi circle round his collar bone were the words “Scotsman’s Pig slave”.
The final touch was the word “Skinhead” in large gothic letters across his back.
Clothes maketh the man they say, so in dressing him I decided to make him a very trad skin. He had a yellow check Fred Perry button down collar shirt done up to the neck. A pair of skin tight jeans were next, worn at the crotch to draw attention to the large bulge in his trousers. High, heavy, 20-hole cherry red Ranger boots appeared on his feet with yellow laces tied tight at the top. The jeans came to just below the top of the boots, so that when sitting they rode up showing the yellow socks underneath. A pair of yellow braces were next, hanging down from the waistband, and in his back right hand pocket was a yellow bandanna. There would be no mistaking this boys new fetish. The final touch was a thick chain padlocked round his neck.
I was quite impressed with the end results. The police officer that had entered my shop had gone. In his place was a fresh faced piss drinking skinhead slave. His new history was quite revealing. Kicked out of the police force for corruption six months ago, there hadn’t been enough evidence for a conviction. Penniless and homeless, he had been hitch hiking and met Dave, a rough nasty Scottish trucker doing the London to Edinburgh run. After finding out Chris’s story when Chris got drunk that night, Dave raped Chris and gave him a choice. Either submit to Dave and become his gay slave, or he would be beaten within an inch of his life and abandoned in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. Dave promised that he would always look after Chris but the price was total obedience. Even though he remained straight, Chris had no choice in the matter and submitted to a life of servitude and use. He screamed a lot in the beginning, especially when he was forcibly turned into a skinhead. He sobbed the first time he saw his hairless self, and when his foreskin was removed at the same time as his cock was pierced he felt part of his soul crumble and finally accepted his new role. The final straw was today when Dave took him to the tattooists and he had been indelibly marked for the rest of his life.
As Chris woke up, he looked over at his master. Dave, or Jock as he was now known, winked at me, then gestured Chris over with a quick flick of his head. Lifting his kilt, he gestured to his massive cock and Chris fell to his knees wrapping his lips round the huge organ. I heard the distinctive sound of a man pissing and saw Chris struggling to swallow the full flow without choking. As it slackened, Chris’s head started to bob up and down and I could hear him gagging as it banged off the back of his throat. Jock pulled out a large curved Boswell pipe from his sporran and placing it into his mouth, lit it. Fragrant smoke drifted from his mouth as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the pleasure he was receiving. Suddenly he started to puff faster on the pipe and the clouds of smoke became thicker until with a low animal growl he shot his load down his skin slaves throat.. Opening his eyes at last, he looked at Chris on his knees still with his masters cock in his mouth. Jock pulled out with a plop and rubbed his slaves head fondly. “Good boy” he said, and Chris’s face lit up.
Jock looked at me and smiled. “Sorry about that” he said in a thick Scots accent. “Sometimes a bloke can’t resist.”
“Oh I understand perfectly. But back to business. I let your slave sleep upstairs in the spare room in exchange for working in the shop doing the cleaning, reception work, and general donkey work while you are on the road. Every weekend he spends with you, as well as the times you need someone to help you out on a run. I also get to use his mouth and arse when the mood takes me, but keep him away from anyone else unless you agree to it before hand.”
Aye man, that sounds fine to me. The boy needs a lot of work yet, but I’m sure between us we can whip him into shape.”
With that, jock pulled on a large battered green MA1 jacket with a hi-viz waistcoat over the top, and Chris pulled on a very nice heavy black Crombie. As they left, Chris a respectful 2 steps behind Jock, I reflected on what had been a great day. First a biker with a very high sex drive, and now a trucker and his skinhead slave, and I get a new dogsbody to help in the shop. Who needs to put adverts in the help wanted section when the perfect candidate is going to walk in off the street? I smiled as I locked the shop doors and turned off the lights. So many deserving cases, and so little time. Still, tomorrow is another day, and who knows what will happen.
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Contains adult themes so don’t say you haven’t been warned!!
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It’s all gone horribly wrong!!
As you may be aware, I played a trick on a work mate last year where I persuaded him and a member of the audience at a show I was doing that they had swapped souls. The idea was that they felt as if their life was totally new, but they could only access the experiences and memories of the new body that they inhabited. I also made John extremely submissive and obedient to Dave for a laugh, not realising quite what a sadistic bastard Dave was, or the extent of his perversions.
The original idea was to let them play for a while and then remove the hypnotic conditioning leaving them to return to their old habits a little wiser and more experienced. Unfortunately, Before I could complete the process, there was a terrible accident and I was knocked unconscious and left hospitalised for a fortnight. By the time I was fit enough to leave, John and Dave had both vanished. What limited information I could find was that John and Dave had both vanished. John had gone off somewhere with Dave and had made some radical alterations to his appearance. It looked like Dave was trying to remake John in his own image.
After my monumental fuck up I swore off hypnosis and concentrated on my work. I was doing quite well and had just been promoted. I started going to conferences round the country, and about 18 months after my accident I was sent to Leeds for a few days. I decided to go on the Friday so I could cruise round the gay bars at the weekend and recover on the Monday, before attending the conference that started on Tuesday.
I had been given a list of gay pubs and clubs, and plumped for something a bit sleazy. I pulled on my leather jeans, leather waistcoat and high boots and hit the scene. I looked quite buff in a young twink sort of way. I shaved my blonde body hair and kept my face stubbly. I looked rough but sexy at the same time. Sort of like a GQ model if I do say so myself.
The club was your typical sleazy leather bar, the sort where you wipe your feet on the way out. It wasn’t that busy when I got there, and the barman was obviously chatting me up as he served my beer. He was cute enough I suppose, but I don’t really like piercings and the thick septum ring in his nose was a bit of a turn off. I finished my drink, and was just about to leave for somewhere a little less heavy when suddenly THEY walked in. John and Dave. And that was when my world came crashing down.
It was terrible, worse than my worst nightmare. I recognised Dave immediately, but it took a second or two to realise that the man stood next to him was John. They were almost identical in every way. They both had shaved heads with tattoos running down the sides onto their necks. They had identical piercings:- septum, eyebrow, nose bridge, ears, lip and tongue. Both of them had thick beards, but Johns was longer than Dave’s. Dave obviously trimmed his short, but Johns looked like it never saw a pair of scissors. They were both wearing full leathers from head to toe. Muir caps, leather shirts and ties, leather gloves, Sam Browne belts, leather jeans and high polished boots. John had put on a lot of weight and was almost as fat as Dave. They were both smoking and seemed to smoke in exactly the same way.
I stood there in shock and as they approached the bar to get a drink they spotted me. Dave’s face lit up at the sight of me and he grabbed me round the shoulders and gave me a big bear hug. John got the drinks and at a nod from Dave bought one for me.
“Fuck me, mate, long time no see! What you doing here?”
“Hey Dave, I’m up for a conference next week so I thought I’d check out some of the local clubs. Is that John with you?”
“Yeah man, and call me Bruiser. Everyone else does. And its not John any more, I renamed him Spud. Spud Bruisersboy.” he grabbed John…err Spud.. round the waist and pulled him close. ” Aint that right, fucker?”
” Fucking right Boss. John don’t fucking live here no more, I’m Spud now. Got it all changed legal, like just after me and Bruiser hooked up.”
“Um that’s nice. So what you up to now?”
“Oh I got Spud all pierced and tatted and he works as my fucking labourer now. He found it tough at first after all that pussy work in that office, but he picked it up with my encouragement. Mind you, he still fucks up now and again on purpose just so I have to punish him. He thinks I don’t love him if I don’t give him a good beating now and again.”
“So you are both happy, anyway?”
“Too fucking right mate. I’m much happier being Bruiser, and I know Spud is happy now he is almost back to the way he was before you fucked us both over.”
I looked up at that statement, and was surprised to see Bruiser frowning. He had gone from being affable and friendly to confrontational and aggressive in the space of a second.
“What the fuck gives you the right to fuck two peoples lives up like you did man? We didn’t ask for this swap and you just left us to it. The fact that I’m happy with the way things have gone makes no fucking difference. You still did it.”
“But I can make it better,” I replied. “I can make it as it was before if you……”
Bruiser grabbed me round the throat and cut me off mid sentence.
“I don’t fucking think so mate. Neither of us can be hypnotised again. I took steps once I realised that anyone with a shiny watch could make me go back to what I was. I’ve fucked Spud up good and proper, and he is now an obedient little sod which I like. I don’t want to swap to what I’ve turned him into.”
I felt Bruisers hand tightening round my throat and could hardly breath, never mind speak. He obviously still thought the swap was real and had got some sort of conditioning to stop anyone else hypnotising him. I managed to get some breath and forced out “Okay, I’m really sorry.”
Bruiser released me and I rubbed my throat. “I only meant for it to be for an hour or two, not for life man.” I said.
“Well its done now, and to be honest I couldn’t ask for a better slave than Spud, anyway. I was able to mould him to my exact specifications and he is as much like me now as I can make him, while still being the filthy pig slave I’ve always wanted.”
I looked at Spud and he nodded. “I am happy mate.” he said. “I am with the most amazing bloke and can’t get enough of him. He is fucking awesome!”.
I contemplated the situation and realised that I couldn’t do anything to change it. If I did make them both as they were before it wouldn’t make any difference. Bruiser would lose the love of his life and Spud wouldn’t be able to go back to his old life looking the way he did now. What was done was done, and it was time to move on. I felt like a chapter of my life had come to a close. It wasn’t the fairy tale ending, but it was an ending. I could move on with my life. Boy was I wrong……..
I had another couple of beers with Bruiser and Spud just chatting away, and I started to feel really drunk. The room was spinning and I couldn’t help slurring my words and stumbling. Bruiser looked concerned, and he and Spud got me outside into the fresh air. I remember Bruiser sending Spud back inside to get all our coats and then everything went dark.
I woke up with a thumping headache. I don’t drink that often, but it still doesn’t normally affect me that badly. I looked round the room I was in and saw what looked like something from a horror film. In pride of place in the center was a large sling with a shackle at each corner and in the corner of the room was a shower base. The walls were decorated with camouflage material and netting, and on shelves and hooks were a wide variety of whips, chains and sex toys.
I was lying on a thin pallet on the floor, naked except for a thin blanket. I tried to stand up, but couldn’t get higher than my hands and knees. I saw a steel bowl of water near me and started to drink. I slurped it all down and chased the last few drops round with my tongue. My hands didn’t want to hold the bowl so I ended up chasing it round the floor.
I suddenly needed to piss really badly and went to the shower base. There was a drain in the middle of it, but try as I might, I couldn’t release the flow of urine. Then I heard a door opening behind me and I saw Bruiser walking into the room. He looked like he had come from work as he was wearing dirty jeans tucked into filthy rigger boots, ripped tee shirt and hi viz waistcoat.
“Morning puppy” he said to me.
“Woof!!” What the fuck? I was trying to talk and demand an explanation and all I get is woof?
I tried again. “Woof woof, whine whine woof!”
“Ah I see you have found one of the other bits of conditioning I’ve put in place.” he said. “I think you found the first few, but just to show what I mean, go piss boy”.
At this point I suddenly found my cock in full flow, and the feeling of relief as my bladder emptied was unbelievable.
“I suppose you are wondering what’s happening to you?” said Bruiser looming over me as the flow of piss slowed to a trickle and stopped. “After you did what you did last year, I did some research and learnt a few tricks. There are chemicals available on the internet that make people open to suggestion if administered while the conscious mind is occupied. I simply slipped something into your drink the other night and then when I got you home did the rest. How did I get the opportunity, you wonder? Well I had intended to hunt you down at some point to get my revenge, but when I saw in the local paper that your company was hosting a conference here in Leeds it was easy enough to check whether you were going. You know the e-mails you’ve been swapping with Leedsguy? That’s a mate of mine. He was the one who recommended the club you went to and that’s how we knew you were going to be there. After that it was easy.”
Bruiser grabbed me by the hair and snarled into my face. “You obey me now boy, even though you might not want to. Puppy training was just the beginning. Open your mouth” he said as he pulled his long fat pierced cock out of his jeans “and don’t spill a fucking drop.”
I fell on the cock with mounting desire. I wanted to suck but for some reason I just held it in my mouth as I felt his belly tense, then a stream of acrid piss filled my mouth. It tasted foul, but I swallowed it all down like a thirsty man in a desert. I could smell the stale sweat in his crotch and felt sick, then wanted to gag as the piss flow slowed and his cock grew bigger and bigger in my mouth. I could feel my mouth stretching as it got thicker, then the ring in the end started to crawl down my throat as it got longer. He held the back of my head and started to thrust violently in and out. I managed to grab a breath when he pulled out and though I felt like I wanted to choke I managed to stop somehow. What was even worse somehow was my own cock was as hard as a rock at this brutal treatment. I have always been attracted to pretty leather boys, not fat ugly leather brutes and have never enjoyed the rough side of sex, but I was getting off on this treatment big time.
I felt Bruiser tensing up and suddenly he shot load after load of hot, thick spunk into my mouth. I swallowed frantically whilst at the same time shot my own load all over Bruisers heavy filthy work boots. Bruiser pulled out of my mouth with a plop and looked down. All he did was lift his boot towards me and I immediately fell on it, licking my spunk off it and filling my mouth with grit and unidentifiable filth.
I sat back on my heels and looked at Bruiser with my mouth open and grime encrusted tongue hanging out. “Good boy” he said and I felt a warm glow of adoration as he rubbed the top of my head. Bruiser walked over to the bowl on the floor and filled it back up with water. I crawled over to it and drank the contents, washing the shit out of my mouth.
“Now boy, I have plans for you. Whilst you were out I got you to write a letter of resignation from your job, I organised the sale of everything you own and now your conditioning is complete I can organise the rest of your life. Go to sleep now, and when you wake up you will be literally a new man” and with that, he turned off the light and left the room. I crawled to the pallet and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
Bruiser here. I got the puppy to write down his story before I finished him off. He isn’t in any fit state to write anything now, even writing his own name is too much of a challenge for him. He has trouble signing an X on official forms.
When I was first swapped into this body it was like I had been reborn. I thought Spud was a bit wimpy, and was glad I wasn’t inhabiting his body any more. I quickly realised I had a major fetish for transformation as well as brutal man on man sex. Spud was proving to be very malleable and obedient, and even though he didn’t want to do things he had no choice but to obey me. I realised it was part of the hypnotic conditioning he had received and started to wonder what commands I had been given. Spud quickly adapted to being my slave, and it appealed to the sadistic side of my nature to force him to do things that deep down he hated. I made him learn to smoke and drink like me, but I left the feelings of dislike. To the outside world it looked like he enjoyed them as much as I did, but inside he still hated them. It didn’t matter to me, as long as he did it. Every time he lit up a fag or swigged his pint with a sigh of pleasure it made me horny on several levels. The main one being that I love fucking smoking pissheads, but also the fact that he only did it because I told him to.
I didn’t care about his feelings, I just altered him in every way I could. I made him look as much like me as I could, but I decided early on that he wasn’t ever going to cut or shave his beard. I’ve always been attracted to the fat greasy biker look so that’s what I decided he was going to be. I made him pass his motorbike test then got him to join a local bikers gang with a very evil reputation. Some of the things he had to do to gain full membership shocked even me, and he has gained a reputation as a bad bloke to fuck with. He is a very popular member as he is always willing to service any pissed up biker who wants his cock sucked, no matter how foul the biker in question is. Some of the ones too rough or nasty to get a regular bird enjoy his arse, and spud makes sure they know how much he enjoys their attentions.
After a few months I started to look at different forms of mind control. I didn’t want anyone coming along and undoing my work. I had felt a bit resentful about being manipulated and was determined that if I ever came across the fucker that swapped us he would pay for it. I eventually came across several methods and after a treatment for me and Spud I was sure we were both stuck as we are now.
As you read above, I managed to get hold of puppy purely by accident. It all fell into place a lot more easily than I thought it would. Using a combination of drugs and hypnosis I rewrote his mind. Inside he thinks he is still the same person he always was, but can’t break out of his conditioning. He actually wants to be controlled now and secretly enjoys it.
So what’s happened to him now, you ask? Well he’s had an eventful couple of years. After a few months of being a puppy slave I got bored with him. Spud was taking up most of my time with his upcoming court case for assault, so I gave him back his ability to talk and walk upright. He had gained a lot of weight and was nice and chubby in a soft way. I had his nipples, cock, eyebrow, lip, septum and tongue pierced. I also had his left ear pierced all the way from lobe to top. I made him come on the building site with us to toughen him up, but took away his ability to read and write. I also hooked him up with one of the dumber labourers, Bob, and made him copy the way Bob walked and talked. Bob took a shine to him and started calling him Fish as he was as white as a fish belly. It wasn’t long before Fish was servicing Bobs cock at every opportunity, so I let him move out of my place and in with Bob.
Bob wasn’t well known for his personal hygiene and usually wore his work clothes all the time, even when he wasn’t working. He had a huge fat belly that wobbled when he walked, but I knew for a fact that his cock was enormous, even bigger than mine. I’d lent Spud to him one day and saw how hard Spud found it to get the enormous beast into his mouth. Spud was complaining afterwards about how rank it tasted, since Bob didn’t bother bathing that often. His teeth were rotten and broken from neglect, and he didn’t bother with shaving and haircuts. Once a week he ran a pair of clippers over his face and head to keep himself tidy. He loved his tattoos and was covered with them. There was no design to them, just what he fancied at the time.
Fish of course was obliged to treat Bob like a hero, and be submissive to his suggestions. He had to live the same lifestyle as Bob so quickly became as rank and smelly. He ate and drank the same things as Bob so piled on the pounds while at the same time, Bob took him to the tattooists every week and picked a design to go on Fishes body. I particularly liked the spiders web he had put onto Fishes face.
Fish now follows Bob around like a puppy, looking, sounding and acting just like him. It turns out Bob has a pipe smoking fetish so Fish is rarely seen without a pipe in his mouth and a thick cloud of smoke round his head.
I occasionally allow the real personality out for an airing, and he constantly begs me to release him. He screams how horrible his life is and how disgusting he finds his life with Bob. He looks with horror at the tattoos on his hands, the big fat belly poking out over his rancid jeans, the strong rank smell of stale sweat and old piss, and starts sobbing. He puts his head in his hands and feels the broken nose where Bob punched him one night when he was pissed, and runs his tongue round the black stumps in his mouth. Bob can be vicious when he’s had a drink and takes it out on his boy. As far as Bob is concerned, his boy is a tough cunt who loves it rough. The rougher the better in fact. I look at the piece of human shit in front of me and take pity on him. Not a lot, you understand, but a little. Putting him under for the last time, I give him his final orders.
“From this moment forward, you don’t have any knowledge of your old life. The person you are now is the person you have always been. You love Bob with every fibre of your being and you can’t think of anyone you would rather spend your life with. The life you now lead is the life you have always wanted to lead. You are a thick illiterate unskilled manual worker with an awesome boyfriend who is everything you have ever wanted in a man.” I woke him up and looked at the dull cow eyed thick fucker in front of me.
“Get out of here you dumb cunt, don’t you have any work to do?”
“Sorry boss. Was getting a drink”
“Well fuck off somewhere else, you ugly fat smelly bastard!”
“Yes boss” he said as he shuffled out of my office.
I smiled as he went to bob and gave him a big kiss with tongues and Bob squeezed his arse. I said I felt pity for him, I didn’t say I was going to do anything nice. I have my revenge, and I have my slave Spud. Life’s fucking awesome!!
Tales From a Barbers Shop: A New Beginning
Tales From a Barbers Shop: A New Beginning
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It’s not easy being a god. Once upon a time you received the adulation and worship of the masses, and life was good. Slowly however, the age of rationality came in and people stopped believing. Even the Christian God who usurped us began to have problems, and so we were diminished and made small.
I was originally the trickster god. Some called me Loki, and I had the most fun of all my brothers and sisters. Slowly however, we all started to fade, and eventually I was reduced to more of a sprite than a god. Then, the age of chaos arrived. People began to turn away from the organised religions and I spotted a gap in the market. All those lonely and unhappy people, just waiting for someone to help them change their pathetic little lives for better or worse. And if it cost them a small part of their souls, then hey, no one said I was a benevolent god. I’m just a jobbing guy trying to make my way in the world and have a little fun at the same time. Is that a crime? Ultimately there is an old Klingon saying. Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it…….
So here I am, in my latest little venture. I’ve tried a few things such as the old genie in a bottle and the whole three wishes bullshit. That was ok, but it didn’t really get the results I thought it might. After a couple of hundred years stuck in a bottle floating round the worlds oceans you kind of start to spot the flaws in the plan.
So I thought to myself, what kind of venture could I find that caters to the lost and lonely and unhappy. Then I had a rethink and thought “fuck it, who gives a shit. Let’s get em all”.
The results are right in front of you. Looks good, doesn’t it? My very own barber shop, with all the trimmings. I decided to go for the old fashioned style, with the old fashioned leather chairs and the pictures of well greased pomaded movie stars on the wall. Hell, I even use a foam machine and a straight razor. The striped pole above the door and the red and white awning are the honey to catch the fly. As I wait for my first customer to arrive, I admire my new look in the mirror. Stocky, with a well trimmed black goatee and a thick gold ring in each ear. My head is shaved smooth and I admire the way the lights shine off its highly polished surface. Just to add a bit of icing to the cake, I have a thick coating of hair on my body which pokes just above the collar of my barbers smock. This is going to be fun….
The door jangled and I turned to look at my first victim….err customer. It was a business man from the look of it, mid forties, and not in a very happy mood. His expensive suit was exquisite, a Givenchy, and his burgundy silk tie was Chanel. He wore nice patent leather brogues and he had on a very expensive, yet tasteful Rolex watch.
“You”, he said scowling, “I need a trim and a tidy in a hurry. I have an important meeting which no one told me about and I don’t have time to get across town to my usual salon”.
“Why certainly sir, please take a seat. Is there anything in particular you fancy? I’m skilled in all the modern styles, as well as the more old fashioned cuts”.
“Cut the chatter, all I want is it trimmed and neatened, then styled. You can see how I like it, just make it look as good as you can”.
“Of course sir. I pride myself that the customer walks away from here 100% happy or I will refund twice the price of the haircut”.
“Ok,” he said as I steered him towards the waiting chair and tucked a cape round his neck “just be as quick as you can”.
“Would sir care for a coffee while I prepare you?” I asked, not really caring whether he did or not. His high handed attitude was beginning to get on my nerves. This is not a good idea.
“No” he grunted so I just smiled and began to run my fingers through his hair.
It was the standard expensive salon cut that men like him thought was so trendy but was in reality just another corporate uniform. Feathered and spiky, it took a handful of gel and your fingers running through it to make you look like you have just got out of bed. As I fondled his head, I also fondled his mind. It is actually quite relaxing and people don’t realise how suggestive this makes them. I read their hopes and dreams, their likes and dislikes, their little foibles and their deepest fears. This one was typical of most middle managers. Full of his own self importance, he bullied those he thought were below him and kissed the arses of those above. It was time for a change, and whether he wanted to or not, he was going to love the new him……
I looked down at the man drowsing in the chair. Part of the charm was savouring the moment. I had decided what I was going to do but thought that he should be part of it.
“Well sir, it looks like you really could use a trim here. Your hair has really gone past the point of repair. What say we decide on a new look?”
“I don’t really have the time” he muttered uncertainly to me but didn’t move from the chair.
“Of course you do sir. Didn’t you tell me you were off today?”
“Nah, got a meeting……”
“No, you were off today”.
“I was off today.”
“That’s better” I said as his eyes lost their focus and he began to look lost. I stroked his hair more, loving the way it grew out until it hung down to just below his shoulders. I took a pair of scissors and cut round the sides and top, leaving the back untouched. Switching on the foam machine I lit a large Cuban cigar, feeling the tingling in my groin I always got when I was doing a gods work. It was my work and I’m the god.
You want a cigar too mate?” I asked as he looked at the glowing tip.
“Nah mate, I don’t smoke”.
“Yes you do, I remember you telling me how much you liked smoking cigars when you walked in”.
“I love smoking cigars. I’d love one thanks”.
So I put a lit cigar in his mouth and set to work on his hair again.
Picking up the clippers, I removed the guard and bit into the remaining hair on the sides leaving a band of white skin behind. As tiny fragments of hair fell onto the ends of his cigar I smiled as he puffed and inhaled like a true pro.
Once I had shaved the sides with the clippers I picked up my trimming scissors and gave the top of his head a nice distressed look. It was exactly how it looked. A man chopping chunks out leaving it ragged and uneven. Coating the sides with foam, I took the straight razor and began to sweep away the remaining bits of hair leaving a surgically smooth line between the unshaved area and the remaining hair. Strangely, it also left his skin tanned brown with a rather fetching tribal tattoo down each side. Quickly I braided the remaining hair which now ran to about a foot below his shoulders. I moved to the front and looked critically at his face. An idea came into my head and I smiled. It was perfect…….
“It looks like you could do with a shave mate. I have just the look for you.”
“Fucking go for it mate, I trust you”.
It was nice to see his speech patterns changing so fast. Sometimes they realise what I’m up to and they resist causing the whole thing to become a bit unreliable. They never win, but even I’m surprised at the results sometimes.
But I digress. Wiping the foam round his face, I carefully shaved the areas I was interested in. Very quickly a different looking man appeared in front of me. With a crack, I saw his nose break and flatten. A gloop noise, and a couple of double chins appeared and his face filled out. I finished shaving him and looked at the results. He now had a long goatee beard with no moustache. It was thick and about two feet long. I quickly divided the beard into two and braided each section so he had two plaits hanging off his chin. I concentrated for a moment and with several plops a bullet stud appeared in each nostril, a gold ring in his eyebrow, a stud in the center of his top lip, and several rings of varying sizes and thickness in each ear. I finished it off with thick black celtic sideburns tattooed on each side of his face.
“Well mate, all done. What do you think?”
“Fuck yeah. You did a fucking amazing job mate. I’ll let the other boys in the chapter know how good you are”.
I pulled off the cape and saw his outfit had totally changed. Gone were the expensive suit and shoes and watch, in their place was an outfit more fitting for the big rough bloke in front of me.
He now had a very fit, but moderately overweight body. His belly hung over the tight black leather jeans that looked painted on. They were tucked into a pair of high black polished bike boots and held up with a thick plain leather belt. He wore a black t-shirt with a guns and roses logo and a worn black leather waistcoat. Running down both arms were intricate tribal tattoos that ended below his wrist and ran up both sides of his neck to just below his ears. As he lumbered to his feet and reached for his motorcycle jacket with the hells angel chapter logo painted on the back his hand accidentally rubbed my crotch and he felt my raging hard-on. He grinned at me as he started to massage my cock in my tight jeans and I could see through his leather jeans that his cock was just as hard as mine. I had taken him from middle management bully boy to construction labourer where he was constantly ordered around. He was still the man who had come into my shop, but I had rewritten his history and the world thought it had always been like this. As I led him into the back of the shop and he thrust his horny pierced tongue into my mouth and pinned me up the wall, I thought to myself “Hey, its good to be a god”…….
Swapped Around: A Sequel to Swap Around
Swapped Around: A Sequel to Swap Around
This story is copyrighted to Peircedskin and may be reproduced on free sites but permission is required for pay sites.
Contains adult themes so don’t say you haven’t been warned!!
A note to loyal readers. This, and the prequel are an experiment. Its an idea I’ve had in my mind for a long time and I couldn’t work out how to do it until now. If you love it, or if you hate it then please let me know at firstname.lastname@example.org
All comments are appreciated, but please be gentle. If you haven’t written anything yourself then remember, this is hard work!!
“Three, two, one,” CLAP!!
Dave woke up and looked at John. This was amazing, he knew every thought in his head was someone else’s, but it felt so real. He knew he used to be John, every fibre in his body said this was all knew to him, but he didn’t have any memories of his old life. It was as if his soul had changed shape to fill the Dave shaped hole and he was now someone else. At that moment the guy who had performed this miracle was sent flying from the stage and cracked his head open on the corner of a table. He was very still and there was blood everywhere.
Dave rubbed his freshly shaved head. It felt odd, but familiar at the same time. He knew he had shaved his head every day for the last thirty years, but somehow this was the first time he had felt it.
People were helping the guy who had fallen and someone was calling an ambulance. Dave remembered putting a few people in that condition, indeed he had spent a couple of years in prison for it, and didn’t feel any urge to go help. Instead, he looked at his old body and felt his cock go rock hard in his tight leather pants. What he really wanted to do now this minute was to grab John by the hair and force him onto his knees before he pulled out his over sized cock and thrust all eleven inches down his throat, watching him gag on the taste of his unwashed stinking foreskin then choking as the prince Albert piercing caught the back of his throat.
John meanwhile was going through a similar set of feelings. He knew he used to be Dave, a rough sadistic master, but had no memories of it. Instead he was filled with memories of sex with women and working in an office. He saw his work colleague go flying off the stage and was filled with worry. Should he go help? But just then he saw Dave and stopped in his tracks. Damn that man was ugly. He couldn’t believe he used to look like that. The weird thing was he couldn’t take his eyes off him. His cock was rock hard inside his Calvin clein boxers and he wanted nothing more than to bend over for him to thrust his cock up his arse. But that wasn’t right. He was straight. He didn’t get attracted to other men.
Dave looked at John, then swaggered over to him.
“Looks like it worked, doesn’t it boy?”
“What do you mean, boy?” said John indignantly.
“Just what I said. I’m the fucking daddy now. I have your fucking life and you wish you still had it, don’t you?”
“I wish I still had your life” replied John, his conditioning to obey clicking in.
“From now on, you call me Boss or Daddy. My name’s Dave, but everyone calls me Bruiser. For obvious reasons. If you have to refer to me to anyone else, you refer to me as Bruiser. Understand me boy?”
“Yes Boss, I do”.
“Good lad. From now on I’ll call you Spud. Now lets get out of here and back to my hotel. You have a busy weekend ahead of you”.
With that, the two men left the bar and the chaos of the ambulance and paramedics. By the time anyone thought to check on them they were long gone.
John walked into work and went straight to his desk. He felt so weird now. All weekend he had been used and abused by Bruiser. He had been tied up, whipped until he was raw, fucked, taught to drink his bosses piss, and clean every inch of his heavily tattooed body with his tongue. He still shuddered at the enormous cock he had been forced to suck at regular intervals. It was like the man never washed. The foreskin trapped a surprising amount of stale piss as well as cheese. The thick ring in the end made him want to throw up every time it banged the back of his throat but Bruiser had ordered him to take it all without gagging so he had managed somehow. He was even starting to look forward to it, to be honest. Bruiser had told him he would love sucking his cock and strangely he did. He was even getting a major hard-on at the thought, again just as Bruiser told him he would. He was learning to smoke now, and that was really strange. He hated smoking, and had told Bruiser as much. Bruiser just looked at him and said that any slave of his had to smoke. It didn’t matter how much he didn’t like it, but he was going to learn. John could smell the smoke clinging to him as he walked into the office. Bruiser had told him to go and jack his job.
His exact words were “Go and tell them to stick their job up their arse” and laughed. He then tied John to the bed and disappeared for several hours, returning with several carrier bags.
“I’ve decided I don’t like you wearing those fucking prissy clothes, Spud” said Bruiser. “From now on I want you dressing like a real man”.
From the carrier bags Bruiser pulled out some cheap t-shirts and jeans. From another came a battered pair of army boots, and from the last a very old battered motorcycle jacket.
As John cleared his desk after quitting his job, he felt all eyes on him. It wasn’t surprising really, as he hadn’t shaved at all that weekend and his beard was thick on his face. He was usually immaculately presented but he felt scruffy and dirty in his boots biker jacket and jeans. Nodding goodbye to the girl in the next cubicle he walked out of the office, a chapter of his life closing forever.
Outside, Bruiser was waiting for him.
“Got a treat in store for you Spud my boy, And you are going to love it. I’ve decided that beard looks good on you, so I forbid you ever to shave your face again. I want to see how long and thick we can get it. Instead, I’m taking you to have your head shaved”.
John looked at Bruiser in surprise and rubbed his face. He hated being bearded. But just the thought of losing his facial hair made him cringe. He had given up being surprised at what a total bastard his old body was. If the way he had been treated over the weekend had proved anything, it was that he couldn’t resist his new boss in anything. No matter what was done to him or what he was told to do, there seemed to be a deep connection that stopped him from resisting.
Bruiser led him down a narrow alley and to a plain door. The only thing that made it look like a shop was a small plaque saying “Transformations” in the middle. Just before they walked in Bruiser looked at John and said “Spud, I’m going to make some changes to you and I want you to be glad of them. I want you to look a certain way as my slave and this is the first step.”
“Whatever you say boss. I’m up for it” replied John, surprising himself.
As they walked through the door Bruiser led the way to a counter where he pressed a small bell. A bald young man in a barbers smock appeared and Bruiser handed him a card from his back pocket.
“Oh yes, we were expecting you sir” said the barber. “This will take a couple of hours so if you would like to take a seat, we will have your boy altered to your specifications”.
And with that, he took Johns hand and led him into the back of the shop.
John was led down a corridor into a white tiled room. In the middle was a large old fashioned barbers chair with straps on each arm.
“If you could just undress please, all the way. Totally naked.”
John complied, then was seated in the chair and the straps tightened round his wrists.
The barber picked up a set of clippers and with a loud clack, turned them on. John felt the blades biting into his hair. As the barber ran them through his trendy salon cut he saw large clumps of hair falling in front of his face onto the floor. Back and forth the clippers went until there was nothing left except a fine stubble all over his head. The barber then brushed away all the fine hair that had stuck to John, then fetched warm damp cloths from a machine in the corner and wrapped Johns head in them.
After about ten minutes the cloths were removed and hot lather was spread thickly over the stubble. After stropping an evil looking cut throat razor, the barber proceeded to shave what was left until the head was smooth and glossy. After wiping it clean of any remaining foam, he coated the head with a thick cream which was slowly absorbed until nothing was left but a dry shiny scalp.
“That cream is a hair inhibitor. You should only need to shave every month or so for the next few months. I’ll give your boss a supply so he can do you once a month. Within a year you should be totally, permanently bald”.
With that, the barber fetched a trolley filled with sharp needles and rings. Wiping Johns left ear with an antiseptic solution he proceeded to pierce his ear lobe three times with rings closed with balls, the repeated the procedure with the right ear. Then, at the top of his left ear he put a couple of smaller rings. Turning his attention to Johns nose, he quickly thrust a needle through the center of it and while John was still gasping with pain replaced the needle with a thick ring. Johns eyes were streaming and his nose was throbbing so much he hardly felt the clamp on his left nipple but then the pain of the piercing made him gasp again. Quickly piercing the right nipple the barber grabbed Johns cock and said
“Now this one might hurt” and quickly fitted John with a prince Albert ring straight through the piss hole coming out underneath.
“All done now, you can relax” said the barber undoing the straps that had prevented John from escaping before everything was done.
John slowly dressed, feeling every slight breeze on his smooth head. The earrings swayed as he moved his head and he throbbed on various place. As he saw himself in the full length mirror he gasped. He looked so different now! Even his own mother wouldn’t have recognised him. He finally realised what Bruiser was doing and a tear trickled down his face. Bruiser was making him over to be as much like him as possible. Just then, the door opened and Bruiser walked in. Grabbing John by the head, he thrust his pierced tongue into Johns mouth and snogged him. John could feel Bruisers hard cock rubbing against his, and was surprised to find he was just as aroused.
“Fucking awesome Spud. I’ll soon have you looking the way you used to. You want that don’t you? I’m going to help you become the man you used to be if I have to force you every step of the way. You want to be my slave, then its on my terms. I like men who look like me. So get down on your knees and take my sign of ownership.”
John knelt down and Bruiser pulled out a length of chain and a padlock. Wrapping the chain round Johns neck, he clicked the padlock shut. He then pulled out a legal form and a pen and told John to read it then sign it. As he did so, John saw it was a name change form. He was signing to lose his old name and legally become Spud Bruisersboy. John signed in the places indicated and Bruiser and the barber both signed as witnesses. Spud looked up at his new master and smiled.
“Come on then Spud, lets get you back to your place. I’ve arranged for a house clearance company to come empty it tomorrow so you need to give the key to a neighbour. Oh, you will need to give a months rent in lieu of notice too. Better keep it all legal.
“Then it’s off to Leeds for your new life working with me as my labourer. I’m sure you’ll pick it up soon enough”.
Spud followed his new master and sighed. Everything was swapped around now and he supposed he would have to get used to it.
This story is copyrighted to Peircedskin and may be reproduced on free sites but permission is required for pay sites.
Contains adult themes so don’t say you haven’t been warned!!
A note to loyal readers. This, and the sequel are an experiment. Its an idea I’ve had in my mind for a long time and I couldn’t work out how to do it until now. If you love it, or if you hate it then please let me know at email@example.com
All comments are appreciated, but please be gentle. If you haven’t written anything yourself then remember, this is hard work!!
I’m a trickster. I love to play jokes on people but sometimes they can go a bit wrong. Take this guy I work with called John. He used to be your typical uptight straight office jock, interested in sports, ladies and looking good. He did annoy me a lot of the time as he was so anti gay at times, but he was ok if you got him on his own. Not any more though, and its all my fault. Let me tell you about it…..
Our local gay club was having a talent show and John had come along with me for moral support. I had wanted someone to be there who I knew was a good subject for my hypnosis act and having previously hypnotised John once at a party I knew he was a good subject.
When It came time for my act I got up on the stage and asked for a volunteer. John immediately put his hand up and of course I picked him. The induction went well enough and I soon had him in a deep trance, his head on his chest answering all my questions. After the usual routine of making him cluck like a chicken and bark like a dog some big bloke in the audience started to heckle me and complain that it was all a fix.
I looked at the guy and he was your typical fat grunting leatherman. Shaved head with a full black beard and wearing a full leather uniform, his huge gut strained over the belt. He had high, heavy leather boots with a whip sticking from the top of one of them. The tribal tattoos on his head sweeping down his neck and thick rings in his ears and septum, along with a pierced eyebrow, lip and tongue gave the impression of this man being dangerous. Put that together with the black, yellow and red handkerchiefs in his pocket and the chains hanging from his shoulder on the master side, and this was not a man to be messed with.
He was actually getting quite obnoxious and complaining that it was all a set up so I looked at him, and then invited him up on stage.
After questioning him closely, he agreed that I could try to hypnotise him, but he swore to the audience that it was going to be impossible. I just looked at him until he went quiet, then told him to sit down in the chair in front of me.
Taking out my pocket watch (I was always a sucker for the old fashioned props) I started swinging it slowly in front of him. I kept my voice quiet so that he had to strain to hear me properly and gradually he went into a trance.
“Can you hear me?” I asked.
“Yes, I hear you”
“What’s your name?”
“Dave” he replied in a slow gruff voice.
“Ok Dave, you can hear my voice and my voice only. Look in the corner and you will see another man, his name is John.”
“Yes I see him.”
“Ok Dave, in a moment I will count to three and clap, and you will wake up. When you wake up, you will believe that you are John. I will have swapped your souls round but not your knowledge. The only memories you will be able to access are those of Dave, but you will feel everything like it is brand new. However, you will be attracted to your old body. you have a connection and would love to fuck it senseless. Do you understand your instructions?”
Dave nodded and repeated them back to me.
“One more thing Dave, when I clap and count backwards from three to one you will immediately go back into the state you are in now. Only I can put you back to sleep. If anyone else does it there will be no effect. Do you understand?”
Dave nodded again and I left him with his head bowed on his chest.
I then called John over and gave him the same instructions with obvious variations. He would think that he used to be Dave, was terribly attracted to his old body, and wanted nothing more than to be fucked rigid by him. I also added the twist that he was submissive and obedient to Dave. John had pissed me off a few times with his comments about arse bandits and shit stabbers and I wanted him to see what it was like to be intensely attracted to another man to the point that his arse twitched at the thought of a big fat cock going up there.
This is, unfortunately where it all went horribly wrong. I had only intended them to feel like that for the duration of the session. I hadn’t counted on a clumsy moron deciding to use the stage as a short cut from the bar back to his table in the corner. As I reached the word three and clapped, this idiot slipped over on a pool of beer and banged straight into me. I went flying and somersaulted off the stage and cracked my head on the corner of a table. I felt this horrible agonising pain, saw a blinding flash of light, and blacked out. The next thing I knew I was waking up in hospital a week later with several stitches in my head and an olympic sized hangover.
It was another week before I could leave the hospital and get back to work, and I was fretting over John and Dave. I knew something was going to happen but I didn’t know what it was going to be. Fortunately no one from work knew about my little sideline and didn’t connect me with John. They all knew I was gay and Johns feelings about that so when I arrived on the Monday morning and saw his empty cubicle people just looked at me normally when I asked where he was.
“John, oh he came in a couple of weeks ago and cleared out his desk. He didn’t look himself to be honest. You know how he always liked to look sharp and well dressed, he came in all unshaved in a pair of jeans and an old motor bike jacket and told us we could stick our job up our arses, he was off. And no ones been able to contact him since” said the girl in the next cubicle to him. “And I swear he stank of beer and smoke, which is unusual. You know he always made such a big fuss about people smoking round him.”
This was the point at which I started to panic, and pleading a sick headache at lunchtime I went round to his flat. It was empty. I peered through a window and all the furniture was gone. It was totally bare, as though no one had ever lived there. A neighbour saw me peering and I told her I was a friend looking for John.
“Oh, he left over a week ago. The house clearance people came and emptied it a couple of days ago. He gave me the key and a letter for the landlord with his last months rent. He’s gone off somewhere, labouring I think he said. Something about it not feeling right being in an office and getting back to what he should be doing or something. I wasn’t too sure. I think he was drunk myself. He did look a lot different to the way he normally did, I can tell you.”
I looked at the man and hardly daring to speak, I asked what he meant, different.
“Well it was a bit of a shock to be honest. He had shaved his head completely bald, and had started to grow a beard. I can’t remember if he had earrings in before, but these new ones he has, three in each ear and two at the top of his left looked a bit raw, as if he hadn’t long had them. The weirdest one was the ring in his nose. Looked like something out of a pigs snout if you ask me. And what was with the chain padlocked round his neck? I thought that whole punk look had gone a long time ago. Mind you, he did sort of look like the big fat bloke waiting for him in the car outside when he gave me the key and the letter. Are they related?”
I cringed inside as I realised what I had done. They were obeying my instructions from before my accident and I had to try to put things right before it was too late.
But it was over a year before I saw them again….
One Man’s Rubbish
One Man’s Rubbish
Any comments gratefully received at firstname.lastname@example.org
This story contains gay themes, transformation, clothes fetish, and a whole host of weirdness. If you don’t like these things then tough, don’t read it.
Permission is granted to publish this story on non profit making sites only. If I ain’t sent it to ya, ask me first.
My apologies if it’s a bit long, I got carried away. Please bear with me as it does get interesting, honest!!
David was always what you would call frugal.
His job at the bank had shown him the effects of overspending with all the people coming in to see him in his capacity as a bank manager begging for loans, or just trying to put off payment dates pleading huge bills or start of school terms etc.
His job, which he thoroughly enjoyed, was to tell them to pay up or to call in the debt. Several people lost their homes because of him, but his philosophy was that they shouldn’t have been so profligate in their spending habits should they?
In David’s private life he enjoyed a comfortable, if minimalist life. Not for him the clutter of ornaments and decorations, he lived in a stylishly stark apartment in a nice area with the minimum of clutter. On the walls were a few art prints to counteract the starkness of the white walls, a large television and DVD were in the corner and next to the black leather sofa was a large glass coffee table holding a china vase full of dried flowers.
The bedroom was the only extravagance in his life. Two walls were covered with mirror fronted wardrobes and the bed was a king sized posturepoedic so that he didn’t twist his spine whilst sleeping. After all, when you look as good as David you want to stay in shape.
At the age of twenty five he’d never looked better. All those months at the gym (during off peak hours of course) had given him a very large chest and arms, six pack, and thick strong legs. At 6’2 it showed as he walked that he had a good body. All the girls stared and whispered, and even some of the guys had a major hard-on as he walked past. His wavy blonde Hugh Grant hair style and blue eyes were straight out of a TV commercial and everyone said that with his strong jaw line and perfect teeth he should have been an actor not a bank manager.
As perfect as he was, he did have one slight flaw in his character. He loved to wear other people’s clothes. Not steal them, just to know someone else had worn them before him. He used to haunt jumble sales and second hand clothes store as a child, and many times had tried on the sports gear after practice wanking himself silly with the smell of other guys sweat in his nostrils.
So there he was, sitting in front of the computer in the office, when the e-mail chime went.
“Damned junk mail.” He thought, as he opened it. As he went to delete it he noticed it was from a yahoo group he was a member of, second hand clothes group. A bunch of people used the place to discuss the best places to get gear, and occasionally to swap items. Seems a new member was trying to clear some space in his closets and wanted to know if anyone could take it off their hands.
Clicking yahoo he noticed the new member was still online.
“Hello” He typed.
“You still trying to get rid of the stuff?”
“Yeah, but I need to get rid of it all in one go. All or nothing I’m afraid”
“I’ll take it all”
He had nothing to lose really, if it fit, great, if not he’d just wank a few times and bin it.
“How do I get it to you? Most people are understandably nervous of giving out personal details.”
David had had similar reservations himself, but a simple solution was available.
“No probs. E-mail the group founder and give him your details as well as my screen I.D. and he will do the rest”.
The group founder ran a second hand clothes shop somewhere in Surrey and liked people to use his shop, so for a small fee and the postage would anonymously pass items between members. It worked very well, and only he had members’ details.
“Great,” came the reply. “I’ll get right on it.”
David logged off and looked at the time. No more appointments today so as a treat he decided to go to the gym and get pumped.
A week went by, and David forgot about the conversation on the net. He had accumulated several weeks holiday, and had decided to take it. A few days relaxing at home, maybe look for some cheap breaks on lastminute.com, and generally slumming around.
Suddenly the door bell went and he was surprised to see a UPS delivery man with a large parcel waiting to be signed for. It was only when he saw the return address he remembered the internet conversation and the old clothes.
Ripping off the packaging he saw there was a note inside from the group moderator.
“Couple more to come mate; this was the first one to arrive so I sent it on to you. Have fun, and you know where I am if you need anything else. The guy asked me to pass a message on to you, something about the clothes maketh the man. Sounded like gibberish to me.” Pinned to the note was one of the fliers for his shop.
Prising open the large box, it seemed to be full of work gear. Putting the box onto the table he started to pull the clothes out. As he lifted the first item out, which appeared to be a hi-viz waistcoat he noticed a very pungent odour rising from the box. Someone hadn’t washed the clothes before packing them obviously.
All in all, there were three pairs of old jeans, three t-shirts, three padded check shirts, several pairs of smelly socks, two jock straps, one pair of old style underpants, a pair of braces and a pair of calf length battered rigger boots with steel toecaps. As he moved the box off the table, he noticed that a baseball cap had slipped under the seam so he pulled that out too.
To say he was aroused was an understatement. His cock was so hard that he felt like it was about to explode. Taking the baseball cap in his hand he took a good sniff of the sweat round the band and again noticed the faint but pungent odour he had smelled when opening the box. Scraping his hair back, he put the baseball cap on his head tucking the stray hair underneath and tightening the strap at the back. Whoever had owned it before had a bigger head than David, and he didn’t want it slipping off until he had finished. Glancing up he could see the brim in his eye line and adjusted it slightly so it sat further back on his head.
Slowly unbuttoning his crisp white shirt he looked at the t-shirts. He really wanted to rip of his clothes and wank himself stupid, especially with the bulge in his stiff new jeans threatening to burst the zip, but he loved the feeling of anticipation and wanted the moment to last as long as he could make it.
Finally he decided on a formerly white, now grey one with short sleeves. Baggy round the neck as though it had been stretched from wear, the sweat marks under the armpits were very prominent. As his hands picked it up, he could feel the roughness of the fabric. It was the roughness of something that had been washed too infrequently to remove all the grime and sweat and dead skin now embedded into the fabric. As he slowly slipped it over his head the smell made his head swim with desire and he could see hairs from the previous owner still stuck in the seams. His nipples tingled and swelled as the t-shirt fell into place, and David could tell that the shirt was previously worn by someone about the same chest size as him, but a lot bigger in the belly if the way it sagged was any indication.
Slowly pulling off his jeans, his cock now burst forth in its entire 10” circumcised glory, standing ramrod stiff almost poking David in the belly. The smell had faded in his nostrils as he got used to it, but he was still feeling slightly light headed as he picked up the underpants. The jocks were way too small to hold his cock when hard, so taking a sniff of the crotch and arse area slowly pulled them up his legs. His cock was now leaking pre-cum like a tap, so he gently rubbed the head to lubricate it and take off some of the edge before reluctantly licking his fingers clean and pulling the waist band loosely over his hips, hiding his cock in the folds of fabric. Again the pants were for a man much bigger in the waist than he was, but he managed to fold them slightly so they didn’t fall down.
Next came a pair of thick woollen socks. As he pulled them up his legs he noticed that the soles felt slightly hard, as though they were filled with grit. They were tight on his feet and he had to stretch them to fit the heels properly into position. Settling them on his feet he went to the pile of jeans.
Looking through them, he finally decided on the least filthy pair. Ripped at the knees, again the dirt was ingrained and he knew that no amount of washing would ever get them clean. They were very faded, but badly stained with dirt. Hurrying now, he pulled them on and did them up round his hard cock. Looking down he saw that they were several inches too short in the leg, and several inches too big in the waist. Clipping the braces to the back, he pulled them over his shoulders and attached them to the front. As he did so the jeans slipped slightly so they were resting on his hips not round his waist.
Grabbing a grubby red checked padded shirt he noticed the arms were quite short so after rolling up the sleeves he pulled on the hi-viz waistcoat before sitting down to pull on the boots.
Looking at the rigger boots, David felt a pang of disappointment. These were only a size six, seven if he was lucky. His size ten feet would never fit into them. Still, not one to quit until he had to, he tucked his toes right under and pushed hard into the boot. After a moment of agony, he felt his foot slide into position and sit there very uncomfortable but pain free. “Oh well,” thought David “One down one to go. Hope I don’t get cramp.”
With both boots finally on, he tucked the short jeans inside and stood up. Walking was awkward with his feet squashed up as they were, but with a slight rolling gait he walked into the bedroom to see himself in the mirror.
“Oh my god” he thought as he saw the filthy workman stood looking back at him. With the boots over the jeans you couldn’t tell how short they actually were, and David was really impressed with how he had turned out. Finally giving in to the pressure, he released his cock from its prison and started stroking it slowly. As he wanked he started rolling his right nipple between his thumb and forefinger and an animal grunting came from his mouth.
Looking at his back in the other mirror he could see how baggy the jeans were round his arse but nothing could stop him now and with a deep roar his cock exploded thick ribbons of spunk which ran down the mirror in a stream. Scraping the spunk onto his hands he felt an overwhelming urge to lick every drop clean. This was the first time David had ever tasted spunk properly, and he gagged slightly at the acridness of it. Licking pre-cum off his fingers didn’t compare with the eroticism of eating his own cum. Finally sated, he fell back onto the bed and exhausted fell into a deep sleep.
David woke up slowly, feeling slightly groggy. Something wasn’t quite right but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Looking at the clock he realised that it was past five in the afternoon and he had slept for several hours. “Probably why I feel like shit,” he thought.
“Fuck I’m hungry,” was his next thought. David had never been this hungry before, and really wanted to eat something quickly. Climbing off the bed, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Still dressed in his new work gear, he felt his cock stir in his dirty sweaty pants.
“Down boy,” he commanded with good humour, “We can play after dinner.” And with that he walked up to the mirror to see his reflection better. Still groggy and dazed from his nap he looked at his reflection but didn’t really take it in. His eyes were puffy and looked deeper set due to a slight bag under each one. The shadow from the brim of the baseball cap made his eyebrows look thicker and darker and he thought he could do with a shave. His beard normally came in blonde and slow, but in the shadows it looked darker and thicker. More as if he hadn’t shaved for several days.
“Fuck it; I can’t be bothered to shave now. Looks good with the gear anyway,” he thought. “First things first, food.”
As he walked into the kitchen he noticed his feet felt comfortable, as if the boots had stretched to fit him. His toes were no longer bent under, and he could feel the ends of the steel toecaps pressing pleasantly against the thick socks. The smell of the t-shirt and padded shirt was pleasant, and brought to mind thoughts of hot sweaty men, working hard and exuding a musky odour impregnating the clothes they wore.
David reached for the fridge handle and missed. That was strange, surely it wasn’t this high earlier. He opened the fridge and swore. Nothing but rabbit food in tubs. He wanted something a bit more filling. As he stomped into the lounge he vaguely thought that something wasn’t quite right. Everything seemed to look bigger.
Putting it down to the buzzing in his head and dismissing the thought entirely he thumbed through the directory by the phone until he found a pizza place that delivered. Ordering an extra large deep pan with everything, he felt his mouth watering at the thought of the hot greasy toppings and cheese running down his chin.
“We are having a special today sir,” said the girl on the other end of the phone. “If you order the extra large and a bottle of cola we will throw in an extra pizza free. Would you like to take advantage of the offer Sir?”
“Fuck yeah,” said David. “I can always save it for later”.
“OK Sir, it’ll be with you in about half an hour.” And with that David hung up.
“Just time for a quick wank,” he thought as he unbuttoned his flies and pulled his cock out of its holder.
David gasped with pleasure as his fat throbbing cock filled with blood, and began to moan as he started to rub it rhythmically up and down. Pushing the grubby t-shirt up, he started rubbing his belly, playing with the fine trail of hair leading from his pubes up to his nipples. Not particularly hairy, David had a nice trail which accentuated his large muscular torso. As his cock started to shoot he rubbed the gooey mess into his belly and up to his chest and nipples. The sensation of his slimy hands rubbing across his nipples was finally too much for him and he collapsed back into the chair gasping as the final orgasmic pulses subsided.
David pulled down the t-shirt and let it stick to his body as he voraciously sucked his fingers clean. Funny, even they seemed to be shorter and fatter. Suddenly, his attention was drawn to the door and he quickly rearranged himself before opening the door to the pizza boy.
Bringing the pizzas and large bottle of cola inside, he sat down thumbing the TV remote for something to watch as he ate. Apart from kids’ programmes and soaps, there wasn’t much on. Finally he settled for a football game that was being repeated from the day before. David wasn’t interested in football but it was something to watch while he ate.
Taking the first slice of pizza from the box, David fell to eating like an animal. As fast as he finished a slice he had another one ready. Between bites he took a slug of cola straight out of the bottle and was surprised to realise how much he was enjoying the football. Strange he hadn’t paid attention before, but the rules were quite simple and the players very skilled. Also, some of them were very horny and he got a kick when the good looking ones scored.
When the match finished, David was amazed to realise that he had eaten both pizzas, and drunk all the cola. Looking at his stomach, he felt bloated and could see his abdomen was stretched so much it was bulging. Normally David would have felt disgusted with a stomach bulge, considering how much effort he had put into getting it wash board flat, but there was something about the way it pushed the filthy jeans down and stretched the t-shirt out that looked right.
Now that the football was over, David began to feel restless. Normally he kept his dressing up as a private thing, but for some reason he wanted to go out dressed as a labourer just to see how it felt to be in a social situation completely different to his normal circles. He decided to go for a walk and see what it felt like to be out dressed as he was. Pulling off the baseball cap and running his fingers roughly through his hair, he failed to notice the strands falling to the floor behind him in a soft shower of blonde. Normally he would have washed shaved and dressed properly before even thinking of leaving the house, but this time was different. Replacing the baseball cap and tucking the loose hair back, he realise how tight it was so he loosened the strap at the rear until it fit without pinching. When he felt comfortable, he picked up his keys and let himself out of the front door.
Heart beating frantically, David walked down the street. At first his bloated stomach felt uncomfortable, but he quickly got the trick of leaning back slightly until it didn’t feel awkward. At least a walk would burn off some of the calories he had just consumed.
To begin with people stared at his outfit, but slowly as he got a few blocks from home he began to see other men dressed like he was, probably finished work and on their way home. One thing he noticed was that a lot of people seemed taller than him. It was strange really, as he was a very tall man himself. Dismissing it as his over active imagination he spotted a small pub tucked in a corner and decided to go inside for a drink. Normally a light drinker, David only ever had a couple of halves to be sociable as his fondness for alcohol in general and beer in particular was limited.
Inside, the pub was slightly dingy and very old fashioned. This was no family fun pub with cocktails for the ladies and a play area for the kids, this was a working mans pub for men who liked their beer and no frills. A pool table was off to the side and a couple of old men sat in the corner under a wall light playing dominoes with the intensity of high stakes gamblers at a roulette table.
Walking up to the high bar, David managed to attract the attention of the bored looking barmaid. Young and plump, she cast a vacuous eye down on David and took his order. Looking around, David could see the few men here at this time all had pints, so against his better judgement he ordered a pint of lager.
“Lagers off love,” said the barmaid, “Want something else?”
Looking at the bewildering array of pumps, David picked the closest to him which said Guinness. Smiling, the barmaid put a pint glass under the tap and started to pour the thick creamy liquid into a glass. As it settled, David could see the thick black liquid at the bottom with the light pale brown foam settling on the top.
“Ah Sally, you always could pour the Guinness properly,” came a voice behind David.
Startled, he turned to see a rough looking man dressed similarly to himself move up to the bar by his elbow. Looking at him, David had to stretch his neck slightly to look him in the eye. He wore a tattered baseball cap on his head, and David could see his tanned scalp underneath. Down his back was a long thin plait of hair with a couple of beads holding it closed.
In his ears were several thick gold rings and in his left eyebrow was a smaller gold ring. He had a thick goatee beard and looked like he hadn’t shaved the sides for a couple of days as there was thick stubble on both cheeks. He was well built, and a bulging beer belly stuck out as he leaned forward, balanced by his large arse which tightly filled his dirty ripped jeans.
“Alright mate, I’m Bill.”
“Pleased to meet you Dave, let me just get a beer I’m gasping.”
As Bill turned to pick up the Guinness Sally had poured him whilst he was talking, David noticed the swallows tattooed on Bills neck. This was what he had always wanted, to go out dressed as someone else and be treated completely differently to normal. David wasn’t overtly gay, but there was something about the musky sweat smell coming from Bill that was turning him on very badly. Even being called Dave, which he normally hated seemed to be appropriate considering the circumstances. To break the tenseness he was feeling, he turned to his beer. After the first sip, he realised how tasty it was. How come he had missed this for so long? Surely someone could have told him how good it tasted; it would have saved all those wasted halves he had so carefully disposed of over the years.
As Dave and Bill finished their beers, they began chatting like old friends. Bill bought another round and Dave found out that Bill worked as a foreman for a local construction company. Dave hedged slightly when asked what he did, just replying that he did whatever he could get. Bill misunderstood completely and assumed that Dave had just lost his job and was drowning his sorrows, so he insisted on paying for the beers over Dave’s objections.
“You gotta save your money mate; the fucking social will take forever to sort out your claim.”
“I know, but it still feels wrong,” protested Dave.
“Fuck em. You need a job, you let me know. I’ll take you on tomorrow.”
Dave felt a warm glow inside as Bill talked. Too much beer and friendly conversation was getting to him, and he realised he was very drunk, but pleasantly so.
When the barmaid called last orders Bill stood up and swaying slightly, offered his tattooed bear-like hand to Dave.
“You want to come back for a night cap man?” he offered.
“Fuck it,” said Dave “Nothing to get up for tomorrow”
“That’s the spirit.” And with his heavy arm round Dave’s’ shoulder in a friendly manner they left for Bills place.
Bills apartment was quite small and basic. Pictures of rock bands were pinned to the walls, and ashtrays were sitting unemptied on the arms of the threadbare chairs. Dave sat down, and Bill fetched some tins out of the fridge in the kitchen. Lighting up a cigarette as he opened a can, Bill offered the pack to Dave.
“No thanks,” said Dave. All night he had watched Bill smoke one after another and had found it a big turn on. The fragrant smoke tickled the back of his throat and made him wonder what smoking would be like. Normally Dave would have gasped and choked and made a big thing about how disgusting it was, but tonight it had seemed right somehow.
“You given up mate?” enquired Bill “you seem to stare whenever I smoke one.”
“Never really started,” replied Dave turning red with embarrassment. He hadn’t realised how blatant he had been.
“Well no time like the present,” grinned Bill. “Here, take this one and give it a good suck.”
Dave took the newly lit cigarette in his hand and raised it to his lips. Following Bills instructions, he slowly took the smoke into his lungs and gently blew it out. At first it made his head swim and his throat tickled until he wanted to cough, but as he smoked it down it seemed to be quite natural and he started to enjoy it. He made a conscious effort to hold the cigarette like Bill did, and after a couple more he felt really comfortable.
Bill relaxed a little and took off his cap. Dave was shocked to see the tribal tattoos on the sides. The whole head was shaved except for a wide strip at the back which had been plaited and beaded and the revealed skin was deeply tanned. Bill rubbed his hands over his face and Dave wished he could touch it too. Something in Dave’s face must have revealed his thought because Bill stood up and sat next to Dave.
“Want to touch it, don’t you?” he said gruffly. In a drunken daze Dave lifted his hand and stroked the naked scalp as if it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. Bill pulled Dave’s cap off and looked quizzically at the hair underneath.
“Man, you need to do with something with this mess.” He said rubbing his hands through the tangled locks. “Looks like a rat nested in it. You never heard of combs?”
Dave focussed on Bills face and said, “Make it look great,” and fell into a deep sleep.
Dave woke up feeling groggy. Still half drunk, he could feel something happening behind his head and as he put his hand up to feel, Bills’ voice said “Hold your horses, nearly done.”
Dave remembered falling asleep and in a thick voice said “How long was I asleep?”
“About an hour and a half. Gave me chance to do a couple of things I thought you would like.” And with a flick across Dave’s shoulders he stood up.
“Finished. What do you think?”
Dave turned to look at himself in the mirror. There was a stranger looking back at him. His head had been shaved the same way as Bills, and turning to the side he could see a dark beaded plait going about four inches down his back. The rough beard had been trimmed into a goatee and Dave was amazed at how dark it looked, almost black and very coarse. Both ears had been pierced with thick gold hoops and at the top of his left ear was a small gold stud. Dave couldn’t believe how much older he looked, and how much fatter and rounder his face had become.
Bill grinned at the stunned look in the mirror, and put his arms round Dave pressing his hard cock into his back. “Couldn’t do much with the male pattern baldness so pronounced, so gave you a cut like mine. If you like it, we can see about getting the side hair removed so it’s permanent. That way you don’t have to shave it every day.” He paused “Also, it makes you look much hornier now.”
Turning, Dave pressed his body up against Bill’s and lifted his face. Bill leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips, then thrust his tongue harshly into Dave’s mouth. Dave felt their teeth pressing together and the barbell in Bills tongue rubbing round his mouth as he rubbed his hard cock against Bills belly.
Bill started to tear Dave’s clothes off, and soon all he had on were the socks and rigger boots. Bill pushed Dave onto his knees and pulled out a thick pierced uncircumcised cock from the depths of his dirty work jeans. Dave swooned at the smell from the foreskin and sucked it eagerly into his mouth, the ring resting comfortably in his throat. Bill started pumping back and forth, and Dave began beating his cock in time to the thrust from his oral raping. Never before had Dave had such a cock in his mouth. The few times he had been with a man he had limited himself to mutual masturbation with professional men like himself. This was different. It was animal and rough. The more brutal Bill was in his mouth the more he loved it. Suddenly Bill gave a heave and holding Dave’s head he started to come down Dave’s throat. Dave chokingly swallowed the hot juice as he felt his own cock burst into action and splatter thick globules onto the bathroom floor. Bill released Dave from his grasp and Dave fell to the floor. He felt like puking but managed to hold it back. Bill dropped down concerned, and held Dave in a comfortable hug.
“I am such a fucking prick. I never thought after all that beer how you’d feel.” He picked Dave up off the floor and started to walk him to the bedroom. “Come on, you’ll feel better after a nights sleep.”
Sitting Dave down on the bed, Bill pulled the rigger boots and socks off and smiled. “You have dainty feet. I like that in a man.”
“Big feet, “thought Dave. “How can you say I have dainty feet?” and with that thought he fell into a deep sleep, Bill wrapped round him like a big protective bear.
David woke up with a thick head and a fuzzy taste in his mouth. He had had some funny dreams in his time but this was a doozy. Lifting his hands to his head he gasped with shock as he felt the baldness on the sides and top plus the plait down his back as he realised it wasn’t a dream.
Looking round the room, he saw he was still in Bills bed, and a note was pinned to the clock.
“Had to go to work love, sorry about last night, didn’t mean to be so rough. Left some things in the front room for you, feel free to use the shower before you go. Just pull the door to when you leave, and if you want to see me again, I’ll be in the pub tonight after seven. Hope you will be there as I really like you. Love Bill.”
Dave smiled through his hangover. He really liked Bill as well, but it wouldn’t work out. Bill was a rough labourer and he was a bank manager. Mind you, with the hair and earrings he looked anything but. Still, it was nice to play for a while and after his holiday he could return to work with a slightly radical haircut and no one the wiser.
Stumbling out of the bedroom, Dave noticed his belly was a bit rounder than before. He had to lean forward slightly to see his dick, and the defined six pack was just a faint line. “Should go to the gym,” he thought idly, but with no great sense of urgency.
In the front room he saw his clothes piled up on a chair and the boots to the side. Picking them up, he smelt the rankness of his body odour. Normally he wouldn’t wear the same clothes two days running, but this time he had no choice. At least a shower first would help.
Stepping into the bathroom he pushed the button to start the shower. While he waited for the water to warm up, he looked at himself in the mirror. Something seemed different somehow, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The slightly saggy breasts leading down to the protruding gut were as they should be, surely? The prominent nipples stuck out at least half an inch from the nest of dense fur covering his chest and his hairy shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of his short thick arms. He thought that he should have been more muscular, but he had always looked like this, hadn’t he? At least the hair looked better. Dave could see the black line of the shaved sides and the clean unblemished scalp where his baldness was accentuated by the pale skin below. The earrings looked horny too. He thought he might keep them until he had to go back to work. Looking down he saw his small cock sitting above a pair of large heavy balls. Okay it was small, only four inches when hard, but it was as thick as a baby’s wrist.
Climbing into the shower, he soaped himself down and washed his grimy body down. Maybe he would see Bill for a little longer, perhaps even take him up on the offer of a couple of weeks work. He had loads of holiday left so he might as well enjoy his fetish for dressing up a little longer. This was the best he had felt for a long time and he wanted to take as much advantage of it as he could before he had to go back to reality and the daily grind.
Walking back into the living room he started to pull his clothes on. Next to the ashtray was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter with a post it note saying “Thought these would help.” Dave was impressed by Bills kindness. Strangely, the clothes fit a lot better than yesterday. The sleeves on the padded shirt now came down to his wrists and the jeans were snug on his hips. As he went to pull on the boots, he had a major shock. The jeans were the right length for his legs!! Surely only yesterday they were several inches too short? In a daze Dave pulled the socks and boots on and realised again that where he had struggled the day before, now they fit perfectly. Rushing into the bathroom he looked at himself in the full length mirror. Making a small mark where the top of his head was, he frantically searched until he found a tape measure and read the height. 5’6? He was 6’2 surely? And he had a full head of hair and gym toned body, not this overweight balding small dicked lump he could see in the mirror. In his panic, Dave started to breath more heavily and the smell from his clothes began to make him light headed. Slowly he calmed down, and wondered what the panic was. Sure he was a bit overweight but some exercise would clear it up. Nothing was different, why should he have felt they were? He walked back into the living room and lit a cigarette. Smoking it with obvious relish, he decided to go home and get some rest. His head was still thick from the night before and he wanted to be at his best when he met Bill that night.
Dave arrived home to find a large package on his doorstep. With excitement he opened his front door and pulled the package inside. Thank god he had signed the waiver with UPS so that they left items on the doorstep. Ripping off the packaging he tore open the box in anticipation of the goodies within. The note inside was similar to the last one.
“Hope you enjoy this lot, apparently there is one more to come.” And the obligatory shop flyer pinned to the note.
Dave pulled out the clothes. This time they were clean. There were several cotton shirts, two denim shirts one faded blue one black, a worn denim jacket, a denim cut off, a battered leather motor bike jacket, four pairs of jeans in blue and black in various states of repair, several more pairs of socks and jocks, a thick studded belt and a plain leather one, a pair of black polished doctor martin boots, a pair of battered combat boots and another baseball cap. This one was white canvas, with a Nike badge on the front. In his excitement, Dave failed to pay too much attention to the smell coming from the clothes. Less acrid than the last batch, it was of musk and flowers with a hint of lemon. Very pleasant and not in the least obtrusive. Dave assumed it was the brand of conditioner used to wash them before packing.
Stripping off his dirty work gear, he started sorting through which clothes he was going to try on. A denim shirt was slowly pulled onto his torso and buttoned up to the chest. Next he pulled on a white cotton jock strap, the head of his engorged cock poking out like a lizard coming out of the sand. A pair of blue jeans followed, well worn in the crotch and between the legs, they fit like a second skin and he had to breath in to allow the button to be done up. He followed this with the studded belt and he left his cock sticking out while he pulled on the denim jacket. Onto his feet he pulled a pair of black knee length socks, and followed them with the high black D.M.s. On to his head he placed the baseball cap pulling his plait through the hole in the rear so it sat comfortably down his back.
Walking into the bedroom he was very excited at what he saw. The strange new smell was exciting him and making him feel detached, and he knew he had changed. He was now dressed like an overweight working class thug. For a start, he looked at least ten years older. The big gut hung over the belt, and the shaved head under the cap looked strangely compelling against the thick black goatee beard and day old stubble on his cheeks. He started to rub his cock vigorously as he looked at the changes in himself and found he loved the new look. The loss of height was unusual, but he couldn’t understand why he had freaked out so much earlier. He loved dressing as other people, so what was so wrong with becoming someone else? He knew he should still be freaked out by the whole thing but all he felt was excitement. Suddenly he reached orgasm and with a cry and gurgle he shot his hot load all over the mirror.
The next couple of weeks passed quite eventfully for Dave. David no longer existed in his mind, and he thought of himself as Dave. Bill was very pleased at Dave’s decision to start working for him, and put him with a couple of guys who showed him the ropes over the first few days. The work was hard, but Dave found he enjoyed the mindless tedium of lifting and carrying, mixing and digging, and the general fetching and carrying required of unskilled manual workers. Each day Dave left with Bill tired but content, aware that eventually he would have to go back to his regular job and give up the manual work for the daily office grind. He was smoking a pack of cigarettes a day, every night they would go to the pub and have six or seven beers, then home to Bills for extreme animal sex. Shaving the sides of his head became a regular daily event, and by the end of the first week it was as tanned as the rest of his body. He no longer questioned the changes that had been made to him, and still found them very exciting.
The second weekend, Bill decided that Dave needed a couple of tattoos. Bill was heavily tattooed, and Dave loved the way they looked on him but was unsure of the ones on his head, neck and hands. Bill had both hands tattooed and Dave thought they were a bit common. Bill had suggested jokingly that Dave might like to have similar ones done himself, and Dave had flown off the handle. Bill had punched him in anger, and they both walked off sulking, Dave nursing his bruised jaw and spitting out a couple of his teeth. Eventually Dave had apologised and Bill was fine afterwards. Dave found himself agreeing with Bill more and more, and took the subservient role whenever they were together. Dave now only wore his new/old clothes, and had semi forgotten that he had any others. Bill liked the leather bike jacket with the cut off so Dave tended to wear that more than anything else.
On the Saturday morning Bill and Dave walked into the tattooists. The fat bald guy with the needle was a friend of Bills’ and had agreed to do Dave for a special rate. Dave sat in the chair with a nervous grin. His protruding belly was shaking slightly and the tattooist had to lift the foot rests slightly as Dave’s’ feet didn’t quite touch the floor any more.
As he started up the machine, Dave felt the first prickling of the gun as it forced the ink beneath his skin. Slowly the outline of the design Bill had picked began to take shape. Bill had decided on an oriental dragon theme, and Dave could slowly make out the outline of the beast starting to take shape. Eventually the design was finished. It had taken about four hours in total and Dave was exhausted. Bill was delighted and kept telling Dave how proud he was of him.
The tattooist looked at Bill and said “Do you want to do the other stuff now?”
“What other stuff?” asked Dave suspiciously.
“I thought you might like your nipples and dick pierced like mine,” Bill replied. Bill had both nipples pierced and Dave had had hours of fun chewing and biting on the rings.
“Might as well, if that’s what you want,” grinned Dave.
Bill held onto Dave’s hand as the tattooist started the piercing. After a moment of sharp pain and a bit of fumbling, Dave looked down and saw the two small rings poking out of the dark rug of his chest hair. Dave wondered idly how he had ever thought a smooth chest was sexy, and not for the first time asked himself how this transformation could have happened and how it could be reversed. Not that he wanted to go back to the way he was, but he couldn’t stay with Bill for much longer and had to make a choice soon about how to break it off. He knew that it had only been a couple of weeks but already it was as if he had been like this forever. How was he going to explain to the bank how he had lost 8 inches in height and gained so much weight. Not to mention the fact that he looked so much older.
Abruptly his reverie was interrupted as he felt the needle passing through his piss slit and out from underneath. Looking down he saw the needle poking out and slowly feinted. When he came round he saw Bill look at him with a combination of worry and glee.
“What happened?” said Dave groggily.
“You feinted babe. Nothing to worry about.” Bill dropped his eyes, then looked up again. “I did get Fed here to do a couple of little things while you were out though.”
Picking up a mirror, Bill held it up to Dave’s face. Through his left eyebrow were two small rings at the corner, and through his right eyebrow was a silver barbell. Through the center of his nose was a larger thicker ring and in his lower lip was another ring.
“I wanted you to look a bit freakier.” Said Bill with a laugh. “Now the boys at work will have something to talk about.”
Dave shrieked in horror, and pushed past Bill with a sob. “The total bastard,” he thought as he ran towards his home. “How the fuck will I explain this?”
Running into his apartment building, he saw that a box had been left on his doorstep. With excitement, he fumbled for the lock and dragged the box in.
Pushing past the pile of unopened mail, Dave dragged the box into the front room. It was a lot bigger than the first two, and Dave wondered how long it had been sat there. He had been working with Bill for the best part of a fortnight and this was the first time he had been home since he had collected his other clothes which he now remembered were at Bills.
Touching the tender spots in his face, he grew angry again that Bill could have done something like this without his permission. “Damn him to hell!” he thought. As soon as he had opened the box and seen the contents he was going to have to take these bloody rings out.
Ripping the now familiar wrapping off the box he looked at the note attached.
“Hope you like this lot, apparently it’s the final package. The guy dropped it off this morning and said he hoped you would get the full benefit, whatever that means.”
Dave started to pull the clothes out of the box. There was an eclectic mix this time, leather trousers, bike boots, a harness, more jeans and work clothes, several styles of work boots and various belts, wristbands and a couple of collars. As he started to pull them out of the box, a large jewellery case slipped to the floor. Dave picked it up and shook it. There was a dull jangling chink from inside, and upon opening it Dave saw several pieces of gold jewellery. A bit garish and heavy for Dave’s taste, he nevertheless started to put them on. It was like a compulsion and he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself. First came a heavy gold belcher chain round his neck, then two more thinner but longer ones. Round his left wrist he found himself buckling a very thick gold bracelet made in a herring bone pattern. Round his right wrist he placed a thick identity bracelet which he noticed dazedly said Dave on it. On several of his fingers he now wore gold sovereign rings and he was surprised how comfortable it all felt on.
As he felt into the bottom of the box he noticed a crisp envelope which he pulled out and examined.
“Dave,” the letter began, “I suppose you are wondering what’s happened to you over the last few weeks. Let’s just say its revenge for your attitude. And for the way you put me out on the streets when you repossessed my home. But that’s neither here or there is it?
“By now, you should have experienced a few changes in your life. I managed to make contact with a certain group who specialise in revenge. I won’t tell you what it cost me, but let’s just say it wasn’t money. To be honest, they were quite interested in the case due to the nature of the revenge I had planned. Normally, they just kidnapped and hypnotised the person into a new lifestyle far removed from their old life, but I wanted more for you than that. What’s the point in revenge if the subject has no memory of what they have lost? It took a while, but they finally managed to discover enough about you to get you hooked like a fish.
“Some of their methods are a bit unorthodox you might think, but through a combination of perception altering drugs and good old fashioned magic, we were able to remake you in our image. You are now thirty five years old. You not only look older, you are older. Don’t be fooled, the man we modelled you on is very different to the man you were. Your whole body alteration was magically induced, and there is no counter spell. The smells you were inhaling were various chemicals impregnated into the clothes to help you accept the changes without question, and to prevent you backing out before the process was complete.
“By now, you should have the jewellery on. It’s not for decoration, though I think you will like it all. The items are impregnated with special chemicals which should have been absorbed into your body right now, to make you more suggestible and to lower your intelligence level to about half what it was.
“Part of the process you have undergone was to make you attracted to the complete opposite of your previous sexual partners. As I don’t know whether you were gay or straight, I cannot tell who your new partner is. What I suspect, knowing what I do about your tastes and attitude is that you have hooked up with some real ugly fucker who totally dominates your life. Man or woman, you will probably give in to their wishes, and let them win the arguments by crawling back and apologising even if it’s your fault. Just in case though, I have a command for you to follow. Whatever they want for you is for the best. If they do something to you it’s obviously your fault and you deserve it. From now on, their desires and wishes are more important than your own.
“I hope you enjoy your new life Dave, you will always remember your old one but you will prefer the way things are now. You will always have a part of you deep down that wants your old life back, but from now on there is nothing you can do to go back.
“Wishing you all the worst in the world, an old ‘friend’”.
As Dave read the letter he felt something inside himself crumble. He thought of Bill in the tattooists and wanted to cry as he remembered his behaviour. Of course Bill was right and he was wrong, he loved his new piercings. Bill was the clever one, he was only a thick labourer fit only to fetch and carry. If only there was some way to make it up to him and get things back to how they were. Suddenly an idea filtered through the dull fog in his head.
The new clothes lying forgotten on the floor, Dave ran for the door the discarded letter lying on the coffee table. As the front door closed, the paper started to discolour, gradually charring the edges and finally crumbling into a fine grey ash. With a gust of a breeze from the slightly open window the ash blew away and vanished.
Bill sat in his armchair smoking another cigarette, swigging from another can of beer. He was extremely upset, and regretted the events of that morning. If only he had read things better, this would never have happened. He loved Dave, and thought he had wanted to be more outrageous. Bill had just thought Dave needed a push to go all the way. He was beginning to get worried and didn’t even know where Dave lived. The address he had given the company for their records was Bill’s and now he didn’t even know if Dave would turn up for work on Monday.
Bill looked at the clock, and realised how late it was. Past eight o’clock, he thought he should go to the pub in case Dave turned up and he could apologise to the annoying little fucker before dragging his short fat hairy arse back home and fucking the shit out of him.
Suddenly, the doorbell went and as he opened it he saw Dave standing there with a big goofy grin on his face. Bill threw his arms round him and kissed him passionately on the lips. Dave pulled away slightly and said with a lisp, “Careful lover, I’m still sore”. Bill looked at him closely as Dave poked his tongue out to reveal the new bar bell sticking through it. Dragging him into the living room, Bill hugged him tightly, then noticed the bandages on Dave’s neck. His cock growing hard with anticipation, Bill slowly pulled the tape off to reveal the fresh tattoos underneath. On the left side was a bulldog bursting out of a union jack, on the other was a large lions head. Both were too big to ever be covered, and Bill could see that they would both show even if Dave wore a high shirt or polo neck sweater.
Dave grinned, and held out his hands. Attached were two more bandages, and after pulling them off revealed two matching tattoos on each hand. In the webbing was a large colourful swallow, and in the center covering most of the remaining skin was a scorpion in a tribal design which Bill remembered had been the cause of the argument the week before when Bill had suggested that they would look good on Dave’s hands.
Finally, Dave pulled off his cap. Quickly pulling off the remaining two bandages he revealed tribal tattoos identical to the ones on Bills head.
“Why?” asked Bill, though he had a good idea of what it meant.
“I love you, and I’m sorry. This was the only way I could think of to show you I mean it,” replied Dave.
Bill slowly pulled Dave towards him, and said “Tomorrow we fetch your stuff and you move in permanently. You belong to me now and I’m not letting you go again.”
Dave melted into Bill’s arms with a contented sigh and a happy look on his face, but deep inside a part of him started screaming and wouldn’t stop as it realised that his fate was to be this mans toy forever.
Revenge is as Good as a Rest
Revenge is as Good as a Rest
Copyright © Peircedskin
Permission is granted to post this story on non-profit-making sites only.
Any comments or feedback gratefully received at email@example.com
Warning, this story contains gay adult themes and if it is likely to offend you, don’t read it!!
You have been warned.
Samuel sat at his desk and contemplated the paperwork in front of him. Since his father had died, he had become the majority shareholder in Banks Building suppliers, with his younger brother and sister holding lesser shares each. This hadn’t exactly pleased them, but Samuel didn’t give a shit. All those years of sucking up to Dad had finally paid off. He got 52 percent of the shares leaving Sally and James 48 percent and a hatred of their elder brother that they were unable to show unless they wanted to be kicked off the board and out of the company.
Samuel was reading the personnel files of some of the employees trying to find a means of sacking them without leaving himself open to unfair dismissal claims.
One leapt out of the pile. Phil Stevens, known to all his mates as Slug. Samuel hated Slug with a passion due to certain events after the death of his father left him in charge.
6’ tall, Slug was an old fashioned skinhead with everything that implied. Shaved smooth head, stocky chest, large beer belly, arms totally tattooed to the knuckles, Celtic designs up both sides of his neck, and a bad attitude. Slug was also into piercing. His ears were lined with thick rings, two rings hung from his left eyebrow and a cone stuck out of his lip. When he talked you could see the bar in his tongue as it moved past his nicotine stained teeth, and in the centre of his round piggy face a thick ring hung from his flat nose. Samuel wasn’t sure what else was pierced, but he didn’t have the stomach to imagine too hard. The whole thing was too revolting.
“I have to get rid of this moron,” thought Samuel. “Every time he calls me Sam I could just kill him”. Samuel hated his name being shortened. Samuel was how he was christened, and Samuel was how he was going to be called.
“Time for a break” he thought, and left his desk to stand in front of the mirror and admire his new suit.
As he looked in the mirror, he thought “Not bad for 35”. His gym-honed body gave him the V-shape he so liked, and his collar length hair gave him a rakish air that he thought quite sexy. The girls seemed to think so, as he was rarely without a young beauty on his arm whenever he visited the opera or a high class restaurant. He couldn’t understand people who ate kebabs or burgers. Surely they knew that you if put crap into your body you got crap performance out. Oh well, tonight was a business dinner with some clients and the wine would be good so it was something to look forward to.
The problem with Slug could wait until after the staff summer party next week. Might as well let people relax and enjoy themselves before he started to wield the big axe. He had just had an idea, and felt really happy about the way it was all going to work out.
James watched the wagons being loaded feeling really pissed off. Since Dad had died, nothing had gone right for him or Sally. At the reading of the will, they had realised what a bastard Samuel had been, and found themselves at his mercy.
Samuel had been quite straightforward. Do what he wanted, or get out. That was why James was now the yard foreman instead of sales manager, and Sally was manning the reception desk. Although they had never got on with Samuel, James had thought that as equal partners they could have prevented some of his more annoying proposals from being accepted. Samuel’s manipulation of his sick father had changed all that.
“Where do ya want this Boss?” came gruffly from behind him. Turning, James saw Slug holding two large bags of cement on his shoulder.
James had a soft spot for Slug. Okay, the man was an animal, and had a face that could scare small children, but he was all ready to knock Samuel out when he heard about the change of management. Slug liked James and Sally and thought of them as tough but fair.
“Just load it on this wagon, then you can have a coffee if you want” said James.
“Cheers Boss, been working like a loon all day. Haven’t had time to fart since I came in.” and with a grin he dumped his load and lit a cigarette before wandering off to the canteen.
“James!!” came a distant voice from across the yard. Looking over, he saw Sally waving a piece of paper at him.
“What’s up Sis?” he said as he walked into the office and up to the reception desk where Sally spent most of her day lately.
“Have you seen what that twat of a brother of ours is planning?” she whispered, holding out the paper she held in her hands.
James looked at what was obviously an internal memo addressed to Sally.
Memo from Samuel to Sally:
Sally, I need you to knock up a memo to be issued to all staff. From the end of the month there will be some big changes to the way we run the company.
- This company now operates a non-smoking policy. Smoking is strictly forbidden on company premises and in company vehicles. Any person found smoking will be subject to instant dismissal.
- This company no longer operates a subsidised canteen facility. All catering staff are to be dismissed, and the canteen is to be turned into a storage area. There is an old shed we are not using that can be converted into a rest area.
- Tattoos and piercings are now forbidden. Any removable piercings must be taken out during work hours, and any visible tattoos must be covered up as much as possible.
Please issue this memo after the staff party.
“Wanker!” spluttered James as he read the memo. “He said he wouldn’t do anything to upset the staff!”
“I know,” said Sally, “and the worst of it is, he is using it to get rid of Slug and the others. After they told him what they thought of him when Dad died he swore that he would get them out somehow.”
“Is there anything we can do to change this?” asked James.
“Afraid not,” replied Sally. “You know what he’s like when he gets an idea into his head. He was a stroppy child, and he makes an even stroppier adult.”
“So he’s won then. Slug is out, and we are even more miserable than we were before.”
“Not necessarily,” smiled Sally. “You remember that research psychologist I used to date?”
“That’s the one. We only split up because Samuel threatened to spill the beans to Dad that I was a lesbian and get me cut out of the will.
“She is in town at the moment with her new girlfriend Joanne who you might be interested to know is a stage hypnotist. I had lunch with them yesterday, and she has agreed to do a turn at the staff party. If we hypnotise Samuel.”
“We can get her to hypnotise Samuel into reversing some of his more outrageous decisions.”
“Better than that brother mine, we can get revenge for many years of abuse and pain at his hands. Between them, Barbara and Joanne can make our wildest dreams come true, and make dear ‘Sammy’s life a living hell. Indeed, if we play our cards right we can even give Slug something to look forward to.”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it Bro, just make sure you have a front row seat at the show and get there early. This you don’t want to miss.”
The day of the summer party arrived. Started by old man Banks when he formed the company, it was a popular tradition amongst the staff, and the management mingled with the office workers, drivers, yard staff and their families in an air of holiday spirit.
Samuel cruised round with another one of his painted bimbos on his arm sneering at all the jollity. Little did they know, her thought, this was the final one of these parties he was going to foot the bill for. Next year they could go hang. He employed people to work not to enjoy themselves.
“Would you care for some punch my dear?” he asked the girl on his arm. She giggled her agreement and they wandered over to the table manned by Sally, who smiled as they approached.
“Punch or beer?” she asked.
Glancing over at a group of men in overalls and rigger boots swigging from cans, he curled his lip in disgust and said “Punch of course, you know I can’t stand beer.”
“Sorry Samuel, I forgot. Never mind one for your young lady and one for. oops, out of glasses. Give me a minute and I’ll get some more out of the back.”
Kicking a tea towel over the glasses by her feet that she had hidden as she saw them approach, she went into the rear of the tent and pulled out a small bottle. Looking at it, she remembered what Barbara had warned her. “4 drops only to start with hon, remember we only want him relaxed until the show. Put the rest in his drink just before the show starts.”
Counting the drops, Sally couldn’t help but grin to herself. By the end of tonight Samuel was going to be ever so much easier to live with.
“Here we go Samuel, sorry had to make sure it was a clean glass.”
“Fine, whatever.” He retorted, swigging a large draught of the punch.
“Hello Samuel, mind if I steal your date for five minutes,” said James appearing from nowhere.
“If you like,” said Samuel. He knew he should object, but he had a nice fuzzy feeling in his stomach and was too relaxed to argue.
Sally watched with glee as James and the nameless young lady disappeared into the yard and Samuel just stood there, a slightly bemused look on his face.
“Its working” thought Sally. She thought of the work Barbara had done in behaviour modification for the British government and felt a pang of relief that the programme had been cancelled when the new party had taken control. Some of the things Barbara had told her made her toes curl with the possibilities. The drug Samuel had just ingested was a failed attempt at suggestibility programming. It worked fine for a while, but after about an hour it wore off unless large amounts were ingested shortly afterwards in which case the effects lasted for about 12 hours. Still, it was long enough for their purposes.
“How are you feeling Samuel?” asked Sally.
“Fine thanks,” replied Samuel.
“You know, Samuel is so long winded. I always preferred Sam. You prefer Sam, don’t you?”
“I prefer Sam.”
“Can I call you Sam?”
“Yes, call me Sam.”
“Thanks Sam, I will. If anyone else calls you Samuel, you want them to call you Sam don’t you?”
“I want everyone to call me Sam.”
“That’s nice, be sure to tell everyone to call you Sam from now on then.” “I’ll tell everyone to call me Sam.”
Sally looked at the blank look on her brothers’ face. This was even more fun than she had thought it would be. Pity it was only temporary, but with Joanne’s help that wouldn’t matter. Looking at her watch, she gave Sam his instructions about the show, and made sure he knew exactly what to do. He was going to be the star of the show and she wanted him to be a hit.
Sam walked over to the main stage and took his seat in the front row centre. As he went, he told everyone who called him Samuel to call him Sam. Much better, he thought. Should have shortened it years ago.
As he went up to the stage, he saw Slug coming up to him a can of beer in his hand and a woman on his arm.
“Hiya Sam, this is Barbara. She’s been telling me some fun stories about you. Might catch ya later and compare em.” And with a belch staggered off.
Looking at Barbara, Sam felt he should know her. Short hair, multiple ear piercings and a tailored business suit she was familiar but he just couldn’t place her. “Oh well,” he muttered to himself, It’ll come back to me.”
Just then, Sally came wandering up with another cup of punch. “Want some more Sam?” she offered.
“Please,” he replied swigging it all down in one go.
At that moment, an attractive young lady appeared on the stage.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, could I have your attention please? I am the Fabulous Joanne and I need some volunteers from the audience for tonight’s show. Please make sure you are over 21 as I am not allowed by law to hypnotise anyone under that age.”
Sam stood up, and as suggested by Sally earlier, went up on stage. A loud cheer broke out, and just as Sam started to smile and wave he realised that the audience was cheering Slug who had climbed up to stand next to him.
Shortly there were ten volunteers onstage and Joanne waved them into the back. After about half an hour, the lights dimmed and the curtains drew back to reveal ten low podiums with statues in various poses back lit so that only the silhouette was visible. As the spotlight fell onto the Fabulous Joanne, there were gasps from the audience as they realised the statues were the ten volunteers who had gone up earlier.
The show was amazing. Joanne had the volunteers doing many of the expected hypnosis tricks such as running on all fours and barking like a dog, but also more unusual things. Betty from accounts used to do gymnastics in her youth, and Joanne had her regressed to 16 from 45 and doing back flips and handstands round the stage. Billy the apprentice was a big hit as well with his perfect rendition of Nessum Dorma in the style Norman Wisdom.
The finale arrived, and part one of the plan for Sam was put into place. The other eight volunteers were sent back to the podium and Sam and Slug were brought forward.
As they stood there with blank looks on their face, Joanne started talking. “Sam and Slug, I want you to look at each other. Memorise the way he looks, talks and acts. Now, I want you to picture yourself changing into the other. Sam, you are now Slug and slug, you are now Sam.”
As she spoke, the two men’s whole posture changed. Slug stood upright and developed a slight sneer on his face. Sam stopped sneering and screwed his face up so that his cheeks pushed up and made his expression one of controlled aggression. At the same time his shoulders drooped and he started lounging in a relaxed posture at odds with his usual stiff pose.
“There is a mirror in front of you,” said Joanne holding up a piece of cardboard. “When you look in the mirror you see the other person standing in front of you, and that person is you.
“Sam, look in the mirror and rub your head. You can feel the smoothness and enjoy the feeling. You hate hair on your head, which is why you shave it every day. You can feel the rings hanging from your ears, nose and eyebrow and it turns you on. You are a skinhead and you love it.”
The audience gasped as Sam stood stroking his head pushing his hair back as though he was totally bald. The raging hard-on in his suit pants was clearly visible and he scratched at his balls in a suggestive way. He stalked round the stage in an aggressive way in exactly the way Slug was doing earlier.
Slug on the other hand was glaring at Sam with barely hidden disgust the way Sam usually looked at him whenever their paths crossed.
“Okay Sam, Slug, I want you both back to your normal selves. There is one difference though. You are now the best of friends. Sam, you always confide in Slug, you think of him as a great guy, and Slug you think of Sam as your best mate.”
With this, Joanne released all her victims from her control and wished everyone a good night.
The audience erupted, as this was one of the best shows they had ever seen, and the sight of Sam pretending to be Slug was a great hit.
Unfortunately for Sam, the induction at the beginning of the show was slightly different for him and Slug than it was for the other volunteers. The command to wake up and remember everything they had done was programmed to trigger a command for the two of them to report to Joanne after the show finished, so she could complete their conditioning before the drug that increased their suggestibility 1000 fold wore off.
Sam and Slug sat on the step of Slug’s house drinking beer out of the can. Sam was not happy about his situation but didn’t seem able to stop the rollercoaster he was on. He looked at Slug, and felt his cock getting hard as he examined the rings in his face. The former feelings of disgust had been replaced with an overwhelming desire to perform any sexual act Slug desired, and Slug desired a lot.
Sam thought back to the hypnosis show he was in the year before last. It had seemed such a good idea afterwards to give control to James and Sally. After all, he hated all that day to day grind of paperwork and meetings and really would have preferred to spend more time working with his hands in the company of his best mate Slug.
James and Sally had tried to talk him out of it, it was true but he signed his share of the company over to them anyway on the condition that he always had a job in the yard.
The day before he finished in his old position, Slug and he had had a chat about what he should do to ease the transition. Lighting a cigarette, Slug leered at him.
“Shave your head,” he said.
“What?” said Sam a bit startled. The smell from Slug’s cigarette was making his head buzz; he wanted one and didn’t understand. He hated the damn things surely?
“Shave your head,” Slug repeated. “Turn into a skinhead like me. We can get you tattooed and pierced, but the first thing you want to do is shave your head.”
“If you think that’s best,” said Sam. For some reason Slug made sense. “Can I have a cigarette please Sir?”
“You wanna start smoking boy?” asked Slug.
“Yes, please Sir,” replied Sam. This seemed weird to Sam, but for some reason it made sense to call Slug Sir. As he pulled the smoke into his lungs he felt his cock harden in his pants. Slug grabbed his visible hard-on and squeezed it.
“You like that boy?” he asked.
“Yes Sir I do.”
“Then I think its time we left for my place.”
At Slug’s place Sam looked round. It was a bit basic, with a small kitchen and living room and in the bedroom skinhead posters and a British flag hung on the walls.
“Okay then boy, strip.”
Sam shivered as he took off his clothes. Throwing them in the corner he knelt to look at his master. Slug had taken off his work shirt and was standing in just his filthy jeans and battered rigger boots. His now naked chest revealed a smooth torso with a large gut hanging over his belt. The tattoos on his arms reached over his shoulders down his back and onto his chest in two shields covering the large prominent nipples hanging slightly from the weight of the two heavy silver rings through them.
Slug hovered over Sam. “You are one hairy fucker boy, we’re going to change that right now.”
Grabbing the bowl out of the sink and filling it with hot water he instructed Sam to stand up. Grabbing a long sharp straight razor from the bathroom and soaping Sam’s legs, he began to scrape the hair from them turning him to reach the crack of his arse. Pushing Sam over roughly he soon had the hair surrounding his little pucker hole nothing more than a memory.
Turning Sam round Slug noticed the large hard-on sticking straight up out of the thick bush of Sam’s pubes. Sam tried to hide his cock with his hands, but Slug grabbed a set of handcuffs off the dresser and restrained Sam’s hands.
“That’s Daddy’s cock now boy. You’re not allowed to touch it except to piss. If you piss, you don’t shake it. Put it back in your pants and let it drip. I wanna see yellow stains. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” said Sam shakily. He was in the hands of a monster and was terrified, but had never been so turned on in his life. This was what he lived for, what he needed and slowly he gave up on his own thoughts. Slug was obviously right and if he wanted something then Sam had to obey. Slug thought he would make a good skinhead piss boy so that was what he was to become.
As his thought processes slowly rearranged themselves in accordance with the instructions received from The Fabulous Joanne after the hypnosis show he watched Slug scraping the hair from his groin and chest. As he felt the hair falling from his body he thought how nice it was to feel the air flow across his body uninterrupted. The only problem was the shape. It was wrong. He felt disgusted at how flat his stomach was. It should be prominent and bulging like his masters.
Slug pushed Sam down roughly and unzipped his flies. Sam gasped as the semi-erect monster was pulled out and pointed at him. Through the fat bulbous head was a horizontal barbell, and hanging through the piss hole was a thick silver ring matching the two in Slug’s nipples. Round the shaft were other rings and Sam could see a line of them disappearing between his legs. Suddenly a stream of hot yellow piss shot all over Sam’s torso and moved up towards his face.
“Take it in your mouth and swallow it boy,” commanded Slug.
Sam obeyed swallowing the yellow stream, feeling disgusted and turned on at the same time. As Slug finished he wiped his cock on Sam’s moustache before slamming the now rock hard organ down Sam’s throat. Sam started to choke until he developed the knack of resting the rings in his throat as it began to pump in and out.
With an animal grunting, Slug shot his load. Sam choking managed to swallow it all and felt his cock pulsating and shooting thick ribbons of spunk in response to Slug’s orgasm.
Slug grinned as he undid the handcuffs and lit two cigarettes one of which he passed to Sam. Sam smoked it, and though it felt like he wanted to choke every time he breathed in, he had to finish it. Watching the way Slug smoked, Sam copied him until he was smoking exactly the same way Slug was.
“Now lets get you finished off” said Slug.
“Yes Sir, thank you Sir” replied Sam as Slug brought out a set of clippers.
Sam held his head still as he felt the clippers bite into his hair. This was what he wanted. He hated his hair, it was so unhygienic. Sam felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
Once all the long hair had been buzzed off and the worst of it brushed off his shoulders, Slug lathered up Sam’s head. As he scraped the hair off with the re-sharpened straight razor, Slug rubbed his cock against Sam’s naked body. Rubbing off the last of the lather, he pulled Sam up and showed him a full-length mirror hanging up on the bathroom door.
Sam was amazed. He looked so different. He rubbed his now bald head and suddenly had a flash of imagination. For a split second he saw himself pierced and tattooed just like Slug. Looking at his now rock hard cock in the mirror, he ached to touch it but remembered Slug’s order. Just then Slug grabbed him and roughly kissed him. As he felt the cone in Slug’s lip pushing into his, and Slug’s tongue bar pushing up against his teeth he felt all resistance die. He still didn’t understand what was going on, but he didn’t care anymore. His mouth and arse belonged to Slug and that was as it should be.
James and Sally watched the yard out of their office window. Slug and Sam were loading wagons stripped to the waist, sweat dripping off their bald heads in the hot summer sun. Watching them walk, Sally couldn’t help noticing how similar they were. Both men were shaved smooth all over, and had prominent beer guts. Slug had worked hard feeding Sam up with junk food and beer, and there was no trace of the muscular well toned body he used to be so proud of. The tattooing was now complete, and Sam now sported a complex design of tattoos down both his arms and across his chest and back. Both his ears had large 000 gauge flesh tunnels in the earlobe and many other rings decorated his face and body.
As Sam and Slug finished work, they both had a cigarette and Sally thought it was funny that they smoked them in exactly the same way. As they walked off, they even moved the same way.
“Well,” said James. “What a difference a couple of years makes. I never thought Joanne and Barbara could pull this off, but they look the same, walk the same talk the same, and even dress the same.”
“That was the general idea,” said Sally. “Slug was already a gay sadist so it only required a little bit of prompting on his part, and Sam is trapped in a world he hates but wants desperately. He has no choice but to look, talk and act like an uneducated thug, even though inside he feels the same way as he always has. The only thing we really did was take his love of power and control and turn them on its head. Instead of being in control he now needs to be controlled. A fitting punishment I would have thought.”
“You really are an evil cow, Sis.”
“I know. That’s why you love me.”