Moldable Men

James sat in one of the hotel’s outdoor chairs with a sigh. It had been a gruelling several months and he finally made time for a break. His company was doing well, it had just taken a lot out of him this last year. As CEO he worked hard to ensure that his shareholders and employees were taken care of, but lately this had come more at the cost of his own sanity. This secluded resort in Southern France was exactly what he needed.

He ordered a drink from the waiter and was pleased to see that there were few people about. One of the things he’d heard about this place was that it limited its guest count, and so it was easier to relax without the pressure of inane socializing with idiotic tourists.

After relaxing a bit, he decided to walk around the grounds, and found himself on a balcony overlooking the large trees of the grounds. He noticed that there was another man there, though he may have been a local from the way he spoke to the waiter. His French was impeccable, his accent clearly natural. He also dressed in a way that was somehow fashionable, and yet also entirely casual. Especially evidenced by his lack of any footwear.

The man waved at him, so he decided to be polite, and chat with him, just for a bit. James was surprised to find that he got along well with the younger man. They chatted about all sorts of things. The young man’s life in various cities around France, James’ company and home. It was actually refreshing compared to what he was used to.

James also found his mouth watering for some reason, him ordering another drink to try and assuage it, but it didn’t seem to have any effect. It was like he walked in and smelled a roasted steak he was eager to eat, but he couldn’t actually catch any smell that would provoke such a reaction. After a while, the young Frenchman seemed to notice his discomfort and smiled. “Something the matter mon ami?”

James shook his head in denial, but kept licking his lips without realizing it.

The young man smiled and repositioned himself slightly, testing something. James didn’t even notice but his feet were much closer to him now, and he became almost dizzy, leaning forward without any conscious thought whatsoever.

“Ah,” the younger man said. “Seems you are attracted to the lotion I use. Once on my skin it emits pheromones, but most people don’t get affected by them.”

James furroughed his brows, starting to deny that such a thing was possible when the young man leaned forward and pulled James’ head into his bare feet. His tongue instinctively lapped at them, filling the older man with a bliss he’d never felt before. He kept going for several minutes before coming back to himself, and pulling away.

“What the fuck was that?! I’m not into guys’ feet!”

“No James, you weren’t into guys feet. But at this point, my guess is that you are already addicted to mine.”

James shot up and began to storm away in anger. Whatever that was, it won’t happen again.

The young man smiled and said to James as he walked away. “I’ll be down here when you change your mind.”

James stormed to his room in anger. He flung off his clothes and got into the shower, alternating between incredibly hot, and icy cold, trying to shake off the strange feeling he’d gotten. It didn’t help. Thoughts of the bliss he’d felt when worshiping the younger man’s feet kept intruding into his mind. He tried everything. A trip to the gym, a brainless movie, reading his favorite book, even watching porn couldn’t dispel the image or the feeling.

It was hours since he’d stormed off, but he found himself back on the balcony, the smug smile of the Frenchman only infuriating him further.

“How do I undo whatever your ‘lotion’ or whatever did?” James asked.

“Well you see, the lotion is only the catalyst. It was my body composition, and to a certain extent yours that created the real effect. As such, it can’t be undone. Now, I have heard that over time the feelings can lessen. All you have to do is stay away.”

James thought about this for a moment, but his frustration was too high. He could always let it go once he was far away from here. It would be like locking the liquor cabinet. He moved closer to the man. “Maybe just a little more.”

The Frenchman’s smile widened more. “I mean I’m not sure. You were pretty rude to me. Your tongue is nice, but not worth it.” He seemed to mull it over for a moment. “Okay. If you buy me a nice drink as an apology you can have a little taste.”

James practically raced to the bar, practically throwing the drink at the boy before sinking down and enjoying himself by lapping at his feet.

As the week came to an end, James was as relaxed as he’d ever been. After the first night, he’d wanted more and more, and was happy to do nice things to the young man to get his fix. First he upgraded to a larger suite so the boy had his own room in the hotel with him. Buying him great food and drink only seemed fair. It was like paying for a massage, only way better, right?

As James got on the plane, he stepped to the side, allowing the young Frenchman to take the preferred window seat. He had decided to join James on the flight back to see his new apartment for himself. James got one for him in the same building as his own. It was easier for him that way. After all, after work his only focus was his new obsession. He’d quit eventually, but for now, it all seemed such a small price to pay for bliss, right?

You hear a knock at your door and you open it to find an old man in a black cloak at your door.

“Trick or Treat” he says. “A simple treat is all I ask. For your gift I will return upon you a blessing. The nature of which is yours to choose. Or, should no treat be delivered, a trick shall be upon you.”

You go into your house and return with your chosen treat.

(Tell me what treat you'd give to hear your story)

Treat 3:

Your boyfriend barely glanced at you when you heard the knock, and you know that it means you’re supposed to get the door. As he hears the old man, you hear him mumble, “Tell him to sod off.” You worry that the old man overheard this, so you blush slightly.

“I’m sorry sir. We don’t have a lot, but I did get some nice candy from our office manager if you’d like.”

The old man smiles as he takes the offered gift. “Well aren’t you sweet. You deserve a sweet life. Have a great holiday!”

An hour later, your boyfriend has gone to the store, and the door rings again. You open it to find an incredibly built man in front of you. “Hey there,” he rumbles in a deep voice. “I’m Ace, and I’m your new personal trainer.”

You practically jump for joy. You’d always wanted to use a trainer, but could never afford one. It didn’t even cross your mind to question how or why he came to you. You invite him in, and head to the bedroom where you keep what little workout gear you have.

You expect to do some workouts, but he smiles at you. “I think I know what you need. More protein.” With that he takes out his cock, and it’s magnificent. You’ve always been a size queen, and he’s even bigger than your boyfriend. You don’t hesitate before dropping to your knees and taking it.

You’re so engaged in his cock that you don’t hear your boyfriend come home until the bedroom door creaks open. He looks at you and his face clouds in anger. Normally you do everything in your power to keep his anger at bay, but this cock is all you care to think about. But then the strangest thing happens. His eyes go wide, and he almost doubles over. You can’t quite tell what happened at first but then you see a wet stain on his sweats.

Ace chuckles. “Ah, you must be the boyfriend. Glad to see you enjoy the show. I always wanted to cuck someone. Glad to see you made it so easy.”

Your boyfriend stares down at his crotch in disbelief. Somehow he came hands free seeing you blow another man.

No one says anything as Ace positions himself behind you, and you feel ecstasy as he slowly enters you. You see that your boyfriend is practically paralyzed while watching and cums again watching you be fucked.

You were worried about your friend, and as he looked at you, it was clear that he could tell. He tilted his head slightly giving you a questioning look, obviously not pleased with you doubting him.

It was hard though, the two men were huge and they looked like they were about to fight over a prized cut of meat, which– of course– your friend was. He had a killer body, and an attitude to go with it. He dominated in sports and in sex. Surprisingly, he wasn’t an asshole, but he was highly confident, and sure in what he wanted and how to get it.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t bitten off more than he could chew this time. As a total top, there’s no way he’d consent to bottom, but the way the men were acting so possessive of him, they seemed to assume that was the way it was going to be– when one of them came out on top of the other of course.

They seemed to be entering a staring contest, each convinced that the other would break. They somewhat more aggressively than playfully pushed at each other, getting harder with each “tap” which by the end was practically punching each other’s chests. It was like watching two gorillas go at it.

All the while, your friend seemed to just be passively observing, which you completely didn’t understand. He could use their distractions with each other to walk away, or perhaps pick one and end the aggression, but he didn’t seem interested. It went against everything you knew about him.

It was another few minutes before you realized that your friend was slowly running a finger up and down each of the men’s backs. You knew from experience that it felt good, but if his goal was to end their contest of dominance, it was failing miserably.

While afraid to leave, you decided that nothing was likely to be decided for the next few minutes, so you went to get another drink. The bartender smiled at you, nodding to your friend, “He’s going to get torn apart tonight both of them are fucking intense when pounding a boy, I know from experience.”

You turned and looked back, still seeing exactly what everyone else did. Two massive alphas fighting over a hot guy smaller and weaker than them, clearly deciding who would be tearing his hole apart.

You took the drink and headed back closer to the action, still unable to understand what was happening. You realized your friend had been talking to the two of them, but it was still too far for you to hear what he said, and they didn’t seem to pay him any attention. You’d have thought he’d be better at diffusing a situation like this.

You debate for a moment trying to intervene, but it’s not like there’s much you can do against guys like that, and frankly if your friend wasn't walking away, maybe he did want it. Maybe he decided it was time to explore his sub side a bit.

You headed back to the nearby table, still close enough if your friend needed you, but far enough away that you were in no way getting mixed up in the action.

When you turned back, your friend finally did something new, and you were floored. Suddenly and violently, the fingers that had been soothingly stroking the brutes’ backs were forced inside their asses. For the first time, they stopped glaring at each other and stared at your friend, their mouths agape, much like yours was. That had not been what you expected.

You leaned closer, unable to stop yourself from eavesdropping on at least this part of the conversation.

“Don’t look at me like that,” your friend was saying, his voice soft, but firm. “You’ve been fighting over me for almost an hour. You want me.”

The one on the left opened his mouth to speak, but your friend pushed his finger deeper in each of them causing his words to flounder before ever leaving his mouth.

“Now now. It’s ok. You’re all worked up. You’re not thinking clearly, getting angry at each other. Spending all your energy. Too much energy I think. Now it’s time to calm down.”

Something about the way he said those last words seemed to resonate with the men. It was like all that rubbing and soothing had been bottled up and released all at once, and the tension in their bodies visibly diminished.

Your friend worked his fingers a bit more, while smiling at the dumbstruck men. “That’s right. I get it. Tired yourselves out, but don’t worry you both want me. You both can have me.”

He removed his fingers and the men looked back at each other warily. Each expression seemed to ask, “Were they really willing to share?”

But their distraction was exactly as intended, as your friend firmly gripped each on the shoulder and began to push them downwards.

“It’s alright. It’s ok that you spent all your energy, no need to stand anymore. Relax.”

And they sank to their knees.

They looked at each other again in disbelief. A part of them both knew that this wasn’t what they intended, but seeing the other fall too helped them give in. They were tired. They did wear themselves out. And they could share him. That would be good, right? No need to fight.

Your friend looked at you and winked before he grabbed the back of their heads and brought them to his crotch. Most of what he said was too low for you to hear, but you did get the final words that he spoke more triumphantly.

“You wanted me. This is what you get. Have at it boys.”

They each pulled back a bit in their own way, but his hands held them firm, and their resistance was short lived. It really was like they had no energy left to fight. 

One tentatively reached up and began to unzip your friend’s pants, and the other moved to help him. You were in awe of the scene already, but it only got more intense when your friend’s cock sprang out. Something in them had changed, and their aggression was back, but directed towards service. 

They worshiped your friend for all they were worth. They tag teamed, sucking and licking his cock, his body, and eventually even his feet. Eventually when your friend grabbed them each by their own hard cocks and pulled them into the back room, you couldn’t help but follow.

Sure enough both were bent over one of the tables practically begging to be fucked. Your friend took his time, fucking them both back and forth while they moaned like bitches in heat. Other people in the club were watching, many of them had been fucked by one or the other, so seeing them so thoroughly bitched out was a kind of hot that couldn’t quite be described.

You were surprised to see that even the bartender you’d spoken to had gotten caught up in it, his cock out as he beat it furiously watching the three men before him.

Over an hour later, your friend finally had his fill, leaving the two men practically comatose as he sauntered past you. He glanced back as you followed behind him.

“And you were worried. Silly boy. I always have everything in hand.”

You looked back at the men moaning on the tables, and you realized you’d never doubt him again.

Olympic Pride

“I don’t know Will,” his friend said hesitantly. “There’s a lot of great bars nearby. Not sure you should go to those clubs.”

“Ugh the bars here are so boring,” Will lamented. “Marais is basically like West Hollywood. Sure it’s gay, but it’s also lame. Those clubs are where the action’s at, I’m telling you.”

They’d been having this argument all day. They’d come together to Paris to see the big games, and were overall having a great time. After a couple days of watching hot guys, primarily in swimming and gymnastics, Will was pent up, and wanted to have some fun.

He’d heard about some clubs off the beaten path that promised to be more interesting than what he’d found so far.

“I know dude,” Will’s friend tried again, “But I’ve heard some things about those clubs. They’re supposed to be really intense.”

Will rolled his eyes, “I’ve been to all the hottest clubs in NY and LA, I’m not worried about what I find here.”

“I know,” his friend said placatingly. “But all those clubs have bottle service. Your money matters there. I’m not sure you understand what the differences can be.”

Will laughed as he walked away from his friend. “You’re such a drama queen. Have fun with your gaybar boys that won’t put out. I’m going to get some action.”

He made his way to the address he’d been given. There was no signage anywhere to be seen, but it didn’t really matter since he didn’t know the name of the club anyway. Seeing a long line of losers outside a nondescript door, he walked up to the bouncer. “Where’s the VIP line?” Will asked, flashing a hundred dollar bill.

The bouncer looked down at the hundred, while someone in line shouted, “Fuck off prep, there’s no line for you here.”

The bouncer looked at the money again, giving Will a once over. “You know what, I’ll just let you in here.” He glanced at someone at the door who came over to escort Will in.

Will smiled in satisfaction. Money always worked. His guide led him into the club, the music blaring, but the lights barely made anything visible. “You’re taking me to a table, right?” Will shouted over the music.

The young man leading him turned towards him, “Don’t worry, we’re going right where you need to be, but first let’s get you a drink. No need for someone like you to have to wait.”

His ego fully enjoying the treatment, he allowed himself to be led to the bar, where he was given some premium booze as a shot. A perfect start to the night… or it would have been if some douche didn’t blow smoke all over him as he took the shot.

“What the fuck man! Smoking is fucking gross.”

The twink pulled another drag before barely uttering “désolé” while laughing and wandering back into the crowd.

“Sonofabitch,” Will muttered to himself. This jacket is going to smell like smoke forever. It cost more than the twink’s entire outfit, despite it being fairly high end sports gear. Will’s anger was running high, but he realized his guide was almost out of sight, so he let the offensive twink go while he followed behind him.

When he caught up the guide handed him another shot. “Sorry about that. Guys here love to smoke and most don’t care how much others like it. I figured you could use another one.”

Appreciating that at least someone knew his value, Will took the other shot and continued deeper into the club.

Will was surprised when instead of upstairs where he expected the VIP tables to be, his guide took him downstairs instead. When they reached the bottom, they were overwhelmed with smoke. Will tried to back away a bit, but found himself swaying a bit.

“Woah dude, sit down for a minute,” the guy leading him said, taking him over to sit down. Those shots are high quality, but they pack a punch.” Will nodded along, wanting to ask to be taken out of the smoke, but first he had to sit down. Besides, he’d already have to spend a shit ton on his cleaning bill. Another few minutes wouldn’t make a difference.

Will was in a haze, moderately coming to when he realized that he was surrounded by some younger guys decked out in sports and skate gear. He rolled his eyes, and leaned back, still feeling dizzy and hoping they’d just go away.

“Salut!” one of the boys said, dashing his hopes.

“Look boy,” Will growled, “I don’t speak Frenchie, and am not interested. Buzz off.”

“Ah, American,” the guys said with a thick French accent. “I understand now.”

He and his friends mostly wandered off, while Will continued to do his best to ignore them. He kept waiting for his dizziness to fade, no longer noticing all the smoke he was inhaling.

He dozed in and out until he heard the French accent again. “You should take off your jacket, you’re overheated.”

Will wanted to snap at the guy again, but he was right. Cooling down was probably a smart idea. He stripped it off and let it fall to the floor without a thought. Anyone who knew him would be floored by this action, but Will didn’t even notice.

Another guy came by a bit later and gave Will some much needed water. Will chugged it down, and laid back before removing is shirt at the other guy’s suggestion. It really was too hot in here.

He had no idea how much time passed before the first guy came back and sat down next to him. “You enjoying Paris?”

“Uh,” Will murmured, lost in the smoke and spiked drinks. “Not really. The Olympics are cool and all but most of the people suck. Everyone in France seems to think they’re so much better than everyone, which is dumb. America’s the best. That’s why the Olympics rule. We always kick ass. Oh. And this club sucks. Too many bros and skate dudes. Where’s the hot rich dudes?”

The other guy chuckled. “You like rich guys, huh?”

Will was too far gone to realize that he should stop talking. “Of course. We gotta stick with our own. Everyone else is just trying to take advantage.”

“I think we agree more than not. Here, drink this.” He handed Will another bottle.

The last thing Will needed to do was take anything more, but he didn’t hesitate before drinking. The other smiled, deciding to test if Will’s obedience was truly where he intended it to be.

“I feel like your life must be stressful. You should let go more.”

Will chuckled as the latest drug took hold. “Ya, that’s a good idea.”

“Everything I say is a good idea, don’t you think?” the French accent said?

Will just nodded.

“You’re too pent up.”

“Yea, I’m too pent up.”

“Show me.”

Will didn’t hesitate to unzip his pants and pull out his cock. He stroked it a bit, getting a bit chub, but not fully hard.

“Here,” the other man said. Sniff this, it will make you fully hard.

Will took the offered item, which turned out to be the other man’s shoe. The man took his hand and helping him bring the shoe to his face. The smell was so intense, he almost pulled it away, but he felt his cock get harder than he could ever remember.

“That’s right. This is the scent that you need. Isn’t it?”

Will wasn’t in much position to speak, but he mumbled “what I need” under his breath.

“You know what would be better? Smelling from its source.”

Will found himself suddenly obsessed with this idea, and he found himself on the floor, completely oblivious to how gross he would have previously found that. The guy brought his socked foot to his face, and Will found himself in heaven.

“Taste is even better than smell,” he heard, causing him to mix his sniffing with licking the soles of the other man’s feet. A short time ago, this scenario would have appalled him, but nothing seemed more important right now.

He was happy when the sock came off and was shoved into his mouth. When the shoe was tied around his head, he felt like he was on a crazy high. When the man fucked him, he came twice without even touching himself, lost in the sensation of being fucked mixed with the sour taste of the sweaty socks, and the musky scent of the well-worn shoes.

After it was over, Will didn’t question when he was given a smoke already lit. Another disgust turned just right because he was told it was so. Shortly after, he passed out.

The next morning, he barely remembered who he was, and over time that faded completely. He was happy to give his money over to his new buddies. He was thrilled when they convinced him to stay there. With his money gone, and him too befuddled to actually have a job, he was grateful for their hospitality.

Will spent most of his time working out at his buddy’s request. It seemed like a good use of his time, and it was one activity his constantly foggy brain allowed him to do.

Though didn’t wear much around the house, he was thrilled when they found the sweet American trunks to wear when they went clubbing. He loved fucking America. His job was to seduce the rich Americans with his sexy body, helping the group’s finances in a whole new way.

He's so ready to fuck this twink silly, what could go wrong?

Stiff Drink

As a bartender, Mitch had seen a lot of things. And a lot of people. He always chuckled when he heard people talk about whether humans were intrinsically good or bad. He'd heard both sides, and seen it too. A few bad eggs were assholes. Some were deeply heroic, but at the end of the day what most people were was boring.

Sure some "good" people did some bad things and vice versa, but most of the time everyone just existed. They did whatever was in front of them. Satisfied whatever happened to be driving them in the moment. Rarely did they look past the horizon. Almost none of them ever changed from that grey middle.

Watching the newcomer to the bar nurse his drink, Mitch decided that he wasn't going to allow this guy to fall into the trap of mediocrity. He could tell at a glance that he was kind of lost. Chances were good he had either just come out of the closet or just been broken up with. Either way, he was nervous and lacking confidence. He wasn't too bad looking. Tall, with some cute facial features, but was lacking completely in definition. Yep. What this guy needed was a change, one Mitch decided he'd provide.

He walked over to prove his theory correct. "Rough day?"

The patron barely looked up before nodding. "You have no idea."

Mitch nodded. "I don't think that White Claw is going to help you out. What you need is a stiff drink," he said passing over a glass with a slight smirk.

The guy hesitated, but he seemed to realize that if Mitch had wanted to spike his drink, he could have done so already. Without another thought he shot it back, and Mitch could tell he felt the burn the whole way down.

"So," Mitch continued, "now that you've got that stiff drink and maybe some liquid courage what you looking for here?"

"I don't even know anymore. Besides, it's not like anyone here is eager to take me home."

Mitch shook his head. "I wouldn't be too sure of that. Besides if no one's taking you home, why don't you just take one yourself."

The man chuckled. "Thanks, that's nice. Normally not the role I can play, sadly."

Mitch looked confused. "You sure about that, I mean if that is any indication you're eager to take someone right this minute," he said while gesturing to the patron's pants, which had developed a noticeable bulge.

"Shit! That's embarrassing. Not even sure how that happened so fast."

"Hey no worries. It was probably that stiff drink. Besides, you've got nothing to be embarrassed about. From the looks of that, at least part of you is on the hunt tonight." 

As Mitch had spoken there seemed to be a fire light in the man's eyes. "Yea, I should find what I want."

"Exactly," Mitch replied. "You're stiff in the best way. I can tell. Stiff cock, stiff back. Strong enough to get what you want."

As the minutes ticked by, Mitch could see the other's confidence grow. The drink worked wonders. It always did. There were no physical changes, well except the raging hard-on, but Mitch knew the man was seeing himself in a new way. This was a man that had changed. The drink instilled in him a new hunger which would inevitably change the course of his life.

Then Mitch got the unexpected surprise. The patron turned back from surveying the bar, and simply said, "And what if what I decide I want, is you?"

Mitch smiled as the man grabbed his shirt and pulled him from behind the bar to the nearest restroom. The kiss was hot and intense. The guy clearly wasn't sure what he was doing by being so forceful, but he couldn't help himself. Mitch was thrilled. He'd always been a pleaser, and seeing this formerly broken guy take him made him horny as hell. 

A few rough and intense moments later, they returned to the bar where Mitch got back to work, if with a slightly sore ass.

The other left, Mitch assumed to find a more long-term conquest, but as he finished his shift he was surprised once again. "You were right, that I should just choose someone to take home. So get in. I'm taking you home."