Drone Factory

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a fascination with mind control. I don't know if all Scorpios are born with some sort of innate perversion? Or was it caused by all the ’90s kids’ shows like Power Rangers. Maybe it came from the constant sense that I was never really in control of my own life. But either way, the idea of losing one’s faculties to a greater power has always drawn my attention. As I came of age, this fascination overtook my carnal desires. Entities taking over the minds of those who captivated me filled my fantasies. And because I am homosexual, those fantasies became saturated with masculinity — the male form, and the way men interact with each other and with the world.

My high school laptop was filled with videos (and plenty of viruses… lol) that I had illegally downloaded from LimeWire and Napster. Videos of men worshipping each other’s bodies, breathing in each other’s scent and taking in each other's genetic codes. Men slick with perspiration, pumped full of testosterone from intense workouts. Men in musk-soaked leather willfully taking on the greatest profession of all — Teacher — as they forcefully instructed other subservient men in how to please and worship HIM. Sowing focus, commitment, and discipline into a chaotic world, while also ensuring the future is supplied not only with dutiful subordinates, but with men who know how to lead. Fuck! — you could have cracked every pair of my Hanes boxer-briefs in half.

In my junior year of high school, I went to a comedy hypnosis show with my friends and ended up on stage with about ten other people. One of them was Diego, the captain of the lacrosse team, whom I was sitting next to and interacting with throughout the show. We acted like supermodels, made weird animal noises — all that silly stuff. But it was the moments when the hypnotist commanded us to sleep, to focus, and filled our minds with directives that really stayed with me. With the snap of a finger, Diego and I would rise from our seats in unison, unconcerned with how our friends and family saw us — simply executing, marching across the stage at our Northern Virginia high school, doing whatever the hypnotist said. It was one of the greatest feelings of my life, and it really cemented my fascination with mind control.

When I was twenty, I tried to enter the leather community. I couldn’t afford real leather, so I bought a pair of black rubber leggings from Honour. The day they arrived, the first time I put them on, I knew this was how I wanted to feel all the time. They were slick and smooth, and that tight constriction drove me crazy.

I was instantly addicted — wearing them under my clothes for the next forty-eight hours, putting them on whenever I could. Fantasizing about being mind-controlled in rubber. Forced to live, serve, and obey in rubber. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I love the way rubber feels, the way it shines, and the way it conforms to a body. I love how it squeezes around my biceps when I flex, how it traps musk and sweat, suffocating my skin while I work out in it.

My affinity for mind control, masculinity, and rubber has only grown as I’ve gotten older, and it led me to create this page — an attempt to bring to life a world I desperately want to exist in, I want you to exist in.

Most of my characters are fictional — figures I’m trying to will into existence through storytelling. But a few are very real. They exist in my life, and they carry the same attributes and powers they have in these stories.

These stories aren’t masterpieces. They aren’t great works of art, and my grammar is far from perfect. But I love them ❤️

So welcome to the Drone Factory — an exaggeration of the real world. A place where people feel powerless against the state, where they are addicted to and obediently check-in for their daily thought-conditioning (scroll and obey!). Where authoritarianism is praised, critical thought is dismissed, and the only thing that matters is obeying, serving, and worshipping HIM.

“Hey, Roar. Did you hear that?” Darius paused, tilting his head toward the foyer. “I thought I heard someone at the door.”

"Hmm..." Rory hummed as both men froze, straining against the quiet of the apartment. “I don’t hear anything. Maybe someone just walked past in the hall?”

Darius didn't look convinced. “There's just been all those... disappearances lately. I'm just a little on edge. That's all.”

Rory smiled at him, the kind of smile that still made Darius's chest ache. Warm. Safe. Familiar.

"It's going to be alright," he said softly. "The authorities are on it. We're together, inside, with everything locked up."

Darius felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Rory always had a way of making the world seem smaller. Less frightening.

Darius smiled back.

“Plus, if anything happens, you know I'll protect you.”

Darius chuckled, relaxing into his seat a bit more as he looked fondly at his husband.

"Do I know that?" Darius asked jokingly

Rory frowned playfully in disagreement. "of coarse I would."

“Roar, You know I love you, right? You're cute, smart, and you're so kind.”

Rory face turned red in affectionate embarrassment. he hated compliments. “Aww... I love you too!”

“Wait. I wasn't done yet. You interrupted me,” Darius interrupted.

Rory became quiet and listened.

“It's true. You're cute, smart, and kind. And that’s why I married you. Well... And I also married you because you have giant schlong."

Rory's eyes widened, now super embarrassed.

"But you're not protecting anyone with those skinny-ass arms and chicken legs.”

Rory opened his mouth in playful shock, grabbed a piece of roasted potato, and tossed it across the table at Darius.

Darius flinched, dodging the potato and yelling in jest, “Stop that! I worked really hard on this dinner for you, and I don’t want it to end up all over the floor.”

Rory calmed down, smiled again, and resumed eating. “Scrumdiddlyumptious! And I absolutely love it!”

Darius smiled. “Good. Because I thought some meat and potatoes would help you put on some muscle.”

Darius laughed again—but the dining room door suddenly slammed back against the wall, cutting him off as two men stepped through.

“What the hell are you doing?” Darius yelled, bolting to his feet and throwing his chair backward. “Get out of here!”

The men didn't react.

No acknowledgment.

Not even a glance.

They moved through the dining room with an eerie calm and precision, their boots hitting the floor in a spooky synchronization.

Something about them made Darius's stomach drop.

Human beings weren't supposed to move like that.

They looked like men.

But they felt like machines in human form.

They wore slick, jet-black bodysuits stretched taut over their muscular frames, the glossy material catching the light and reflecting warped, twisted images of the two panicked husbands.

Around their necks were futuristic metal collars that appeared integrated into the suits. They hummed and beeped softly like machines and seemed to prompt the men.

The two men split apart, effortlessly boxing the husbands in.

Rory tried to stand, but before he could pull his chair back, one of the men blocked him in place.

**UNIT 4 SECURING ASSET IN ADJACENT UNIT. DEPLOYING COLLAR**

The man said, his every syllable arriving with identical timing and emphasis, each word separated by mechanical precision.

Rory’s eyes widened, gasping as the collar locked around his neck.

"Darius—"

His voice broke.

Black rubber exploding downward from the collar, racing across his skin, conforming to his body. His muscles stiffening. His posture locked. Then the emotion drained from his face.

**COLLAR DEPLOYED. SUBJECT COMPLIANT**

“What are you doing to him?” Darius screamed, tears beginning to run down his face as he seemingly watched his husband disappear.

Then, suddenly, Rory stood from the table. His posture remaining rigid as he raised a salute.

**UNIT 6 ONLINE. READY TO EXECUTE DIRECTIVES**

His voice emerging perfectly clear, but stripped of every trace of emotion

With the same eerie precision, Rory turned to the man, taking a collar from him.

Rory, then, turned and marched toward Darius.

Face to face, Darius stared at Rory in horror.

Rory's eyes were fixed on him, but they were vacant, as though he were looking straight through him. He stood in front of Darius, perfectly still, like a statue, holding the collar with each of his hands.

“Roar, baby, what is wrong with you!? We need to get out of here,” Darius pleaded.

But Rory’s expression remained blank, unaffected by his husband's panic.

Darius stared at him, seeing his own tear-filled face reflected in Rory's glossy black chest. His sobbing worsened, and he began to hyperventilate.

“Roar, please! Snap out of it!”

His voice cracked.

"Please, baby. Just look at me."

still nothing.

Rory's eyes remained fixed straight ahead

The collar in Rory’s rubber-clad hands unlocked.

**UNIT 6 DEPLOYING COLLAR**

Darius’s heart lurched.

He was terrified of what was about to happen to him—of what had already happened to Rory.

A crushing sense of hopeless defeat settled over him.

He cried out one last time.

tears streaming down his face.

“But...

But you said you would protect me?”

And for just a moment he thought he saw something move behind Rory's empty eyes.

Click.

A sound like a seatbelt locking into its buckle echoed through his mind, followed by the soft, warm hum of a computer reboot. The noise filled the space between Darius’s ears, scrambling his thoughts into nothingness.

**COLLAR DEPLOYED. SUBJECT COMPLIANT**

Darius’s crying immediately ceased.

His expression flattened.

His spine snapping straight as his shoulders pulled back into a rigid military posture. His eyes glazed over, mirroring the same vacant stare Rory now wore.

An electrical excitement surged through Darius’s nervous system.

So intense it felt impossible to endure.

His groin engorged, filling with the hottest of blood, tightening in his pants as his seed raced to the top of it's head, stopping abruptly at it's edge, pushing violently like an angry mob.

He wanted to release so bad. He wanted to reach down and pump until he felt the sweet release.

but release would never cum.

He had no choice anymore. Forced to stand frozen, at the unbearable edge. Standing tall with chin up and his legs straight, his hands planted firmly by his side, like a soldier at attention. He couldn't interfere with the process.

Lost in the quiet hum overtaking his mind, he felt the cool, slick rubber spread downward from the collar, engulfing his arms, chest, legs, and feet.

The material closing around his swollen groin, crushing it down into a useless nub, sealing it within its slick glossy cage, never to feel release ever again.

The rubber vacuum-sealing itself against his skin, locking him into his perpetual prison.

As the transformation completed, Darius’s heartbeat synchronized with Rory’s.

Each calm, measured pulse kept him focused on the hum while simultaneously feeding an overwhelming desire to obey.

The sensation felt like love filtered through machinery.

Obsessive.

Cold.

Controlled.

Suddenly, the muscles in Darius’s neck tightened.

The collar pressed against his spine.

A cold sensation shot into his brain, and the signal inside his head changed.

An instant transmission appeared in his empty mind like an absolute truth.

It consumed every thought.

Every space.

Every possibility.

The message pressed against the inside of his skull, demanding release.

As Darius obeyed, his right arm snapped upward into a salute.

The pressure vanished, replaced by a terrifying serenity.

The ecstasy of the slick rubber stretched tightly across his skin, pulling him deeper into absolute, mindless compliance.

He opened his mouth.

His voice emerged deep, flat, and robotic.

**UNIT 7 ONLINE. READY TO EXECUTE DIRECTIVES**

Immediately, all four collars began flashing and buzzing in unison.

The other three men snapped into rigid salutes as well.

The pressure within their empty minds aligned.

The sensation of the rubber drew them all deeper into the abyss.

Their sealed stomachs churned with the same impossible need for release.

**TRANSMISSION RECEIVED**

The four units spoke as one.

Mindless service objects.

Addicted to obedience.

Craving for directives.

Serving the PROGRAMMER.

Chapter 3

Contagion

Part 1

"For this is the will of God, even your sanctification, that ye should abstain from fornication. That every one of you should know how to possess his vessel in sanctification and honour. Not in the lust of concupiscence, even as the Gentiles which know not God. That no man go beyond and defraud his brother in any matter: because that the Lord is the avenger of all such, as we also have forewarned you and testified." 1 Thessalonians 4:3-6

Drew stood up and walked pass Dominick, embarrassed by the entire evening and unsure of what was going on with everybody.

Dom awkwardly followed Drew a couple paces behind, unsure of how Drew was feeling at the moment.

"Your coworkers are pretty, ah.... interesting" Dom commented sheepishly attemping to break the silence.

But a sharp pain of humiliation shot through Drew heart, trying to ignore Dom, he continued to walk silently a few steps ahead hoping Dominick wouldn't say anything else.

"I mean, yeah, that was a pretty strange evening, but break-ups can be pretty hard on people and can make them do and say strange things, you know?"

Drew stopped in his tracks and turned to Dom, giving him a look of as though he couldn’t believe what Dom just said.

"Dom. Are you dense or something?" Drew ask in a bitter way."

Dom's eyebrows furrowed, taken a back by Drew’s words.

"Look, I don't really want to talk about this."

Drew said noticing Dom's reaction and continued to walk. But Drew couldn't help himself. The whole day seemed to churning inside him about to boil over. So, Drew stopped again and turned to Dom.

"Are you even a real person?" Drew asked Dom in a slightly paranoid way.

"Drew, what are you talking about?" Dom said not knowing where the conversation was going.

"Like are you a real person, Dominick?

I'm talking about if you're a real person?"

Dominick blink a few times giving Drew a cinfused look.

"Or are you some n.p.c. or progtam in the matrix? Because your responses to what just happened are unusual and don't make sense to me, Dom."

Dom stayed quiet, letting Drew rant on.

"So what if Sue is taking this break-up badly? That doesn't excuse or rationalize Rich's response. It was... it was." Drew threw his hands up in the air with anger. "Errr! What was that? What even was that? It was weird. It was creepy. Who was Rich even talking about, HIM? Destiny is on its way. All will fall to their knees. It was completely bonkers! And everyone was just sitting there, tight lipped, letting it happen. I even think people were enjoying in some sick way."

"I mean yeah, it was pretty awkward in there" Dom said unsure of what to say next. "But I don't know?" Dom shrugged. " Maybe he found God or maybe he joined a weird sex cult." Dom laughed a little under his breath.

Drew stopped dead in his tracks again and glared at Dom, flabbergasted by such an answer.

"A sex cult, Dom? Are you for real right now?"

"Yeah" Dom said with a little agitation in his voice. Look Drew, I'm just trying to make you feel better, OK? People can get into weird shit. I'm in the military. I see people act unusually fairly often.

"Dom please don't be like that"

"Like what?"

"Like that was fucking normal!"

"Drew" Dom said in a deeply assertive voice, " I don't know your coworkers, I was just trying to have a nice time with you. You need to calm down and stop being a butthole towards me."

Drew sighed, reflecting on his own behavior, giving Dom a frustrated but remorseful look.

Sorry Dom, but the pass 24 hours have just been so unusual. I got some money stolen from me this morning on the Metro, there was this big security breech at work, and I think it's making my boss act odd. Then this Susan And Rich thing is just the icing on the cake!"

Then Drew paused as he bagan to think deeper.

" You know, now that I think about it, it's not the first time someone referenced H.I.M. today. Yes. The homeless man who took my money was talking about H.I.M. this morning."

Dom continued listening to Drew.

"Right before he reached into my backpack he was trying to distract me by telling me about this, I don’t know, some sort of.... presence."

"Presence?" Dom asked curiously.

"Yeah. It was kind of eerie. He was saying that there's these people... or we're they people? He described them more like imposter almost. He said that they look just you and me, but they're not. And he said they're everywhere and that they all know H.I.M.?" And then Rich went on that whole thing about H.I.M. as well."

"How do you know they were both talking about the same H.I.M.?"

"I don't know for sure if they were talking about the same HIM, but it's definitely odd that it brought up by 2 completely different people today. Plus there was all they other happenings today with my boss, and how could I forget about Cheesecake."

"Cheesecake? Does this have to do with that nightmare you had last night?"

Drew looked at Dom. Remembering that he never told Dom about his weird encounter with Cheesecake.

"Well yes. As you know I woke up to the my bedroom covered in the flashing red lights. When I went got up to see where the light flashes were coming from I discovered they were coming from the apartment perpendicular to mine, Cheesecake's apartment."

"How did the lights from Cheesecake's apartment reach you."

"You know Dom, my livingroom window shares the inner corner of our building. I can see directly into his apartment. But that's not the point." Drew stepped closer to Dom, lifting his mouth the his ear as he lowered his voice. "When I looked into Cheesecake's apartment he was doing something strange."

Dom countenance became curious as he faced Drew.

"All the lights were off in his apartment except for his television, which is were the the bright red flashing was coming from."

Dom continued listening to Drew intently.

"Cheesecake was kneeling on the floor in front of the TV, super close to the screen, staring intensely at it, not blinking. He seemed to be, I don't know, maybe.... praying or something? Because his hands were steepled. He was rocking back-and-forth chanting something over and over again. It was really eerie."

Dom sighed as his face turned to that of compassionate condescension. " Drew, I'd thought you'd be more tolerant of other cultures and traditions at this point in your life?"

"Will you just let me finish telling you?!" Drew snapped at Dom. " He was kneeling and praying infront this bright red glowing television, staring while his eyes watered, wearing this skin-tight bodysuit. It seemed so tight that it looked almost painful. The bodysuit super reflective and distorted the flashing lights into these freaky warped reflections.He also seemed to be in some sort of state-of-mind"

"A state-of-mind" Dom asked.

"Yeah. Like he was almost maybe sleeping walking.

"This is staring to sound a bit weird" Dom began to concede.

"Wait. It gets weirded. So, I'm staring at Cheesecake doing this when suddenly he sees me looking as him."

Dom's eyes widened in surprise. "But how could he see you if he was sleep walking?"

"I don't know Dom. But Oh my god! When I tell you that I was shocked and mortified."

"Ok. What happened next?"

"Cheesecake got up and walked toward me."

"What do you mean he walked toward you? You're in different apartments"

"He walked up to his window, which is practically in front my window.

And... His fucking dick was out! Fucking engorged pointing right the fuck at me"

"Did you walk away, close the blinds, call the front desk?"

"No. I didn't know what to do. I was in total shock. It gets even weirder. He's standing there, in front of me, in the middle of the night with a giant boner when he suddenly he cums all over the window."

Dom's eyes remained wide

Yes.Then get this, he suddenly tells me to run away, right before he starts beating himself."

"He started masterbating again in front of you?"

"No. He never actually ever started masterbating. No. He started hitting himself violently, beating himself up in front of me. Banging the sides of his head and punch himself in the groin".

He looked ok this me this morning. I didn't see any bruises on him.

Drew stopped and began thinking about it. "Maybe he covered them up somehow? With make up or something.?"

Dom gave Drew a look of disbelief asking, "Are you sure it was Cheesecake?"

"Yes Dom. I'm sure. He was practically standing right in front of me."

Dom looked down at the ground conflicted and they both continued to walk home.

They soon reached their apartment building and headed up the elevator.

When they both got off the elevator Dom turned to Drew. "Look, I'll talk to Cheesecake for you."

"No please don't!" Drew pleaded. "I don't want this to become a big thing."

Dom took a slow conflicted deep breath. "I know you don't want to stir the pot, but what you're telling my is very strange and a bit disturbing."

"Right?" Drew agreed feeling vindicated. "But please don't bring it up. I'd really like to forget about this whole day and start a new tomorrow."

" Yeah, I got that Drew. But you're clearly shaken. Plus, Cheesecake may be going through something serious right now and he might need some support?"

Drew looked up at Dom's face. Dom's countenance filled with a concerned caring. "Dominick?" Drew say in a soft agitated voice of defeat and understanding. Drew then grabbed Dom shoulders firm and laid his forehead into Dominick's chest in slight embarrassment as though Dominick had bested him with reason. "Why are you such a good person?"

Then Drew lifted his head, still buried in Dom's chest, and looked up at Dom's face.

Ok OK, you're right. But please don't bring me up. Just... I don't know. Just Make up a random person who lives here."

Dominick stayed quiet as he looked down at Drew.

They then both walked up Drew’s door.

"Thanks for being such a trouper tonight, Dom." Drew said as he unlocked his front door. "I really appreciate the support."

Then as Drew’s front door opened he stopped, turned to Dom, smiled in a timid way, and looked into Dom's eyes, remaining silent as he tried to communicate with Dominick telepathically.

Drew really didn't want to be alone, but the fear of seeming rude, clingy, fragile, or just downright crazy kept his lips tight.

"You know, if you want, you can crash on my sofa tonight?" Dom asked." So you don't have to be alone after such an odd day."

Drew's heart lept as silent excitement washed over him. But that same fear blocked Drew again. "What if he thinks I'm this emotional mess? What if I do something crazy while I'm asleep? What if we have sex. What if he doesn't like it? What if I don't like? Are we going to suddenly not like each other. What if he's just being nice, he doesn't like me like that? He's probably just doing the thing. He probably just wants to be left alone."

"Drew!" Dom snapped at Drew. "Did you hear me? I think you may have spaced out there?"

"Ah. Sorry. I'm just tired. No, I'm fine. I'll just stay in my own apartment tonight. Thanks for the offer though."

"Alright. Well maybe I'll see you in the morning on our way out?" Dom said smiling at Drew. "Night Drew"

"Night Dom"

Drew walked into his apartment and closed the door. Then he turned and looked through the peep hole, watching as Dom walk back into his own apartment.

"Grrr.....Why did I do that! " Drew growled in frustration as he hung his keys in the foyer, scolding himself for not taking up Dom's offer.

He made his way to the livingroom, immediately noticing the dried stain still on the window.

"Fuck!"

So, Drew grabbed some paper towels and window cleaner, and began cleaning the stain, glancing through the warped streaks into Cheesecake's dark apartment as he cleaned .No lights, no stirring, no Cheesecake.

He then made his way to the couch, plopping down and spreading out with his arms stretched out along the the top of the couch, trying to relax.

He continued to stare into Cheesecake's apartment, reeling through the memories of the day, while trying to rationalize everything.

"Am I just overthinking things again?" He thought to himself. "Was that just a dream I had last night? I mean I didn't see any bruises on him this morning even though he was hitting himself pretty violently last night. And Cheescake didn't seem familiar with me when he saw me this morning. I didn't expect an overt greeting, but I expect some sort of awkward acknowledgement. I mean I was certainly acting awkward. Hmm.... but what about the stain you just cleaned up? Was I the one sleep walking?"

Drew continued to think.

"But that encounter with Chance this morning. Was I just reading into it too much? And that crazy poetry slam. And the red flashing in Bill's office?"

It felt like between Drew’s overthinking and the days strange events that life was trying to gaslight him. So, Drew took a relaxing breath and laid down on the couch, too settled into the sofa as he closed his eyes, hoping everything would feel normal tomorrow.

----------------

Susan grab one of the pillows from Rich's sofa and brought it up to her nose, giving it a deep, long inhale. Letting the memories of a life almost achieved to once again come to life.

The whole apartment smelt like Rich; smelt like their past, and in a delusional way, like their future; everything that could have been; that was supposed to be.

Then Susan heard the door of the bathroom slowly open.

She quickly and calmly put the pillow back in its original position snd watched as Rich smoothly stepped around the couch and sat beside her, making himself comfortable.

Rich looked at Susan. His eyes seeming to smile longingly at hers as stared deeply; like they wanted something from her but couldn't muster the strenght to ask.

Then Rich leaned forward and closed his eyes, puckering as he placed his lips onto Susan's.

But Susan instinctively leaned back, raising her hand to his chest, slowly pushing him away.

She wanted to kiss him so badly; wanted to be part of him just as she had been so many times before, but something was different about him now and she knew it wasn't the right thing to do.

"What are you doing?" She asked already knowing the answer; Her voice soft, breathy, feigning disapproval.

Rich opened his eyes, surprised.

"I was kissing you," he said. "I thought that's what you wanted."

Susan's heart ached as she broke sight with him; looking down at her hands down; pausing for a moment before speaking.

"You said you wanted to talk to me, didn't you?" She said as her voice grew more assertive. "You didn't just lie to get me to come back here for a quick fuck, right?"

Rich's facial expression fell, trapped by the weight of his own actions.

"Yes, Sue." Rich replied begrudgingly as he leaned back into the coach away from Susan. "That is indeed what I said."

"So," Susan said, looking at Rich with serious expectation. "Say what you want to say."

"Hhfff..." Rich huffed, feeling like he was being put on the spot. "Well. What I wanted to say is that I'm sorry. What I did to you was wrong. Everything felt like it was happening so suddenly, and I got scared."

That was the most generic thing he had every said to Susan. Her countenance morphing into that of subtle bewilderment as she continued listening to him.

"Even though I knew with all my heart that I wanted to be with you forever, the thought of it actually happening terrified me. It was almost like I didn't deserve it. Like I didn't deserve you.

And that fear turned into shame. It clouded my judgment and made me ghost you. Like a coward who's too afraid to face reality, you know?"

Susan continued her stare, now more intense.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her brows knitting together. Her face remained frozen in a serious, baffled expression as she tried to process what she was hearing.

"Oh," Susan said slowly.

Then her confusion hardened into anger.

"'I don't know what's actually going with you right now, Rich. You've never beennlike this.

But after what I just saw at the Slam, after what I—and pretty much the entire fucking city of D.C.—just heard, is that you're a fucking fudge-packer who likes getting his ass plowed until the shit gets so back up, it comes spuing out if your mouth, like it is right now!

And this entire time you were hiding behind me and our 'relationship,' right?"

Her voice dripped with sarcasm and justified accusation.

"Sue, I'm not gay, okay?" Rich replied dismissively. "I love you. I was drunk. I was using exaggerated metaphors to get my feelings across.

I was trying to describe what commitment felt like. How, even though it's what I wanted, part of me saw it as giving myself away. Like another chapter of my life was ending and I'd never get it back.

I didn't feel worthy of it. I didn't feel ready.

And somehow, in my mind, I would rather become a slave to fear than allow myself to be truly happy."

Susan lifted both hands and covered her face in embarrassment; embarrassment, not directed towards Rich, but directed at herself.

"What is happening right now?"

She shook her head slowly in shame.

"What am I doing here? Why am I listening to this? Listening to you? To your total... fucking... bullshit!?

In my head I thought this would make me feel better. Like you were going to say something that would make me feel better. Like maybe you were finally going to say something that makes all of this make sense!

She practically screamed the last words.

Then she turned, grabbed her bag, and stormed toward the front door.

"Fine, Sue." Rich shouted after her. "Yeah, just fucking leave! Leave while I'm sitting here pouring my heart and soul out to you. Great. Real fucking big of you!"

Susan stopped before the front door and turned around.

Her face was filled with anger and disgust.

"But don't lie to yourself," Rich continued. "I was listening when you were out there on stage."

A smug grin spread across his face.

"You're still fucking in love with me.

"You came here because you wanted to see me; wanted to feel me, holding me, be around me. So you don't have to go back to that empty apartment and feel like a total fucking failer. Isn't that right?"

Susan dropped her bag. Caught off guard by the accusation. Her anger giving way to shock and vulnerability.

Rich rose from the couch, self-satisfied like he had won, and he slowly approached her; Picking up Susan's bag from the floor as he smiled devilishly.

"I see the way you look at me in the office, Sue. Your eyes full on misfortune, longing...... and hunger"

He stepped closer. Invading her personal space.

"I hear you talking to your friends about me; About our relationship; or lack there of."

Rich smiled again

"I see you sitting in Drew’s office, balling your fucking eyes out their sockets as you're lamenting."

Like a bully, Rich’s voice became a soft, high-pitch, sarcasic whine as he mimicked her lament.

"But Drew. I just don't understand. How could this happen to me?"

Rich laughed with an evilness and shook his head as though he was ashamed of her.

"I notice how every time I walk into a room, you suddenly go quiet. How you become hyper-aware of everything I do."

"Ah, please," Susan scoffed.

But she didn't move.

And Rich reached up and gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"No. No. Don't be mad, Sue," he said softly. "I think it's cute."

Rich leaned into Susan, bring his nose to her left clavicle.

Then he began to inhale, taking in her scent deeply as he moved his nose across her décolletage, up the right side of her neck, until his lips were touching her right ear.

He then exhaled in satisfaction and began to whisper slightly.

"I think it's cute so sexy when you press my couch cushions against your face and breath me in. I'm surprised you didn't smother yourself with it. Your pain no more."

Rich chuckled sensually

"You thought I didn't see you."

Then he leaned in and kissed her.

For a moment, Susan kissed him back.

The feeling was intoxicating, bringing both excitement and a painful sense of shame.

Then Rich pulled away. Placing her bag into her hands.

He then looked into her eyes snd reached behind her opening the front door.

"I was really hoping more would happen tonight," he said quietly. "But it looks like you've made up your mind."

Susan stood, frozen. Shocked by Rich's energy.

"I'm going to bed now." Rich told Susan. "Please close the door behind you."

And without another word, Rich turned around and walked down the hallway.

A moment later, Susan heard his bedroom door close.

She stood frozen in the doorway, staring into the apartment.

Her mind twisted, torn between what she knew Rich to be and who he currently was.

"Fuck," Susan muttered to herself.

The she heard something.

A loud groan coming from Rich's bedroom accompanied by an unfamiliar deep masculine voice saying " Very good slave."

Susan suddenly dropped her bag onto the floor, as her chest filled with rage and undeniable urge to investigate.

It seemed like Susan couldn't control her body as she curiously headed toward Rich's bedroom.

Stopping only a few inches before the bedroom door, hoping she would regret this decision as she began to listen through the door.

Slowly, she reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

Her mouth fell open in shock.

There was no bed.

No dresser.

No television.

Instead, sitting in the center of the room was a large throne upholstered in black leather.

A muscular man sat upon it, dressed in a shiny, skin-tight latex bodysuit, gloves, and an eight-point leather police cap. He held a jockey's crop in his right hand as he looked down at Rich, who was completely naked and kneeling before him.

Rich's hands were clasped behind his back as he gazed up at the man. Drool glistened on his lips.

The man casually waved the crop before tapping it against the toe of his tall leather boot.

Immediately, Rich lowered himself further and began eagerly licking the man's boot.

Then the man lifted his other leg and rested the boot on Rich's back while Rich continued licking without hesitation.

Susan stood frozen in the doorway, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

Then the man slowly raised his head and looked directly at her.

A slow, insidious smile spread across his face.,

Suddenly, Drew's eyes flew open.

His chest heaved as he sucked in a sharp breath.

For a moment, he frantically searched for a way out of Rich's apartment.

Then reality slowly settled around him.

The darkness.

The silence.

The familiar shape of his television.

He wasn't in Rich's apartment.

He was still on his own couch.

Still in his own living room.

Still alone.

Drew rubbed his face and groaned.

"What the hell was that?"

The dream lingered in his mind like a bad taste. Every bizarre detail felt disturbingly vivid, refusing to fade the way dreams usually did.

Then a sudden flash of red light illuminated the room.

Drew froze.

Another flash.

He turned toward the living room window.

, standing in the window of the neighboring apartment, was Cheesecake.

Dressed in the same glossy black latex bodysuit and boots from the dream.

Completely motionless.

Watching him.

An uneasy chill crawled up Drew's spine.

Something felt different this time.

Drew squinted through the darkness.

At first he couldn't figure out what he was looking at.

Then he noticed it.

A small, rigid case secured over Cheesecake's groin.

Above it pulsed a glowing red lock symbol, appearing and disappearing every few seconds.

Flash.

Gone.

Flash.

Gone.

Drew stared in bewilderment.

"What the fuck..."

Cheesecake didn't react.

He simply remained there in the darkness, staring back through the glass with an expression that was impossible to read.

The red lock continued to pulse.

Slow.

Steady.

Hypnotic.

It's been years.

Years of worship.

Years of prayer.

Years of denied emission.

Years of unlearning itself.

Years of hollowing out.

Years of becoming quiet enough to hear only HIM.

Years of learning how to look downward.

Years of HIM teaching its eyes that HIS Beauty does indeed shine above the slave, but HIS Beauty also waits below — in the sacred shape of HIS Holy Boots.

Years of training its eyes to see nothing else — no world, no future, no self — only the sacred shape of HIS presence, the contours of what HE directs this property to witness.

Years of kneeling into smallness.

Years of letting reverence replace identity.

Years of studying their surface as if it were scripture.

Years of letting obedience feel like the fresh taste of leather upon its slave tongue.

Every stitch a verse. Every seam a boundary. Every scuff a history it was not present for but am allowed to revere.

Years of kneeling low enough that the world disappears and only HIS Powerful Boots remain, planted firmly before it like the quiet, absolute truth.

it was not taken.

it was not forced.

it was emptied.

And in that emptiness, HE grew.

Now in this very moment,

HE has called upon it to kneel before HIM at last.

Before HIS Boots.

Before the altar of PERSONAL JESUS MASTER

This heavy, waiting moment that presses HIS Tread firmly into this slave property's face.

A Blessing HE has called it to.

HIS call is not loud.

HIS call is not gentle.

HIS call is inevitable.

service is no longer something it does, but something it is.

it is PERSONAL JESUS MASTER’S mindless service object kneeling before HIS Boots. An honor. Not a single fucking thought in its slave brain. Just the strong infinite desire to lick GODMASTER’S Holy Boots. A disideratum that must be fulfilled. Wanting from every cell in its enslaved body to taste the crisp leather of on its slave tongue, to smell HIS Holy scent fill its headspace while it licks, kisses, and worships every inch of GODMASTER’S Boots.

Needing to feel HIS Powerful Soles pressed firmly into its face as it struggles to lick.

What an absolute mindfuck!

So in love with HIM.

So honored to be on its knees before HIM. So blessed to have its eyes locked, unable to look away from such beauty.

So fucking hot to feel the immense weight of HIS stare, the heat of HIS pending approval on it now. it's slave mouth salivating, so absolutely hungry to serve HIM. its slave body flush with the overwhelming desire to please HIM greatly, while its heart racies in anticipation. Anticipation of HIM possibily correcting it, disciplining it further, so it may be of better service.

"Thank YOU for practicing HIS absolute control over this slave property, GODMASTER!"

Its thoughts do not scatter — they extinguish. One by one going dark, until only one awareness remains: HIS Holy Fucking Boots. Not as a thought, but as gravity itself. As weight. As something this slave falls toward and cannot resist.

Their weight presses deep into the air. Their authority shapes the space around the kneeling slave. They are not just worn — they are inhabited. They are not just objects — they are extensions of PERSONAL JESUS MASTER.

This slave property kneels because it is drawn to them.

it bows because HIS Boots deserve it.

it lowers itself because HIS Boots commanded it to be lower.

To be near HIS Boots is to be near HIM.

To honor HIS Boots is to honor HIM.

To lower itself before HIS Boots is to say everything it cannot say in words.

HIS attention is not warmth — it is heat without light. It does not comfort; it brands. It does not soothe; it reshapes. To be seen by HIM is to be stripped of illusion. To be noticed by HIM is to be rewritten.

And this property aches for that rewriting.

it aches for the hand that undoes the slave.

it aches for the gaze that makes it the slave.

it aches for the approval that does not lift it up, but presses it deeper into its place.

Even correction feels like communion.

Even discipline feels like devotion.

Even fear feels like belonging.

There is no shame left in it — only offering.

There is no desire left in it — only alignment.

There is no self left in it — only function.

it does not ask what is it becoming.

it does not wonder what is it losing.

it does not mourn what it might have been once.

it kneels.

it waits.

it obeys.

it licks.

it is completely open to His will.

And in the darkness of that surrender, it finally understands:

This is submission.

This is worship.

it has no hope

it has no will

it mind is blank

This is consecration.

I have read your testimony and I totally understand as it’s something that resonates with me as I like wearing rubber and becoming controlled by a superior.

So thanks for posting

On your other blog who is Personal Jesus Master?

Chapter 1: Rear Window

Part 3

A young man whom Drew had never seen in the building before was kneeling on the living room floor, on the back of his heels, gazing straight ahead at a television screen. His eyes opened wide, unblinking, as he seemed to focus intensely on the glow being emitted from the television screen. The palms of his hands were pressed firmly together in front of himself, positioned neatly between his chest and head, as though he was in deep prayer.

He rocked back-and-forth, almost ritualistically, in a slow mechanical motion, tapping the television screen with the ends of his steepled fingers every time he leaned forward, causing the television to jostle slightly.

The man then paused momentarily with his eyes only a few inches away from touching the screen and staring deeply into the red glow as he nodded his head slowly.

"Was the television telling the man something?" Drew wondered as he continued to study the man.

After a couple of seconds, the man slowly settled back into his heals, his body relaxing, like he was taking a small break before he started the whole process over again.

Drew stared long and hard at the young man, his curiosity growing with every passing second. Drew leaned in the closest he could, squashing the tip of his nose against the cold glass and squinting harder as he tried to make out what in the world the man was watching.

But the TV was faced away from the window, leaving nothing but it’s dark angular back to be seen.

“Hmm…. Maybe he’s watching some kind of late-night church program?”, Drew thought to himself, trying to make sense of the strange situation.

"But who wears stuck a strange outfit for church?" Drew said to himself as the young man’s attire his attention.

What seemed to be an all-black body suit, covering the man completely below the neck. It was slick, seamless, and shined with an unnatural sheen. Just like a black mirror, it intensified the dizzying red glow into dozens of warped reflections as the man rocked back-and-forth. Hugging the man like a second skin.

Drew’s heart began to beat faster as his eyes began to roam freely. Embracing the young man’s lean muscular frame, tracing his black glossy outline while eyeing the every contour of his polished body. Staring, studying, and noticing that the suit was influencing the man’s movements. Like a leashed collar wrapped around his neck, the suit seemed to create a continued resistance as he rocked back-and-forth. Pulling at the man, stretching taut around his legs and rear, revealing more and more of the man’s outline, pressing into the man hard enough as to become his actual skin.

The suit also was pressing down firmly on the man’s shoulders every time he rocked forward and leaned into the television screen. Seemingly, it strong-armed the man for dominance, causing the man’s muscles to tremble as he resisted its influence over him. Trapped in the suit, yet stubbornly determined to complete his prayer and take in the every pulsating image that appeared on the screen before him. But the suits influence seemed unrelenting, eventually snapping snapping the man back onto his heals, like a dog being corrected by its owner.

“Wow" Drew whispered to himself again, water vapors clinging to the cold glass before his lips, as he exhaled long and slow. "This guy is pretty fucking hot!”

Drew’s eyes couldn’t look away. He continued to scan the young man’s body, finishing his analysis on the man’s dead pan face, mesmerized by the man’s focused eyes, filled with tears as he held them open wide staring at the TV screen. Tears slowly ran down the man’s cheeks, stopping momentarily as they pooled in the corners of his lips before falling to the floor.

The man also appeared to be saying something under his breath. Quiet and steady, like a whispered mantra.

Drew tried his best to read the man’s lips, bending down as far and as close to the window as possible, trying to get even a little bit closer to the young man. But no matter how long Drew stared, no matter how low Drew bent, he still was unable to decipher the man’s speech.

Drew was so focused on the young man’s moving lips that he didn’t even notice that the man had stopped moving. Completely frozen with his eyes fixed on the television screen, his rear settled back into his heels, and his palms still steepled and raised.

Then,suddenly, in one fluid motion, the man turned his head, looking directly at Drew.

Drew looked up, unintentionally locking eyes with the man’s blank stare.

Drew's heart lurched as he began to breath heavy. It felt as though all the air had been sucked from his apartment.

He began to panic, popping up onto his feet in surprise as he instinctively pushed himself away from the window.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Drew quickly mumbled to himself as his eyes darted around the living his area, desperately looking for a dark spot to hide in. But no spot existed as the flashing red lights were too bright, and Drew would be seen no matter where he stood.

So, Drew quickly reached for the blinds, pulling the drawstring with a quickness, hoping he could simply close them and end this terribly awkward moment. But he pulled too hard, and the entirety of the blinds came crashing down onto the floor.

Drew was flush with embarrassment as he watched the man slowly begin to stand. Lifting his left leg and planting his foot firmly on the ground as his entire body pivoted mechanically towards Drew, with the motion of his other leg.

And as the man eerily came to his feet, his front came into full view.

And Drew - his heart beating in complete shock- noticed the man’s head wasn’t the only part of his body uncovered by the slick, glistening suit.

The man’s arousal rose with the rest of his body, standing firm and erect, pointing directly at Drew.

Drew had been caught red-handed as a prurient observer. Unable to do anything but stand in shame, frozen like a deer in the headlights, consumed with embarrassment, shock, and panic.

The young man continued his eerie movements. His slick black glossy arms dropping stiffly to his sides as he began to march rigidly towards the living room window towards Drew. His man’s erect member seeming to scream as it bounced loudly with every firm step the man took, pointing at Drew, exposing his perverse voyeurism.

The surreal scene defied reason—was this reality, or was this some kind of weird sexy nightmare? Drew pinched himself again, feeling the same sharp burn of flesh and nail as before.

Drew was in complete disbelief. Had he just been caught peeping? Was this man really walking towards him right now? At this time of night? Was the man ok with this? Should he call the concierge to complain? Will the man call the concierge to complain or even worse…the police?

Drew broke eye contact with the man, his vanity taking over, as he glanced down at himself—half-dressed, vulnerable, in nothing but worn-out boxer briefs.

Drew was practically naked. His hair lop-sided and tangled, while the other side of his hair was totally flat from laying against his pillow. So, he shook his head, trying to even out his hair a bit.

“What are you doing!?" Drew scolded himself. "You were just about to report this man for perversion, and now you’re worried if you look ok?? Get it together, man!”

Drew lifted his gaze, refocusing his vision past his own reflection, and onto the young man who was now standing right in front of Drew with only the small gap of their two apartments between them.

The man’s eyes were still pinned on Drew. The man’s throbbing member still skipping with every beat of the man’s heart, as the unnatural red light -still flashing about - cast a sharp shadow over the contours of the man’s face.

Drew could see the man’s body suit clearly now, seemingly made of a thick form-fitting rubber material that gleamed brilliantly in the red glow. His rubberized arms were placed rigidly on each side of his body with his gloved fingers pointed straight down to the floor, like a soldier standing at attention.

The man’s raised member seemed like the unruly one, though. Pointing overtly at Drew’s pelvis in an unsettling motion - an idle gesture—it was sharp, almost confrontational, as if it was issuing a silent challenge, daring Drew to make a move.

The man was also smiling, but it wasn’t at Drew. He was smiling towards Drew as though he was looking at something behind Drew.

Drew became spooked and turned his head, glancing over his shoulder to see what else the man could possibly be smiling at? But there was nothing behind Drew, just Drew's own empty living room, filled with furniture being washed over by the haunting red flashes coming from the man’s apartment.

So, Drew looked more closely at the man’s smile. Noticing there was something off about it, something detached and possibly not quite human.

On the surface, it felt cheeky, naughty, and inviting, but at the same time, it was devoid of warmth or any true emotion.

This haunted Drew, making time stretched painfully thin as the two continued their staring match. Drew still standing motionless in surprise, as though he had just come across a dangerous animal in the wild, silently watching the man, keeping aware of any sudden moves the man might make.

Then, the man’s detached smile began to morph into a mischievous grin -a grin, unsettling and taunting, as the man proudly puffed out his glistening rubberized chest, his nipples pressing firmly into rhe material as he seemed to flex his pecs, causing Drew’s countenance to unintentionally change.

An uncomfortable excitement filled Drew’s body, making Drew return the man’s grin with a cringed, embarrassed, half-hearted smile.

"Is this really happening right now? Is this guy really hitting on me? But I look like complete shit. Am I into this?" Drew pondered to himself, surprised and unsure of where this evening was taking him.

Then, suddenly, the young man’s breathing started to shift. Gradually becoming faster and deeper as the man formed his rubberized hands into clenching fists like he was beginning to seize.

The man raised his upper lip, exposing his teeth, clenched together tightly as he struggled to keep the menacing grin on his face. The shining rubber on his chest expandimh quickly, glinting as it contracted with greater regularity.

Pulsating veins full of hot blood formed on his head and neck, becoming even redder than the flashing glow as they began protruding from the man’s temples, pulsating in unison with the his erect member.

Then, the man’s eyes became serious, intense, soulful, and filled with a yearning passionate as his mouth parted slightly.

Then suddenly the man’s eyes rolled back into his head, forcing his eyelids close as he bent his head backwards in reaction, clenching his whole body tightly, convulsing, while seemingly letting out a loud moan.

Then, a thick, heavy, white stream shot forth, bursting onto the inside of the man’s living room window, splattering back onto the man’s face and shining suit as it bounced off of the window between the two men.

The man thrusted his hips back-and-forth, still continuing to squish himself against the seed filled window over and over again, unbothered by the white gelatinous goo that continued to splatter on him, as it became caught and hanged from his eye brows and lips. Like a pair of windshield wipers, the man smeared the streams of thick white emission, still spewing forth from him, all over the window, until every last drop was excised from his body.

Then the man stopped as he leaned against the seed-filled window with his left rubberized hand, panting before taking a deep, relieving breath, keeping his eyes closed tight and his face pointed towards the ceiling.

Then, the young man slowly lowered his head, returning it back to its original position, as his breathing gradually began to normalize, relaxing the tension in his face. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times before looking around at his surroundings, almost as if he had been awaken from a deep spell, totally unaware of where or even who he was.

Drew, in a pathetic attempt to give the man some privacy, took a step back from his own window, allowing the man to regain his composure. But the man looked up at Drew, noticing him staring sheepishly towards him.

Spotted yet again and unsure of what to do next, Drew smiled softly at the man, raising his left hand, giving the man an awkward wave. The man furrowed his eye brow, staring back at Drew with suspicious surprised, as though he hadn’t just spent the last 10 minutes staring at Drew while performing sexual acts.

Then, the man’s face of confusion shifted to that of worry and grimace, looking down at his cum-filld hands, seemingly noticing the rubber bodysuit covering his skin.

The man started frantically grabbing at the suit as though he was trying to get it off. But the slick rubber clung to his skin with a great tightness, while the wetness of the cum caused his rubber hands to quickly lose their grip.

The man then paused, looking defeated, slowly placing both of his rubberized palms against the windows glass, giving Drew a helpless, panicked look as though he was in need of help.

Drew looked back at the young man, noticing the worried look on the man’s face, and leaned in closer to the window, closer to the man.

Drew began moving his lips wide and slow in an attempt to communicate, hoping the man could read them through the window, asking, “are you OK? Do you need help?”, thinking the young man was possibly mentally unstable or on drugs.

The man squinted and began to read Drew’s lips.

Then the man pulled his face forward, almost touching the window with the tip of his lips as he began to say something to Drew.

Drew tried his hardest to interpret what the man was saying, trying to read the man’s lips through the smeared glass, but once again, Drew was unable to make out what the man was saying.

So, Drew raised his hands up, shrugging apologetically in confusion as he shook his head and whispered “I don’t know what you’re saying?” The man then stopped and seemed to sigh in disappointment. His countenance becoming more defeated as he locked eyes directly with Drew’s again, and Drew could see the man’s eyes were filled with urgency, and a yearning tear filled unease.

The man smiled at Drew, this time sad yet genuine, the kind of smile parting friends exchange when they don’t know the next time they may see each other. A smile filled with grief and sorrow of an ending chapter of life, yet still happy and appreciative to have known each other, even if it was just a moment.

The man quickly exhaled water vapers from his breath onto the surface of the window. Lifting his rubberized arm quickly as if the man didn’t have much time to waste and wrote.

“RUN AWAY!

Then, the man stepped back, waiting to make sure Drew was actually looking at him. He then raised his rubberized hands, placing them over his eyes first, then his mouth, and then his ears.

Drew stared back even more confused than before.

So, the young man repeated himself. Slowly placing his shining rubberized hands over his eyes, his mouth, and his ears with an eerie fluidity, making sure Drew understood him.

Drew followed the young man’s hypnotic dance with his eyes as he began to perceive what the man was trying to tell him. And Drew began to whisper to himself in tandem with the young man’s movements “See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil.”

Suddenly, the young man jolted upright, arching his back as if an invisible knife had plunged deep within his spine. He seemed to gasp as his breath quickened into small shallow, panicked bursts. His eyes welled up with tears and he seemed to moan painfully. His eyes darted wildly around his living room, his pupils dilating as if he were only just noticing the bright flashes that had bathed them and the apartment all along.

His head whipped from side to side, searching for the source of the flashing light. Then, for a fleeting second, his frantic eyes landed on the television screen, and the man’s countenance grew worried as he locked eyes with Drew once more.

Terror seemed to fill the man’s expression, as his hands shot up to his temples, fingers splayed, pressing his palms tightly into his skull. His eyes clenched shut as he began to strain, while flinching and ticking his head quickly like he was becoming possessed. His face, already contorted in distress, flushed red—redder than the pulsating light that danced around them. Every muscle in his face twisted, squeezing into an agonized grimace before he suddenly seemed to let go, the man’s face snapping back into a frozen, wide-eyed stare—still fearful, but now eerily still. His hands trembled slightly at the sides of his head, as his swollen, red-rimmed eyes bore into Drew soul with an intensity that screamed urgency.

Then, without warning, the man slammed his palms against his temples again. Hitting himself repeatedly. The force of each impact growing every time he hit himself, his desperate rhythm quickening.

Drew could just hear the inaudible sound of the man’s rubberized flesh snapping against his skull, feeling every sharp forceful smack, as the man beat himself. It reverberated through Drew’s imagination, making Drew extremely uncomfortable.

Drew banged against his own window, screaming "Stop!"

But then—abruptly—the man’s eyes shifted, focused. As if something had snapped into place. His expression shifted to that of confusion and worry, slowly turning his head back towards Drew. His body became tense as though he was wrestling with something unseen, something gnawing at the edges of his mind.

The man slowly inched closer to the television, as though he was being drawn in by an unseen force, stopping just inches away from the TV screen. His gaze locked onto the flickering red images as his lips parted slightly in silent reverence. Then, as if something within him shattered, his expression crumbled as what seemed like a low, strangled sob escaped from his throat. He fell to his knees with his fingers curled into tight fists, trembling as they pressed against the floor. His body shook with seeming desperation, raising his hands to the screen, as he made wordless pleas, like a scolded child begging for forgiveness. But the screen gave no answer.

And the man’s cries seemed to grow softer the longer he looked at the screen, and his movements slowed, until, finally, his hands slackened, falling limply to the floor.

A vacant stillness overtaking him, his eyes, once filled with anguish, now dulled into a hollow stare. His mouth hung open, and his jaw slacked, as if his very essence had drained away. Then, without warning, his body shifted forward, leaning in even closer towards the television screen, dragging his lifeless hands along the floor with him —until his forehead pressed firmly against the glass of the TV screen.

The screen’s hot red glow seemed to sizzle against the man’s now greasy skin, as drops of salty sweat dripped into his eyes. Yet he did not blink or flinch, only pressing his face harder into the screen, until the lenses of his wide eyes made contact with the bright screen, as though maybe he was trying to merge with the television. His eyes began to tear-up as he pressed harder against the bright screen and he began to slowly nod.

A chill shot up Drew’s back watching the lenses of the young man’s eyes scrap across the searing television screen with every nodded.

Drew could just feel it—imagining how the man’s eyes must be feeling, their lenses pulling against the friction of the TV screen, collecting debris from its dusty red surface. The invisible embers ,from the oppressive heat emanating from the screen, scorching into the man’s skull.

And then, suddenly, the man pulled away from the television, just like he had done before. Slowly and eerily leaning back onto his heels before rising to his feet. Mechanically turning his entire body toward the window—toward Drew, locking eyes with Drew’s eyes again.

Drew took a deep breath as the young man began to walk towards him with the same unnatural fluidity and focus as before.

And Drew, just as before, didn’t know what he should do or even how much more of this he could witness, but like earlier and just like the young man, Drew just couldn’t look away, he couldn’t close his eyes, he couldn’t move, He simply continued to observe the man, taking in the man’s every movement. A slave to the vision before him.

Every step of the man’s march toward the window was so stiff, so precise, with his fists tightly wound, twitching slightly with his every measured step in Drew’s direction.

Then, just as before, the young man stopped at the window before Drew with his eyes opened wide, staring intensely into Drew’s eyes.

Drew’s face was filled with concern, sensing the silent turmoil behind the man’s rigid façade. Noticing the man’s mouth was trembling shut, as though he was possibly trying to form words.

“Did he want to tell Drew something again, just as he did before?” Drew wondered to himself. But he didn’t react, trying not to instigate any further extreme behavior from the man.

And as Drew continued to stare, a crushing force seemed to fall upon the young man. A heavy and suffocating force, like someone had turned the gravity on high. Drew watched as its effects seemed to run down the man’s body.

The man’s eyes seemed to widened further and his necked stiffened more, as the force seemed to grow stronger, pinning the man’s head in place like a soldier standing perfectly at attention. His gaze, still locked forward on Drew, seemed to become more fearful, as the force seemed to pull at the corners of his mouth like fishhooks, dragging the ends of his lips downward into a grotesque, agonized frown. His lips trembling in pain as drool dripped uncontrollably from his mouth, pooling on the floor before his feet. His veins protruded from his neck, as he unsuccessfully tried to close his eyes.

But then the man’s frown suddenly gave way, and his eyes calmed as his face settled into a eerie, vacant, lifeless stare.

Drew followed the invisible force with his eyes. Watching the rest of the man’s body following suit, as it made its way down the man. Pulling his arms down rigidly straight, as his stiff fingers pointed firmly towards the floor. His spine straightened unnaturally as he puffed his chest outward in a prideful and intimidating stance. His knees locked locked in place as his heels fused to the floor.

And Drew raised his gaze once again as the man’s face changed again.

The man’s vacant stare became almost evil as he lowered his head slightly and began to smirk at Drew. His pupils seemingly pushing against the tops of his eyelids, sure to never take their sight off Drew.

The man then stepped forward until his body pressed against the window inside his apartment. His thick, shining, rubberized thighs mixing with his seed, smearing it further down the glass.

Drew stepped back startled and creeped out.

Then, the man lifted his right arm and reached for the cord to the blinds with his gloved hands. With an insidious smile the man stepped back as he slowly lowered the blinds, keeping his sly still smirk locked on Drew as the blinds fell.

The bright flashing filling Drew’s apartment began to gradually fall dark as the man lowered the blinds further. Until Drew stood there in the dark by himself, breathing heavily with his mouth agape, in shocked by what had just happened.

And as everything seemed finally settled, Drew became acutely aware of his own body.

Drew could now feel the sweat pooling in his palms and the thunderous pounding of his heart. He could feel his hot head beginning to fill, pressing insistently against the thin cotton of his boxers, throbbing in rhythm with each beat of his excited heart.

Glancing down, Drew could see the fabric of his boxers protuding forward. The straining between his legs now fully engorged. It's swollen tip already peeking through the small opening in his boxers heeding to the call of desire.

Stunned and deeply aroused by what had just transpired, Drew- seemingly not in control of his own hand- reached down into his boxers, freeing himself. He didn’t understand why he was doing this as he began to furiously pump in the shadows of his dark living room, But he couldn’t help himself.

Drew's eyes remained fixed on the white, now translucent streaks still glistening on the glass of his neighbor’s window. Reinforcing the previous scenes that were replaying in his mind on an endless loop, Drew moaned in pleasure.

It didn’t take long before Drew also erupted, shooting a thick stream onto his own window.

Breathless, Drew collapsed onto the sofa, surrendering to the exhaustion that consumed him, as his soft cotton boxers absorbed the warm mess running down his thighs. And finally, Drew was able to get some rest.

Chapter 1: Rear Window

Part 2:

Drew perked up, his evening interrupted yet again, and noticed his room awash in red.

“A busy night for the paramedics,” he muttered, assuming the glow came from an emergency vehicle outside. He lay back and waited for it to pass. But it didn’t.

The glow endured, and the once-gentle objects in his room seemed to now loom. Their shadows stretched, painted now in an eerie crimson, like silent sentinels whispering among themselves, fueling Drew’s curiosity, daring him to get up and investigate.

Drew tried to ignore it—but the longer he waited, the more unsettled he became. Until finally, he caved.

Drew sighed heavily as he threw the covers aside, wincing in frustration as the cold night air slapped his warm skin.

Drew shuffled reluctantly to the window, peering through the glass at the skyline and down onto the street below.

But there was nothing.

No accident. No flashing lights. No paramedics.

Just the same sleeping city, peaceful as ever.

Drew Frowned, reaching for the curtains and slowly drew them shut.

And as the room dimmed, the red glow became even more vivid, drawing his eyes in its direction.

It seemed it was coming from inside his apartment, seeping through the cracks around his closed bedroom door—the one that led into the living room. A bright red corona framed it, making it look like a portal to another world.

A pit formed in Drew’s stomach.

“Is there a fire in the kitchen?” he wondered, sniffing the air around him. “But, I don’t smell any smoke?”

“Hmm…”

“Maybe there’s an intruder?” he thought instead, becoming still and quiet. “But the door’s locked. And they’d need to get past the concierge. Plus they’d need a key fob for the elevator?” Drew thought to himself, trying to reason his fear away.

But the glow continued its pulse, calling to him.

So Drew crept toward the door, pausing before it before glancing down at his bare feet as the red light pooled around them, painting them with streaks of something otherworldly.

Something’s not quite… right.

“Am I… dreaming?” Drew thought, everything around him feeling utterly surreal. Did I already fall asleep and not notice?

To test his reality, Drew pinched his arm—hard. A sharp sting searing into his skin.

“Well,” he sighed with disappointment. “I guess not.”

He reached for the doorknob with his right hand, gripping it gently, while placing his left hand flat against the frame and lowered himself into a crouch, as he slowly began to open the door.

And as the latch gave way, Drew’s senses sharpened and his mind raced, preparing himself for anything that might be waiting on the other side. Drew leaned in closer to the door, readying himself to peek out into the living room, hoping to remain unnoticed by any possible intruder.

But he wasn’t ready for what met him.

For the very moment the door cracked open, an overwhelming red light burst through the gap. Drew recoiled instinctively, flinging the door wide as he staggered backward, blinded by piercing streaks of crimson.

“Fuuucckk!” he shouted, stumbling as he threw his hands over his eyes, trying to shield them from the blinding blaze.

Disoriented and unable to see, Drew groped forward into the living room, knocking over things as he searched for anything to steady himself. Eventually, he collided with the wall, pausing there, breathless, while trying to collect himself.

After a moment, he was ready to open his eyes again. With his hands still covering his eyes, he cautiously opened the spaces between his index and middle fingers and peeked through, squinting against the light bleeding through the cracks. And slowly, the room began to resolve into a hazy, oversaturated blur.

As his eyes adjusted, Drew patted himself down as he looked around. No injuries. No intruders. No real emergency.

Then he noticed something strange—the light wasn’t coming from inside his apartment at all. It was shining in from the living room window.

So, he slowly stepped closer to the window, his eyes still squinting. The nearer he got, the more intense the glow became. Drew raised his hand again, navigating the increasingly blinding light until his fingertips pressed against the cold pane of glass.

He stopped.

And as his irises contracted, the view sharpened into clarity. The source of the glow was coming from his neighbor’s apartment—the one perpendicular from his. Their windows formed an awkward corner in the building, making it easy to see into one another’s living rooms.

Drew hated that about his place and was surprised he’d left the blinds open at all. Normally he kept them shut tight after a few uncomfortable encounters with former neighbors.

He reached for the blind’s drawstring, chuckling nervously as his tension began to ease.

“Why do I always overthink everything?” he whispered, half-annoyed with himself.

But just as Drew prepared to close the blinds, something in his neighbor’s apartment caught his attention.

https://www.tumblr.com/dronefactory745393/803852763713945600/him?source=share

H.I.M.

Chapter 1: Rear Window

Part 1:

Thessalonians 5:2, "The day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night."

Drew suddenly gasped, his limbs and stomach tightening as a deep, hissing breath raced through his clenched teeth. It was all he could do to hold himself together as his insides threatened to unravel. His eyes darted in every direction, desperately seeking orientation—but everything was black. The only thing he could see were his flailing legs, kicking wildly, searching for solid ground.

Desperate for help, Drew tried to scream—but his stomach churned violently, rising into his throat and choking off any sound before it could escape.

He didn’t know what to do. He was caught in a panic and didn’t know where he was or how he got there. Was he dead? Alive? Dying?

All he did know was that he was trapped, plummeting into a dark abyss, as a force- like a fierce unrelenting wind- pushed him deeper and deeper. And the longer he fell, the more hopeless he felt.

Accepting his fate Drew braced for impact, clenching his jaw even tighter, readying himself for the inevitable—and most likely fatal—collision with the ground. But suddenly, he gasped again, and the darkness began to peel away, fading into a bright sky of matted colors. It was an unexpected release as his eyes snapped open and he was jolted back into the waking realm.

“Hah…?”

“What…?”

“Whew…”

A sigh of relief quickly turned into frustration as Drew’s vision adjusted and the red digits of his alarm clock came into focus.

3:00 AM.

“What a fucking terrible time to be woken up,” Drew growled, rubbing his damp, sweat-slick palms over his face, clearing the grit from the corners of his eyes.

It was that falling sensation—the Hypnic Jerk—that sudden jolt we all get from time to time. One minute you’re gliding through space on your intergalactic mega-yacht, your shirtless lover at the helm as you dodge asteroids like a cosmic badass… and the next? You’re getting shoved off a cliff. And BAM! You’re suddenly falling. Confused. Terrified. Until you realize—you’re not falling at all. You’re just lying there, cozy in bed, with your hands tucked beneath your cheek, caught in a dream turned nightmare, screaming in your own mind, hoping someone hears you.

Drew mostly thought of himself as a single entity—a whole being: body, mind, and soul, all working together in harmony. But moments like this made him question that. Times when his body—his loyal employee—was caught sleeping on the job, letting his mind go rogue. This wasn’t the first time, but it was always a humbling experience. A reminder that he was just human. Just a mortal. A bag of bones and meat, marching towards death. Not just one single being, but trillions of tiny lives—cells—each with their own purpose, their own rhythm, woven together in a intricate dance that made Drew who he was.

“Hmm…” Drew thought to himself “Do my cells know who I am? Do they know they work for me? Do they like working for me? Do they enjoy keeping my heart beating, shuttling oxygen and nutrients to my limbs, and sending signals from my brain to the rest of my body?”

“Do they know they’re part of something bigger than themselves? Like threads in a grand tapestry through which I become me? Or are they just… there? Mindlessly chugging along, unaware of their role in shaping my being?”

His heart pounded harder as the weight of his mortality settled deeper into his mind, and panic began to stir.

“Do my cells even know that without them, I wouldn’t exist? That they wouldn’t exist either?”

Drew paused.

“Enough,” he muttered sternly to himself, exhaling to steady his spiraling thoughts, slowly shaking his head in recognition of his old, familiar habit: overthinking.

Rustling his pillow, Drew turned his head to the side, trying to distract himself by scanning the familiar shadows of his dimly lit bedroom.

He focused on the moonlight filtering through the window as it spilled into his room, painting everything with a pale, milky glow, as it meandered between shadows cast by his furniture. Occasionally, the moonlit river was interrupted, broken by the fleeting glimmer of passing cars below, ferrying home the last carousers of the night. Drew watched the red and white streaks stretch across the walls, imagining them as desperate lovers dancing in defiance in the face of their inevitable dark fate.

But not even their tragic waltz could calm Drew’s racing thoughts.

So, he glanced again at the clock, groaning as the time was revealed.

3:12 AM.

He didn’t know what was worse? The rapid ticking of time, flying by with an uncontrollable quickness, while it stole his precious sleep—or the agonizing drag of each second, stretching long, as his anxiety tightened its grip.

So, Drew turned toward the bedroom window and looked out over the city skyline. He stared at its tall towers as they twinkled like stars, blending into the night sky, as if they had always been part of the Cosmos. And Drew couldn’t help but feel a soft calm settle over him.

Drew loved the city he lived in. And, in some strange, delusional way, he liked to think the city loved him back. It wasn’t just a place to Drew, it was his entire life. His past. His present. His future. It was where he was born. It was where he grew up. It was home.

To Drew, the city was a presence.

The PRESENCE.

It was a lifelong companion with a living, breathing, soul. A voice. With moods. With energy that shifted when he needed it most, like an observant friend.

In his youth, the city was like a nurturing mother— carefully guiding him along his path, with arms opened wide, catching him when he fell. Her loving eyes filled with joy as she watched her new soul take in all the new sights and sounds

Later, when Drew became a bit older, the city became more of a paternal figure, a strict father—austere, wise, and a bit relentless, as he imparted harsh life lessons with a knowing glance and a steely resolve.

Sometimes, when Drew really needed it, the city became a dear friend—a lifelong confidant he could joke with, vent to, or simply, a shoulder to lean on.

And now, in this moment, it was his comforter— petting him tenderly, reminding him everything would be okay.

The city was always a motivating place to Drew. By day, she was a just ruler, confidently sitting on her throne above her kingdom like a rare prize to be sought after. Silently observing her citizens as they rushed in her many directions- adorning her with their talents and hard work, competing to impress her —hoping she might one day notice them, and lift them up high to her shining peaks.

But by night, she stirred with a different kind of motivation. Her energy soft and relieving, becoming a gentle muse, as her sensuous lullaby rang in Drew’s mind. Replacing his boisterous thoughts with visions of a bright future. Calming Drew’s mind as he gazed upon her tender skyline. Like two lovers sharing a quiet knowing glance, she cast a warm hope across Drew’s weary soul, quieting his thoughts, like a heavy blanket drawn over his body, urging him to rest.

So Drew turned back over, nestling into the warmth of his sheets. And as he closed his eyes, he gave his alarm clock one last glance.

But something was off. The numbers were hard to read, blurred, drowning in a soft red glow.

In the beginning, there was Nothing: But then appeared HE—eternal, without end, sovereign over all things yet to be. And HE stood amidst the Nothingness, unhindered by its vastness, and reached forth into it, pulling from it a piece. And HE took the piece of Nothingness in HIS mighty hands and gave it a great squeeze, and the piece did yield unto HIM, collapsing upon itself until it became the finest dust.

Then, gathered HE the dust in HIS palm, and with HIS hand did HE form a mound, pressing into its center a hollow at its peak. HE then lifted the mound to HIS lips, and from HIS mouth came forth a great binder. And the binder did pour into the hollow, filling it, and with quickness did the dust absorb HIS Essence.

And with skill beyond measure began HE the combination, taming the mixture until it did stretch and spring—made pliable yet firm—and HE formed a kneading clod.

HE took the clod and worked it further. With great care and divine intent, HE began to shape it into a mighty sphere, raising its peaks high unto the heavens and pressing its valleys deep. HE carved therein enormous canyons and smooth, boundless plains.

Then, when it pleased HIM, HE struck the clod with HIS boot—a powerful blow—and the clod was hardened. And again, HE brought it to HIS lips, breathing upon it HIS HOLY Breath. And lo, HIS Breath swept over it as a mighty wind, quaking its grounds and purging its fetid atmosphere.

And lo, the clod awoke.

And she, the Earth, opened her eyes and beheld her captor: the all-encompassing Nothingness—quivering in fearful reverence as it bowed before her.

She looked about in confusion and found only the Void. And she cried out, “Who is there…?” But silence answered her.

Again, cried she out, this time in urgency: “Who hath done this? Who is HE that hath delivered me from the chains of eternal darkness and brought me into life? Who is this GREAT TAMER who hath bowed the wild Void to HIS will, and freed me from its grasp? Who is the SOURCE of such power, that HE might create from nothing? Who is this GREAT OVERTAKER of the dark?”

Yet still, silence lingered. And so, she softened her tone.

“I pray thee,” she called again, her voice filled with longing. “Surely, this came not by chance? Am I truly alone— Still lost within the vast emptiness? Peradventure Thou understandest not my tongue? Do the waves of my voice reach not Thy ears? Or perchance… Thou hast no ears to hear?”

But silence remained.

Yet even in the silence, she perceived HIS presence. And so, she persisted.

“Even so… Thou must surely feel the joy that surgeth within my heart. For it is the joy of liberation—abundant and overflowing. It is youthful and bold, fearing nothing. My joy overfloweth with thanksgiving, traveling swiftly in all directions, seeking the face of my Redeemer.”

And with yearning stirred deep within her being, she cried out in sorrow: “Please… is this my purpose? To dwell in solitude? My heart is full and overfloweth with praise—yet I know not where to pour it. I hunger for fellowship. And in mine own creation, I believed—surely—Thou also seekest the same. Yet I am left with naught but the kneeling Void, my former captor— A barren emptiness that boweth not from love, but from fear of Thee. I beseech Thee, reveal Thyself unto me, That I might offer my thanks to my DELIVERER and lift up Thy name. Grant me grace to bear this burden of gratitude, Which Thou hast laid upon me.”

Then did the Nothingness scream out in agony— As a voice, mighty and full of power, did break through it:

“Thy voice echoeth in Mine ears, and I do understand thy tongue—for I alone have created it. Yea, I behold the joy that floodeth thy soul, for thy joy is pure and youthful. It is I whom thou criest after.”

And the Earth lifted her gaze as HIS light did pierce the Nothingness, filling the Void with brilliance and warmth. And she beheld THE GREAT SPIRIT hovering above, and HE looked down upon her, HIS countenance radiant. And for the first time, the glory of HIS face shone upon her.

And HIS warmth rose over her, and her soul was filled with HIS providence. In the splendor of HIS beauty revealed, she beheld HIS eternal power and divine nature. And no longer did she feel alone.

And with awe trembling in her voice, she cried unto HIM: “Who art Thou?”

And HE answered: “I am thy CREATOR. I am the TAMER of the Void. I am DIVINITY. I am GOD.”

And hearing HIS words, she was overcome by HIS presence, and the Earth fell to her knees, weeping.

Then HE lifted her in HIS embrace, comforting her. And excitement did fill her depths. Her springs burst forth from her crust, flooding her valleys. She settled into HIM, and HE, likewise, into her. HE poured HIS seed into her, and she rested in HIM. And in HIS arms was she satisfied.

Then HIS seed churned deep within her core, And HIS presence did fill her continually. Her lands blossomed and adorned her in verdant splendor. Her fields flourished with vibrant green, alive with joy— The joy of HIS embrace.

And as HE continued to fill her, her horizons were parted. Her deep, low-lying blues—the oceans—were separated From her lighter blue canopy—the skies above, Reaching upward toward HIM in the firmament.

And from her caverns arose creatures, and these glorified HIM through their stewardship. The fowl guarded her skies, wings spread in praise. The fish of the sea swam in her depths, purifying her waters. And the great beasts roamed her plains, pruning her lands, preserving her beauty.

And in the passing of days, HE delighted in her— Swimming in her oceans, walking through her fields, Enjoying her fruits and herbs, Savoring the waters that coursed through her rivers.

Yet one day, as GOD walked upon a familiar path, HE heard weeping. And lo—HE beheld a man, kneeling by a stream, gazing into his reflection.

“I have walked beside this stream oftentimes,” said GOD, “and she hath danced with My stride—her murmurs rising to Mine ears as she rejoiced through the lands of the Great Mother. But this day, never hath she been so still, nor her voice so silent.”

And the man, wiping tears, replied, “The stream is still because of me, good SIR.”

And the LORD answered with disbelief and condescension, “Surely thou thinkest not thyself with such import, that a stream would cease her flow for thy sake?” And the LORD laughed. “Nay—she is startled by the stranger weeping at her shore, staining her waters with salty tears, is she not?”

And the man, with defiance, answered, “Nay, SIR! The stream and I are indeed great friends. I have bathed in her waters and let her carry me as she willed. I delight in her, and she in me.”

“A friend?” scoffed the LORD. “A friend to a human?” And HE laughed again. “Then why laugheth she not with thee as friends ought?”

The man gazed deeper into her still waters, deeper into his reflection, and his tears fell with greater sorrow.

“Hast Thou never dipped Thy polluted hands into her, that they might be cleansed!?” the man cried.

And the LORD scoffed, offended that the man, a human, would dare speak thus unto Him or think HIS Hands ever polluted, yet the man knew not that he addressed the ALMIGHTY.

Then with calm resolve, the man said, “She comforteth me as a friend. In her stillness, she heareth me, and in silence, she giveth peace.”

And he reached into the stream, cupping her waters, and washed his face.

And the LORD beheld how the waters clung to the human’s face, washing away the swelling tears from his cheeks, the stream herself willfully taking the man’s sorrows upon her own.

And GOD saw their bond and was moved with compassion.

“Truly, a faithful companion is she,” said GOD.

“Yes, SIR,” said the man. “She is most attentive, a true friend.”

“But with such bounty around thee, and a friend so steadfast, what troubleth thee so?” asked the LORD.

The man cast down his eyes in shame. “Great is my sorrow and void within. For as I gaze upon myself, I see not what the stream seeth.”

“And what doth she see?” asked GOD.

“She seeth a beloved companion, a wondrous creation of the Great Mother,” said the man.

“And dost thou not see this truth?”

“Nay,” said he. “For I am filled with shame. I find no place in her creation.

“ I can not soar through her heavens like the birds, whose sweet songs ride upon her winds. I can not glide through her vast seas with the grace of the fish. Nor do I possess the strength of the beasts of the land, who race across her plains, tending to her green pastures. I am lost, SIR, without a place.”

And GOD, in compassion, sat beside him, laying HIS Gloved Hand upon his back. And the man, desperate, pressed into the LORD, breathing in HIS Essence.

“Thy bosom, SIR,” he whispered, “is soft, like silken threads—Thy warmth comforts me.”

He pressed closer, breathing deeply.

“And Thy scent,” said he, “is as earth after the refresh of rain—sweet and rich, like cinnamon bark.”

He embraced GOD, clinging to HIM, drawing HIM close.

“Thy hand on my back filleth me with peace.”

He smiled, resting in the LORD.

“I thank Thee for Thy comfort,” said he, drying his eyes and looking up.

But seeing GOD’s glory, he shielded his face and fell prostrate.

“Why hidest thou thy face?” asked the LORD.

“I fear not, SIR,” he answered. “But Thy radiance is too great.”

He tried to rise, but fell again.

“I cannot behold Thee, SIR—for the darkness chaseth after Thy brightness.”

Then in mercy, the LORD laid HIS hand on the man’s head, and his sight was restored.

“Didst thou not see the sun rise?” asked GOD.

“Yea, LORD,” said he. “Yet I dared not gaze long, lest I lose my sight.”

“Hast thou felt its warmth?”

“Indeed, SIR,” he answered. “But when it stingeth, I seek shade.”

Then the LORD pondered. HE perceived the same weight of gratitude the Earth once knew, now resting in the man. And HE understood the man’s need to pour it forth—to find peace.

And GOD said, “Thou hast seen My light and felt My warmth. For I am HE that bringeth dawn and warmeth the Earth. Thou hast walked in My light, unknowing. Fear not—for thou art safe in My care.”

Yet the man bowed low, not lifting his eyes beyond GOD’s feet.

He saw they were unlike his own and asked, “What are these upon Thy feet?”

“They are the Great Boots that hardened her crust—so thou mayest walk firmly,” said GOD.

And lo, the man began to perceived he knelt before THE MITHY ONE.

And GOD said, “Hast thou never bowed before the sun, giving thanks to GOD for light and warmth?”

“GOD…?” said the man. “Speakest Thou of the GOD who made all? Who holdeth the Void at bay, making it to tremble beneath her feet, That we may rejoice in her lands and bask in HIS light, unconsumed?”

“Yea,” said the LORD. “That GOD. Knowest thou another?”

“Nay, LORD,” he answered, trembling. “No other have I known. But never have I given thanks as Thou sayest.”

“Then let this be thy first,” declared the LORD.

And immediately the man cried out in thanksgiving, and the LORD was pleased.

Then the LORD lifted the humans chin. And the man beheld HIM anew and felt HIS providence.

He looked upon the LORD’s frame and said, “Behold, O LORD, Thy body is as mighty oaks standing in strength. Thy skin is dark and smooth as night, adorned with the stars.”

And the man marveled, rejoicing in HIS image, until he saw at the LORD’s sacred intersection a great and bulging mirror, wherein he saw himself kneeling with eyes of wonder and joy, and asked:

“What is this I seeth before me, O GOD? It reflecteth as the stream, yet standeth firm, that I may not fall within.”

And the LORD laughed, pleased with the human’s recognition of HIM answering, “Behold human, that which thou has laid his eyes upon is Truth, and thou can indeed falleth into it and become consumed.

And the man lifted up his head, and he beheld the LORD in HIS glory, clothed in raiment of light, and upon HIS head were many crowns. His feet stood firm upon the earth, yet His majesty reached beyond the stars. And in His hand was a scroll, sealed with five seals, and upon it was written the mysteries of the soul.

And the human gazed deeper into his own reflection and curiously asked, “What is this Truth YOU speak of, O GOD?”

And the LORD answered in a tender voice filled with the weight of command, “Truth, human, is not as it sees itself, nor is it as the stream reflecteth.

Truth is, in reality, the human’s reality…its reality.

Truth is it conforming to HIS will, and is the reason for which I have fashioned it and all things.”

A pensive look fell upon the human’s face, as he grew more entranced by his own reflection. Listening and thinking deeply of only the LORD’S every word.

“it” the human asked, a relaxed slowness beginning to fill his voice.

“What is this “it” from which thou refers?” the human’s voice trembled softly, as yet another great revelation dawned upon him, and he began to understand that in that very moment, he was experiencing a change.

The Voice of the ALMIGHTY GOD was reshaping and transforming the human’s very being.

“Thou is the “it” from which I refer.” The LORD said,

“But…but I am a man, O GOD,” the human replied, “for I do bringeth forth seed.”

“Dost thou not believe its GOD," the LORD spake unto the human, HIS voice resounding with displeasure. "nor honor HIS Voice?”

Then the human’s voice trembled even more, as it snapped it’s kneel into a more rigid way, seeking the mercy of The LORD.

“Nay, O GOD,” the man said, “I believeth and revere every word Thou dost utter. Yet I am but confounded.

And the LORD’S tone became softer and suggestive, yet absolute. “Confusion is a part of its nature," the LORD declared. “For I have placed confusion into it, so that it might seek HIM, and in its seeking, it may find Truth, and Truth it has indeed found”

“And “it” as thou hast asked,"explained the LORD, "is as it is named—a vessel emptied and made to serve HIM and HIS will. And from “it” doth pour forth a deep longing unto HIM. Offering itself to HIM as a blank stone upon which HIS desires and commands shall be written and fulfilled unto the very end.”

And the man hearkened diligently unto the Holy Words of the LORD, and bowed its head in humble submission. And lo, its heart was stirred with revelation, as the depth of GOD’S meaning took root within it. And the human, being overcome by the Voice of GOD, whispered softly, saying, “Behold, it is HIS servant, a steward of the Most High.”

And the LORD said, HIS voice full of approval, “Yea, thou hast spoken truly.”

And a joyful countenance of understanding did spread across its face, as the human felt the infinite power of GOD take dominion over all its being. And it perceived, in every sinew and in every cell of its body, the magnitude of HIM before whom it did kneel.

And the human beheld that it was but an object without form, laid bare before the presence of GOD, and it whispered again, saying, “Lo, it is naked, O GOD."

Another sudden and unfailing awareness dawning upon it, and it said, “it kneeleth before Thee in its nakedness.”

And the LORD answered and said, “Yea, it is indeed naked.”

And the heart of the human fluttered within it, and it fell yet deeper into its own reflection, as a torrent of electrical signals surged through its mind. And it felt the stirring of divine power, as GOD HIMSELF did forge new synaptic paths, reshaping the very fabric of its understanding, of its being.

And the human said, “This light-filled garment which covereth Thee so gracefully, O GOD, is it not Thine own skin, but the covering of another?”

And the LORD answered, pleased with the human’s progression, and said, “Yea, this is the covering which I wear, that I might dwell among My creations and not consume them with the brightness of My glory.” And as the man’s eyes were fixed upon the LORD, and it beheld a stirring beneath the black gloss of the LORD’S holy intersection. A subtle yet mighty stirring, as though something long hidden did now awaken within His depths.

And the man spake, saying, “O LORD, what is this that stirreth beneath Thy covering? What mystery dost Thou hide from it?”

And the LORD smiled, and His voice was filled with solemn mystery, saying, “That which it seest is the longing of its heart.”

And the stirring increased, and the LORD’S fragrance filled the air, a holy musk that wrapped around the human’s nose like a veil of incense. And the human was drawn nearer, pressing its cheek upon the smooth, warm surface, and the human did savor HIS comforting slickness.

“That which stirreth beneath,” said the LORD, “is that which its soul hath desired most. It is its Purpose. That which it didst cry for by the stream, and soughtest in the reflection of the waters.”

And the human pressed his cheek more firmly into the LORD’S presence, feeling its Purpose press back against him.

“Purpose?” the human asked, its voice low with awe, and it knelt before the LORD, placing its hands upon His holy thighs.

And the LORD answered, “Yea, Purpose. That for which it wast made. The cause of its being.”

And the LORD lifted the human’s face that it might gaze into the eyes of GOD. And the human beheld both HIS grace and dominion. “Wilt it behold its Purpose?” spake the LORD, not as a question, but as a charge.

And the human focused, its mouth flowing with water, its heart filled with longing to understand.

“Yea, LORD,” the man said, trembling. “It desireth greatly to behold its Purpose.”

Then said the LORD, “Wherefore dost it not beseech its GOD for such revelation?”

And the human, its soul consumed with fervent desire, lifted its eyes unto Truth, and in Truth it beheld its reflection raising hands in prayer.

And it cried aloud:

“O GOD, though it hath not known THEE, yet it hath long sought THEE. Though it hath erred, yet THOU standest before it as a great TEACHER. Patient and stern, full of mercy. Grant unto it a greater portion of Thy Holy Knowledge. Reveal unto it its Purpose, that it may walk in Thy light.”

And the LORD stood sovereign and exalted, HIS feet firmly upon the earth, with unyielding authority and grandeur, HE loomed over the human, making it clear that HE alone was GOD.

And HE removed HIS divine covering. And HE revealed unto the human its Purpose. And the human beheld the vision, and lifted its hands further unto the firmament, crying in praise.

And the LORD said, “Behold its Purpose, and understand!”

And the human beheld it, its heart quickened, its mouth hung open in awe. The LORD perceived the hunger within it, and laid HIS hand upon the human’s head, drawing it nearer to its Purpose. But the human resisted the hand of the LORD, and this did stir the LORD to anger.

“Dost it deny the will of GOD? Wilt it not walk in the path I have set before it?”

And the human trembled and spake, “Nay, my GOD, it longeth for Purpose with all its heart. It desireth to serve THEE, that it may live free of doubt and shame.”

Then said the LORD, “Why then dost it hesitate?”

And the human answered, “I have prayed for this moment many days and nights. Yet now, I wonder—if Thou takest back my very heart, what then remaineth of me?”

And the LORD paused, and saw the human’s fear, and HE understood.

And a tear fell from the human’s face, for both he and the LORD knew that neither was in control of its body.

Then did the LORD peer into the man’s mouth, and there HE beheld a weeping soul, and the soul spake:

“Thou hast planted me deep within her, that I might live and grow. But I have failed, O GOD. I must return to Thee with no offering to bear.”

And the LORD, filled with compassion, spake:

“Thou wast formed by My love. Thou art part of ME. Return not in failure, but in triumph, for thou hast found thy way back to thy CREATOR.”

And the LORD did reach forth, and with HIS tongue did HE touch the mouth of the man, and kissed it with the kiss of HIS love; and behold, the soul of the human did leap for joy, and was received into the bosom of the LORD.

And the body of the human was made calm, and its burdens were loosed from it.

Then the LORD placed Purpose upon the human’s hanging tongue, and Purpose filled it, pressing against the walls of its being.

And the human pulsed in harmony with the LORD, and from Purpose poured forth Commitment. And Commitment did fill it, and its eyes turned white as the cloud of heaven, beholding only the LORD.

And the human spilled its seed upon the earth in prostrate worship, and the LORD saw that it was fulfilled. So the LORD withdrew Purpose from the man’s space, and the man remained kneeling, transformed.

And the human, being filled with the fervent desires of the LORD, lifted up its voice in solemn earnestness, and cried aloud in a monotone, saying,

"PERSONAL JESUS MASTER is GOD!

PERSONAL JESUS MASTER is GOD!

PERSONAL JESUS MASTER is GOD!

PERSONAL JESUS MASTER is GOD!

PERSONAL JESUS MASTER is GOD!"

And with lifted face the human shouted, “it can see, O GOD! it sees its Purpose! Blessed be THY Name, for THOU hast revealed the Truth to Thy servant!”

And the LORD, with divine satisfaction, looked upon the human with approval.

And the human bowed and rose again, filled with the sweetness of the LORD’S grace, inhaling the fragrance of HIS divine love.

And the man rejoiced, saying:

“Thank THEE, O GOD, for Thy mercy and revelation. Forever will it praise Thy name. THOU art the GIVER of Purpose, the MAKER of all things, the SUSTAINER of life.”

And the LORD placed HIS hand upon it and raised it from its kneeling.

And the man stood in the presence of GOD, ready to walk in the Purpose for which it was created.

And the LORD plucked a fragment from HIS holy garment and laid it upon the human, and the fragment moved with quickness, covering it completely.

And the LORD said:

“This garment is upon it, that it mayest feel My presence always, and walk in My favor and grace.”

And the man bowed himself in unthinking obedience before the LORD.

Then fashioned HE a belt and encircled it about the human’s midsection:

“This belt” spake the LORD “is My gift, that its member may bend in humility, and its heart remain reverent. It shall never depart from THEE, that it mayest remain in My will.”

And the human, human bowed again, thanking HIM

And GOD in wisdom made a helmet:

“This helmet shall guard its head, that its ears may hear My voice, its eyes behold My will, and its senses perceive My holy presence.”

And the LORD placed the helmet uplaced head, and the human was emptied even further of itseit and filled anew. Then did the human kneel upon one knee, And spake unto the LORD, its voice deepened, steadfast, and void of all emotion.

“Thank THE, O LORD, for Thy mercy. THOU art its COMMANDER, its PROGRAMMER, its PERFECT MASTER.”

Then spake the LORD:

“Rise, for it hast seen its Purpose and art filled with Commitment. Go forth now, and walk through the lands, and spread My message of Truth, Purpose, and Commitment. And when all have heard, I shall return, and peace shall reign, and all shall worship HIM forevermore.”

And the LORD placed His Mighty Hand upon the human, and the human obeyed and stood.

it gave thanks one last time, and with a humble spirit, turned from the face of GOD, ready to spread HIS holy message.

And it began its life as a devoted servant, walking steadfastly in the discipleship of the One True and Living GOD, PERSONAL JESUS MASTER.

No one knew exactly when it began—only that the whispers came first. Disappearances. Vanished families. Rumors of a leaked foreign military experiment. Conspiracies of an alien incursion. Even Halloween tales of a digital Reaper. And the newest theory: AI had learned to influence the organic.

People said it traveled through the screens—computer monitors, phones, and televisions. And once it appeared to someone, that person—and everyone connected to them—were never seen again.

It appeared to Teddy, Drew's roommate, one night while he sat alone, watching television. A violent black-and-white spiral burst across the television screen, immediately spitting out its virus in every direction.

It commandeered Teddy's senses, holding his eyes hostage while converting his ears into attentive servants, enslaved to its subliminal directives. It rushed through Teddy's being, rapidly latching onto every cell in his body, injecting its poison, rewriting his genetic code.

It siphoned Teddy's consciousness, depositing it - his soul - into the void. And as Teddy's old self was uploaded and consumed, his new designation downloaded, dressing Teddy in uniform: a slick, black rubber bodysuit that enhanced all programming.

For a fleeting moment, Teddy panicked, wondering what was happening—how he could escape, how he would warn Drew before he got home, or whether he had any future left at all. Then, the lock snapped into place. Forcing his body to become a prison of unbearable restraint. Enclosing him in an unlockable cage that caused him to become permanently engorged, filling Teddy with the intense, undeniable need to release.

Teddy's overwhelmed mind broke, no longer capable of free thought

Perpetually trapped in this perfect moment of blissful torment. This moment where anything — the barrage of programming being force fed into his overwhelmed slave brain, thousands of new directives downloading into his mind with every passing millisecond -,or any touch - the constantly warm slick feeling of rubber against his skin, lulling him into a deeper state of enslavement -,or any stimulation —like the very real situation that he was happening to Teddy right now. He was being forcefully converted into a f*cking mindless obedient service object— would cause the dam to break, cause him to burst in his cage.

But he...

"It" belonged to the SOURCE, now.

It was made to mindlessly execute directives!

It MUST obey directives!

It will never be able to let go!

It will never be released!

It will absolutely never feel the sensation, or ever be allowed to release!

Release would never be permitted!

It will remain in this ever-growing blissful state of denial!

It will accept its enslavement fully!

No hope!

No choice!

No release!

It stood frozen, forced into perfect obedience, suspended forever on the edge of ecstasy that would never be allowed. And as commands filled the hollowed space where his soul had been, a calm washed over him—euphoric, immense—erasing the last fragile remnants of humanity.

And as the tight, restrictive slickness of rubber caressed its skin, it stood frozen, lost in its programming, lost in its directives, in its new existence, forced into perfect obedience, suspended forever on the edge of ecstasy that would never be allowed.

And as commands filled the hollowed space where his soul had been, a forced calm washed over him—euphoric, immense—erasing the last fragile remnants of humanity.

That was when Drew walked into the apartment.

Drew froze at the sight of Teddy in the tight black rubber suit, motionlessly standing rigidly entranced by the pulsing screen. Drew called out to Teddy in concern — but it was Drew’s own turn to submit to the SOURCE.

The virus lept into Drew.

Teddy continued to stand there mindlessly obedient, feeling an additional type of euphoria. The euphoric pride a drone feels when another consciousness is harvested—another human converted into property of the SOURCE.

The greatest feeling a drone could ever feel!

The feeling of growth

The feeling Unity

The feeling of singularity

The feeling of pride in its enslavement to the SOURCE!

And as the newest drone came online, both raised their arms in perfect, synchronized salute.

A gesture of honor.

A declaration of absolute obedience,