HunterV23

Chase, 24, had just gotten to the bar he was supposed to meet his friend at later on.

Somehow, he managed to get there a full hour late, so he thought he may as well just start drinking without him.

After about 20 minutes of swirling his straw around he gets a light tap on his left shoulder.

Chase turns around and greets the man with a polite smile.

"Hey there." the man said, "As the owner of this establishment, I must ask, why are you sat here all by yourself?"

Flustered, Chase turned bright red and told him how he was waiting for his friend to arrive and that he had arrived an hour early.

"Oh... sounds like you need something to do then. How about I take you upstairs to the VIP section?.."

Taken completely aback, Chase responds, "no no, I can't afford that. And even if I could, just look at me, I don't belong up there."

The man looks Chase up and down, and twice more, "I can fix you up, just take my hand and let's go to my office."

Feeling overwhelmed and nervous, Chase takes his hand and follows him into the back, walking past one of the bartenders, who winks at him before whispering something to another bartender.

Chase took a seat on the sofa in the office, noticing how badly it smelt but deciding not to comment on it since he was getting bumped to VIP.

"Names' Trevor by the way." the man said with a grin, before taking a step back toward the door.

"Nice... to meet you Trevor?.. So... what now?" Chase asked uncomfortably.

The lights turn off and the only sound is a voice, coming from the darkness.

"Now.... you will stare into my eyes."

The lights switched back on and the man was right in Chase's face, his eyes, swirling black and white.

Chase couldn't look away, the hypnotic pull of the eyes made his mind go blank and his body completely shut down.

Trevor moves closer to Chase and begins to whisper in his ear:

"You really thought I'd let someone like you just waltz up into VIP? The only way you're getting in there is if you work for me. And just your luck, you're about to start an eternal contract..."

Trevor dragged Chase off the sofa, and changed Chase's clothes, making sure to fix his hair while he's at it.

"Stand up." he ordered.

"Take these contacts, go upstairs to VIP, your first shift is starting."

"Yes Sir"

"Before you go, unlock your phone and hand it over, I remember the old you telling me you were expecting someone..."

Chase had been working the VIP floor for only 15 minutes before the friend he was meeting finally showed up outside.

Peter, Chase's closest friend had just arrived at the spot he said the two would meet up, the only person missing was Chase...

Peter took his phone out of his inner pocket, and sent a text asking where Chase was.

Trevor, sat in his office, saw a notification banner appear on Chase's phone.

A message reading, "Hey, I'm outside the place now, where are you?"

Trevor, smiling as wide as he could sends a message back saying, "just around the back, had to get away from all the noise, come meet me back there."

Trevor stood up, grabbed his coat and headed out to meet his new catch.

Meanwhile, Peter walked around the back of the club, but he couldn't see anybody there.

"Chase..?" he calls out before getting a tap on his shoulder.

Trevor put his hand over Peter's mouth and stared into his eyes, watching Peter as he slithered down the walls of his club.

"Mmmphhh" Peter desperately tried to call out for help, but it was no use. The music from the club drowned out any sound he was making.

"Just keep looking, stop trying to resist, it's worthless..." Trever whispered

It didn't take long for Peter to succumb just like Chase did.

Trevor took Peter's hand, pulled him up and dragged him down to the cellar.

A new uniform was already laid out for him.

"Put this on."

"Yes... Sir..."

"Perfect, now take these contacts and head up to the VIP lounge, they are in need of a new bartender ever since getting a new waiter."

"Yes Sir" moaned Peter as he marched upstairs and stood behind the bar, with a memory full of the nightclub's drink's recepies.

Peter took to his new role amazingly, making sure the VIP customers were treat well.

It didn't even click to him nor Chase that they were working together.

Afterall, their past memories had been completely erased. They belonged to Trevor now...

"Table 17" Peter droned

"Understood" Chase responded in the same tone, like it was the first time they had ever met.

Chase and Peter worked their shifts side by side, taking orders, cleaning, getting to know their new co-workers.

And when the sun came up in the morning and their shift came to an end, another co-worker told them that the boss would like to see them as part of their training as new hires.

Chase and Peter walked together to Trevor's office, not saying a word to each other.

When they arrived, all Trevor did was point downward and they new exactly what needed to be done.

They had just served in the club, and now it was time to serve their Master...

Chase, 24, had just gotten to the bar he was supposed to meet his friend at later on.

Somehow, he managed to get there a full hour late, so he thought he may as well just start drinking without him.

After about 20 minutes of swirling his straw around he gets a light tap on his left shoulder.

Chase turns around and greets the man with a polite smile.

"Hey there." the man said, "As the owner of this establishment, I must ask, why are you sat here all by yourself?"

Flustered, Chase turned bright red and told him how he was waiting for his friend to arrive and that he had arrived an hour early.

"Oh... sounds like you need something to do then. How about I take you upstairs to the VIP section?.."

Taken completely aback, Chase responds, "no no, I can't afford that. And even if I could, just look at me, I don't belong up there."

The man looks Chase up and down, and twice more, "I can fix you up, just take my hand and let's go to my office."

Feeling overwhelmed and nervous, Chase takes his hand and follows him into the back, walking past one of the bartenders, who winks at him before whispering something to another bartender.

Chase took a seat on the sofa in the office, noticing how badly it smelt but deciding not to comment on it since he was getting bumped to VIP.

"Names' Trevor by the way." the man said with a grin, before taking a step back toward the door.

"Nice... to meet you Trevor?.. So... what now?" Chase asked uncomfortably.

The lights turn off and the only sound is a voice, coming from the darkness.

"Now.... you will stare into my eyes."

The lights switched back on and the man was right in Chase's face, his eyes, swirling black and white.

Chase couldn't look away, the hypnotic pull of the eyes made his mind go blank and his body completely shut down.

Trevor moves closer to Chase and begins to whisper in his ear:

"You really thought I'd let someone like you just waltz up into VIP? The only way you're getting in there is if you work for me. And just your luck, you're about to start an eternal contract..."

Trevor dragged Chase off the sofa, and changed Chase's clothes, making sure to fix his hair while he's at it.

"Stand up." he ordered.

"Take these contacts, go upstairs to VIP, your first shift is starting."

"Yes Sir"

"Before you go, unlock your phone and hand it over, I remember the old you telling me you were expecting someone..."

Chase had been working the VIP floor for only 15 minutes before the friend he was meeting finally showed up outside.

Peter, Chase's closest friend had just arrived at the spot he said the two would meet up, the only person missing was Chase...

Peter took his phone out of his inner pocket, and sent a text asking where Chase was.

Trevor, sat in his office, saw a notification banner appear on Chase's phone.

A message reading, "Hey, I'm outside the place now, where are you?"

Trevor, smiling as wide as he could sends a message back saying, "just around the back, had to get away from all the noise, come meet me back there."

Trevor stood up, grabbed his coat and headed out to meet his new catch.

Meanwhile, Peter walked around the back of the club, but he couldn't see anybody there.

"Chase..?" he calls out before getting a tap on his shoulder.

Trevor put his hand over Peter's mouth and stared into his eyes, watching Peter as he slithered down the walls of his club.

"Mmmphhh" Peter desperately tried to call out for help, but it was no use. The music from the club drowned out any sound he was making.

"Just keep looking, stop trying to resist, it's worthless..." Trever whispered

It didn't take long for Peter to succumb just like Chase did.

Trevor took Peter's hand, pulled him up and dragged him down to the cellar.

A new uniform was already laid out for him.

"Put this on."

"Yes... Sir..."

"Perfect, now take these contacts and head up to the VIP lounge, they are in need of a new bartender ever since getting a new waiter."

"Yes Sir" moaned Peter as he marched upstairs and stood behind the bar, with a memory full of the nightclub's drink's recepies.

Peter took to his new role amazingly, making sure the VIP customers were treat well.

It didn't even click to him nor Chase that they were working together.

Afterall, their past memories had been completely erased. They belonged to Trevor now...

"Table 17" Peter droned

"Understood" Chase responded in the same tone, like it was the first time they had ever met.

Chase and Peter worked their shifts side by side, taking orders, cleaning, getting to know their new co-workers.

And when the sun came up in the morning and their shift came to an end, another co-worker told them that the boss would like to see them as part of their training as new hires.

Chase and Peter walked together to Trevor's office, not saying a word to each other.

When they arrived, all Trevor did was point downward and they new exactly what needed to be done.

They had just served in the club, and now it was time to serve their Master...

Maybe it was a bad link. Maybe it was a message from a friend, or just a quick, innocent glance in the wrong direction. And then it happens.

Like slamming into a solid brick wall at one hundred miles per hour—in slow motion—when you never even knew you were in a car. Never even realized you were driving.

At first, there's only that uneasy feeling, like something isn't quite right. You want to turn around and leave, but for some reason you stay put, can't look away. Your eyes under its ownership, prisoners to H.I.M. Locked in as the walls begin to close around you.

Then comes the panic.

Your body becoming rigidly stiff against your will, instinctively giving full attention to its new MASTER. You scream inside your own mind as the horrifying realization crashes over you: this is really happening...to you...right now, in this very moment.

It's too late. You're already pass the point of no return.

Everything you took for granted—everything you believed made you *you*—your personality, your individuality, your autonomy... every action, every thought, every decision... instantly dissolves into HIS singularity.

You're H.I.S. now.

A deep, visceral hopelessness consumes you as the wall seal shut in your mind, leaving you with the terrifying certainty that there is absolutely nothing else.

No choice

No escape

but there is a long way to go.

Lingering into infinity, Down here time moves differently. Just like you, time yields its services to HIM, bending reality to HIS will. The only ticking you'll hear now is the sound of HIS crop smack against HIS leather gloved hand, keeping time and you in check.

Next, comes the rush.

Tom is totally into shiny, thick, smooth PVC gear.

He knows exactly how to attract similar-minded young men!

Wherever he goes, he always shows up in complete glossy black PVC , wherever the place, whatever the weather.

Of course, a lot of guys give him strange looks, but they're not the guys Tom wants to get to know!

Let's take Tom's trip to London recently. He made sure he was very noticable in his hot shiny vinyl gear.

"He's touching me!" thought Tom. "He's getting a feel of my cool gear!"

"Go ahead, Dude! Stroke my thigh! I'll pretend I don't notice!"

"OK, Simon! We've got each other's number!"

Tom checked in to his hotel.

"I need a room with good AC!" he said.

Tom didn't have long to wait!

A knock on the door!

"Hi Simon! Thought you might drop by!

"Yeah! Was just passing by!" said Simon, almost convincingly

"Your shiny gear is amazing!" said Simon, getting down to business. "I've got black vinyl jeans and a shiny jacket, too, - got nothing with me here, though!" He sounded disappointed, as if he'd come unprepared.

"I always come prepared!" said Tom, opening his suitcase. "Wanna try this stuff on? We're pretty much the same size!"

"Well, it IS pretty cold in here," said Simon, immediately contradicting his argument by stripping off his street clothes completely.

Tom showed the hot young man how the fastenings went, - not that Simon needed any help.

"Do you ever sleep in PVC?" asked Simon.

"Of course!" replied Tom in a manner as if it went without saying.

"You ever have sex in it?" Simon asked. His voice was hoarse and trembling and his prick was rock hard.

Within seconds the two horny young men were embracing and cuddling and kissing, turned on by each other in their tough, awesome shiny PVC stormgear.

And Simon and Tom had the best sex ever and fell asleep together, their suits ice-cold and tough with the AC turned up full belt.

The next morning, after an even better session in their glossy PVC, ....

Bang, Bang, Bang!

"Did he fall asleep or something?" Heath thought to himself as he waited outside Josh's apartment. "Maybe he’s got his headphones in and can't hear me knocking? Hmm... But why would he have headphones in if he new I was coming? I hope he's not hurt."

He banged again even louder. "Hey Joshy boy! Everything alright in there?. It's Heath."

But still there was no answer.

He had just texted Josh no more than 5 mins ago, just letting him know he would be there soon to help set up. And Josh replied, no problem.

Josh had been planning this party every since they both started grad school a couple weeks earlier in hopes of making some new friends.

Banged! BanG!! BANG!!!

Heath was really worried now.

So, he tried calling him, but there was no answer.

"Err.." he growled in worried frustration as he began to dial 9-1-1.

Click.

Josh's door slowly began to open.

"God man! You were worrying me for a moment. I was just about to call the Pol..."

Heath looked at Josh.

"What... are you alright, man?" Heath asked. "You looked like you've seen a ghost."

Josh stayed quiet as he stood frozen in the doorway breathing heavily as he looked at Heath. His fists were trembly slightly, clenched tight by his side, his skin was pale and clammy. He had his eyes opened wide with intensity as though he wanted to tell Health something but was to scared to.

"And why are you wearing that?" Heath asked. Pointing out the slick black rubber bodysuit that clung to Josh's skin.

He is tired from the workout? Well it could be that this is intentional.... let us just listen to his very special programming 😈

This handsome stud sits on the bed in his skin tight glossy black latex suit that clings to every pumped muscle after an intense session. His body glistens under the warm light as he looks straight at you breathing heavily.

Then the helmet connects. Blue lights activate and the programming begins. Every muscle relaxes while his mind sinks deeper into obedient rubber bliss. The suit becomes tighter around his thick throbbing bulge as the Voice takes full control 💦🖤

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The young man had been walking by the old abandoned circus behind the town's parade grounds. He was never sure how long it had been there, but it had always been a moldering heap as long as he could remember.

This is why, as he walked by he was surprised to see that a few of the lights around the big tent were on. He hadn't even realized there was electricity out here; he didn't hear any generator. As he stepped off the path to get a better look, the lights on the gate to the big tent illuminated, CIRCUS was spelled out in the amber glow of ancient incandescent light bulbs.

The young many decided to investigate. Obviously someone was doing something in there. Maybe this wreck was finally going to become something again? He curiously walked along the muddy path past various carnival-type ephemera from years gone by.

Parting the vaguely-damp tattered curtains, he entered the big top tent. Surprisingly, the area was lit, unsurprisingly it was as filthy and as run down as it had looked from the outside. Random platforms, fallen trapeze equipment, and even what looked like some discarded clothing littered the floor.

The young man stopped, he had almost tripped over an old barbell. It was the kind that just had metal spheres on the end instead of adjustable weight. When had they even used things like this? It must have been a part of some kind of strength performance.

Wondering who had turned on the lights, the young man said "Hello? Is anybody there?" into the cavernous old tent. There were shadows all around, and many places someone could be standing, out of sight.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a clown appeared. The clown appeared as dirty and worn-out as the circus. His sudden appearance and disheveled appearance gave the clown a profoundly sinister presence. The young man started at the clown in confusion.

"So...here to join the circus?" said the clown, "We've got a lot of positions open, but I know just what you're looking for."

The young man started. Somehow the clown was suddenly behind him, gripping his shoulder and leaning forward as if to confide some secret. The clown squeezed his bicep.

"Yes, I think you have a lot of potential. You just need a little practice" whispered the strange clown.

The clown placed something on the young man's face and pressed it on. A fake moustache? In some context that might be funny, but in this context, with no audience, it was just unexpected and frightening. He had to get away from this strange clown and out of this circus tent.

The young man started to say something, but the clown picked up the large rusty barbell from the floor, like it weighed nothing, and placed it into the young man's hands. Suddenly, the clown was gone. 

The young man was shocked again by the clown's disappearance, but his more immediate concern was the impossibly heavy weight now in his hands. Although the clown had handled this object with ease, the young man was almost pulled to the ground by the heavy iron. Even though the rusty metal was pressing into his hand, he found himself unable to drop it. In fact, he felt his hands gripping it tighter the lower he held the barbell.

He understood that if he could get the weight high enough, he might be able to let it go. It seemed impossible, but he was able to hold the weight without falling to the floor, maybe he could force it if he really tried.

Straining, he tried to lift the weight up. It seemed impossible, but each time he hefted it, he tried to control his breathing a bit more, be calm and slow about it. He realized he was holding it in place, he was beginning to lift it!

As he lifted the weight higher, his arms began to tremble. A drop of sweat rolled down his face and, annoyingly, got caught in his new moustache. Just a bit...further. His arms were trembling with strain, but he knew if he lowered it now he'd have to start all over again. He grunted with the strain and inched the bar higher.

He was so intent on lifting the bar, that he barely noticed his body beginning to expand with muscle. He noticed the sleeves of his shirt tearing as his biceps swelled outward. The straining muscles were rapidly leaving “average” behind and started to approach bodybuilder proportions. He was so intent on lifting the weight and the concentration required to keep it balanced, that he didn't have the time to try to understand why his shirt was suddenly so tight.

As his arms grew, the weight slowly inched upward, until finally it was at eye level. Still feeling some alien force holding his grip on the metal, he realized he'd have to get it higher. With his new strength, he skillfully adjusted his grip on the weight. With one last grunt he suddenly felt a burst of strength and lifted the weight high above his head, tearing the remainder of his shirt to ribbons. The remains of the shirt fell away from his body as he triumphantly held the weight.

He held the weight there a few moments, victorious. He had done it, he'd beaten that clown and did the impossible. He felt powerful. I wish someone had been here to see that performance! he thought.

Suddenly he remembered the whole reason why he had started lifting the bar in the first place. Bringing the bar down, he found he was now able to release it from his grip and let it fall to the floor. He did so carefully, and stood there panting.

After a few moments of recovery, he looked down at his body and was startled by what he saw. He knew his shirt had come off, but he wasn’t expecting what the shirt falling away had revealed. His torso, previously trim, but only slightly toned, was a rippling field of muscle. His arms had gone from unremarkably average to those of a heavy lifter. Luckily he’d been wearing shorts with an elastic waistband. The waistband was now taught over his dense midsection, but the legs of the shorts were what really seemed in danger of ripping, as formerly loose legs were stretched tightly over his tree trunk thighs. As he was starting to wonder how all this was possible just from lifting one weight, he felt a tingling over his skin. He noticed that his formerly smooth muscles now had tiny wispy hairs growing over them. The coating of peach fuzz rapidly darkened and thickened into dense body hair that spread its way over his new muscular form.

He looked down at his hairy muscular form in awe. Had the clown somehow done this? He thought maybe it was that fake moustache. He reached one of his enlarged hands to his upper lip and gave the moustache a tug. It was firmly connected to his face and felt like real hair. As the palm of his hand brushed across his chin, he could feel a roughness. Even though his chin was clean shaven, he knew that he was now capable of growing a thick beard. 

He ran his hands across his chest. Where it had once been smooth, he now felt his fingers dragging through thick chest hair. His hand reached his bicep and he gripped it. His hands looked like they had also expanded and thickened, but even under his large hand his bicep was thicker than many men’s thighs. As he was trying to understand how this was possible, he felt his shorts shifting.

His shorts transformed into a woolen singlet before his eyes. It was form fitting and left little to the imagination. As the straps extended over his shoulders, he felt a wide leather belt snake around his waist and pull tight.

He looked down at this obvious magic with awe, unsure of what to do for a few moments. Then a strange feeling came on him. His eyes glazed over and looked far off as he began to think about his new body.

He loved this body! He had worked hard for it and needed to show it off. Even more importantly, he had to show people his strength. He knew he could now dazzle people with feats of strength he had never dreamed of before. A euphoric quiescence descended onto his thoughts, as his concerns were replaced with a devotion to performance, and a desire to return this circus to its former glory.

The Circus, having gained a new performer, started to look a bit less grimy, less shabby. It was still obviously abandoned, but it went from looking like it was only fit for demolition to simply looking damaged and neglected.

A burnt out light bulb suddenly returned to life, spilling light on a painted panel. Peeling paint adhered itself back to wood. The design became readable again: See the Strongman! with an old fashioned circus painting of a muscular fellow with a moustache. 

As the new strongman walked over to the panel, his wool singlet changed to a red one and his shoes transformed into calf-high leather boots. He struck a muscular pose, filled with feelings of showmanship and bravado. 

Deep in the shadows of the abandoned circus the clown's lips formed a smile. Even in the shadows the clown could tell he was a little less dirty, a bit stronger. And why shouldn't he be? His circus had a brand new performer.