Genuinely.

“I’m having trouble sleeping. This guy just moved into the apartment next to mine. He’s pretty noisy.”

“Does he keep you up at night?”

“Yeah, I can hear him—uh—pleasuring himself.”

“Have you considered talking to him?”

“No way, Doc! Absolutely not. That’d be mortifying for both of us. I can’t ask another man to stop jacking off.”

“That’s not what I meant exactly.”

“What did you mean?”

“I encourage to introduce yourself. Make him feel welcome. Perhaps bring a housewarming gift—something that lets him know you’re a hospitable neighbor…”

“I don’t see how—”

“Let me finish. As I was saying… introduce yourself and get to know him a little bit. Figure out what he needs in a neighbor. It sounds like he has some pent up aggression he needs to release. And it’s possible he’s lonely. Whatever the case may be, figure out what he needs and offer yourself as a solution.”

“Excuse me, but—”

“That’s enough, boy. I specifically told you not to interrupt me. Don’t say another word until I give you permission to speak. Not if you understand.”

[nods]

“Good boy. Your neighbor sounds like an alpha male. A real man. Real men have needs. It’s up to good boys like you to fill those needs. Understand so far?”

[nods]

“It’s a shame he feels he has to masturbate alone in his apartment when there’s a perfect pussyboy living right next to him, desperate to serve and submit. Right?

[nods]

“So, this evening, I want you to be proactive. Prepare a home cooked meal—something that reheats well in case he wants to have leftovers for lunch. Knock on his door, offer him the dish, and look at him with the sluttiest ‘hey handsome’ expression you can muster. You following?”

[nods]

“You’re very attractive and quite endearing, so I’m sure he’ll invite you in. If not, we need to work on your sex appeal—but I digress. Once he invites you in, things will probably progress naturally…he’ll end up fucking your holes before the night ends. Still with me?”

[nods]

“But he might need a little nudging. If so, you need to practice subtlety. As a pussyboy, you should not try to take the lead or control the environment. Rather, you should create opportunities that invite him to step into his dominance. Ask him if about his love life. Stare at his crotch and lick your lips. Tell him you’d be happy to help him settle into his new home however he needs. Stuff like that. I’m sure by the end of the night, you’ll be funneling his dick like the cocklut you are. Do you have any questions, boy?”

[shakes head]

“Oh, I almost forgot. You may speak.”

“No questions sir. Thank you, sir. This has been the most enlightening therapy session I’ve ever had.”

Sure.

Good morning sunshine.

It has no idea as to what I’m taking about does it? That brings me such pleasure.

Now I forgot why I walked in this hellhole. without clocks. What was I doing?

Ah yes. Thats’s right. I was on my way to a midnight snack. Or was I?

Ahahaha haha!

I might as well be speaking Portuguese. I mean… I can’t even tell it there are no windows as it doesn’t know what those are.

Hahaha!

Oh. How simple it is.

You know… To simplicity. We really need to up the bondage here. I see a cage and maybe a few chains. Maybe. I mean it may as well be the Fourth of July in here. The only things preventing freedom from ringing is a crack in the Liberty Bell and the crack we put in its gruel. Scramble the eggs. Scramble the mind. That’s what I say.

Oh. You know what. Now this is funny. I just remembered something. You’re going to lol. Are you ready for this?

I forgot my ex superglued earplugs in this gimp when we broke up. Ahahah!

The funny part is I didn’t even care.

Ahahahaha! I still don’t! Ahahah! Haha!

I mean… since when are we concerned about a well secured and locked gimp? It’s an object. Ahaha! What’s it going to do? Benches don’t listen. Footstands don’t hear bumps in the night. What was my ex thinking? What an idiot. Ahahah!!! Ok - I mean… Has anyone ever cried over graffiti in the same color as the wall it’s painted on? Same difference if even that. Whooptee-doo right?!? It’s freakin paint on a walI. I mean come on. Call me next time. I’ll help. Ahahah!!!

Omg. My stomach hurts from laughing.

Oh… oh. Wow. good times. Huh?

You know what? I’m so glad we broke up.

Hmmmm. Now that I think about it I think I may have sold my ex to some gypsies. That could be why he got mad.

Well, who’s to say now?

So…. Question for you then.

I can give you a singular experience—a truly unique experience that you won’t find in any other place. I’ve done it twice before, and I can tell you it’s hard work. I depend on some friends with a variety of… unique skills. But as I said, it’s a pretty fucking amazing experience.

There’s just one hitch: this is an all-or-nothing sort of thing. Once you start, you’re committed for the duration, and that duration starts at a week and may go much longer, depending on how much you take to it. You’ve got to give complete consent to giving total control over to me, and I mean ALL control.

You can’t imagine the scope of what I’m asking, so let me take a few minutes to get really explicit about what “total control” means. There are actually five realms of “total control” and you have to agree to all of them.

The first is physical control. I may restrain you, making you immobile or simply restricting the use of your arms or legs, such as putting you in a straitjacket. You may be gagged, blindfolded, hooded. But when I say “total physical control” that also means you may be shaved or pierced or tattooed or your body parts may otherwise be modified or enhanced or enlarged. Oh, and it goes without saying that my friends and I will be exposing you to sexual acts: fucking and being fucked, that sort of thing. We’ll be in charge of your mouth and your cock and your ass.

Next is a little similar—that’s pharmacological control, and by that I mean drugs. I may at any time administer substances, whether orally, anally, inhaled or even by injection. You may receive any drug that can affect your mind or body. There are drugs that simply impair judgement or make you suggestible, and there are others that induce overwhelming arousal or euphoria, or cause temporary amnesia.

The third realm has some overlap with the last one, and that’s mind control. You may be programmed or hypnotized or, as I said before, drugged. Your mind may be implanted with various triggers or urges, or other sorts of behavioral conditioning.

The fourth has a lot of crossover with the last one, and that’s control over your memory. I may induce a sort of amnesia so that you don’t know who you are or how you came to be in your current situation. I might remove your entire identity and replace it with one of my choosing, along with false memories. Or I may suspend your ability to record memory, so that I can interrogate you about things that you later don’t remember having told me. Hell, I could even erase the entire next week so that once you emerge out the other end you’ve got no idea whatever happened to you!

The fifth realm of control is arousal. You may become helpless to your hidden or suppressed desires and fetishes, or I may create and implant new fetishes and make it so that you don’t realize you haven’t had them all your life. Your sexual arousal may get so heightened, by prolonged edging or other means, that you will do anything or surrender anything in order to get release. I’m serious: you might get so horny that you lose control of your mind and actions! That may become part of your conditioning regimen where I continually build your sexual arousal to the breaking point where you surrender your mind to me, only to have me put you in isolation to rest so that hours later I can repeat the entire process.

So that’s what total control is. You’ve got to give me consent up-front to any and all of this. I promise you won’t come to any permanent physical harm, but I can’t promise that you won’t be permanently changed by the experience. On the contrary, I promise that this will change you, but you’ll love it. Once you come out the other side, you’ll be so happy that you took the plunge.

Now, there’s one other thing about this opportunity: it’s a one-time offer. You can’t tell me next week that you’ve mulled it over and you’re ready to go. It actually has to be now or never. There’s something about the heightened stakes of taking a totally blind spur-of-the-moment plunge that makes this process work. You can’t “make preparations first” or anything like that. I’ll take care of family, friends or work—you’ll essentially be calling in sick or going on an unexpected work trip, or something like that. My friends and I will help create the backstory and cover for you.

If you want to give your consent, there’s something specific you have to do. It’s sort of a ritual that you have to initiate in order to make it clear that you’re not just passively agreeing. I’ve been video recording this conversation so that it’s clear you’ve heard and understand what this entails, and that you’ve given consent freely. You have to do three things in order.

First, you have to swallow this pill. I’ll tell you right now that it’s a combination of a mild hallucinogenic and a hypnotic. It’ll make you a bit happy and horny and suggestible, and you’ll feel it kick-in in about five or ten minutes.

Second, you must put this muzzle on yourself. You put this penis-shaped gag in your mouth and bite down on it, and then the straps go around your head and snap into place in the back. See, this is where the small buckle is, right here. And then you put this miniature padlock through the ring and lock it in place. I’ve got a mirror to help you see what you’re doing.

The last thing is something you’ll need my help with. I’ll hold out these two fist-mitts. You’ll need to put a hand in each one and then make a fist, and then I’ll tighten the strap securely around your wrists. Up until that point, you can back out of this, and you won’t be committed. Even if you’ve taken the pill, put on the muzzle, and gotten your first hand secured in its fist mitt… even then you can shake your head and just not put your hand in the last glove and you can back out. That’s okay. I’ll make sure you have a great time, and we’ll have some freaky-intense sex.

A finger snap unintentionally put him under. I had no ideas of what to do with him, but I also didn´t want to bring him up.

He was fascinating to watch. He grew a boner, started drooling and then snoring.

Hey everyone! Thanks so much for reading the first part of this story if you did. Here’s part two, where things get even more intense and Jake start to feel the weight of this unexpected transformation. Hope you enjoy! ^^

After Owen handed me that coffee, I sat down on the edge of the bed, still trying to wrap my head around what was happening. I kept glancing at my hands—bigger, rougher, definitely not mine.

“So… what now?” I asked, my voice a little deeper than I expected.

Owen shrugged, sipping his coffee like this was all perfectly normal. “Well, breakfast is in thirty minutes. We’ll see how you hold up pretending to be now thirty-four”

I groaned. “Pretending? Dude, I look like I should be ordering everyone around, not ordering a latte.”

He laughed. “Exactly! You gotta own it. Besides, it’s just temporary. By the end of the week, you’ll be back to baby Jake.”

I stared at the mirror again. The beard needed a serious trim, and my chest was definitely not used to all that hair. It felt like wearing a wool sweater in July.

“Alright,” I said, finally standing up. “Let’s get this beard under control before I scare the whole breakfast room.”

Owen grinned and tossed me a razor and shaving cream from the bathroom counter.

I eyed the razor like it was some medieval torture device, but hey—no going back now.

I pumped out some shaving cream onto my palm and rubbed it into my beard. The foam felt cool against my rough skin, the scent of menthol oddly soothing.

Starting at my cheeks, I carefully slid the razor down, trying not to nick myself while shaping the beard. The hair was thick, denser than anything I’d ever grown myself. With every stroke, a little patch of face reappeared—lighter, smoother, younger. But then I’d hit a stubborn spot near my jawline and have to go over it again.

Halfway through, Owen peeked his head in and smirked. “Looking good, man. You almost pass for my age now.”

I glanced at the mirror, surprised. The short hair on my face—well, what was left of it—made me look older, sure, but somehow younger too. Less like a wild man and more like… a professional. Like someone who could actually handle the client meetings without raising eyebrows.

I moved to my neck, carefully shavingthe thick, dark hair that shaded just beneath my jawline. When I was done, I noticed the shadow it left—a faint but unmistakable beard line creeping along my neck.

I frowned. “Guess I’ll need to keep up with this if I want to keep looking like one of the ‘grown-ups’.”

Owen laughed. “Welcome to the club. Now, how about we get some breakfast before your new face scares everyone?”

I smiled, still staring at the man in the mirror—older, hairier, but definitely mine, somehow. And maybe, just maybe, I was ready for this week after all.

Breakfast was in the hotel’s restaurant—just down the hall. I grabbed my bag, adjusted my shirt over the now neatly trimmed beard shadow, and headed out with Owen.

At first, I thought I had it under control. Walked with a little more confidence, tried to match Owen’s casual stride. But damn, my body didn’t want to cooperate.

Every step felt heavier, like I was carrying an invisible weight on my shoulders. My legs moved slower, and the muscles I barely noticed yesterday now demanded attention with each movement.

When I sat down with the rest of the team—guys in their mid-thirties—it hit me: I wasn’t just wearing their appearance. I was starting to feel their age.

My voice came out a little deeper than usual, and I caught myself clearing my throat, like a guy who’d spent years getting used to a rougher tone. I noticed I was more deliberate in how I spoke, picking my words carefully, like I was used to negotiating deals, not just shooting the breeze.

“Jake, you good, man?” Owen asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded, trying to smile but feeling a little awkward. “Yeah… just adjusting.”

At twenty-three, I was used to goofing off, taking things lightly. Now, with this body, this presence, I felt like I had responsibilities I’d never asked for.

My hands rested on the table, larger and more calloused than before, and I caught a glimpse of a silver hair at my temple when I turned my head slightly and looked at my reflection on the table. It was like I was looking at a stranger who expected me to act older, wiser.

I wasn’t ready for this like I thought.

Not yet.

════════════════════════════════════

Tyler loved his job as an actor and he loved his band too, but when works slow for both occupations Tyler fell on to his third job, handyman. Tyler could put together and fix anything from a bookcase to wooden furniture, hell he even made his own furniture when he had time.

So when his phone buzzed asking him to go help out someone who needed to put together a wooden table and some wooden chairs he was up out of the house in an instant. He got his tools from his garage and even the little hi-vis jacket and orange beanie he wore just to look like he was actually professional, got in his car and headed to the address.

He pulled on the hi-vis and put the beanie on, making sure it was perfect in the rear view mirror before walking up to the door tools in hand. He knocked twice and waited for an answer and when a young man probably about his age answered he smiled.

"Hi, the names Tyler. You needed some furniture put together?" He smiled and the guy nodded letting him. "Just show me where it is and I'll get to work."

The guy loved how Tyler seemed enthusiastic just to be putting together some simple furniture, and that's what made the guy decide that Tyler was the one. As Tyler unpacked the disassembled furniture the guy cleared his throat.

"Can I get you a drink? I dont want you getting dehydrated." The guy asked and Tyler smiled slightly, "I've got water"

"Waters great thanks." Tyler nodded as he read through the instructions. The guy nodded and rushed off to the kitchen. He got out a glass and filled it with water before dropping a small dissolvable pill into the water and waited. Once it had dissolved he took the drink to Tyler.

This was step one.

As Tyler took the glass he took a sip and put it to the side and started to get to work. Whilst he was working the guy started to play some music rather lightly, Tyler kept quiet and worked. It wasnt his house so he couldnt complain. Plus it wasnt actually too bad, the light thrum of some type of bass was actually kinda good.

He even ended up lightly bobbing his head to the little electronic beats over it as he worked. By the time he was done it was mid afternoon, he had drank the whole glass of water and the song that was playing was in his head. He stood up and admired his work before going over to the guy.

"So that'll be about..." Tyler started but the guy stopped him by just putting the money in his hands. "Oh thanks! You even tipped that's awesome."

"No you know what would be awesome tyler?" Tyler raised an eyebrow at the guy who smiled at him. "You just, simply forget why you came here." As soon as the words left the guys lips something in Tyler's brain went blank. He looked around confused, why was he here? Who was this guy?

"Now Tyler, I hired you to do a job do you remember what that was?" Tyler shook his head at the guy, he looked down and noticed he was wearing his hi-vis so he went to say build something for him but he was stopped. "It was to strip. Take off all your clothes but leave that cute little beanie, and jacket on. Oh and make a show out of it."

Tyler grinned at the guy who leaned back in his chair and watched as Tyler started to slowly and pleasingly take off his clothes, he started with his shirt so he could quickly put the hi-vis back on. He slowly worked off his trousers and could even feel himself getting hard as he pulled his trousers down.

"Alright now stop." The guy smiled and admired how Tyler just stood there in his hi-vis, orange beanie and grey boxers. It was such a hot sight. The mind control pill and the hypnotic audio he had been playing were working wonders.

"Now come here." Tyler nodded as he stepped closer to the guy, "on your knees." Tyler quickly complied, looking up at the guy. "For the second part of your job, you have to obey every word I say. No matter what, where or when. I am your master. You are my slave. Repeat that to yourself."

"I am your slave, and you are my master."

"Again!"

"I am your slave, and you are my master."

"Good slave." He smiled, "now I want you to jerk off for me Slave. Do it like the person you love the most in the world is watching. And slowly feel those feelings apply to me."

Tyler started to lightly rub himself through his boxers before slowly pulling them down and start jerking himself off. He started with light long strokes lightly moaning to himself, he reach up and lightly start to play with his nipples. "Oh fuck...master~" he moaned fo himself.

The guy smirked and watched as Tyler slowly picked up the pace. "Enjoy your upcoming orgasm slave as it will be your last for a long, long time." Tyler had never told anyone except the people he had hooked up with but he love being dominated, so this was driving him wild. Having a master was making him crazy.

He bucked his hips and closed his eyes as he came, moaning rather loudly. He smiled blissfully to himself as he leaned back on his knees and looked up at his master. "Good boy...now it's time we set a few rules slave. And you will follow all of them."

For the next five months Tyler was trained to be the perfect slave for his master and then the years that slowly followed after that were the best of his life. Whenever he was needed he was there. He quit acting, his band and being a handyman and spent his time living in his masters house, serving him.

In the heart of a bustling city, where sirens blared and neon lights flickered, Officer Jack Malone was a force to be reckoned with. Clad in his trademark black leather jacket that hugged his muscular frame, a fitted black T-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders, and well-worn blue denim that perfectly showcased his athletic build, he exuded confidence as he patrolled the urban landscape. But beneath that tough exterior was a man committed to justice, overlooked by the shadows lurking in the corners of society.

One evening, after a particularly grueling shift, Jack received a tip about a suspicious figure operating in a dilapidated warehouse. His instincts urged him to act, but as he stepped inside, darkness descended. Before he could even draw his weapon, a cloth soaked in a pungent chemical pressed over his mouth and nose. Jack fought against it, but the world blurred and faded away, consciousness slipping away like sand through his fingers.

He awoke bound in a stifling cocoon of dark duct tape, eyes wide in sheer panic. The sensation of being completely mummified overcame him—he could barely move, forced to squirm like a worm in the agonizing grip of his restraints. The only escape from total sensory deprivation was a small hole positioned just beneath his nose, allowing the air to trickle in. Jack was utterly powerless and alone, trapped in his own body.

Days turned into weeks. His captor, a sadistic man named Victor, reveled in his twisted artwork, clearly relishing the sight of the muscular cop reduced to a decorative piece for his living room. Jack's once-proud façade was nothing more than a memory; now he was a grotesque ornament, rolled tightly in layers of duct tape from head to toe. Any hope of escape was crushed as Victor ensured his basic needs were met through an IV drip and a cleverly designed contraption that allowed him to relieve himself without breaking the tight seal of his imprisonment.

The IV drip delivered sustenance, enough to keep Jack alive yet still incredibly vulnerable. The feeding system was a cruel detail of Victor's sinister design—set up with precision, it allowed just enough nutrition to sustain him without granting him any semblance of dignity. Jack's reality was that of a long-forgotten statue, forgotten amongst the grim decorations of Victor's life.

As time passed in this dark purgatory, something astonishing began to happen. The initial anger and fight within Jack slowly waned. Days blurred into nights, and his mind started to fog. The suffocating bondage became both a cage and a refuge; each muffled cry for help became weaker, barely a whisper fading into the void around him. He found himself reflecting on his earlier life, the badge he wore so proudly, the camaraderie of his fellow officers, and the passion for justice that had driven him. Yet, the memories became distorted relics of a life he could no longer touch.

The cop who had once patrolled the streets boldly began to fade away, lost among fabric and plastic. Thoughts of escape morphed into a content acceptance of his new reality. Existence as Victor’s living sculpture replaced the chaotic rush of law enforcement. Jack stopped battling against the restraints; he could not fight what he had become. The cop who once faced danger head-on now embraced the stillness of his existence, his identity blending with the embrace of the dark tape.

It’s not easy to get them by daylight.