#boy slave

Thomas The Tool

Thomas was a PHD student competing in a bodybuilding competition for extra money to pay for his program. Recently, he described his body as a tool, answering a question for the judges, causing one to chuckle. Thoma’s eyes darted to the panel to see Connor O’Neil, a legend in the community and one of Thomas’s idols, staring back at him. “Don’t stop on my behave, hot stuff!” After taking a breath, Thomas continued his routine, flexing and posing for the judges and onlookers, while making the other contestants more than jealous. He could not help but feel like he was being watched, and for the first time in his life, he felt like prey who had no idea where the predator was hiding. After the trophies, Thomas made his way to the bar instead of going to the parties with the rest of the bodybuilders. He sat down, ordered a whiskey, and went over the events of the day. His second-place trophy was in the lavish hotel room paid for by his sponsoring gym. While deep in thought, he didn’t notice Connor O’Neil fr sitting right next to him.

Thomas first smelled the scent of a strange cologne that hit his nose, overwhelming him with pudgent musk, pine, vanilla, and cloves. So fixed on the scent, he didn’t notice O’Neil pouring petrifixation powder in his drink. “Ahem,” Thomas snapped back into reality and was immediately star-struck by the god sitting next to him. Although Thomas got a look at him on stage, O’Neil was even more intimidating in person. He stood at least 6 in taller than Thomas, and every muscle looked like it strained his skin to its limit. Thomas almost forgot to speak, instead painting and saying, “Your Connor O’Neil,” with awe in his eyes. The older man chuckled again, sending shivers up Thomas' spine as his instincts told him to run. Connor reacted quickly and tenderly grabbed Thomas's shoulder and raised his glass within seconds, booming, “ Cheers, to your victory, boy!’ Instinctively, Thomas picked up his glass and drank.”

He started to feel lightheaded, but O’ Neil continued, “Let me give you a pointer, here do a double biscep pose.” Thomas almost robotically got up for his bar stool, his feet landing far heavier than expected, as if they were weighed down. As he moved his body into the pose, Thomas felt his muscles stiffen up. “THAT S IT!” yelled Connor, startling Thomas, but he did not move, feeling relaxed in his current position. “Here, smile as big as possible,” Connor whispered into Thomas's ear as he worshiped the younger bodybuilder's biceps with his hands and kisses. Thomas felt deep inside that something was wrong, but he could not quite put his finger on it, his face acting as if by instinct. “See a face like that would have won you first place, now let really make you a tool,” Connor lifted Thomas with one hand and loaded him into the bed of his truck.

That happened over a year ago, and Thomas is still officially known as a missing person. Connor paid for all of the footage from the security cameras to be erased and brought Thomas to his ranch, placing him in the tool shed. Connor now wakes up every morning and walks to the shed in his silk robe, humming a song you might hear at a beach or pool party. As he enters the shed, he says in an almost singsong voice, “Good morning, Tool Slave,” to a much more hairy and bulky Thomas, who does not respond, still holding the pose from that fateful night at the bar. Continue the routine. Connor places the headphones over Thomas' or now Tool Slaves’ head, taking a moment to kiss his trophy lingeringly on the lips. Tool Slave’s eyes were glassy as the familiar mantra was playing in its ear:

“I am my body. My body is a tool. I am a tool. Tools are objects, not people. I am a tool. I am an object, not a person. Tools are objects meant to be used. I am a tool. I am an object meant to be used. Tools are objects with a purpose. I am a tool. I am an object with a purpose. My purpose is to please my Master.”

It long ago had forgotten its name, past, identity, or even the fact that it was his voice on the recording and was now ready to serve its master. Connor had not fully read the label and didn’t realize he only needed a pinch of the powder to get Connor out for the two weeks it would take to brainwash him. Lucky for Connor, the magical powder in Thomas' body and its functions keep him frozen but alive and not frozen to time. So for the past 15 months, Connor has protected this trophy and, through video, spirals, and audio, taught him how to be the perfect tool slave whose purpose is to please his master and take care of his massive hammer. Connor still has 3 months left to wait until his tool slave is unfrozen, but he believes good things come to those who wait.

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Yes this is a Pixar Toy Story Caption

Andy The Toy

Andy was so excited to go to college and brand himself as a man. He gave away all his childhood toys away hoping they would have amazing adventures without him as he went off to do the same.

At his University, his roommate and Andy clicked very quickly and started going to the gym together and becoming soccer jocke with one another. When they were really drunk, Andy told his roommate about how his mom would write his name on the foot of his toys so none of the other kids could take them from him. His roommate chuckled and responded with "So you believe that when someone writes their name on something's foot, it becomes their toy to play and let others play with."

"You totally get it!" Andy explained, taking another sip of his beer, finishing the bottle. His roommate got him another one from the kitchen and brought a Sharpie along with him.

Andy's roommate handed him the beer and knelt on the floor of their shared space to access Andy's foot. "Hey, this beer has a price."

Andy mid-swig responded quickly, "I'll pay it."

"Great," the roommate snickered, "it is nothing insane, just let me draw something on your body." Andy nodded in response, still drinking his beer, and did not stop his roommate from taking off his left shoe and writing his name on Andy's sole.

Without thinking, Andy stood up, rigid as he felt his hand let go of the beer and fall to the carpet. His mind was racing, but his breathing stayed steady as his roommate spoke, "Now let's see what my new toy can do?"

"Andy, walk to the room," his roommate demanded, and Andy's body moved without thinking. He tried as hard as possible to get his legs to stop moving to their shared bedroom as the effects of the beer wore off very quickly. Once inside, the roommate closed the door and started feeling the muscles that he and Andy had worked so hard on. Andy did not know how to process this, as his body enjoyed the sensation but could not move to reciprocate it.

Suddenly, his roommate stopped and backed up. noticing his new toy's erect member. "It might have saved a ton of trouble if I just came out," he chuckled. "Too late now, I guess," he said as he got out everything he needed for a stick and poke tattoo.