#preppytf

I’ve made my thoughts about modern young people known in the past, but you must know I really do try to hold my tongue. Even if I disagree with the way today's young adults dress, that doesn't mean I have to project it onto folks who are just trying to enjoy themselves... I mean, I very much can project onto them if I wanted to, if you've read some of my other material you've seen what I'm capable of. But doing that comes with all other sorts of consequences, which are admittedly usually very fun for me, but can be a headache to deal with. So again, I hold my tongue and silently lament the state of manners and dress in the world.

But sometimes, even I reach my limit. The other day, for example, I was going for a walk by the beach, when I came across a group of summer breakers having a party. All were dressed in far too little, but I did my best to ignore them and keep walking. Until I saw this one man. He was clothed only by the loosest definition of the word. His swimsuit was more like a folded napkin, designed to cover the bare minimum. Where did he even find a swimsuit that small? Do they sell them that small nowadays? And worst of all was the cockiness. The clear pride he felt for his body and all that he was showing. It made me sick. I could see in his eyes he genuinely believed this is what a good life was about. If I looked closely, it even looked like he had applied oil to his body to maximize the appearance of his exposed features.

This was just too far, even for me. I felt my words wanting to make themselves known. And before I could quell my tongue, I burst out in anger

“Put some clothes on!”

The group looked at me, and several started jeering. But I only paid attention to the undressed man. He was staring back at me, and I could see a blank look in his eyes. Uh oh. This is what I was trying to avoid. But this young man had pushed me over the edge and now he was going to learn firsthand the effect I can have on people.

Suddenly the man stood up and started walking away from the group, paying no mind of any of them. He stared dead ahead, no sign of brain activity behind his eyes. He was walking like a man on a mission, until he reached what I presume was his car. He got in, still clad in only a speedo, and started to drive away.

Shoot. This was getting out of hand quickly. Before he got too far, I hailed my chauffeur and told him to follow the runaway vehicle. Roughly 10 minutes later we arrived at what I presume was the man’s house. He'd driven his car haphazardly up the driveway, leaving the car door open and keys still running in the ignition. I headed towards the front door, which had similarly been left wide open.

From what I could tell as I walked through his house, he lived alone. I heard noise coming from a room around the corner. I walked into what appeared to be the man’s bedroom, where I found him in the attached bathroom looking very different already.

True to my word, he had put on some clothes. But he’d done more than that: he’d gone into his closet and picked out an outfit typically reserved for more formal occasions. He was wearing a purple plaid dress shirt, a Vineyeard Vines whale emblazoned on the breast. The shirt was tucked into a pair of pressed white dress pants, cinched with a brown leather belt. He'd chosen a pair of brown loafers to wear with the ensemble, but had decided to forgo socks, giving him the air of someone more likely to spend summer afternoons at the docks or the country club than half-naked on the beach. To that same effect, he'd taken some hygiene measures to clean himself up all around. He had given himself a clean shave, now looking much more fresh faced than he did with the previous mustache. And he'd run some product through his hair, giving him an appearance that was put-together but not overly formal.

I slowly approached him, taking in the transformation he'd undergone in just a few minutes. He was intently staring in the mirror, flossing his teeth. Once he'd determined that those too were spotless, he turned to face me.

I looked him in the eyes again. The blank expression was gone, and I could again see that cockiness he'd exhibited before. Instead of pride for his body, he was now showing pride for his appearance. As I looked at him, the side of his mouth formed a smirk.

"Is this alright?" He asked me, with a tone somewhere between sarcastic remark and genuine inquiry.

He'd impressed me a lot in the past 20 minutes, but this was once again a step too far. I'd already broken my pledge to keep my words to myself, I might as well finish the job.

"On your hands and knees," I snapped, and within half a second he was on all fours on the ground. Bent with his head pointed towards my feet in reverence. That was more like it. “Now look at me” I commanded him, and his eyes turned up to meet mine. I could see a mixture of emotions in his eyes: Fear for the control I exhibited over his body, fading hints of that cockiness trying to hold on, a slight arousal at his current situation. But above all, in his eyes I saw that he now understood exactly what he was: an object. His life as he'd known it was over, from now on he existed for my pleasure. He could do his little cocky hot boy act, act like he was king of the world dressed up or down, but he would always know I totally controlled him, and with just a few words I could make him be or do anything I wanted.

I stared him back in the eyes with a hard glare.

“You’re mine now, you know that right?”

“Y-yes”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir”

“Say it again”

“Yes, sir”

“Say it again”

“Yes, sir”

“Who do you belong to?”

“You, sir”

“Who do you answer to?”

“You, sir”

“Whose boy are you?”

“Yours, sir”

“You love the orders I give you”

“I love the orders you give me, sir”

“You were lost before I found you.”

“I was lost before you found me, sir”

“You were degrading yourself with nudity.”

“I was degrading myself with nudity, sir”

“You were degrading yourself with vanity.”

“I was degrading myself with vanity, sir”

“You will follow a better way.”

“I will follow a better way, sir”

“You will follow my orders.”

“I will follow your orders, sir”

“I will make you into a man.”

“You will make me into a man, sir”

“A man has class.”

“A man has class, sir”

“A man should always respect himself.”

“A man should always respect himself, sir”

“A man should always dress properly.”

“A man should always dress properly, sir”

“A man should always obey his superiors.”

“A man should always obey his superiors, sir”

“A man knows his place.”

“A man knows his place, sir.”

“Now repeat it all back to me, boy, and tell me what you are in this world.”

A last trace of fear flared up in his eyes, one dying attempt of his conscious to hold on. One last breath of his old self. And then it was gone, and there was nothing behind his eyes. Just a drone’s gaze. Then, he began to speak in a complete monotone:

“I am what you make me into, sir. I was nothing before you, now I exist entirely for you, sir. I was lost, now I see my one goal in life. I need to be a good boy. I need to dedicate every fiber of my being to becoming a good boy. To following instructions. To respecting myself and other. I need to be molded into the picture perfect image of a gentleman, and I need you to do it for me, sir.”

It was done. Just like that, he was mine. I knew it wouldn’t take long to reach this point, but I did always enjoy the process. The rebellious ones are always particularly fun to break.

Now that he’s mine, I’ll need him to take care of a few last tasks.

“Listen up. I’m going to let you stand up in a moment, but you need to listen carefully.”

“Yes, sir”

“You’ve got a few tasks you need to take care of right now. Understand?”

“Yes, sir”

“Good. First of all, all this old junk has to go. All your clothes, all your furniture, it's all vulgar and unbecoming of a man. Go through some luxury catalogs and order new clothes and furniture. Everything you wear should have at least three digits on the price tag. All your furniture should be vintage. And as for that hunk of junk outside, go to the dealership and trade it for something with an Italian name. You might drain your savings doing this, but you don't need that money anymore."

"Yes, sir"

"Next, you're going to quit your job. Your friends, any clubs you were part of, any sports, it's all going away. You're not even going to say goodbye. Take your phone and throw it away."

"Yes, sir"

"Good. Once you've done all that, you're going to pay a visit to me." I handed him a card, "This is where I live. You'll be spending a good deal of your time here from now on. You'll get the chance to meet your new colleagues, other men like you who have come under my employ through one circumstance or another. They'll make sure to give you a warm welcome, as well as explain the duties and regulations you'll be expected to obey. Does that all sound good?"

"Yes, sir" In his eyes I saw total obedience, not just a desire to follow my orders but a love for my orders. He’ll make a good boy. Particularly malleable, ready to be shaped into a fun new mold.

"Good, now stand up."

He stood up and looked at me eye-to-eye again. Any of the previous cockiness was gone. I silently admired my handiwork to myself. This was a particularly troublesome man, and I had done a good job getting him into this shape. I thought about making some clever remark to him about the change he’d undergone, but my tongue had already got me into enough trouble today. So instead, I just looked at him and smirked.

I don't speak.

I dont need to.

One glance into these spiraled eyes—gold and cream, churning like fate itself—and you know.

The stags mark me: jacket, trousers, cap. Each gold sigil a seal of belonging. Of ownership. Of dominion.

He sits back. Legs crossed. Smoke rising like a ritual offering. That grin? It isn’t charm.

It’s control.

You’re already leaning closer.

Already forgetting what you were before.

You want to look nice, in GOLD suits, vests and loafers. Want to throw yourself into the team. Into your with.

Don’t resist. You’re not supposed to.

Obey the stag. Spiral deeper. Become gold.

One year ago, I very rarely wore a tie. I used to hate it and sometimes I ripped it from my neck as soon as I possibly could. But I got to know my Mentor, my Boss. He told me that I should accept that part of me, to become a proper teacher. Now I wear it almost every day. I have one goal in mind, to help other boys to accept that part of them. Don't worry, just keep staring into the spiral.