The Induction
By. Euphoric Dressed
A college student attempts to infiltrate a group. The photo is used as an inspiration. Word Count: 7600
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” my friend exclaimed, his eyes reflecting a lingering sense of letdown.
“It’ll be fun!” I playfully nudged my friend while extending the pamphlet before him. “Don’t you want to see what goes behind these meetings?”
I could immediately sense he was nowhere as piqued as I was. He rolled his eyes dismissively when I took the pamphlet from a random man a while ago. The man was unusual and everyone could tell he was not your average Joe.
The man exuded an air of immaculateness. His black hair neatly combed in a conservative manner. He had on a dark charcoal suit that draped on perfectly. His black leather shoes, devoid of any blemishes, gleamed of a mirror shine. His shirt boasted a starched precision, his tie formed a formulated dimple, and his pants displayed razor sharp creases. How would I be if I were to be in his position? The mere thought made me recoil. Could I ever envision myself dressed as he was? Absolutely not. It was out of the question.
"I'm not that insane," my friend dismissed the invitation.
I lowered my gaze to the paper and observed the intricate details. My eyes scanned across the displayed photos of the individual men. They too were dressed in suits.
"Discover more about our essence and enrich your life today," I read aloud.
He groaned, echoing the reservation swirling in my mind. “That’s how they lure you in, and make you apart of them.”
"Where's your faith in me?" I asked him, seriousness etched on my face. "You know I won't fall for this stuff!”
"Well, I won't be going," he replied firmly.
"Oh, come on!" I whined. "You can't leave me hanging!"
"I'm not going anywhere near that stuff," he persisted.
"You're abandoning me?"
"It was your idea!" he shot back.
"Fine. You'll miss out.”
"Yeah, let me know how it goes," he smirked at me.
I rolled my eyes and looked at him. "It's going to be an epic tale of my infiltration."
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The following day, I stood before the mirror. As I examined my t-shirt and jeans, my thoughts drifted to the suited stranger I had encountered on the street. Would I appear out of place?
I laughed. Why should I even care? It was just one meeting, and all I had to do was step inside and witness the nonsense being propagated. With a smile playing on my lips, I gathered the last remnants of my courage. This was it. I was going to infiltrate them.
As I arrived, the building appeared ordinary, with only a handful of individuals gathered at the entrance. Just as I had anticipated, the attendees had an air of refinement, dressed in dress shirts and ties, trousers, and well polished leather shoes.
I approached them, and they regarded me with a peculiar stare. I had assumed that I wouldn't blend in, yet they greeted me with smiles. Their eyes revealed a hidden excitement, as if they believed a lost soul like me would willingly join their cause. But there was no chance of that happening.
The entrance led to a corridor, guarded by two suited men. The number of people visiting the place seemed limited. Those who did attend stood out, much like myself, among the established members of the organization.
I observed their interaction with the two men, then they proceeded further down the hallway. I followed suit and approached the man stationed behind a desk.
He was engrossed in scribbling notes on a piece of paper, but as he glanced up, our eyes met. His neatly combed brown hair was meticulously styled to the side, accentuated by a precise part. His short brown beard was flawlessly groomed. Then there was his dark suit that highlighted his physique. My gaze lingered upon his navy striped tie. How could anyone wear such a thing around their neck!?
“Mr. Porter.” He extended his hands. I reciprocated, but his firm was heavier than mine.
"We don't often see many young folks around here," he smiled and then glanced down at his logbook. "What's your name and phone number?"
"Mike," my voice squeaked out filled with nerves. Then, I provided him with a fictitious phone number.
He moistened his finger and turned the pages, scanning for my name.
"You're not on the list," he informed me. "Did you register?"
"I have to register?" A lump formed in my throat.
"Don't worry. Let me check if there's anyone on the list who will be willing to take you in," he searched through the papers again.
"What do you mean?" I asked, fearing the implications of his statement.
“Oh, we have a mentorship program where we pair young men like you with a member. It’s meant to facilitate your transition.”
"No, I won't need that," I interjected hastily, realizing immediately that it was something to avoid.
He continued without a care to my response. Did he even hear me? Or did he choose to ignore me?
"Here we go," he tapped on the paper, presumably the person he had found. "Mr. Burton will be pleased to take you under his wing."
"Wait," I tried to stop him, but he raised his hands and reached out to his phone to dial. The phone connected and my heart sank as he mentioned me.
"He will be here shortly," he acknowledged, giving me a nod.
I simply nodded in return and stepped aside, deciding it was better not to arouse suspicion. My gaze fixated on the approaching bystanders. Some were dressed, while others were like me.
Those who were in suits headed towards a separate entrance, guided by two individuals donning charcoal suits. The rest of them made their way through the main entrance.
After a few moments, a voice announced itself.
"You must be Mike?" it asked.
Startled from my reverie, I turned to face an older gentleman. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and a partially white scruffy beard adorned his face. Round eyeglasses complemented his facial features. Like the others, he was no exception when it came to attire. He sported an exquisite gray suit, tailored impeccably to his frame, along with a white dress shirt and a yellow striped tie.
This was it. Heat began to radiate through my body as I extended my hand for a handshake. "Mr. Burton?"
There was no turning back now.
"That's me," he grinned, reciprocating the gesture. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Like…Likewise," I managed to choke out.
His handshake was firm, in stark contrast to my own lackluster grip. It surely didn't leave the best impression, but I couldn't dwell on it too much. He stood there with an air of distinction, while I felt insignificant in comparison. I wouldn't say I was scared of him, but he certainly was daunting.
"Come this way," he motioned for me to follow him into a separate hallway. I glanced around, noticing that no one else seemed to be heading in our direction.
"Are we going the right way?" My voice quivered.
He chuckled warmly, "it seems like you're familiar with this place."
"Oh. No," I quickly retracted my statement, feeling ashamed of my comment. There must be a reason why Mr. Burton was deviating from the standard protocol. I didn't know what to expect, but I followed him obediently, like a lamb.
"We don't often see many young people here. How old are you, boy?" he inquired.
"Yeah, Mr. Porter mentioned it. I'm 21," I replied, slightly taken aback by being referred to as a "boy." "Young man" would have sufficed.
"As Mr. Porter may have mentioned, we have a mentorship program in place to help young individuals like yourself transition into the group," he explained.
I nodded nervously, acknowledging his words.
"As you know, young people can be more resistant to these kinds of ideals," he commented, hinting at the challenges of acceptance within the organization.
I couldn’t help but laugh inside. He was right. There was absolutely no way I would ever be interested in any of this. Did he seriously think I would consider joining their group? Not to mention how they were all dressed, there was no way I could be like that! I shook my head in disbelief, wondering how people could become so trapped and revolve their lives around such things.
"So, what will we be doing?" I asked, attempting to extract more information from him.
"I thought I'd give you a warm welcome," he replied kindly, as he began approaching a door.
"Right this way," he said, opening the door and extending his arms to invite me in.
I stepped into the dark room, dimly lit by a single lightbulb, with two foldable chairs positioned in the center. The door closed behind me as he entered the room. I glanced back at the door, then shifted my gaze back to the man standing before me.
He chuckled, breaking the silence. "I know how this may appear, but the door isn't locked."
"Okay..." I let out a nervous laugh.
"I thought I could bring you here, so I can get to know you better," he confessed, settling into one of the chairs. As he crossed his legs, I noticed his gray socks peeking out from underneath his trousers. It was the first time I truly took notice of his black dress shoes, polished to a high degree of shine.
He extended his hands towards the vacant chair in front of him. "Come, have a seat."
Following his guidance, I sat across from him. My throat felt heavy, and my nerves were on edge. He wanted to know more about me... Then, the realization hit me hard—I didn't have a story.
"So, boy, tell me about yourself," he said casually.
I flinched at his words, feeling his gaze penetrating into me. Would I slip up? What if he discovered the true reason for my presence here?
"I..." My voice croaked, my mind racing for something to say.
He noticed my hesitation and offered a comforting smile. "I apologize if it feels like an interview. It's natural to be nervous in a situation like this."
If there was one thing remarkable about Mr. Burton, it was his smile. A grinning eminence of warmth and ease. There was a man like this, here.
"I don't mind," I blurted out, trying to sound confident.
And so, I began to weave a tale about myself—a fabricated version of me.
I introduced myself as Mike, a 21-year-old college student nearing the end of my studies. I mentioned my uncertain future, lacking prospects for a job or a clear path in life, which ultimately led me to this place.
I sprinkled in a mix of fake hobbies along with a few genuine ones, embellishing the lie to make it more convincing.
Mr. Burton sat there, his smile unwavering. He listened attentively, occasionally offering a comment or two. It was easy to forget that he was a man in a suit; he seemed so genuine and down-to-earth. There was something about him that drew me in.
He leaned forward, displaying a genuine interest in what I had to say. He laughed at my jokes and sang with agreement.
As I continued to weave my tale, a part of me longed for him to know the real me. I had to admit, he wasn't at all what I had expected. There was a gentle charm about him that assuaged my worries. If he weren't a part of this group, perhaps I would have genuinely enjoyed getting to know him better.
"Tell me about your family. Do your parents know that you're here?"
I chuckled and shook my head. "No, my mom is working hard back at home, and, well..."
I didn’t know why but my mind conjured what seemed plausible, “my dad passed away when I was little, so I had a harder time growing up. So you know, without a figure in life, I was a bit rebellious growing up.”
Mr. Burton nodded empathetically, his eyes filled with understanding. What was it about those eyes that captivated me as the lies spilled out of my lips.
"That must have been challenging for you," his soft voice melded with compassion.
"Yeah... it was," I replied, lowering my voice as if sharing a deeply personal secret.
In reality, I hadn't lost my father. In fact, my family was ordinary and happy. My parents were well-off, and I had a bright future ahead of me, following in their footsteps—school, job, and eventually starting a family of my own.
But as Mr. Burton expressed his understanding, a pang of guilt tugged at my conscience. Somehow, my words had convinced him that I was on a journey of self-discovery.
"If I had to guess, you're here because you're seeking a new sense of direction," he commented perceptively.
"Yeah," I affirmed, trying to match his understanding tone. Definitely. I definitely came here for a new sense of direction.
He rose from his chair, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. Confusion filled me as he approached me suddenly, his embrace engulfing me, drawing me close to his chest.
A rush of warmth enveloped me, evoking a sense of safety and comfort that felt foreign in this context. No. No… this wasn’t what I came here for. My heart pounded against his chest as his hand rhythmically patted and rubbed my back.
"You don't have to worry anymore, Mike. I'm here for you," he reassured me with a sincerity that caught me off guard.
His presence surrounded me like a soothing breeze, and his warmth washed over me like gentle waves lapping at the shore. At that moment, I caught a glimpse of an idyllic sunset, its hues reflecting upon the tranquil ocean. Strangely, a part of me wanted to hold onto this feeling.
Though I knew his sympathy was directed towards the fabricated version of me, I couldn't shield myself from the genuine comfort he provided.
"We can help you here," his voice broke the silence, brushing against my ear. "I can help you."
I stood in silence, caught between the allure of his offer and the realization of my ulterior motives. Yet, he drew me even closer, holding me tightly. My face pressed against his soft, gentle dress shirt as my arms instinctively wrapped around his back. The earthy scent of pine trees mixed with a subtle hint of leather filled my senses.
I hadn't anticipated this intimate encounter. What was this? I was perfectly normal… but to be embraced by him made my gut scream in anticipation. This wasn't part of the plan. This was not it. I should start focusing on… what… was… this smell? His smell was heavenly intoxicating.
All the tension in my muscles melted away as he pulled back slightly, meeting my gaze with his deep blue eyes. "You've made the right choice, boy," he affirmed.
"I..." My words trailed off, captivated by the mesmerizing depth of his eyes. They seemed to hold the secrets of the vast ocean, yet the surface waves were so soothing. If Mr. Burton deemed it the right choice, then perhaps it truly was. What was I here for again?
"I know what you need," he stated with confidence.
"Which is...?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
"What sizes do you wear?" he inquired, his tone gentle.
Without hesitation, I shared my shirt, pants, and shoe sizes, as if compelled to do so. There was an odd sense of surrender in that moment, as if I had relinquished control.
A smile curved on his lips. "Stay here, and I will be back shortly."
Anxious anticipation filled me as I nodded in response. I mustered a wry smile as he left the room. Deep down, I knew what awaited me if he was asking for my sizes. This was my chance to leave, to escape this place. I had gone too far, and it was not baring well for me.
But the thought of Mr. Burton leaked into my mind and suddenly a whirlpool of curiosity and intrigue opened up. It revealed an entirely new world beneath the surface. What would it be like to be mentored by him, to truly get to know him? Did it even matter if he was part of this group?
The mere idea of being under his guidance ignited a nervous tremor within me. Was I going mad? What was I thinking? Yet, a surge of excitement coursed through my body, heat flushing my face with warmth. What was this feeling?
The door swung open, extinguishing any flicker of hope for escape. I tried to reassure myself that everything would be alright, that I could still accomplish my mission.
In Mr. Burton's hand, he held a stack of garment bags, and dread washed over me. The sight of those bags could only mean one thing: I was about to be enveloped in the same attire worn by the rest of their members. Was I prepared for that?
The thought of wearing their fine dress shirts and exquisite trousers seemed unimaginable. Me, in a suit? It felt like an absurd notion. Yet, there stood Mr. Burton, radiating warmth and confidence in his tailored suit. The way it accented his form was undeniably attractive. In that moment, I found myself longing to be like him, to be under his guidance.
"Thank goodness we have them in your size, isn't that great?" he exclaimed joyfully as he approached the center of the room.
I forced a smile, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yeah. What's in the bag?"
A part of me already knew the answer, but I had to ask. He gently placed the bag on the chair and turned his attention back to me, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“Just a simple initiation. Nothing too daunting.” He assured me as he reached into the bag and retrieved a package.
He approached me with it, his voice assuring, “see, nothing bad.”
My gaze fixated on the package. As he opened it, revealing a pair of white undergarments, I couldn't help but feel a surge of apprehension. A nylon undershirt and a white underwear stared back at me.
He handed me the garments, and I held them in my hands, my body tense with uncertainty. Should I accept them? No, it felt like a surrender, a step towards becoming one of them.
I glanced back at him, and his expression shifted upon meeting my hesitant gaze. Has my body language betrayed my doubts?
"I understand what you're thinking," he sighed, his tone empathetic. "Here, let me show you something."
Time seemed to slow as my eyes widened, witnessing what unfolded before me. His hands gravitated towards his belt, the familiar sound of a buckle being undone filling the air. He removed his belt, and a mixture of curiosity and unease coursed through me.
What was he doing!? What was I seeing?
His hands reached towards his trousers, unclasping them. His attention then shifted to the zipper. The sound echoed in the room of his zipper being undone.
I stared in horror as he dropped his trousers onto the ground. He stepped out of them nonchalantly, revealing his long gray socks that extended above his calves. My attention remained fixed as he slid his hands to his white shirt beneath the gray jacket.
I couldn’t shift my gaze away from what he had revealed. His white briefs, the same pair he had given me, outlined an enlarged cock behind his brief. It was clearly for me to see.
"Don't worry, Mr. Burton wears them too," he reassured me.
I snapped out of it and refocused my attention on him. His tie still collared onto him. He had already unbuttoned some on his dress shirt and pulled it to the side, revealing the white nylon undershirt tucked into his white briefs. His chest was partially visible, displaying his muscular physique. His hardened nipples along with his fuzzy chest hair faintly visible through the fabric.
"Do you like them?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
I was at a loss for words. My mouth dried and empty.
"I understand your hesitation. It's natural," he said, attempting to sway me. "But I assure you, you'll find them enjoyable."
I… will enjoy them? I tried to redirect my thoughts on Mr. Burton and not what he displayed in front of me.
"Go ahead, feel the pair," he gestured, his hands in motion.
I couldn't believe I was engaging in this. My heart raced as I cautiously placed my hands on the garments he had given me. My gaze remained fixed on Mr. Burton as I explored the texture of the fabric. I didn’t hate it. Each touch of it sends a spark against my body.
"Now, imagine yourself wearing them," he encouraged.
And so I did. I envisioned myself wearing the white nylon undershirt and underwear, picturing myself standing before him.
"Very good," he praised, acknowledging my visualization. "Now, I'd like to see how you would look in them."
I knew what he wanted before he asked. The words stirred a mixture of emotions with me. A sense of uncertainty and unknown. What can I do? What other options did I have?
Approaching me with warmth emanating from him, he wore a genuine smile on his face. His body moved with poise and his eyes filled with ambition.
How could anyone resist his presence? His hands made contact with me as he visualized the transformation he had in mind.
"I'm going to get rid of this improper appearance," he informed me.
Suddenly, a desire emerged. I want him to get rid of my flaws. I watched as he reached out to my belt and tugged it.
“You’ll no longer be lost, my boy.” His words laced with a drug, pulling me in.
What was I doing here? What am I doing? I glanced down at my chest as his other hand gently rested there. I observed his hands moving downward, reaching towards my belt.
His hands joined together, their synchronized movement gripping onto my belt. With a bit of fumbling and intertwining of fingers, my belt succumbed to his touch. He swiftly unlocked it.
"There we go," he exclaimed cheerfully as he removed my belt from my jeans, casually discarding it onto the ground. Then, both of his hands proceeded to the hem of my shirt. His touch radiated warmth, akin to the comforting embers of a fireplace.
"Good boy," his words of approval echoed, "good boy."
His hands moved deliberately, gently pulling my shirt outward. My body responded instinctively, allowing him to remove it.
"You just let me guide you," he whispered softly, his words hanging in the air. "I'll ensure you find the right path. Will you allow me to do that for you?"
I hesitated. Why was my body reacting this way? Why did his words hold such allure? My lips began to search for the word “yes.” No, I was perfectly normal. I needed to regain control. I don’t… I gazed into his eyes, searching for clarity, but words eluded me.
There I stood, partially naked in front of him, as his hands continued their purposeful movement. My jeans were eased down, revealing my briefs. Without hesitation, I stepped out of my pants.
His smile stirred something within me. This was my choice, my decision.
He didn't stop there. He wanted to see the holy grail. His gaze met mine once more, seeking permission. Slowly, he descended, removing my last layer of protection. I let him stripped it away.
"That’s my boy,” his voice growled with approval.
Never before had I allowed someone to see me completely exposed with my cock hanging out. Mr. Burton was the first to witness it, and he seemed to take pride in that fact, discerning it from a single glance into my eyes.
It was absurd, wasn't it? My original purpose had been to infiltrate their group, and now here I stood, utterly naked before Mr. Burton. I couldn't tear my gaze away from him, captivated by his presence.
His left hand rested gently on my shoulder, while his right hand delicately lifted my chin, directing my gaze towards him. The sensations coursing through my body felt palpable, like resounding drums. Once again, I found myself lost in his eyes, drawn to his white teeth gracing me with a smile.
"Don't be shy. Keep your head up. I promise you'll find pleasure in this," he reassured me, his hands offering a comforting massage to my shoulders.
Radiating with a sense of pride, he stepped away from me, retrieving the garments he had previously shown me. I knew what was to come, and yet my thoughts couldn't help but linger on it…
The allure of wearing their acclaimed garment consumed my thoughts. The vibrations within me intensified, synchronized with the rhythmic tapping of Mr. Burton's leather shoe on the floor.
"Remember, it's just a simple initiation. Nothing to worry about," he reassured, patting me gently on the shoulder. "You want to try them on, don't you?"
My desire to put on the garment was undeniable. I swallowed nervously. After all, it was merely a part of the initiation. Mr. Burton handed it to me with ease. Why did I accept it? Why did I now find it in my grasp? I examined it once more, realizing there were no valid reasons to resist.
It was too late for hesitation. The first piece presented was their white brief. My body seemed to move instinctively as my legs guided themselves into the garment. With each pull, I felt the fabric enveloping me, caressing my skin, and pulling me within them.
“That’s my boy.”
My hands smoothly pulled the garment over my cock, feeling the softness of the white briefs as they embraced me. A sigh of comfort escaped my lips as I relished in the soothing sensation.
Without delay, Mr. Burton handed me the undershirt, and I swiftly slipped it on. The fabric draped over me, and although slightly translucent, it provided a sense of coverage.
“Tuck it in.” He instructed.
Following his guidance, I obediently tucked the undershirt into my briefs. As I completed the task, a deep groan escaped me. I couldn't help but wonder about the unfamiliar emotions stirring within.
"You appear much more dignified now," Mr. Burton commended.
My gaze fixated on his hands as they reached out and rested on top of my bulge.
"How does it feel?" he inquired softly, his fingers tenderly caressing my balls through the fabric.
A faint whimper escaped my lips as his touch elicited a pleasurable response. His fingers moved with gentle strokes, caressing my balls.
“Does it feel good?” He whispered.
“Yes.” I gently bit my lips.
“Wonderful.” His eyes brimmed with pride.
I couldn't stop looking down at myself at what I had done. The garments I had put on, his hands delicately placed on top of my covered bulge, arousing a newfound erection within me.
"You'll fit right in," he reassured me, a sense of belonging in his tone.
“Oooah…” A low moan escaped my lips as his fingers continued their mesmerizing touch, overpowering my ability to control my own body.
"But we're not finished yet," Mr. Burton grinned, pleased with the progress I had made. How far had I come? Did I even want to resist? Such thoughts escaped from me as my body reveled in the sensation of the garments and his touch. It felt right.
"You, my boy, deserve to embrace your best self every day," he promised, his words tinged with sincerity.
His words caused a blush to color my cheeks, and I looked up at him. Mr. Burton stood there, still partially dressed in his suit, oozing confidence.
"What you see here is what all men should wear," he declared proudly, his words echoed with conviction.
He then dangled a pair of long black socks in his hands.
"Put these on," he commanded.
Complying with his orders, I slid my feet into the fabric... It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It provided a comforting warmth against my skin as the sock extended beyond my calves.
At that moment, I was being dressed according to his vision. A sense of fear stirred within me—an apprehensive panic born out of the unknown.
"Now, for the rest of the ensemble," he declared.
With those words, I knew what was left and my body eagerly awaited it. He approached me, holding the next piece of the ensemble in his hands. The missing piece that will start to make me whole. A white dress shirt in his hands, calling for me.
I couldn’t resist his gentle touches as he starts to enveloped me in a fragment of their uniform. His hands guided my arms into the sleeves. Then he starts to button up the shirt, the fabric delicately caressing me. He reached out to adjust my collar with a gentle touch. I can tell in his eyes how the white dress shirt was fitting for a young man like myself.
Why did everything feel so aligned? With every touch from Mr. Burton, it was no longer me wearing the shirt; instead, it was as if the shirt was embracing me, becoming an integral part of who I am.
Mr. Burton completed dressing me in the shirt, a wide smile gracing his face. “You’ve started to come along nicely,” he acknowledge.
I stared down at myself, the unfamiliar long black socks to my calves, the white dress shirt, the white nylon undershirt into the white briefs, some part of me knew I looked funny. This wasn’t me. These clothes weren’t me at all. It didn't fit me. But another part of me…
A spontaneous smile emerged on my face as I examined myself. Simultaneously, an unexpected feeling surfaced within me. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nervousness. Why, I pondered? Why did excitement surge through my veins?
“I had mentioned earlier you’ll find it pleasurable and it seems I was correct.” He remarked.
I swallowed uneasily, a swirl of foreign thoughts and feelings wrestling within me. I knew what was happening, yet I fought against it in my mind. I wasn’t going to fall for this. I wasn’t going to be swayed by this group. All I wanted was to go in and get out, enduring and revealing the nonsense meeting.
He wasn’t right. He wasn’t right at all. I can’t find these clothes… enjoyable. However, despite my resistance, I found myself inevitably drawing comparisons to Mr. Burton. I was becoming like him, wearing the same garments he wore. Now, starting to wear the same clothes as he does. I… I couldn’t help but admire him, even against my will.
Mr. Burton swiftly moved on to the next item. He draped a pair of charcoal trousers over his hands. I swallowed hard. I hated the implication of it. One step closer. One step closer to becoming one of them.
“You are to wear the proper attire befitting of a man.” Mr. Burton extended his hands towards me, almost like he had sensed the oncoming distraught.
Was Mr. Burton the embodiment of it all?
“Please rest assured, you don’t need to worry about anything. As your mentor, it is my duty to provide guidance and support. The decisions I make on your behalf are intended to help you, mold you, and reform you. You can trust that my choices will always be correct." His smile radiated warmth and reassurance.
His words resonated within me… he always had my best interests at heart… he… he was going to my mentor, leading me towards the path I needed to follow.
“Put on these trousers and let go of all thoughts of the past. You will grow to appreciate them and only desire to wear of such.” He extended them towards me.
I stared intently, but no resistance surfaced in my mind. Mr. Burton was here, surrounding me with his care. Without any more thoughts, I reached out and accepted the trousers.
“That’s my boy,” he praised.
I wasn’t merely a young man anymore… I was now Mr. Burton’s boy, entrusted to his care. I couldn’t deny him. I had to wear the pants he had given me. Thus, I slipped into the trousers. His hands moved quickly, assisting in tucking my shirt neatly.
“Good boy,” he uttered, zipping up my fly.
His words stirred a flutter in my stomach. Just moments ago, his praises were unwarranted, even cringe-worthy. They were false. Thoughts of why I should care about a man like him praising me, and how being referred to as a “good boy” stung my pride, crossed my mind. I was not a boy; I was a man.
Yet, those thoughts faded away. I’m doing the right thing… I… I was a… a good boy.
Me with them. Me with Mr. Burton. A strange sensation stirred within me at the thought, but it was not the end. Swiftly, I felt the presence of something around my neck—a red and black striped tie. I watched, allowing him to knot it around my collar.
His hands moved gently against my neck as he skillfully tied the knot. It took shape, and then he tugged it snugly against my neck, ensuring it was just tight.
"Now, that's what I want to see," he remarked, gripping onto my tie.
My thoughts froze in my head, shrouded in the mystery of my own feelings.
"Now, onto the final piece," he declared, walking over to a pair of black loafers.
A lump formed in my throat as he approached with the loafers. They were impeccably polished and shiny. I didn’t know how I would feel about wearing them. I had found them to be… worn by older generations.
Mr. Burton motioned for me to sit on the chair, waiting to give me a prized possession of their shoes. This was the final piece… my body complied.
I watched as he bent down, grasping my feet, and slipped on one loafer, followed by the other. Finally, he completed the ensemble with the second loafer. They fit perfectly on my feet.
He tapped the black loafers on my feet, then looked up at me. "How do they feel? Do they fit?"
I nodded towards him. They fitted perfectly and it was scary. I had never worn a pair in my life and yet they snuggled me comfortably. All the men wore such beautiful pairs of leather shoes and now, one was on me.
Deep breaths escaped my lips as I sat there, allowing the moment to sink in. The gnawing sensation inside me grew stronger as I stood up, gazing down at my new pair of shoes.
My vision blurred momentarily, and my heart chimed loudly, resonating through the empty room. I could feel it coursing through me— the shoes, the shirt and pants, the knot. Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. But I couldn't help but steal glances at myself in their clothes. What would it do to me? Was I truly mad to crave it? I was. I was insane.
I looked like one of them. I looked like one of his own. Such a thought was welcomed. I want to be one of them. I want to be like Mr. Burton’s and now I stood there in their uniform. I stood there and looked like him. I was complete.
My lips broke the silence I had held so tightly within me. “Everything… feels…”
“Wonderful,” he finished my sentence, stealing my words.
I couldn’t help but found myself riveting to what he had put me in. I can see myself in their clothes. I can see myself wearing a suit walking amongst them. I can see myself always neatly dressed and proper. My hair conservatively like Mr. Burton’s. My ties knotted tightly and formulated. A dress shirt always worn by me accompanied by razor sharped creased trousers. Then at last, long socks and polished shoes of a man.
His hands guided along my chest, up to my tie, as he grabbed the knot and pulled me closer.
"Don't you agree that this is a much better representation of who you are?" His hands traced the front of my dress shirt.
My voice croaked under his touch. "Yes."
His other hand found itself again on top of my bulge of my newly charcoal trousers.
“Ooooah!” My mouth opened wide in earnest, allowing him massaging it through my trousers. His hands had its touches, binding pleasure to him.
His gaze steadfastly locked with mine, his hold on my tie unyielding, “it’s time to make you a member.”
I…it was finally time for me to be under him. I want to be a member. I want to be Mr. Burton’s. After all, I was already one of them dressed in their clothes.
“What… what do I do?” I silently panted, waiting to hear the secrets.
“Surrender yourself to me.” He whispered into my ears, as he tenderly gripped my hardened cock.
“Oooo.” I moaned upon hearing his voice. Surrender myself to Mr. Burton.
“Truly etched my words into your heart and soul. Make it a part of who you are.” He continued.
I needed to fully commit to his teaching… how can I not?
He grabbed a hold of the back of my head and gently led it close to his chest. Then suddenly, his firm was hard and then he invited me to his hardened nipples.
“Urgh… that’s my boy.” He groaned out loud as I opened my mouth upon his nipples.
My tongue lashed out into his nylon undershirt as it twirled and sucked on his nipples. I can taste his musk inside my mouth. It was a godsend. A heavenly taste that burnt itself into my memory.
I want him. I want Mr. Burton. I couldn’t stop myself. He pushed me harder and I followed. His hands groped hard upon my hidden cock alluding me into him.
Surrender myself to Mr. Burton.
“Argh.” He growled in pleasure.
“Mmmm!” My mouth watered.
He pulled my head away with a wide grin on his face. His eyes were full of pride for me.
"Listen carefully, Mike." His voice reverberated through the room.
I focused my gaze on him, attentively absorbing each word.
"You're about to become a member," he began.
My heart swelled with excitement. The thought of officially becoming one of them swells inside of me, waiting to burst. I was one of them in their uniforms. Next was the pledge.
"To proceed, there is something you must accept from me."
I was prepared to accept anything he offered.
“You will drink my seed that I will bestow on you. You will let it take root. You will let me watered it and nurture it. In return, you will adopt the Burton name as a symbol of your commitment.” His words commanded my attention.
I accept. My body accepted. What was this overwhelming sensation of joy that surged within me when considering adopting his name as my own? Excitement coursed through me, flowing through every fiber of my being, longing for it. I want to embrace and etch it into me… Mike...
"Mike Burton." It effortlessly slipped off my tongue, solidifying its existence. The name suited me perfectly... I was destined to become a Burton...
"That's right, boy." His grin widened even further upon hearing me softly utter what he had desired from me. Once again, a sense of pride illuminated his eyes.
“Kneel.” He ordered me.
“Yes, Mr. Burton.” My lips moved involuntarily, submitting to his commands. His words carried a melody, and my body gladly followed his tunes. My knees sank to the ground before him.
"Yes, Father Burton," he instructed for the correction.
"Yes, Father Burton," I followed his commands.
“That’s my boy… good boy.” He praised with a whistle.
His words filled me with a sense of delight. A yearning to be a good boy. I longed to satisfy his desires. There was no shame within me, as he had trained me to seek his praises.
I watched as his hands descended down to his white briefs. I watched again as his hands unveiled his Fatherhood right before me. I watched and wanted his seeds. I want to be Mike Burton. I want to be his.
I descended upon his Fatherhood. Oh! How I yearned for this!
“Argh!” His moan raged against the room at the stroke of my mouth.
His grunts were the epitome of happiness. My mouth watered and it soaked his Fatherhood, enveloped it all inside of my lips.
“ARGH!!” He roughly grunted as he pushed his Fatherhood further in. My mouth was full of acceptance allowing him to prepare me for his seed.
“Goood…. Boy.” He huffed out loud as he gracefully thrust his hips.
The sound of the praises ushered me harder and faster. My eyes were drawn up to his and we locked gazes. He was so proud of me. I melted, becoming one with him.
“You’re… doing… so… good… boy.” Sweat drops on the side of his head as I continue loving his Fatherhood.
“ARGH!” He screamed out in ecstasy, motioning his hips against my mouth.
I can taste the beginning of his seeds. How tasteful and fulfilling it was to me. I want it. I want it all! My tongue mirrored his rhythmic movements, becoming one with his passionate drive. Together, we danced.
“OOOOOAH!” His moans louder and heavier.
I can taste his constant stream of his leaking nourishment, gently cascading me. It’s not enough.
“You want it badly, boy!” His voice commanded me.
“ARGHHHH!” He let out another roar.
“I hereby declare you Mike Burton!” He proclaimed.
Yes. Father Burton.
“OOOOOAH!”
His Fatherhood bursted. Yes… yes! My mouth remains unyielding to his Fatherhood as his seed shoots out. I can taste him. I can taste the sweetness and saltiness of it all.
His seed entered my throat and it dripped down, covering my walls. I could feel it entering through me, marking me as his. His seed was inside me, and my body accepted him.
“OOOOAH!” I moaned out as I let his seed soak me in. A wave crashed over me, and I found my cock bursting out.
“Let it out. Let it out, boy!” He shouts.
“ARRGHHH!” My eyes shut closed, embracing what he gave me. My cum seeps out into the nylon shirt, the white briefs, then out to my charcoal trousers. It seeped out, telling me the clothes were now mine.
“I… can’t… stop!” I groaned out loud as it continued bursting, “ooooooahhhh.”
“Good boy.” He praised me as I let myself out, and in its place was his seed.
“Ooooah…” I panted as the feeling fell down. I want more. I craved it. I can feel his seed taking root inside of me, pushing the last remnants of myself out. My body accepted it with open arms. I want his seed. I want it inside of me, overwhelming me. I was his vessel.
My breaths labored heavily as my knees remained planted on the ground. With a gentle gesture, he lifted me up, his gaze filled with a newfound brightness.
"Welcome, my protege," he declared, his voice resonating with approval. His eyes twinkled with anticipation as he prompted, "Share with me what you have learned today."
I found myself lost in his presence, drowning in his appearance. Father Burton, my mentor, stood before me. His neatly trimmed brown hair set a standard for grooming that I aspired to achieve. His partially white, well-kept scruffy beard mirrored the same attention to detail. I felt compelled to emulate such facial grooming.
He wore a gray suit jacket that draped elegantly over him. I want a suit like his. Underneath, a white nylon undershirt was tucked into his white briefs. It truly is the epitome of appropriate undergarments for a man. His white dress shirt, paired with a yellow striped tie, embodied sartorial excellence. His black, shiny shoes served as a constant reminder of proper footwear.
“I am the newest member under the teachings of Father Burton.” The words slipped out my tongue, “I will follow Father Burton and will always wear the proper garments of a white nylon undershirt tucked into my white briefs.”
I… this was me… this was who I will become.
"I will always wear a dress shirt, tie, and creased trousers befitting a young man. On my feet will always be long dress socks and polished leather shoes.”
That was an outfit befitting me.
"I… I am Mike Burton.” My voice declared.
"Marvelous!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands in approval.
"I..." my words struggled to find their place, a sense of trepidation filling me. However he being Mr. Burton, he had the hues of a sunset. He leaned in forward, listening attentively.
"Do you seek my praise?" he guessed.
I swallowed hard.
"Say yes, boy," he urged.
"Ye..." my lips strained to confess the words.
"Yes, Father Burton," I uttered, my lips giving voice to the truth.
He approached me, placing both hands on my shoulders.
"You... are an extraordinary young man," he uttered those magical words. "Make me proud."
My blood danced and leaped. My smile widened from cheeks to cheeks. I will make him proud. I will make Father Burton proud.
His hands moved towards the wet spot on my trousers. Embarrassment flushed my cheeks as I had wet my trousers with my cum.
“Please don’t worry, boy.” He assured me, his tone comforting. “When others see this, they will know without a doubt that you belong to me.”
Blushing forward, I slowly accepted what I had done to my trousers.
“I’m glad you came here today.” His eyes smiled.
“I… I am too.” I grinned back at him.
“We have much work ahead of us, you and I.”
“Yes, Father Burton.”