Feb 4, 2025
~~Working Mans Boots~~
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~~Working Mans Boots~~
Alright little bros a life lesson for all of you it’s disrespectful to take a gift back after you’ve already given it to someone so make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.
Sorry little bro but I already gifted you to one of your other bros and his enjoying his new work boot but don’t worry a little of my hypnosis will help you get used to your new life so just repeat after me little bros…
LIFT HEAVY
WORK HARD
FLEX MUSCLES
OBEY BIG BRO
If there’s any other little bros in need of some conditioning or transformation make sure to DM me, if your going to be a dumbass I might as well turn you into a useful dumbass if that’s a meathead jock or a inanimate object so be it little bro you just gotta be useful.
Tornado Wrangers Need Good Boots
Chris smiled as he hit the alarm on the motel’s bedside table. Today was the day, after years of watching his videos, Chris was finally going to meet the tornado wrangler himself, Tyler Owens. Chris had booked his trip down to Oklahoma during peak Tornado season for the best chance of meeting his idol. He had picked correctly. Last night, Tyler made a post telling his fans that he was going to be in Davenport for a fillup and some new gear and Chris had wasted no time driving up and checking himself into the city’s motel. He got up and threw on a shirt, quickly making his way outside.
Next to the gas station across the street, a small group of fans were already gathered, waiting for Tyler to arrive. He joined them just in time to see the signature red Ram pulling into the station, country music blaring loudly from the speakers. The fans began to shout and cheer and Chris joined them. As the car rolled to a halt, Tyler stepped out and everyone went wild. He flashed a smirk as he hopped down and walked over to greet his fans.Chris felt himself buzzing with excitement and also felt something stirring in his pants. He ignored the feeling and waited for his turn to meet the Tornado Wrangler. When Tyler finally approached him, Chris eagerly shook his hand.
“My name’s Chris, I’m a huge fan. I’ve been watching your videos for years now and I was wondering, what exactly does it take to join your team?” Tyler gave a cocky smile.
“Well I’m glad to hear you've been enjoyin’ my streams.” He said, his accent piercing his voice. “There’s a lot of aspects to the craft that go beyond ridin’ around and seeing what we can do to those beauties of nature. There’s always-” He paused and gave a look that Chris couldn’t quite place. Knowing, almost.
“Say, you seem like a smart guy, adventurous too. You think you’ve got what it takes to be with the Tornado Wrangler?” Chris grinned. “Yes sir!”
“Good. Maybe we do have an opening on our team. If you’re interested of course.” Tyler smirked.
Christ couldn’t believe his ears. “Really?” “Sure!” Tyler clapped him on the back, “We came here for equipment, who’s to say you’re not? Metaphorically of course…”
“Holy shit! Wow! When can I start?” Chris thought about his job and his family back in New York, but this was the chance of a lifetime! “Right away. I presume you’re staying at the motel? Come, let’s go grab your things.” Tyler led the way as they walked back to the motel.
Christ opened the door and quickly began to gather his things. His mind was already racing with how crazy this all was. Tyler just sat calmly at the couch. “So, what exactly will I be doing on the team?” Chris asked as he turned to face Tyler. “Ah well,” Tyler began to take off his cowboy boots and rested his feet up on the coffee table. “I think that I have the perfect job for you.” Chris was about to enquire further when he smelled it. An earthy smell, musky, part B/O, part dirt. But also slightly sweet, masculine, and intoxicating. He couldn’t help but feel drawn to the Wrangler’s sweaty, musky feet. He walked across the room towards Tyler, almost trance-like.
“Like what you see? Or smell, should I say?” Tyler smirked, watching him approach. The smell, Chris craved it now, he needed it. He couldn’t control himself as he bent down and began to sniff. Deep, hypnotic intoxicating whiffs. “That’s it, keep goin’ good boy.”
Chris began to lick, taking in the salty, musky taste in deep licks. He felt his cock begin to stir in his jeans as he continued taking in Tyler’s musky soles.
“You’re doing so well Chris, that’s right, keep going.” He encouraged as Chris inhaled hypnotic whiff after hypnotic whiff. He began to moan as felt himself getting hard, his sensitive tip already leaking pre. Tyler pushed his foot into Chris’s mouth and let the other one rest on his growing bulge.
“Such a good boy, I was hopin’ to get a new pair of boots on this stop, and you’re just perfect.”
Chris’s mind was too hazy to process what Tyler had said, all he could think about was how good his feet smelled, how much he needed them. Nothing else mattered other than Tyler’s sweaty, hot feet. Oblivious to all around him, he barely felt the Wrangler stick his foot deeper into Chris’s mouth. As his over foot began to tease Chris’s leaking cock, Chris tried to let out a moan of pleasure but found himself unable to. It was as if his vocal cords were gone and his body was changing, but he didn’t care, all he cared about was Tyler’s musk. Tyler smiled as he saw Chris’s body begin to change, stiffening, changing composition. Chris himself could do nothing but melt in pure pleasure, his mouth and head began to change, taking more of Tyler’s foot in. While his sight and sound were getting worse, he felt his taste and smell getting better. He could feel Tyler’s foot wriggle around and felt the musk as his head continued to wrap around the hairy, sweaty foot. In the meantime, his cock started to flatten out as he felt his lower half wrap around Tyler’s other foot, his now-leather dick still so sensitive, but never able to cum.
Tyler relaxed back as Chris’s transformation finished, now a pair of nice leather cowboy boots. He yawned and stood up.
“Well thank you partner. Looks like you do have what it takes to go on the road with us after all.” He let himself chuckle as he left the motel.
Chris’s mind (or what was left of it), didn’t mind. It felt so good to worship that smell, to be Tyler Owens’s boots. He didn’t miss his human life, he was right where he belonged. At the feet of the Tornado Wrangler’s musky, sweaty soles.
BOOT MASTER CHAPTER 1: REBOOTED
Sunset was approaching, and the shadows getting longer; dusk crept across the Bay and the Golden Gate.
Inside The Grizzly Cobbler, John finished his last boot repair of the day with a sigh. Folsom was kicking off tomorrow, and a string of horny leather guys had been coming through the door to get boots fixed up all week. Good business... but frustrating when you’re too shy to flirt with them. Even when their eyes showed their interest in the quiet guy behind the counter.
What drew them was the shop’s reputation for high quality repair work. None of them knew that John used magic to help fix their boots... thanks to a naughty Druid screwing a distant ancestor, his family had a knack for it, and he’d developed his magical gifts to help in his work.
He was about to close up and go upstairs to his apartment over the shop, when the doorbell jangled. Turning to the door, his greeting died on his lips.
Nicholas.
The twink who still owed him for that repair to his little spangly pink Doc Martens bootlets. Who kept making excuses about why he couldn’t pay. Now standing in the door with a large bag.
The last guy John wanted to see. And he was tired enough to snap.
“Unless you’re here to pay up, fuck off.”
Nick looked hopeful.
“Got a offer on my debt for you.”
John sighs. “OK. Let’s hear it.”
Nick opens the bag, hauls out a pair of crotch high Wesco Big Boss Engineer boots.
“These belonged to my last Sir. Fix ‘em up and they’re yours-sell them on to pay off what I owe you. OK?”
“Let’s have a look.”
Nick hands the boots over. Good leather, but scuffed & filthy. Crusty with dried spit, sweat & cum. Heels and soles worn down and unstable. Stinking of men, sex and sweat.
The blasted things trigger John’s boot fetish. Thank fuck the counter hides his bulge.
“Need a lot of work. But after I fix ‘em, they’ll bring in enough to cover your debt.”
“Deal?”
“Deal.”
They shake hands. Nicholas leaves the shop... with a nasty little smirk that John doesn’t catch.
As John closes up the shop, the fug from the boots spreads through the place. And the more their stink spreads, the more his bulge grows.
The boner gets too big to ignore. Giving in, John turns his machines back on.
First step, cleanup. Nine tins of saddle soap later, the boots are clean. Inside and out. But their musky man & leather smell lingers... and John’s briefs are wet with precum by the time he’s done.
Next, heels and soles. As John strips off what’s left of both, then starts stitching, grinding, gluing and nailing new ones on, he ignores the nightlife waking up outside.
Finally, conditioner, then polish. Making the boots a beautiful horny, glossy black.
John uses magic throughout the work, assisting and enhancing the work of his hands and tools, renewing as well as repairing. As usual.
But this time, something felt different. The boots felt alive, pulsing, responsive to John’s touch and magic in a way he’d never experienced. And the sensation got stronger the further he went with the repairs.
That sensation gets John excited. And, standing tall, looking powerful, the finished boots make the wet patch on the front of his jeans get bigger.
Muttering “Just want to see how they feel inside. Gotta check they walk right before I put them up for sale...”, John switches off the equipment and carries the boots upstairs to his loft.
Standing in front of the hallway mirror, John pulls the boots on.
“GOTCHA!!!”
And the boots instantly clamp on to John’s feet and legs, irremovably.
“WTF???!!!” WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?! GET OFF ME!!!”
“The name’s Mark. I was Nick’s master... ‘til the little bitch used an old spell book from a thrift store to turn me into these boots!”
“I ordered him to turn me back... he laughed and said the shapeshift is permanent.”
“So we made a deal. He used the book to give me power over whoever puts me on, and now I take down guys who he owes but can’t pay.”
John swallowed. Hard.
“Wha-what are you gonna do to me?”
“Normally I’d just swallow you and teleport back to Nick’s place... but you’ve earned special treatment.”
A web of golden light surges up from the boots, dissolving John's clothes and leaving him naked, wearing the boots and nothing else.
Then, John himself is dissolved into the light... and sucked into the boots.
As he’s absorbed into the very boots he’d repaired with such care, he hears Mark's voice again.
“Nobody’s done anything FOR me since I was turned into these boots, until you used your craft and your magic to repair and renew me. And you went over and above the attention required in doing it. So screw that little twink and his deal. I owe you this.”
“First, you get bigger.”
Wrapped in leathery darkness, John feels himself stretched... as the boots grow from size 10.5D to 20EE and gain several inches in height.
“Next, bring Daddy out to play.”
Golden light surges out of the boots, returning John to human form.
But something is different. This isn’t his body. It’s bigger. Taller. Heavier. Broader. Packed with hard solid muscle-the kind that’s built by tough, gritty manual labour. Not the lumpy & bumpy gym muscles sported by other guys. Tattoos snaking across the skin, under a pelt of black hair. And a scarily large cock hanging between a pair of bull balls.
Staring at the mirror, John feels his jaw drop.
A total stranger is looking back at him.
The 5’8” skinny guy with the soft face and body is gone. A 6’10” muscle daddy, covered in black hair, beard & tattoos, stands in his place... with huge balls and an incredible, thick, 12” cock rubbing against his crotch-high boots.
“Whoa!” What the...”
John’s shocked. Even his voice is different. Deeper. Rougher. Commanding.
“Shit! I don’t even SOUND like me any more!!!”
Mark laughs.
“Next stop, BLUF town.”
Snug, glossy black leather rolls out over John’s body.
Leather jeans rise up from inside his boots, wrapping his cock and balls in a padded codpiece as they go.
A leather shirt and tie covers his torso and arms.
A waistcoat snaps itself round his chest.
A leather biker jacket envelops his upper body, then zips and straps itself closed.
Long gauntlets sheathe his hands, wrists and forearms.
Muir cap and aviator sunglasses crown the outfit.
Like, WOW.
Then... “Time to get rid of the fucking imposter. This is Daddy’s show now!”
“AAARRRGGGHHH...!!!”
John roars in shock, staggering as the light surges into his head, dissolving what remains of the shy, introverted cobbler and pouring it down into his balls... while the space left behind in his head is filled by his new self.
His soft brown eyes turn a deep powerful green as John becomes Master Jonathan. Memories of nights in backrooms and dungeons flood in from nowhere. Flogging subs on a St. Andrew’s cross. Boys in bondage. His boots being worshipped. Fucking a twink’s tight hole in the sling. Stretching boys’ throats with his man meat. And all the dominance, knowledge and experience that makes him one of the most sought after Sirs in town.
The icing on the cake is his magic, which strengthens and broadens, expanding him from a magical mender to a full-on sorcerer, capable of endless magical fun and mischief.
His whole life, rewritten in a few moments.
“DONE. This is who you are now. Get used to it.”
Mark locks the transformation down, preventing any further changes. Master Jonathan is here to stay. Like it or not.
Shaking, shocked-and excited-Jonathan checks himself over with new eyes.
Tall boots. Gauntlets. Leather. Height. Muscle. The manliness, confidence and dominance he’s dreamt of for years. Cock, balls & magic to match.
Multiple fantasies manifested at one go.
The sheer fucking RUSH it gives him is too much to hold in.
Desperately pulling his pants open, Jonathan releases his cock and starts stroking, groaning at how sensitive his huge schlong is now... and the feel of his leather gloves on his shaft.
“HHHNNNGGGHHH!!!”
“HHHRRRGGGHHH...!!!”
As he strokes, all that’s left of John is churned into hot man-cream inside his balls.
“RRROOOWWWHHHRRR!!!”
With a roar, his cock releases rope after rope of hot cum, splashing the last bits of John all over the mirror.
As John is kicked out forever, becoming nothing more than mess and memory, Master Jonathan settles confidently into place. And takes command.
He wipes his cock clean and tucks it back inside his leathers.
“Many thanks, Mark. Now, we need to do something about Nick. First, I’m pissed at him for trying to do this to me and I wanna kick him in the teeth for it; second, he won’t be happy with what you’ve done, and I won’t have him mess us about any further. So... how about we get our own back on the little cunt and put a stop to his shit, in one go? Pre-emptive strike sorta thing?”
A nasty laugh answers him.
“Sounds fucking perfect. He’ll be at the pre-Folsom party now. What’re you thinking of doin’ to him?”
“First, we need that old spellbook. I’ve got magic gifts myself... wanna see if we can find something in it to use on him, and make sure he can’t use more magic against us. And check if he told you the truth about your shapeshift not being reversible.”
“WHOA! You think there might be a way out for me?!”
“Might be... but until I see the spell he used, I can’t be certain. So no promises, OK? Nick seems a bit dodgy, so there’s cause for doubt, at least. I wouldn’t put it past him to have lied about it to get your cooperation.”
“OK. I felt you using your magic when you worked on me... which is why I included it in your upgrade. So I know you CAN do magic. And even if he was being honest with me, I’d still go along with your plan for the chance to get revenge on that bastard. POETIC. FUCKING. JUSTICE. Let’s do this!"
Reality warps round Jonathan as Mark teleports him, hurling him through extra-dimensional spacetime into Nick’s house a few blocks away. Right into Nick’s bedroom.
“Book is in the safe under the bed. Combination as follows...”
Following Mark’s directions, Jonathan opens the safe, takes out the spellbook, then closes and locks the safe.
“Let’s get back to my place.”
Reality twists again as Mark ‘ports them back to his apartment.
Over a strong coffee, Jonathan flips through the spellbook.
“Here. A spell that drains his free will and his magic away, makes him obedient. Should do exactly what we want. Put that little prick right where he belongs and stop him messing with us!”
Jonathan takes a heavy silver neck chain from his desk drawer, enchants it with the spell from the book and slips it into a black silk pouch.
“Why the silk? Seems a bit fancy.”
“Insulates the spell. Silk blocks all magic and psychic shit.”
“Didn’t know that. You're really clued in on this stuff."
“Yeah. Family thing, y’know.”
“Right. Pre-Folsom party’ll be winding up shortly... I’ll ‘port us back to Nick’s and we’ll ambush the little fucker.“
Jonathan pockets the chain... and reality twists again as Mark throws him back into Nick’s bedroom, where he takes up position behind the door and waits.
Half an hour passes... then the front door opens and footsteps are heard climbing the stairs. As Nick enters the bedroom, Master Jonathan steps out behind him, pulls the chain out of its covering and locks it round his neck.
“What the fu-AAARRRGGGHHH!!!”
As silver light blasts out of the chain into Nick’s head, he falls onto the floor, writhing.
“STOP!!! NO NO NO NO NO No nnnooo... pleaseeee...!”
Nick whines as the spell sucks his magic and his free will out of him, then makes him totally obedient to the man who put the chain round his neck.
The chain sinks into Nick’s skin, turning into a tattoo of itself and sealing its control over him.
Jonathan smirks down at him.
“You’re mine now, boy. Strip.”
To his horror, Nicky finds he can’t dispute the statement, nor can he disobey the order. The chain won’t let him. Whimpering, he removes his clothes, shoes and jewellery.
“There’s a nice soundproof dungeon in the basement...” Mark murmurs in the back of Jonathan’s mind.
“Good idea.”
Nicky trembles as Jonathan forces him down the stairs.
The dungeon is well equipped... a St. Andrew’s cross, sling, whips, restraints, straitjackets... and a waist-high metal cell box with a grille in its door.
“Sweet.”
“It should be. My work. Place used to be mine. Bitch took over the whole fucking house after he transformed me.”
“Figures. Twink like that couldn’t build a playroom like this.”
Jonathan starts by putting Nicky in a heavy steel collar. Steel wrist and ankle restraints, ball mitts, harness and chains follow. He empowers the restraints, and their magic turns Nicky into a horny bondage bottom.
Then, just as Nicky starts to chub up from being restrained, Jonathan adds a full Carrara chastity belt with a fitted dildo.
“OOOUUUGGGHHH...”
Nicky’s eyes roll back in his head as the dildo fills his ass and the belt stops him from cumming. His new master smirks at the look of horny frustration on his boy’s face.
“Let’s reinforce your chastity a bit.”
Master Jonathan empowers the Carrara, and its magic now prevents Nicky from cumming when soft as well... but it also enhances Nicky’s libido, horniness and sensitivity. Driving him mad with lust and simultaneously denying him any outlet for it.
Master Jonathan smirks. Sometimes you don’t need to use a whip to punish somebody.
“Finishing touches...”
Master Jonathan adds a gag and a muzzle to Nicky’s face, silencing him; attaches a chain to his collar and locks everything down.
Mark yells aloud in joy. “YES!!! You’re right where you belong, bitch. At. Fucking. Last.”
Nicky’s eyes go wide. He recognises Mark’s voice. He sees the boots... and realises who the leather daddy towering over him must be.
Voice silenced, Nicky’s eyes plead for mercy. But Master Jonathan isn’t interested. Nor are his boots.
“Welcome to your new life, boy. On your knees. NOW.”
Unable to disobey, Nicky kneels before Jonathan’s boots, forced to submit to both his old master and his new one.
Master Jonathan smirks.
“Your Folsom's all about humiliation and denial this year, boy. You're gonna hate it-but it’ll teach you your place.”
Master Jonathan opens the cell door.
“In. Now.”
A boot up Nicky's ass reinforces the order and he scrambles inside on all fours, as fast as his chains permit.
Jonathan closes and locks the cell, then leaves the dungeon, turning off the lights and locking the door behind him without another word. Leaving his slave caged in darkness and silence.
Jonathan walks into the lounge, pours himself a brandy, sits down and lights up a cigar.
“GOT the bitch. Thanks, Mark.”
“My pleasure. He deserves this-and so do you.”
Jonathan reads through the spellbook and finds the spell that turned Mark into his boots.
“Bad news. The spell reshaped your soul to fit the boots at the same time that it changed your body. There’s no trace of your old self left to go back to. So yeah, the shapeshift is permanent.”
“SHIT!!! The one time I really WANTED the bitch to be lying, he wasn’t. Bastard.”
“Yeah.”
“So what now-am I stuck this way, then?”
“Unless you want to find another body to take over, yeah.”
“What, possession?"
“Nah. Bodysnatching. You take over their body, absorb their soul and memories, then live AS them. And you can’t go back. That’s REALLY a one way street.”
“No way. Stealing someone else’s life like that doesn’t sit right with me. Makes me worse than that bitch. Even with you, I didn’t go that far-all I did was change you.”
“I understand. That means not even my old family lore could help you. Magic’s got its own set of rules, and there’s no way round them. Sorry.”
“Then it’s consolation prize time. You’re rebooted for life-cos I ain’t gonna let a nice pervy dom daddy like you get away from me. Get used to having me on you, and living as the master I’ve turned you into.”
“Hmmmm. A hot, sexy, kinky life in leather & tall boots? Sounds good enough for me. Let’s have some fun together, huh?”
“Sure. Starting tomorrow.”
Next day, in full leather & boots, Master Jonathan parades his boy Nicky through Folsom in nothing but restraints and chastity. Humiliating Nicky before his friends. Mocking and tormenting him with dirty, arousing talk while keeping him unable to cum. Denying him all sexual release.
Mark enjoys Nicky’s frustrated squirms and whimpers nearly as much as Jonathan.
As the festival ends, Master Jonathan celebrates by marking his slave.
Two tattoos.
On Nicky’s back: “SLAVE.”
On Nicky’s ass: “PROPERTY OF MASTER JONATHAN.”
Master Jonathan empowers the tattoos... and as the ink settles in, Nicky changes inside. From person to property. From boy to object.
That night, Jonathan takes Nicky back to the dungeon, locks him in the sling and breeds his hole. Hard. Then plugs him and puts him back in the cell.
The morning after the fair, Jonathan hauls Nicky out of the cell at 7 A.M. and strips off all his restraints.
“Into the shower, boy. Scrub yourself clean.”
Nicky does as ordered. Once he’s clean enough to satisfy his Master, he is dressed in jeans, work boots, and a shirt bearing the logo of The Grizzly Cobbler.
“Forget your old life, boy. From today onwards, you’re my apprentice. And you follow my orders in the shop just like you do here at home."
“Yes, Sir.”
Jonathan is also dressed in jeans and shop logo shirt, but his boots are unchanged. Mark’s not letting go. Jonathan’ll spend the rest of his life in those crotch high Wesco Big Boss Engineers. The one thing he has no choice about.
Weeks pass, then months. All three guys settle into their new roles.
Nicky spends his days servicing men’s boots in the shop. At home, he’s Master Jonathan’s slave & sex toy; Mark’s footstool; and a general domestic houseboy. His world shrinks to shop, dungeon, housework and kitchen, with no way out. He’s screwed. Tough shit. Omega.
Mark’s pissed about being stuck as Jonathan’s boots... but accepts that there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Having the bitch who did this to him under his own heels takes the sting out of his situation, though... and he’s got a Master who takes him along and involves him in all the fun. And he supports, keeps and maintains that Master all the way. Beta.
Master Jonathan settles into his new life. Sealed in his boots. Where he belongs. Powerful. Dominant. In command. Alpha.
Mark and Jonathan make a good team. United in their horny desire to use, abuse and mindfuck sexy guys wherever they find ‘em. And they can always put the boy on bootlicking duty for Mark, then throw him in the sling for Jonathan, when they don’t find a guy for the night.
A few months later, Master Jonathan greets the new year with cigar and brandy.
“Guess this is our happily-ever-after, huh Mark?”
“Yeah.”
“So what shall we get up to next?”
With a dirty laugh, they turn their minds to the future.
No man is safe any more.
Boots and All
Eddie knew he shouldn’t have been so careless with his favorite pair of boots. He’d just shrugged them off like any day, unfortunate considering they’d been lost in the chaos of cleaning out his closet, probably having fallen or absent mindedly placed in one of the many boxes he’d brought to the local second hand store.
Now his own face stared back at him, the same complex mixture of expressions battling there like it probably did on his own. Surprise all the same, although his copy’s was tainted by something like shame or bashfulness, face grimacing in being caught in the act. Further complicated by the eyes shooting cautious glances up and down Eddie, drinking him in.
The shamelessness in the guy was quickly fading though. Eddie wasn’t really a shameful type.
Likely the guy was just some poor young man who’d tried on his old pair of boots and had his young DNA completely overwritten by Eddie’s complete load stored in that worn leather. It was a trend with anyone with too much contact with him, although no one had such a dosage. Mostly people just came away with a slight rugged charm or a strange new proclivity towards manual labor.
“Hey Handsome” his clone finally decided on, rougish and confident. The guy seemed to wallow in Eddie-ness and unfortunately for the original, was already ahead in merely his stance. It made his mind go places. “Didn’t expect to find Eddie 1.0 so soon, although I can’t say your memories are very up to date”, the other guy said, taking a step back to get a better view. Eddie would feel almost like he was being dissected by the guy’s view, but he’d done the same hungry analysis of his body in the mirror hundreds of times.
This was better than the mirror. 3D, showing off every curve and tight twist of clothing around hard fought muscle. A replication of his work clothes hung off the other guy, torn to shreds and likely very easy to tear away. They’d be able to make short work of it.
“I’d imagine I could be convinced to give you an update” Eddie thought of just how that would work, but if his sweat had done this transformation, he’s sure just a little more would perfect the job.
He wondered how deep they could make this replication. The guy already stood like him, crossed his arms like him. The voice and tone perfect, complete with the way he readjusted his dick unsubtly.
“I know you Eddie, got it all downloaded by your boots. Our boots now I guess. Can’t say you’ll need much convincing. We’ve dreamed of something like this for ages.” the other guy spoke, referencing years of past loves where they never seemed to get him, back before Eddie had been overpoweringly himself. Years of work on himself had wrought this oddity he guessed.
Eddie wondered who this other guy used to be. Probably less than an hour ago he’d been a completely different person. Had maybe strolled in the shop for cheap boots only to be reconfigured completely. It was an existentially troubling idea, but Eddie was never the moral type. Just curious.
“Because I can practically read your mind Eddie, you are an upgrade. Trust me, I was far from a catch” He said, closing the space. Shoving his hand into Eddie’s shorts in a way that would certainly not fly as public subtlety, as far as their probably guise as being impossibly similar identical twins would cut it. Calloused hands scratched his stomach before reach down into his pocket and thieving his car keys. “Went by Robbie, was something like a stoner college drop out. Not much else to say besides that, went into this shop to try at a construction job.”
“Do you want me to call you Rob then?” Eddie offered, mind trying to control his erection as the other guy jokingly knocked his tent, threatening Eddie’s control over not cumming so quick into a narcisistic fantasy.
“Fuck no, couldn’t stand being the guy. Hated every second of that life.” They stalked over to his (their?) truck, dodging onlookers in the parking lot as best as 2 horny 61/2 foot men could. Eddie’s soundness sneakers behind his clone’s heavy gait. His clone pulled himself into the driver’s seat, already pulling on Eddie’s sunglasses and revving the engine as if to enunciate further how easily he fit into his role.
Eddie agreed with the guy. His life was certainly better. Their life was going to be so much better.
Eddie leaned on the glove box as his duplicate effortlessly sped their boxy heavy duty truck out. Just to lightly touch his elbow to his clone’s. Watch the way the guy’s eyes twitched as whatever sweat he’d left on the stearing wheel from todays humid day poured Eddie’s white hot memories on whatever sad pile of Robbie remained. The other him appeared to glow with energy at every moment, accelerating and obviously glancing back at his original as he sped. Searching Eddie, hungry for something like approval.
Eddie would make sure the guy got a full dosage of his own enthusiasm when their truck rattled into their drive way. Eddie mind was already racing with the possibilities and if his DNA was working like it seemed to be, he was sure the other guy shared them all.
The future was going to be nebulous, but there were some certainties. Eddie would fuck the rest of the clearly unwanted alien bits of another man out of that extension of himself. They’d fall asleep after a day or so of that, just to make sure the job was good and done. They’d wake up and the clone would go to work, only so the next night they could see how much they could meld their memories together given the guy would now share his infectious DNA. Probably a lot more fucking after that. Maybe spend the weekend not completely lost to themselves, try out everything he loved as a pair. His life becoming domestic.
The uncertain bits were there, not yet decided but almost certain. Eddie had gone to trade school but he fancied himself a scientist. Experiments needed to be replicable, observations re-observed. Eddie seemed to be very replicable now himself and with now 2 Eddie’ worth of curiosity, he was sure they’d buckle to the temptation eventually.
Thrift stores could always use a quality pair of reliable boots and the world could certainly use a couple more quality men.
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Inspired by the older man clone tf stories by @dante2045 highly recommend those if you haven’t read them.
Farmfeets
Posting Daily at Link in Bio, including requests! <3
A Quick Dip
When he first offered me the collar I was floored, it meant the world to me to feel that *Click* as the heavy lock and chain were put in place permanently. I was in heaven, and when he leaned down and growled into my ear "You're mine now, and forever", I melted.
My Owner was never without a few things; his favorite hat, his oldest pair of boots, wore the same jockstrap every workday and a can of Copenhagen Dip. When we first met, I had only enjoyed my pipes and cigars before, had dipped occasionally but didn't get that into it. That changed with him. Everyday he made sure I had this special mix of dip he got me, demanding that I constantly have my lip packed and would do a large number of check-ins throughout the day. After a month, it became second nature to me.
And then the cage came. He started out with a small flat cage that would press my dick up against my body, he'd have me wear it for hours at a time the first week, then whole days the 2nd and so on. At the end of the first month, my cock cage was a permanent fixture on me.
If you could see me just a few months ago compared to now, you couldn't even tell I was the same person. He forced me to bulk up and somehow made me grow a beard, something I was never able to do before meeting him. All of these changes scared me at first but he would pull me into his embrace and whisper into my ear again and I would melt and be His even deeper.
And here we are on the anniversary of my collaring. After the first few months, the changes slowed down and settled on what I look like today, a near exact copy of him. He had a surprise for me, I spent the whole day in anticipation and when I got home I was beyond joy. There he stood in his hat, boots and jockstrap. I ran up and we began to make out but I noticed he didn't have any dip in his lip and he just shushed me saying "Don't worry, I'll have a new can soon, and this one will be special and never run out."
After he said those words I felt dizzy and cold, when I looked up at him I saw that I was falling, while the world seemed to be getting bigger and bigger before I blacked out.
I awoke on the floor to seeing my Owner naked, my clothes and collar in a pile on the floor where I fell. I couldn't move, could only look forward at Him, smiling before he told me the truth. He has 4 boys. His oldest were his boots, followed by his jockstrap, hat and then me, his newest. He said that it's been so long that he'd forgotten their names, but that he treasures each of us, especially me, his new Dip can that he's made it to always be full of dip for him and proud to be His, forever.