BOOT MASTER CHAPTER 8: NEW BLOOD
Cigar smoke wafted over the balcony, mixed with the aroma of old brandy, as three leatherclad bikers sat back and talked. As Peter finished speaking, Angus was thoughtful. “Yeah... I agree with you. I've seen and heard some of the guys getting frustrated about it – just hadn’t realised it was that widespread. We do need to bring some fresh meat home to play with, in that case. But we’ve gotta do it carefully. This isn’t like it used to be – being magical mischievous piskies and living here instead of on Earth adds a whole new dimension to things.”
Jonathan quipped “Yeah – literally as well as figuratively!” All 3 guys laughed. Jonathan continued “We've gotta be slow and careful with new prospects to prevent them freaking out. In that you’re quite right. So induction of new prospects has to be carefully managed and controlled.”
Mark spoke up and suggested “Maybe do a recruitment drive for new prospects? Start with guys who one or more brothers have already had fun with – and even better, have transformed – and throw in a slave hunt for good measure? Most of the brothers will be far happier if they get a bitch of their own. And where a chained slave is concerned, you don’t have to be too gentle. Once the slave chain is on, problem solved.”
Peter added “Just be careful – when we change or take somebody, a reality rewrite has to be mandatory. The kind of attention that can grow when people disappear or modify is NOT something we want to trigger. This has to stay firmly under the radar, for all our sakes.”
Angus agreed. “Good ideas, guys. Let’s make plans, see who wants to go out recruiting, who wants to go hunting, and equip them with any necessary magical devices, potions etc. to fulfil their plans.” With dirty chuckles, all three Masters got down to business.
Since being turned into piskies, mastering their powers and taking up residence at the mansion, certain realignments had taken place among the 100 members of the gay bikers club. Angus remained the club’s chairman – but Jonathan & Peter had shifted roles, forsaking their place as hosts, handing the place over to the club and becoming Angus’ lieutenants and arcane/technical specialists... with Mark chipping in with useful ideas and life advice, as – despite no longer being in human form – he was older than anyone else in the club and had more life experience. This also meant that everyone else brought their problems to them – which had triggered the discussion just ended, as many guys were getting itchy feet.
After a tumultuous experience when the Great Earthquake had left the mansion as their only home, everyone had settled down. Some members often flew over the rainbow bridge for nights out, fun and fornication; others did it for mischief. But the shortage of fresh meat at home was becoming an issue.
All 3 guys headed for the drawing room and summoned the others to join them. Calling for order, Angus spoke to everyone. “Guys – we’ve just had a chat. We all think it’s time to bring some fresh beef home for fun. So... who wants to go recruiting for new prospects; who wants to go hunting for a personal slave & sex toy; and what magical devices and potions do you need and want to help with the process?”
Peter suggested “For new prospects, best to focus on guys you know. Even better if you’ve already transformed them. They’ll be more receptive than total newbies.”
Jonathan added “Also, I recommend those who want to go slave hunting come and see me first for a slave chain. More certain and less fuss, doing it that way.”
Peter advised everyone “Whether you’re bringing in new prospects or slaves, bring them to the clubhouse – not here to the mansion. We need to go slow and easy, so we get them comfortable there first, THEN bring them here en masse.”
Angus added a final word of caution. “Whatever you do, a full reality rewrite to make sure nobody Out There remembers the people you catch, recruit, transform etc. as they were beforehand is mandatory. Otherwise we will end up triggering scores of missing person cases with the cops, which is a level of official attention we simply cannot have. All of you who go out slave hunting, make sure your targets disappear from the life & memories of those who know them after you bring them here... along with all official records of their existence. When we accept and initiate a prospect, rewrite their life so the clubhouse becomes their official address.”
Smirks and dirty laughter spread throughout the room as everyone started getting ideas... the smut and horniness was palpable. Bill looked at Dan. “Does your friend Charlie still dream about being a rubber drone?” Dan responded with an evil grin. “Yeah – definitely. And the longer he gets to spend in black latex, the happier he is. Guy’d be on cloud nine if someone sealed him up for ever!” Jonathan laughed. “I’ve got just the thing for that... if you catch him, I’ll help you do the necessary.” Bill smirked. “Sounds good to me...”
Dirty laughs spread as others became enamoured of the prospect. And it wasn’t just the thought of going hunting for slaves that was running around in people’s heads. Jonathan murmured to Peter “How about we try recruiting Jason & Timothy as brothers? Micky’s already Timothy’s bitch, so he’ll come along for the ride anyway...” Peter grinned. “Nice idea – and maybe find a bitch for Jason as well!”
Russell remarked “I’m thinking of doing the same with Michael.” Stuart & Anthony had similar ideas for Thomas & Evan. As smirks spread across the room, Angus & Alan were thoughtful too... Ian and Marcus on their minds. Diego was thinking about Carlos, a young gay Spanish twink who’d been Wilhelm the neo-nazi queerbasher until he’d exacted a revenge race change and twinkification on him. Others were giving serious consideration to guys they had crushes on.
Peter smirked at Jonathan and Angus. “Looks like our idea is catching on.” Angus laughed. “No surprise there, brother. Becoming piskies didn’t alter our tastes for man meat!” Jonathan quietly mused. “Think I’d better expand the dungeon before we start... with a batch of sex slaves and boy toys arriving, we’re going to need the extra space.” Angus nodded “Aye, we will indeed. Good thinking.” Peter interrupted “I’ll see to that... you need to get busy making slave chains!” Jonathan grinned. “Thanks, brother.”
As brothers gathered round Jonathan, getting their names on the list for chains and discussing what potions, spells and artifacts they wanted to use once their slaves were caught, chained and brought to the mansion, Peter headed to the dungeon, where he used his faery powers to enlarge the space, add extra equipment and upgrade some of the stuff already there. On the way back upstairs, he ran into Jonathan in the vestibule. Hands full of lists and notes. “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you there, brother. Need a hand?” Jonathan gave him a grateful look. “I’d welcome the help, thanks, brother. Got scores of slave chains to make up – if you can help with that, I can get started on the more difficult stuff for the afterparty. Some of the gadgets requested are gonna need a good bit of work and time to create.”
Both guys headed into the lab, where Peter started creating and enspelling slave chains while Jonathan got busy on potions and magical devices. The most difficult and convoluted of which resulted in a black rubber ball about 1 centimetre in diameter, accompanied by a vial of thick black liquid... but many other devices & potions were also brought into being. Jonathan stored the afterparty specials in the safe, then joined Peter in making the last batch of slave chains.
A tap on the lab door, and Peter opened it to admit Angus. “Come in, chief. We’ve just finished up – but both of us are knackered. Jonathan more so than me. Think we’ll need a good night’s rest before we start anything.” Looking at their faces, Angus agreed. “Yeah – I can see that. The others are all busy with viewing spells, identifying & tracking targets and plotting their hunting strategies, so a waiting period will work for everyone. Get yourselves upstairs and let’s have your bitches see to dinner. After that, an early night. We need to be well rested before starting our collective shenanigans.”
All 3 guys made their way upstairs to the drawing room. Peter got Baz & Nicky busy on dinner, with a few drones assisting, while he & Jonathan relaxed and Angus passed word of the planned delay round the other members. Food, drink, smokes, bed and a good long night’s sleep followed.
The next morning, everyone gathered on the courtyard in front of the mansion. Jonathan & Peter passed slave chains round to all who wanted them. Angus called everyone to order “Right. Has everyone finished laying plans?” Upon receiving affirmative responses from all, he grinned and declared “Then, at your leisure, get started on your pleasure!” Bikes were kicked into life and everyone soared out over the rainbow bridge.
Most of the guys’ plans were straightforward and uncomplicated... they wanted a slave, bitch & sex toy to serve them and be used and abused by them. Targets had been chosen and the hunt was on. This was the reason so many slave chains had been needed.
However, a few guys had other plans.
Russell walked in to the leather bar now frequented by his ex, Michael... a former twink who he’d turned into a leather daddy on their last encounter. Entering the bar, he grinned as Michael’s head snapped round in shock. “Hey... I want a word with you, man!” Russell smirked and joined him.
“I guess you’ve got some questions for me, huh?” Russell asked. Michael’s eyes narrowed. “THAT is the understatement of the century, man! You picked me up, fucked me so hard I couldn’t walk straight for 3 days, buggered off before I woke up... then over the next week I turned into THIS! Not that I mind the change – it’s a LOT more fun being a leather daddy than it was being a twink – but it’s impossible! I wake up every morning thinking it was all a dream... then I check the mirror and realise it wasn’t and isn’t.”
He continued “The REALLY freaky thing is that nobody else remembers my old twink self either – even my own memories have been substituted, with the daddy ones taking precedence and my original twink memories fading into the background – and all my records, photos and family have been adjusted to the older daddy I’ve become! Even the date on my birth certificate has changed! My old life is turning into a dream, and my dream life into reality!”
Russell laughed. “Well, it’s no dream – and yes, I did do this to you. Shot a transformation spell into you when I fucked you, and added a progressive reality rewrite spell... which is why nobody remembers your old twink self, and your old life has vanished from record. Simple as that!” Michael’s jaw dropped. “You call that SIMPLE?! Totally rewriting somebody’s life like that?!” Russell smirked. “It IS simple – when you know how to do it.”
Michael was aghast. “Just what the fuck ARE you? And why did you do this to me?!” Russell grinned. “Last question first... you didn’t recognise me, did you?” Michael shook his head. “Let me give you a clue...” and Russell murmured in his ear, repeating a personal anecdote from their time together that nobody else knew. Michael did a double take. “RUSSELL???!!! HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT!!! REALLY???!!!” Russell smirked. “Yes – really. I’ve undergone some changes, gained some arcane gifts, and decided to have some fun with you. Gotta say, you’re much sexier as a butch leather daddy than you ever were as a twinky little drama queen!”
Michael sat back, mouth agape. “OK – now I REALLY need a drink.” Russell grinned “What’s your poison? This round’s on me – least I can do.”
The two guys sat down and talked, enjoying drinks and smokes as Russell told Michael about the club. Omitting all mention of mansion or piskies – which were best left for later. Michael was quiet and thoughtful as he digested what Russell had told him. “Wow. That’s something else, man. Sounds like a helluva lot of fun, you know?” Russell laughed. “Believe me, it IS!”
Michael added “The only thing is that I haven’t got any magical abilities – none that I know of, at least. Can you teach me? Or am I just out in the cold, period?” Russell grinned “The magical gifts are conferred upon initiation, and training will follow automatically – so no worries there. Are you interested in being a prospect, then?” Michael nodded. “Yes. Definitely. Sounds like it could be a lot of fun – and having real magic is gonna be cool and quirky.”
Russell grinned. “OK. Then I‘ll sponsor you as a prospect. The rest of the club will want to meet you, and your entry to full membership will be a joint decision. The one criterion you have to meet – and this is mandatory, no exceptions – is that you have to be a gay or bi biker. You’re gay already – and the leather kink is a definite bonus – but I need to turn you into a biker as well, if you want to go through with this. Are you SURE about it?” Michael nodded. “Yeah, I am. Go right ahead!”
Russell grinned “OK. Here you go!” and snapped his fingers. Instantly, Michael’s gear changed from kinky leather daddy to biker – armoured skin, lid, boots & gauntlets. His mentality and skillset were modified to place him within the biker mindset and make him a skilled and experienced rider. Russell chuckled. “Your garage won’t be as tight a fit now – I just replaced your truck with a nice big Harley-Davidson. And rewrote reality so everyone remembers you as a biker.” Michael laughed “You did more than that – you just made a childhood dream come true for me too. Thanks!”
Shortly afterwards, both guys left the bar, swung on to their bikes, and headed back to Michael’s apartment for a night of hot biker sex. The next day, after cleaning the cum stains off their leather, both bikers hit the road, heading towards the Columbia Mountains.
Stopping in Sacramento overnight, Michael’s face soured as they sat at a bar. “What’s up?” Russell asked. “Edward – the little prick at the bar.” Michael answered. “Got some bad history with him.” Russell nodded. “Not surprised. He’s got a bad reputation – manipulative, nasty little bitch with a penchant for outright nastiness. A few of my brothers have had run–ins with him in the past – which is how I know about him.”
Michael was silent, his face a mask of quiet, simmering fury. Seeing this, Russell smirked and asked, very quietly... “If you could forcibly make him your slave – in such a way that he would be UNABLE to disobey you – would you do it?”
Michael’s eyebrows rose. And he asked, in a whisper, “Can you actually DO that to him?! PLEASE tell me you’re not just messing with me...” Russell grinned. “Yes, I can. And no, I’m not messing. You wanna do this?” Michael’s response was definite and affirmative. “Yes. Definitely YES. I WANT THAT BASTARD UNDER MY FUCKING BOOTS, WHERE HE BELONGS!!!” Russell grinned. “So be it.” Taking a black silk pouch out of his pocket, he handed it over to Michael. “This is a slave chain. Put it round his neck, directly on his skin, with your own hands... once you fasten it, the spell will activate, dissolve his free will and make him obedient to you. I’ll make sure nobody notices anything.”
As both bikers walked over to Edward, Russell cast spells of misdirection and paralysis on him, then smirked at Michael. “OK – he can’t move a muscle, and nobody’s going to notice any of us. Do it.” With an expression of disbelieving excitement, Michael pulled the chain out of its pouch, wrapped it round Edward’s neck, and clicked it shut. As silver light flooded out of the chain into Edward’s head, Russell dropped his paralysis spell.
“EEEAAAGGGHHH!!! TAKE THIS FUCKING THING OFF ME, YOU BASTARD!!!” Edward shrieked as he fell face forward on to the bar, writhing and desperately trying to move his hands to pull at the chain. To no avail, as the chain dissolved his free will and replaced it with total obedience to the man who’d just put it on him. Michael smirked as the chain sank into Edward’s skin and turned into a tattoo, sealing his submission and his fate.
Russell grinned at Michael. “Done – he’s yours now. Order him about as you please.” With a hard voice, Master Michael snapped at Eddie “Sit up and shut up, boy. In a moment, My friend here will drop his spell that stops everyone else noticing what we’ve done here. When he does that, you will engage in a pick up with us. You will give no sign and divulge no information to anyone, explicit or implicit, that could indicate your enslavement. Once we’re ready, all 3 of us leave together.” Eddie – shocked and horrified to find the chain wouldn’t let him disobey his Master – bent his head “Yes Sir.”
Russell dropped his misdirection spell, and the pick-up began. Nobody in the bar thought anything of it as the two bikers took Eddie out to their hogs, fitted him on to Michael’s pillion, and took off for their motel. In their room, Master Michael smirked at His boy. Then gave Russell a dirty look. “Fancy spit-roasting My bitch? Think you’ve earned the right to use & abuse him... join Me!” Russell returned the look. “With pleasure, man. Let’s do this!” Spreading Eddie across the bed, Michael started on his ass and Russell on his mouth.
“UUUNNNGGGHHH!!! AAAGGGHHH!!! HHHAAARRRHHH!!!” Eddie spluttered, choked, coughed, groaned and moaned as both doms shot their loads into him, then swapped ends to repeat the process. By the time they’d finished, the bitch was stuffed, stretched and sore – and had shot his own load on both Masters’ boots. After forcing him to lick his and Russell’s boots clean, Michael placed Eddie in restraints and locked him into a sleeping bag for the night while he & Russell climbed into bed together. The following morning, Eddie was back riding pillion behind his Master as Russell led the way to the clubhouse.
Diego rolled into San Francisco, activated his Grindr, and hit up Carlos. “Oye, chico. ¿Te apetece una revancha con el papi que te sacó la hombría a golpes?” (Hey, kid. Fancy a rematch with the daddy who fucked your manhood out of you?)
On the other end of the connection, Carlos’ jaw dropped. “¡Dios mío! ¡Tú! Quiero respuestas de ti, hombre. ¡Lo que sea que me hayas hecho, no fue natural!” (My God! YOU! I want some answers from you, man. Whatever you did to me, it wasn’t natural!)
Diego smirked. The twink was in for far more than just answers. Though he didn’t know it yet.
Bringing his bike to a stop outside Carlos’ apartment building, Diego kicked the stand down and swung out of the saddle. Then hit the bell for Carlos’ pad and took the elevator upstairs. The young twink greeted him at the door. “Oye, hombre. Pasa.” (Hey, man. Come in.)
As Carlos led the way inside, Diego took a black silk pouch out of his pocket, removed the slave chain from it, and clasped it shut round Carlos’ neck. With a shriek, the twink fell to the floor, crying out as silver light flooded out of the chain and into his head. A few moments later, the chain now transformed into a tattoo, Carlos obediently kissed his Master’s boots and knelt on the floor before Him.
Diego smirked. “Ahora vas a obtener tus respuestas. Supongo que no me reconociste la última vez, ¿verdad?” (NOW you’re gonna get your answers. I guess you didn’t recognise me the last time – correct?)
Carlos shook his head, confused. Diego smirked. “¡Deberías! ¡Me atacaste por ser gay durante toda mi juventud!” (You should – you queerbashed me all through my youth!).
Carlos stared in confusion... then paled. “D-DIEGO???!!!” “¡¡¡Oh, mierda!!!” (Oh SHIT!!!).
White and trembling, Carlos stared at his Master’s smirking face. Then listened, in growing terror, as Diego told him about the club and His power. Carlos swallowed. “Ahora estoy en un buen lío, señor. ¿Verdad?” (I'm in the shit now, Sir. Aren't I?).
Diego gave a satisfied nod. “Sí, muchacho. Pero no será tan malo como temes. Mi sed de venganza quedó satisfecha la noche que te eché a patadas, a ese neonazi homófobo. Despojarte de la masculinidad y la dureza que tanto apreciabas y convertirte en el tipo de chico gay que despreciabas fue suficiente venganza. Estoy satisfecho con eso y no voy a ir a darte una paliza para desahogar mi ira, etc.” (You are indeed, boy. But it won't be as bad as you fear. My thirst for revenge was satisfied the night I fucked your old queerbashing neo-nazi self out of existence. Stripping you of the butch manliness and toughness you treasured and turning you into the kind of gay boy you looked down on and despised was vengeance enough. I’m satisfied on that score, and won’t go beating the shit out of you to vent anger etc.)
Carlos sagged in relief. Diego smirked as he continued “De ahora en adelante, eres mi esclavo y mi juguete sexual. Prepárate para ser montado duro, largo y a menudo. Así...” (From now on, you’re My slave and My sex toy. Expect to be ridden hard, long, and often. Like this...)
Diego made Carlos lie over the side of the bed and fucked him, long, hard and repeatedly. Afterwards, Diego tied Carlos up to his bedpost before getting a good night’s sleep. The following morning, Carlos was riding pillion behind Diego on their way to the clubhouse. Reduced even further, from twink to slave & sex toy. Just as Diego wanted.
Stuart & Anthony rode into Sacramento, looking for Thomas and Evan, who they knew were planning a ride through the city. “There they are!” Anthony spoke in the back of Stuart’s mind, as their targets roared past. “Yeah... and they ride those Harleys like they’re part of them. We did well. Cool!” Stuart replied the same way, grinning, as they swung on to their machines and gave chase. It didn’t take long for them to catch up with Thomas & Evan... who did a double take at the sight of Stuart & Anthony roaring past. Then looked at each other, nodded in agreement and accelerated in pursuit.
Stuart chuckled in the back of Anthony’s head. “They’ve taken the bait!” Anthony grinned “Yeah – indeed they have. Let’s pull in at the next service station and hook them!” With a grin, they did so. Making sure that their targets saw them pulling in.
As Stuart & Anthony kicked their stands down and swung off their bikes, Thomas & Evan swung in beside them and lifted their lids. Stuart grinned. “Hey guys – good to see you again. Enjoying your new biker daddy lives?” Thomas nodded “Yeah – you bet we are!” Evan added “Though we do have a few questions for you about it...” Anthony laughed “THAT is no surprise!” Stuart smirked “Indeed not. Join us for a coffee and we’ll give you the details – OK?” Thomas & Evan grinned “Sure!”
Sitting down with coffee, Stuart got straight down to business. “In a nutshell... yes, we DID do this to you both. Guilty as charged!” He chuckled as Anthony added “We fucked a change spell into you both during that foursome we had... then put a remote viewing spell in place and watched your transformations. Good fun!”
Thomas & Evan were aghast. “You cheeky buggers!” Evan exclaimed. Thomas laughed and asked “So, did you enjoy the show?” Stuart & Anthony smirked “Yeah – you just BET we did!” Evan rolled his eyes. Thomas grinned. “Everything smoothed out nicely once the inner changes hit, so no worries – we’re fine. Now, guys... another question. Just WHAT the fuck are you both?!”
Stuart & Anthony told their story. Evan was fascinated. “Wow – a club of magical bikers! That sounds SO cool!” Thomas added “Sounds like a lot of fun, quite frankly. Pity we can’t do magic ourselves, or we’d ask to join.” Anthony grinned “Would you be surprised if I told you that the magical abilities come as part of the membership?” Thomas’s and Evan’s jaws dropped. “REALLY?!” Stuart nodded “Yes – really. Granted on initiation. You interested?” Thomas and Evan were. Anthony spoke in the back of Stuart’s head. “HOOKED!” Stuart laughed. “Well, guys – the clubhouse is up in the Columbia Mountains... we’ll sponsor you as prospects. Come along and meet the crew!”
Grinning, all 4 guys finished their coffee, got back on their machines and roared out onto the highway, Stuart and Anthony leading the way to the clubhouse.
Back in Los Angeles, Alan & Angus split up on their manhunts.
Angus headed for the local swimming pool, where he knew Ian was practicing for his next swim meet. The lithe, fit, sexy swimmer finished his practice, showered, dressed and left the building. As he stepped outside, Angus cast a misdirection spell, stepped in behind him, pulled a slave chain out of its pouch and fastened it round his neck.
“AAARRRGGGHHH!!!” Ian screamed as he staggered and fell to the ground, writhing as silver light filled his head, dissolved his free will and replaced it with total obedience to the biker standing over him. Angus chuckled. “Gotcha, boy. You’re all mine now. On your knees!”
Appalled to find that the chain wouldn’t let him disobey, resist or argue, Ian knelt before his Master, as ordered, and kissed His boots in submission. Angus smirked. “Welcome to your new life, boy. Get up.” Ian did so; Angus dropped His misdirection spell and, with His boy riding pillion, roared off to the diner where he and Alan had agreed to rendezvous.
Alan, meanwhile, had found Marcus. Not in his old haunts – those were places for big, tough men, and Marcus wasn’t one any more – but online, looking for such men to fuck the little twink he’d become. With a smutty leer, Alan messaged him. And was at his apartment shortly afterwards. Finding the little guy waiting on the bed, ass in the air, hole sloppy from the last top who’d shagged him an hour ago, he instantly locked the chain round his neck.
“AAAIIIEEE!!!” Marcus screamed as the light filled his head and turned him into Alan’s slave. Alan spoke. “I’m not into sloppy holes, boy. Cancel any other hook ups on your list and clean yourself up!” Shocked to find he couldn’t disobey, Marcus got up, cancelled his other Grindr fucks, showered, gave himself a douche and got dressed.
After closing down the apartment, Alan put His bitch on His pillion and headed for the diner to rendezvous with Angus.
Over food, Angus grinned at Alan. “Shall we do the family thing, share our boys and ourselves with each other?” Alan laughed “Sounds fucking PERFECT... husband!” as he flipped his wrist and rewrote reality. “You cheeky fucker – I like your style!” Angus laughed as he kissed his husband, in love. After eating, the new biker couple put their slaves back on their pillions and returned to the clubhouse.
Further north, Bill and Dan pulled in to Portland, Oregon. By unspoken agreement, they stayed as far away from Southern California as possible now. Arriving at the gay kink/fetish night they’d picked, they found their quarry. Charlie was sitting back quietly in the corner of the bar. Wearing a black rubber vest, shorts, harness and army surplus boots.
Bill and Dan slid in beside him. “Hey, Chas. How’s life?” Recognising them both, Charlie grinned. “Doing OK. Still not found the Master of my dreams, you know?” Dan answered “Yeah – nobody strong enough to dominate you and turn you into the rubber drone you want to be?”
Charlie sighed. “No – still watching, but hope isn’t transforming into reality. My rubber drone future just HAS NOT MANIFESTED. And IT. IS. DOWNRIGHT. FUCKING. FRUSTRATING!!!”
Bill nodded, sympathetically. “Wanna let us have a go? Give us a chance to enslave you, turn you into our bitch and seal you up in rubber forever?”
Charlie stared at him. “Are you fucking SERIOUS?! Can you guys ACTUALLY do that?!” Dan smirked. “You just BET we can! You up for it?”
Charlie’s assent was immediate. “DEFINITELY. If you can turn me into your obedient bitch, I’m yours. See if you can do it. Go on – I dare you.”
With a grin, Bill cast a misdirection spell to prevent anybody noticing what they were going to do, and Dan cast a paralysis spell on Charlie. Bill and Dan took out a black silk pouch and opened it. “Let’s see how this fits!” Bill remarked, as they each took one end of the chain and fastened it round Charlie’s neck. Then, both sat back and watched, as Dan dropped his paralysis spell and the chain spell engaged.
“WHAT. THE. FUCK???!!!” Charlie yelled, grabbing the table as silver light flooded out of the chain and into his head. Then, as his free will was dissolved and replaced with complete obedience to the two men who’d put the chain on him, he quietly sat back, eyes wide in amazement, and took a deep breath... as the chain sank into his skin and sealed him into submission.
Quietly, Charlie spoke... his face alight with incredulous, joyful acceptance of his enslavement. “You win the bet, Sirs. I’m yours.” Charlie rose from his seat, kissed his Masters’ boots, and took his proper place on the floor. Dan put their boy in biker gear, Bill dropped his misdirection spell... and with Charlie riding pillion behind Dan, they roared off, heading for the clubhouse.
In San Francisco, Peter & Jonathan started with a gym visit. “Yo, brother.” Jonathan greeted Timothy, who grinned at the sight of them. “Yo, fam. Been missing your magic shit. You here to help out?”
Jonathan grinned. “In a way, yeah – our club’s looking for new prospects. You wanna be a magical master like us?” Timothy’s jaw dropped. “Are you SERIOUS, guys? Cos I’ve been wanting that for a while now. You both rock it, and I wanna be that way too!”
Jonathan laughed. “In that case...” he waved his hands and turned Timothy into a biker. And his car into a Harley. Peter grinned. “Now, we’ve another guy to pick up...”
With Micky riding pillion, all 3 bikers rode to Peter & Jonathan’s favourite leather bar. Jonathan and Peter spotted Jason – now a Black Master and all round leatherclad hunk – and walked over. “Yo, brother. How’s yourself?” Peter asked.
Jason grinned. “Loving the life you gave me, fam. Thanks! But gotta ask you a few questions – like, HOW the fuck did you do this to me?!”
Jonathan laughed. “Bottom line, brother – we put a transformation spell into you when we spit-roasted you in your dungeon. And then had a viewing spell on you afterwards to watch you change.” Looking at Jason’s stunned face, Peter smirked. “You took the changes – inside and out – very well, actually. We were impressed!”
Jason swallowed. “Guys – that’s plain weird. I’d guessed at some kind of nanotechnology, not magic. Just what the fuck ARE you both?” Jonathan smiled, reassuringly. “It’s like this...”
Jason’s eyes got wider and wider as they told their story. “Wait a minute – you’re part of a CLUB of guys like you?! That’s actually a bit scary.” With a nervous expression on his face, he quietly added “And the scariest bit is that I want to be like you and be part of that club...”
Peter grinned. “Really?” Jason nodded. “Yes. REALLY. It sounds like a LOT of hot, kinky, quirky fun. I’d like being part of that, you know?” Jonathan murmured “Well, it’s possible... you just have to be a gay or bi biker, and be sponsored by a member as a prospect. The magical gifts are conferred upon initiation.” Peter confirmed it. “True – and we’ll be quite happy to do the honours. If you’re ready to take the leap?”
“YES!” trembling with nervous excitement, Jason agreed. Peter smirked, cast a misdirection spell, then turned Jason’s leather into a full biker outfit and his truck, sitting outside, into a Harley.
Jonathan laughed. “Let’s go back to your place... then tomorrow, we’ll take you to meet the others!” Swinging off their machines in Jason’s garage, all 4 bikers, and Timothy’s bitch, settled down for a night of fun.
Jason, browsing Grindr, muttered “There’s that little fucker!” Jonathan’s eyebrows rose. “Bitch trouble, brother?” Jason confirmed it. “Frank. He was my bitch, then fucked off after you turned me black. Guy’s not into dark meat. Ruined a lot of fun.”
Jonathan was sympathetic. “You wanna have him for your own again – and this time make him UNABLE to leave or disobey you?” Jason stared at him. “Brother... please tell me you’re joking.” Jonathan shook his head. “No, I’m not. Are you up for doing it?” Jason’s eyes widened. “WHOA!!! Guys... OK, you’ve got me hooked. How do we do this?” Jonathan smirked. “It goes like this...”
Checking up on Frank, Peter found him heading home from a shag. Once he got home, Jonathan & Peter ‘ported in with Jason. Casting a paralysis spell on the shocked twink, Peter smirked. “OK, Jason – you know what to do...” and handed Jason a black silk pouch. Jason grinned. “Thanks, man.” Frank gasped as Jason pulled the slave chain out of its pouch and fastened it round his neck. Peter dropped his paralysis spell... and Frank shrieked “NO!!! STOP THIS!!! PLEASE!!! I . DO. NOT. WANT. TO. BE. A. BLACK. MASTER’S. BITCH!!!” as silver light flooded his head and turned him into precisely that.
Jason smirked. “Tough shit, boy – that’s what you are, now. Like it or not. On your knees!” Frank swallowed in terror as the chain, now just a tattoo, forced him to obey Master Jason. Peter & Jonathan smirked as Frank knelt & kissed his Master’s boots, then they closed down the apartment and ‘ported everyone back to Jason’s place. The following morning, Frank was riding pillion behind Jason as they headed for the clubhouse.
In the Columbia Mountains, everyone gathered. Most of the brothers had harvested slaves for themselves, and the clubhouse was full. No shortage of help or holes.
As the evening drew in, the five new prospects talked, thoughtfully and earnestly, with their sponsors and other members. Timothy grinned. “Sounds perfect, guys.” Jason agreed. “Gonna be a LOT of fun!”
Angus was delighted at the haul. “Guys – this worked out really well. Everyone who wanted a bitch of their own now has one – and we’ve got several VERY good prospects, too. This is just fucking BRILLIANT!” Peter chuckled, dirtily. “And will doubtless lead to some brilliant FUCKING!” Jonathan smirked. “I hope so – that was the whole idea!”
Jonathan spoke. “OK – slaves are caught and chained; prospects are accepted. Cleanup time.” He undertook reality rewrites, wiping all memory and official records of every new slave and making the clubhouse the official address of every prospect. “OK, chief. All done!”
Angus grinned. “Right. We’ve done the necessary prep work - now let’s get everyone to the mansion.” Calling all the sponsors and prospects together, he spoke. “Guys – we need to head to our place. Sponsors are in charge of lifting their prospects. Let’s get on with it.”
As everyone climbed on to their machines, new slaves riding pillion, all the prospects were gathered together. Peter spoke to them “Now, guys – get on your bikes and group yourselves together. Our headquarters is a bit special, so some magical work will be necessary to get you there. That’s our job – you just ride, stay on your bikes, and don’t panic at anything we do.”
Peter continued “All sponsors – we station ourselves round the outer edge of the prospects’ group, and lift all the prospects, as a team, when the rest of the club lift themselves and their bitches. OK?” Unanimous assent followed.
Riding further up into the hills, Angus spoke in the back of all the members’ heads. “OK – time to lift.” Every prospect was stunned as their sponsors wrapped them and their bikes in a net of green fire. All the members wrapped themselves and their own bikes in the same green fire. Then, every bike and rider lifted from the road and flew out of the world, over the rainbow bridge, to land on the courtyard of the mansion.
Landing on the great flagstone courtyard before the mansion, all new slaves and prospects were stunned. Angus explained the place to them. “So that’s it. This is our home – and yours. You prospects wouldn’t’ve been lifted here if you hadn’t passed muster – and as you slaves are your Masters’ property, Their desires are sufficient for your transfer. From now on, you have no say in where you end up.”
Michael, Thomas, Evan, Timothy & Jason were promptly taken to the lab by their sponsors, while the new slaves were stripped of all their clothing, made smooth and hairless, and joined Nicky & Baz in the kitchen. Which had been substantially enlarged to accommodate the new arrivals.
Downstairs, Jonathan gave a command. “All prospects – line up side by side facing the mirror.” All 5 guys did so. Jonathan, Peter, Angus, Alan, Russell, Stuart & Anthony joined forces and infused them all with green fire, beginning their changes.
The first change was their bodies, which were rejuvenated to the age of 30 and placed in perfect health and fitness. After that, things got weird. The magic turned inwards and began converting their bodies into pure magic.
It takes a lot of mass to generate magic. By the time the conversion was over, each man had shrunk to a height of 1” tall. In its final twist, the magic dematerialised them, changed them into immortal piskies – reshaping their inner being and soul to match – and locked them down. Jonathan, Peter, Angus, Alan, Russell, Stuart & Anthony flipped their bodies into piskey form and joined their stunned new brothers in front of the mirror.
“Is everyone OK?” Angus asked. Shaky voices answered him. In the affirmative. Jason was the first to speak. “Brothers – just what the FUCK did you do to us?!” Jonathan grinned. “We initiated you into the club as full members. All of us are piskies, so it’s mandatory that new members also become piskies.”
Peter added “You’re all double locked – the first lock is a permanent one on your inner nature. Regardless of what physical form you take, you’re piskies on the inside, where it counts, and you’ll never be anything else. The second lock is on your shapeshifting abilities, and it’s temporary. It’ll release when being a piskey has become totally natural to you.”
Evan gaped. “WOW. When you guys told us about the magic... I didn’t realise it would involve THIS.” Thomas laughed. “Hon – every story involving magic has twists. Don’t get so shocked!” Peter laughed. “True! Magic can get very serious... you need the twists to add some fun!”
As their Masters busied themselves elsewhere, Baz & Nicky welcomed the new slaves to the kitchen and settled down with glasses of water for a chat. Eddie, Carlos, Marcus – and quite a few other new boy toys – were still adjusting to their enslavement, so a lot of helpful discussion and explanation ensued.
Charlie was thoughtful. “So this is it, huh?” Nicky confirmed it. “Yes. We’re boy toys now, and worrying about life is our Masters’ bailiwick. And given Master Bill and Master Dan’s promise to you – and the extra work they asked my Master to do for it – you’re going to be even more of a toy than we are. Enjoy being naked, having a face and being able to talk while you can – you may not have those freedoms much longer.” Charlie grinned – albeit nervously – in anticipation. “I’m looking forward to the experience... while also being terrified of it. Magic brings a whole new dimension to fantasies, and I didn’t expect it.”
A deep laugh rumbled from the doorway as Bill, Dan & Jonathan entered. Bill spoke. “True! Boy – follow Us to the lab. Time to get you rubbered up.” Charlie bent his head. “Yes, Sir.” Without another word, he followed his Masters downstairs.
In the lab, Dan ordered Charlie to stand in front of the mirror. Jonathan handed him the small rubber ball and vial of black liquid. “Swallow this. And drink this to wash it down. Then watch your reflection... as you disappear into objecthood.” Obediently, Charlie swallowed the rubber ball, then opened the vial and chugged its contents. In his gullet, ball and liquid combined into a slippery black mass and slithered, rapidly, down his oesophagus and into his stomach.
Upon entering his stomach, the mass exploded, filling it and developing into a powerful magical device, which then infused his entire body with a net of green fire. Next, both entry and exit openings to his stomach were pushed open as the rubber expanded, filled his intestines, his gullet, then his lungs, mouth and nose. It popped out of his asshole and ran forward, over his perineum, wrapping his cock and balls... then ran down into his urethra, filling his bladder.
Jonathan smirked at Charlie’s shocked, confused and horny expression and explained. “The thing in your stomach, boy, is your control unit. It keeps your body preserved in perfect health and fitness via the magic it filled you with. The rubber it’s filled your internal passages and spaces with is used to serve all your bodily needs – the rubber inside your lungs is supplying dissolved air straight into your bloodstream and extracting & eliminating carbon dioxide and so on from it, so you don’t need to breathe in or out any more. The rubber filling up your intestines is supplying all the water, vitamins, minerals, nutrients, proteins, carbohydrates, electrolytes etc. that your body needs, and circumvents any need to eat, drink or shit. The rubber inside your cock eliminates piss and cum. Don’t worry about your voice – you don’t need it any more. You’ve been made independent of your environment – so now we seal you away from it.” The rubber coating Charlie’s genitals began to expand, covering his body in a tight black second skin. Jonathan smirked again. “Your control unit also prevents sweating, and maintains your body temperature.”
Getting horny as he was inexorably coated in black latex, Charlie realised that his rubber was designed for long term wear – and the truth of Nicky’s words became clear. As his feet lifted from the floor for the rubber to encase them, the smooth shiny blackness rippled over his arms and hands, then went on to cover his head. Sealing him, entirely, in rubber.
Jonathan spoke. “Boy – this is only your first layer. Next, your catsuit.” With a ripple, a smooth black catsuit manifested itself and flowed over Charlie’s body. Followed by a hood, gloves and socks. Jonathan grinned. “Now, we join the pieces!” Charlie watched in shock as catsuit, hood, gloves and socks merged into one, sealing him into a second layer of black latex.
“Next, your Miner’s Mask.” A contoured black latex hood appeared and fitted itself over Charlie’s head... then expanded, flowing down over the rest of his body to become a complete suit, hugging him tight over his first two layers. He rose, briefly, into the air as his feet were sealed in. His cock rigid, engorged and his balls fit to burst. Third layer applied.
“Finally, the last layer. This one’s a bit different...” and Jonathan handed Charlie a pair of thigh waders. Thick black rubber, of course. “Put them on.” Charlie did so. Next, a pair of heavy black rubber electrical gauntlets. Finally, Jonathan added a gasmask, with a featureless flat screen faceplate, fitting it on Charlie’s head and locking it in place.
Jonathan smirked. “Now we join everything up.” And Charlie got almost unbearably horny as rubber expanded down from his gasmask, up from his waders and gauntlets, meeting and merging into one. Forming a final layer of much heavier rubber, which enclosed everything, left his aching cock inaccessible, then sealed skintight and thickened up, smoothing out all his physical definition and leaving him featureless and unidentifiable. Arms, legs and torso just smooth flat rubber. Face just a blank, flat featureless plate. Mute, voiceless and locked in silence.
It was too much for him to hold out against. Soundlessly, in total horny heaven at the realisation of his deepest fantasies, Charlie shot his load... triggering the coup de grace, as his identity vanished with his cumshot and he became a true rubber object. Jonathan grinned at Bill and Dan. “Done, brothers. Your drone is finished... take it to the dungeon.” Bill and Dan did so.
In the dungeon, Bill ordered the drone to lie down on an inflatable mattress, inside a vac bed. Once the air had been sucked out, sealing it into immobility, they raised the vac bed into a vertical position and fixed it to the wall. Looking at the display, Dan laughed. “It’s a rather fitting addition to the decor down here, isn’t it?” Bill agreed, smirking. Without another word, both Masters closed and locked the dungeon, leaving their new rubber object sealed in horny, helpless isolation.
Peter & Jonathan settled down to teaching their 5 new brothers to use their magic. In time, each guy’s shapeshifting lock opened as they settled down into their new selves and lives. All the while, the mansion was filled with house parties, orgies and fun. Slaves and sloppy holes going together like dildos and condoms.
Michael, Thomas, Evan, Timothy & Jason flipped their bodies into human form; Michael, Timothy & Jason collected their slaves; then all 5 new brothers joined in the fun.
Much later, after the fun was over and everyone’s balls were spent, all 105 piskies resumed their natural forms and gathered on the balcony railing for cigars and brandy. Talk was lively, smutty, sardonic and humourous.
“Aaahhh...” Michael sighed as he stretched out beside Russell, who laughed. “I know the feeling! Your bitch is almost TOO good at taking it. That was the best spit–roast I’ve ever been involved in.” Michael grinned. “Don’t I know it!” Russell grinned back. “Makes the effort of catching him worthwhile, you know?” Both laughed.
Angus & Alan chuckled, arms around each other, as they reviewed their bitches’ performance. “Bloody good rides, both of them!” Alan smirked. Angus had a satisfied smirk of his own too. “Yeah – they are. Shows we have good taste in boy toys, doesn’t it?!” Both laughed, clinked their glasses and lit fresh cigars.
Thomas & Evan were relaxed, thoughtful and appreciative. “Thanks for letting us share your bitches, guys.” Angus & Alan grinned, dirtily. “It’s been a pleasure. Some nice horny spit–roasts did us, and them, a world of good.”
Timothy and Jason were relaxed, chilling. “Our bitches shaped up well, huh, brother? Jason asked. “Yeah – they both did. Nice tight holes are always a pleasure!” Timothy laughed. Both well pleased with their sport.
As the chatter went on, a new desire for further mischief manifested. Angus was thoughtful. “Yeah, go ahead – but two conditions. First, you don’t reveal yourself to your targets. Second, full reality rewrites are mandatory.” In complete agreement, those Masters interested began to make plans. Jonathan & Peter gave help, support and advice on the necessary magical malarkey, as needed. Once those involved were ready, they dispersed to their targets.
In a Los Angeles apartment, Paul was home from practice... unwashed, stinking of his own sweat & musk. Stripped naked in front of the mirror, he ran a hand over his abs and stroked his cock. The large, thick, meaty member hung between his legs like an offensive weapon.
He smirked at Jackson, the little nerd he shared the place with. The small, inoffensive guy who earned ten times as much as Paul did, due to his PhD and high end office job. The small guy who, at 5’2”, was diminutive against the towering, musclebound 6’8” jock.
Paul taunted Jackson. “See this, you little fag? THIS is how a real man looks. Not a pathetic little pipsqueak like you. Gotta find a sexy cheerleader to screw... this firehose of mine needs a proper workout!” Jackson swallowed, grateful that his baggy pants hid the way his 3” cock was chubbing up in response to the sexy jock towering over him.
Paul tolerated Jackson because he paid the bills, the rent, and allowed him to live in a style he could never have afforded on his sports scholarship. Jackson tolerated Paul because he had a major crush on the sexy, sweaty, stinky, obnoxious straight jock.
Both guys were looking at their reflections in the mirror when it happened.
“OOOUUUGGGHHH!!!”
Nerd and jock staggered as SOMETHING exploded inside their guts. Then stared in shock as their bodies rippled and began changing.
“NNNOOO!!!” Paul screamed in protest as his big, beautiful, sexy body started to deflate and implode.
His muscles were the first thing to go. He stared in horror as his biceps and triceps vanished, his arms lost their size and turned into skinny twigs, his shoulders narrowed and retreated inwards, his traps and delts smoothed out, flattened and sank back into his body. His pecs flattened out, his abs smoothed over, his legs reduced from tree trunks of muscle to smooth, skinny twigs.
Next to go was his size. The ceiling got further away, and the room bigger, as he shrank from 6’8” to 5’0” – then his maturity followed as his body rolled back to his early twenties, lost its strong face for softer, rounder features, and his whole appearance became softer and more yielding. The last straw was the awful feeling between his legs... as his cock went from a 9” beer can thick rod to a 2” twiglike appendage and his balls imploded, while his nice firm ass turned into a bubble butt.
The final coup de grace happened on the inside, as his IQ went sky high, his dominant cocky personality folded in on itself and his sexual orientation flipped.
Paul was left staring at the mirror in horror. The cocky, sexy, musclebound straight jock was gone. Looking back at him was a brainy little gay nerd. Submissive, needy and desperate to please.
“NO!!! THITH CAN’T BE HAPPENING!!! THITH ITHN’T ME!!!”... but the body, the mindset, and the high pitched lisping voice said otherwise.
Jackson’s experience was very different.
“AAARRRGGGHHH!!!” He roared and writhed, his muscles cramping as they expanded. His skinny legs beefed up, turning into pillars of solid muscle. His torso bulked out, abs and pecs growing out of nowhere. His bubble butt tightened up into a fit ass. His soft face squared off, and his body hardened up.
Next was his size.
“HHHAAARRRGGGHHH!!!”
Jackson yelled as his body grew, vertebrae popping and growing as he became taller and wider. Lats, traps and delts exploded out of nowhere. Skinny arms became bloated with muscle as biceps and triceps manifested. His shoulders blew up into cannonballs. The ceiling got closer as his now densely packed 5’2” became a shocking 6’10”. Then a huge rush shot between his legs as his cock and balls grew, leaving a thick 11” cock and massive bull balls hanging where his tiny junk had been.
Maturity was added, as he rolled forwards to his mid thirties.
As with Paul, the final change was internal. Jackson blinked... then grinned, as his submissive personality blew up and his sexual orientation was enhanced.
”PHWOAR!!!”
Jackson grinned at the mirror, and the dominant, assertive, muscular, sexy gay top looking back at him. Then leered at the little twink standing beside him. A very needy little bottom. Man become boy. Boy become man. Both of them getting horny for each other.
Jackson smirked. “What are you waiting for, bitch? I know you want this...” stroking his shaft. Helplessly, Paul knelt before him and took his cock in his mouth.
Jackson took pleasure in choking the little guy, ramming his huge cock down Paul’s tight little throat as Paul gasped and spluttered. With a hand on the back of his head to stop him pulling away.
Nice and hard, Jackson pulled out of Paul’s mouth without cumming... then forced Paul into doggy position and rammed his cock into Paul’s tight ass, jackhammering him mercilessly.
“HHHAAARRRHHH!!!”
Jackson roared as he came inside Paul’s ass. Simultaneously, Paul shrieked as he shot his own tiny load. Pulling out, Jackson smirked at Paul. “Well, Well, Well. I don’t know how or why this happened... but even if I could change it, I wouldn’t. Enjoy your new life as My bitch.” Paul, trembling with the intensity of the sexual experience, shakily replied “Yeth, Thir.”
Bill & Dan, in piskey form, invisible and impalpable, sat on top of the mirror and smirked in glee. Dan spoke in Bill’s mind. “Job done – time for a reality rewrite.” Bill agreed... and the two piskies altered their subjects’ lives, records and everyone’s memories of them. Paul became an orphaned college student, doing quantum theory and physics. Jackson kept his brains, his money and his job... and became Paul’s uncle and only surviving relative – who was also his musclebound, dominant, sexy Master.
Locking both guys into their new lives and roles, forcing Paul into obedience and Jackson into command, Bill & Dan ‘ported back to the mansion. Laughing in sardonic, mischievous glee as they did so.
Sweaty, his blood pumping, his lycra soaked and sticking to his skin, Magnus pushed on the pedals of his racing cycle as he forced his way up the hill. Half a mile behind him, the peloton, comprising the bulk of his competitors, was pushing, desperately, to try and catch up.
Grinning, Magnus topped the hill and shot down the other side, losing sight of his pursuers. That was the cue for the two piskies who, invisible and impalpable, were sitting on his handlebars. Stuart grinned and spoke in the back of Anthony’s mind. “You change his wheels – I’ll change him.” Both set to work.
Magnus gasped as his bicycle started changing underneath him. Wheels became thicker and heavier. Frames became stronger and wider, single bars splitting into doubles in many places. Pedals turned into footboards. Chain and gears became transmission and drive. A V-twin engine materialised between the wheels. Battery, oil and gas tanks manifested behind and above the engine. The saddle grew wider, deeper and longer. Front and rear fenders sprang into being. Handlebars reshaped themselves and thickened. Suspension was added, front and rear. Headlights, tail lights and horn appeared. Wires ran hither and yon, and speedometer and gear shifter appeared above and alongside the tanks. The pump of blood and muscles was replaced by the vibrating roar of the engine.
Then his body began changing, as if the bike was tailoring its rider to fit itself. His lean frame bulked out with muscle and he grew from 5’6” to 6’4”. Body hair, beard and moustache all manifested, matched by his hair. All thick, black and aggressive. His bulge grew, stretching his lycra obscenely. Tattoos appeared, running over his skin, marking territory. Clothes followed suit, lycra becoming leather and extending to cover his full body, in a biker’s skin. Boots and gauntlets wrapping feet, legs, hands and arms. Cycling helmet turning into a biker’s lid.
Next, his cycling experience and knowledge dissolved and was replaced with the skills and knowledge of an old school biker who lived in the saddle.
The finishing touches were applied, changing his identity and inner nature. Magnus the champion cyclist, on his racing cycle, was gone. In his place, Mack the biker roared down the road on his Harley, heading for his clubhouse after a good run over the hills. Dominant, assertive, bisexual and a mountain of a man whom others made way for.
Stuart chuckled, pleased with their work. He and Anthony initiated a reality rewrite, wiping Magnus from memory and record, and adding Mack, biker, mechanic, and repair shop owner, in his place.
Mack rolled into the clubhouse, killed his engine, kicked down his stand, swung off his bike, grabbed a beer and lit a cigar. He was sitting down outside, chilling, when the peloton shot past. Scornfully muttering “Pussies. Pushbikes are kid stuff. REAL men ride hogs!” he spat in the dirt as his former friends raced past, and took another puff on his cigar.
With satisfied smirks, Stuart & Anthony ‘ported home to the mansion.
Night was rolling over the city, and the fighters’ cage was empty. A group of bruised, sore, tired MMA fighters staggered into the showers, soaked aching muscles in hot water, then dried off, got dressed and headed home.
Chris, the oldest and roughest of them, took longer in the shower and emerged to find the others leaving. Bidding them goodnight, he dried off and turned towards his locker.
That was the moment that Alan and Angus had been waiting for.
“WHAT. THE. FUCK???!!!”
Chris gasped as his muscles were suddenly coated in a layer of fat, and body hair sprouted everywhere from the gaps between his toes to the back of his neck. Hair sprouted from his shaven scalp, and a full beard and moustache covered his face.
Inside, his MMA skills and penchant for violent sports vanished, along with his heterosexual conservative worldview and political preferences. A pacifist, liberal, socialist, homosexual mindset took their place.
“NO. FUCKING. WAY. I DON’T WANT TO BE QUEER! I DON’T WANT TO BE A BLEEDING LIBERAL!” Chris spat in terrified fury. But Alan didn’t give him a choice. The changes settled deeper, irreversible and irresistible. Gulping, he stared at himself in the mirror... and realised that, will he or nil he, Chris the MMA cage fighter was gone. Christopher, the pacifist left wing gay muscle bear, stood in his place.
Helplessly, he opened his locker and got dressed, finding his clothes altered to briefs, lumberjack shirt, jeans and boots. Angus performed a reality rewrite. Chris was forgotten. Christopher was here to stay.
Bewildered and terrified, the new bear slipped out of the gym and headed for The Gentle Paw, a gay bear bar a few blocks away. Confused, and desperately hoping drink and good company would ground him in his new life.
Watching their quarry, Alan chuckled. Nastily. “Shall we help him find some company for the night, hon?” Angus grinned. “Sure – it’ll make his changes stronger. And lock him into his new persona.” A spell was cast... and both piskies perched on the bar beside Christopher, unseen and unheard.
At the bar, Christopher sat back with a beer. “Hey, stud – mind if I join you?” A young cub came up to him, smiling. “Sure.” Christopher rumbled... “I’m Jim. This your first time here?” the cub asked. Christopher nodded and seized on the best excuse “Only just coming out. Late bloomer, old generation shit, you know?” Jim’s eyes widened. “Yeah – I get it. Big step to take, and a huge life change. Would you like some company on your journey?” Christopher smiled gently. “Yes, please – that’d be great.”
Angus chuckled. “Clever answer...” Alan agreed. “Let’s make it the real one!” and tweaked their reality rewrite to fit.
The bear & cub sat down together and started talking. As the night went on, a bond formed... and Christopher ended up in bed with Jim. A night of sweaty, cuddly bear sex followed. The next morning, they both knew they’d bonded. Breakfast, kisses and swapping phone numbers heralded the start of a long term relationship that both would come to treasure, deeply.
Angus & Alan ‘ported home to the mansion, content with the night’s work.
Out on the highway, Gary was hitchhiking, on his way across country to a new job in Miami. A big rig ground to a halt beside him and the cab door opened. “Hop in.” A gruff, deep voice rumbled. Gary climbed in, to find a huge beary trucker in the driving seat. “I’m George. Shut the door and strap yourself in.” Gary did so. As George powered his rig into action, neither guy was aware of the four piskies sitting, immaterial, invisible and impalpable, on the dashboard.
Steve grinned and spoke in the back of Jack’s, Thomas’s and Evan’s minds. “Which one do you fancy doing over?” Jack laughed. “I wanna do the hitchhiker!” Thomas & Evan were happy to do the trucker. Thomas suggested “Let’s get them to shag each other at the next rest stop, then have the changes happen as soon as one of them cums inside the other.” Dirty laughs of agreement spread through all four minds, and spells of suggestiveness were cast on both guys.
George rumbled “Gotta stop for the night. There’s a lot a few miles ahead – we’ll pull in there.” Gary was content with the idea. “Grand – you up for payment in kind for picking me up?” George chuckled “Sure – be a pleasure!” The two guys chatted, smuttily and contentedly, as George pulled into the lot. Following a bathroom break and food, they returned to the truck and wasted no time getting down to business.
“AAARRRHHH...” Gary moaned as George pushed his trucker meat into Gary’s asshole. Large meat. Tight ass. The roars & moans grew, from both guys, as they got closer to climax.
“HHHRRROOOWWWHHHRRR!!!” George roared as he shot his load into Gary’s ass. Gary, too stuffed and ecstatic to hold back any longer, blew his load at the same time. Sweating and trembling, both guys separated, sitting down to catch their breath.
Then things got weird. REALLY weird.
“HEY!” Gary yelled. “YOU’RE SHRINKING!!!” George looked stunned. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” He was shocked as his big trucker bear body began to implode, and he shrank down until he was the same size as Gary. But they wouldn’t be eye to eye for long.
“FUCKING HELL!!!” George yelled at Gary. “YOU’RE GROWING!!!” Now it was Gary’s turn to be shocked, as his body began to grow, becoming taller, broader and more heavily built, until he was as big as George had been. Both guys stood gaping at each other in shock.
Next thing to switch was the hair. George’s body lost its thick pelt of body hair, became clean shaven and crew cut, as Gary’s smooth body suddenly exploded with hair, his face vanished under a thick beard and moustache, and his crew cut sprouted into a long mane of hair.
Next were their accents. George lost his Arkansas accent and gained Gary’s California accent in its place. For Gary, the reverse.
Skillsets followed. Gary lost his I.T. skills and became a qualified truck driver. George turned from a truck driver to an I.T. guy.
Finally, faces, documents, memories, identities and lives were exchanged. Gary and George stared at each other, stunned. “What the bloody HELL just happened to us?!” George demanded. Gary replied. “We had our lives swapped. That’s all I know. HOW it’s happened, I don’t know. WHY it’s happened, I don’t know. WHO or WHAT did it, I don’t know. But it’s happened. You’re me, and I’m you.”
Shaking, both guys sat down. Gary asked “What do we do now?” George was blunt. “We live as the people we’ve become. Nothing else we can do. You were planning to hitchhike to Miami. I was driving my truck to Houston. Now I hitchhike to Miami, where I join the developers you were going to join, and live and work as you. You drive the truck to Houston, drop off your load and hit up the dispatcher to get another cargo. Thereafter you live and work as me.”
Gary was silent, contemplating the situation. Then he sighed. “You’re right. Let’s make the best of it, and get on living.” Quietly, each guy got dressed in the other’s clothes and George sat in the passenger seat as Gary expertly steered the huge rig out onto the interstate.
Some days later, at a rest stop a few miles outside Houston, they parted company. George, now using Gary’s name and identity, got a ride to Fort Lauderdale. Gary, now using George’s name and identity, dropped his cargo off in Houston, was given a long distance haul for New York, and headed north. Over time, both guys adapted to their new names and lives. Neither ever saw the other again. Two lives, swapped forever.
Steve, Jack, Thomas and Evan, cackling with glee, ‘ported home to the mansion.
Sitting on the balcony railing, in piskey form, the mischievous adventurers laughed as they told their stories. Jonathan particularly liked what Bill & Dan had done. “A downright fucking BRILLIANT piece of work, brothers.” Peter was equally impressed with Stuart & Anthony’s efforts. “Nice one, brothers. A perfect twist in a life story!” Angus, delighted with his & Alan’s efforts, was also very appreciative of what Steve, Jack, Thomas and Evan had done. He laughed. “A good time was had by all, methinks. Been a lot of fun, and nary a ripple in the outer world to hint at what we’ve been doing. Fucking perfect, guys. Just perfect.”
Laughing, talking, smoking and drinking, the club members settled back in satisfaction and comfort. The crew was home, satisfied, safe and sound, with nobody except their targets any the wiser about what had just happened. Good enough.