A Change Could Do You Good, Part IV: Thunderhead
by Flashpoint
Kevin had had a recurring dream all of his life.
Sometimes it would be weeks or months before he had it again, but it always returned. His shrinks had listened to his descriptions of it and simply decided he was looking for something, possibly something that he lacked or had lost, but Kevin had figured that much out already. Dumb shrinks. Waste of money, more often than not.
In the dream, he was wandering through hallways, looking in room after room for something. What it was he couldn't say, but none of them had what he was looking for. It seemed to be his old grade school, K through 5, what he could remember of it, but there were no children. Somehow, he knew the children no longer came here, except for him. But he was not a child. Or thought he wasn't. In room after room, there was no one, and nothing... no tables, no chairs, no books. He didn't know why a school would have nothing in it, but he knew that it had all been taken away a long time ago. Except in one room.
In that room, a man was sitting there, the man that all those portraits said was his uncle, who seemed more and more faded as time went by, every time Kevin saw him here. He was sitting at a table made for a child, in a chair the same scale, and he was a full-grown, rather portly man, yet in the manner of dreams, the chair fit him exactly. He would always be cutting shapes out of construction paper, the way Kevin had done when he was... How old had he been then? He couldn't remember in the dream, but knew the number was important for some reason. Whatever it was.
Kevin would stand and stare at him, but Gennaro (that was what they said his name was) would continue cutting out shapes, his face cold and expressionless. Kevin noticed he was wearing his best suit (how do I know that?) and no shoes or socks. "What are your dreams, Kevin? Are you following your dreams?" he would ask, and Kevin didn't know why. And then he would look up and Kevin would look into his eyes... and Kevin would run away. His uncle's eyes were dark pits that went on forever, to a cold, horrible place he couldn't imagine. "Don't run from your dreams, Kevin," he would call, still cutting those shapes as he receded into the distance. Kevin did not know what the shapes were, when he looked at them they made no sense and when he awoke he couldn't remember what they had been. He only remembered that somewhere Gennaro would be waiting in that room for him to visit again. And he would, sooner or later.
Looking around the vast space around him, that dream room came back to Kevin vividly. The room he was in was such a surreal departure from what he had been expecting that he thought he was asleep. But the heavy paunch weighing him down in front did not change, and no matter how he tried he could not force himself to wake up. He'd already tried it downstairs anyway.
Kevin's preconceived notions about what was waiting for him had been vaguely defined based on his experiences with Jake and on the stairs. Now he couldn't even imagine what they had been. A giant, mountainous man surrounded by food, perhaps; some sort of hideous den of iniquity. A slovenly pit of garbage. Anything. Anything other than this.
Kevin was looking at perhaps the most well designed and decorated loft space he had ever seen in his life. Most of it was in darkness, except for certain areas that he felt sure were deliberately kept lit for his benefit, but the space was enormous and incredibly nice. Kevin made a casual estimate starting around 4000 square feet if not more. His own apartment was around 800 square feet and before he saw this, he thought it had been huge. Of course, Kevin also paid an enormous sum for it each month. He couldn't imagine what this cost.
He shook his head irritably. He didn't care what the man paid for this. He wanted to be put back to normal, old self, and to leave. He wanted to get out of here. He wanted... he forced his hands to his sides so that he would stop patting and kneading the hard ball he now sported. No!
Wood flooring stretched in all directions. There were vague impressions, in the dimly lit parts, of living areas around the floor, ornate rugs in various places, a well-equipped kitchen and dining area. This was not the dungeon he'd envisioned. On the other hand, those were the areas he could see only in outline from other light. The areas he could see in direct light made his heart sink and his gut feel heavier by the minute. Too many of them were devoted to heavy SM. He could see a clearly visible St. Andrew's Cross (he thought that was the name) and various other pieces of equipment that he couldn't identify but looked serious. Even one was too many, but... He did a double take when he saw the sling. He'd never been into that. Well, not really, anyway. There was the one time at that party when he'd been just a little bit stoned and the guy had gotten his whole hand in with no resistance, but that didn't count. That had been the drugs. I am *not* getting in that thing! He deliberately tightened his sphincter.
"Well, now, Kevin, you finally made it. It certainly took you long enough." The voice was a shock as well. It was a pleasant and even baritone, and not the rough basso profundo he had half-envisioned. He looked around hurriedly in an attempt to locate the source of the voice, but it remained in darkness. How do they know who I am?? "I never dreamed that you'd kick and scream so much. From what I've heard, you enjoy new experiences, and the rougher the better." Kevin stiffened in offense at the light tone the man directed at him. Kick and scream? The man *manipulated* him and was surprised when he got angry? I haven't kicked and screamed since... he had a brief image in his mind, himself as a small boy, wearing a suit - A suit? When did I ever wear a suit? - before his mind slammed the door shut. Not yet, came a passing thought, as though someone were whispering in his ear. Then it was gone.
"Come forward. Let me look at you." Kevin did not move. "Please come into the light, Kevin. It really will go better if you cooperate." Kevin moved forward slowly. "Do it!" The voice had that edge again. Kevin leaped to obey without thinking, wobbling the whole way. He hated the way he was overbalanced.
"Turn slowly." Kevin turned, feeling like a fool. This man, wherever he was, had already had a good look at him over the cameras. "That's right. That's very good. Yeah." Kevin felt his face flush. The man was masturbating looking at him. Or made it sound like he was. He concentrated on the firmness of his pectorals, the bulging strength of his arms. The weight of his belly, now sagging over his belt loops, kept drawing him back. "You're quite the figure of a man," the voice said, genuinely impressed. Kevin refused to gain pleasure from that compliment. "All right, Kevin, that's enough. Let's get started." Kevin did not like that phrase; it implied more to come, and all of it unpleasant.
The lights came on around him. Not all of them, but the area he was in suddenly became substantially more illuminated. Kevin had come to rely on things not being as he expected them to be, and he was not disappointed. He was startled when, no longer hidden by darkness, a desk came into view less than ten feet from where he now stood, with surrounding tables for various computer equipment, files and papers. It was so surprising that he only subconsciously noted the sudden blaring into life of a veritable wall of television screens behind the desk as well. None of that was what took him aback, however; it was the man himself, standing behind it. The Boss.
He was a touch shorter than Kevin, maybe 5'8" or 5'9", and had a severely short buzz cut. He was dressed very conservatively, wearing tan slacks and a light blue dress shirt. High quality too, Kevin noted; wherever he shopped, his clothes were not off the rack. But that was not that unexpected, in lieu of the room. What was unexpected was the man's weight. He was not large at all. He was around 175 to 185, and solidly built. Not a gut, not even a hint of one... although Kevin noted that his pants did ride down in front the way a big-gutted man's would. An idle observation.
While Kevin had been checking out the man, he was unaware of the man's returned scrutiny until the man had risen and was standing in front of him, giving him a once-over that made him feel like a prize colt about to be sent to market to be sold. He only tried to hold the man's gaze once before dropping his eyes; this man had a piercing gaze when he chose to, and Kevin felt pinned like a butterfly to a piece of wood when that gaze swept past his face. There was something else to his look too, that Kevin could not identify, but it seemed strangely... hesitant? That wasn't it, but it was as close as Kevin could figure out. Something about his eyes...
"Very nice," the man said judiciously, coming around the desk and looking Kevin up and down rather luridly. "Not a lot of men can carry weight that well, but you certainly can. And it's nice and firm, the way I like it. I don't begrudge men who like a soft pillowy gut, but it's not my personal favorite." He took a step back and gave another look. "Pleasing to the eye. I like that." He turned and went back. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you'd been a gymnast."
Kevin closed his mouth, which had been open. What? This was not going at all the way he had expected, and this man was not at all what he was expecting either. He was not fat, he dressed well, had a great apartment (he noticed that the walls and floor had such good sound insulation that not even a hint of vibration came up from downstairs) and was more calm and self-possessed than any three people Kevin knew. Very strange. In fact, if things were different, Kevin thought that he wouldn't mind... No! Focus!
"Why am I here?" Kevin was amazed at how controlled his voice came out. "I have been put through absolute hell since I got into this bar, apparently for your own pleasure, and I didn't do a thing to you!" There was that incident when he first walked in, but Kevin was trying to forget that. He made an effort to bring his voice down, which had risen. "If it isn't money you want, what is it?" He put his arms down at his side. Putting them on his hips made him feel ridiculous. It made him uncomfortably aware he was framing his middle.
The man was now facing his desk looking into what appeared to be a dossier. Then he turned his head and looked at Kevin. No other part of him moved. His expression did not change. He just looked, but Kevin had that butterfly-on-the-board feeling again. This man gave the air that his body and attitude were the standard by which others were judged. Kevin felt vaguely ill-made and ungainly.
Turning his attention back to the dossier, he said, "The first lesson you will learn is respect. There will be others. But, as your training has been rather unfocused, I'll have to give you special dispensation for disobedience." Kevin started. The man spoke about things as though they were in the middle of a conversation that had been interrupted, but not one to which Kevin was privy. And it didn't sound like a pleasant conversation at that. Training? What training? "Take off the rest of your clothes, Kevin, before I reach a count of ten." He took pages and placed them on the desk and replaced them with others. He did not look at Kevin at all.
"One." That was all he said, but there was something he did to his voice that made it commanding. Kevin found himself releasing the buttons on his jeans before he knew what he was doing, then hesitated. Why should I...? "Two. My patience is not infinite, Kevin. You will learn to obey and accept. Later on will be the time for hesitation and questioning, when your training has advanced. Three. I may put you in the training collar if you are especially recalcitrant, and a speaking restriction if you continue. You will not like the collar, Kevin. Four." He set the file down on the desk and removed a similar one from another table and put them side-to-side. He seemed to be considering something. "But then, you might." Kevin suddenly felt a bead of sweat going down his bare back. Imagination. This man wouldn't. Without thinking, he loosened the rest of his jeans buttons. He went no farther... yet.
"You may think yourself disciplined, Kevin, but you will find I teach a harder one than you are used to. Do not make me take you beyond your limits. I could do it, and you don't know yours yet. Five. Already you have been treated better than I was at my first training session, and only because..." He took a deep breath. "You may put your jeans anywhere, folded neatly. Place your boots side-by-side next to them. Your shirt is still on the landing, so that is no import." Kevin looked back to the door... and found that it was no longer there. The door had been cleverly designed so that once it was closed it could not be distinguished from any other part of the wall. The sweat felt like a torrent down his back and front now. Perhaps it would not be such a bad idea... "Six." Kevin practically yanked the jeans down his hips and thighs, ignoring his weight. His boots. He should have taken off... "Seven."
Kevin was suddenly sitting on the floor frantically yanking at his boots to get them off, afraid that the knots would not come apart. "Eight. Perhaps if you proceed in your training well enough, I will introduce you to Master Tom. He always said I'd advance far once I left His service." Kevin almost stopped what he was doing, but went back to it fervently. Boots off, pants shucked. Master Tom? He felt a chill that had nothing to do with him being naked and humiliated. In the part of his mind that wasn't afraid, he noted with interest what hadn't been said. "And only because" what? It raised possibilities of escape, if he had a weakness. But where would he go as he was now? "Nine."
Kevin's jeans were folded and the boots next to them as the word left the man's mouth. The man did not bother with ten. "Very good, Kevin." The man was appraising him again. "I knew that you would obey. That is a good thing to know." He smiled, and for a moment the iron mask dropped. A moment later it returned, but Kevin had not imagined the look. And it did not reconcile with what was now happening to him. Suddenly the man's face turned into a frown directed at the floor behind Kevin, where his boots and jeans now were. What? He looked back and saw nothing amiss. His jeans, his boots, his wallet lying where it had fallen, so...? His wallet.
"Attention to detail, Kevin. Another lesson you will learn. Following the letter of the law is pointless if you do not follow the spirit as well. When I ask you to put your jeans away, I also mean to not leave things lying about to trip over." As though there were not hundreds of square feet in which to avoid it! "It will be the training collar for you after all, Kevin. Other lessons we will cover later." He turned and receded into the darkness.
Kevin felt his heart skip. A collar? What about my..? Suddenly his weight problem was not as major an issue as it had been. A collar. This was insane! He felt his dick twitch while the hair on his neck rose up. He would NOT get turned on by this! It twitched again. Kevin felt vaguely ashamed for some reason. Here he was standing naked in a strange man's place, he'd had his body morphed and was now at the center of some non sequitur discipline scene, and he felt a vague sense of shame for not obeying correctly. You are one sick puppy, he thought to himself. But glancing around to see if he was being watched, he casually pushed his wallet under his folded jeans with a toe. Just to be sure it wouldn't be stolen, of course.
He stood in silence for a time. The man had disappeared into the darkness and no sound indicated where he was. The things around him told him nothing. A sling. Desk. TV monitors. Living room. Cross. Monitors. Hmm... He took a good look at them for the first time.
It was a wall of television monitors, and since it was a tall ceiling, they extended far above Kevin's head. The images they received were not constant. They flipped from one image to another every few moments, too rapidly to get any content. Commercials. Talk shows. Special interest programming. All there and all gone before he could get a sense of them. He noted them without interest; he didn't really like television that much and they flashed by too quickly in any event.
But a strange sense overtook him, watching them after a few moments.. he seemed to be gaining a strange sense of... he didn't know what. What people watched, certainly, but more than that, somehow. A lot of commercials for shampoo, investors, and small cars. Nature programs about birds seemed prevalent. Muscular shirtless men flashed in and out of scenes. Long, thin candy bars, and there was always someone eating one. Lots of commercials with computer generated fight scenes. Humorous commercials for internet services. Women's health issues.
As it all flashed by, Kevin had a feeling that these things were important, even if he didn't know why. He didn't usually watch television, since most of it was banal anyway, except for Star Trek: Voyager, of course. But now he was seeing what he had never before noticed in the patterns of the programs. It was fascinating. He would have to ask the purpose...
Then he noticed that one of the monitors had stopped flashing between programs and had a single line of text, white on black. Then another in a different location. Another. And more rapidly. Kevin felt the hair start to rise on the back of his neck as he read.
I'M WATCHING YOU, KEVIN.
In utter silence, the whole wall became that sentence. Kevin looked around frantically. "Leave me alone!" Silence. "You don't control me! You hear me?!" Nothing.
Kevin's attention was jerked back to the monitors as the screens abruptly flashed white twice, then went black. One monitor, right in the center, came up with another line of text. NO, I DON'T CONTROL YOU, KEVIN. YET. BUT DO YOU CONTROL YOURSELF? Then the screens filled with live images.
There was Jake, talking to someone. The other bartender, immensely fat that he was, whose name Kevin did not know. Other people. A Daddy holding a boy's leash, and they seemed to be having an intense discussion or argument. A young man - he couldn't be 21 - playing with a tank of a man in the shadows, but Kevin could not see the details. People drinking, laughing. Tables loaded with food, men around them gorging themselves. A beer drinking contest. Kevin's apartment. The parking lot. A small apartment somewhere with a sling over the dining table. Kevin himself, standing right where he was. He moved his arm just to see if it really was him. (It was.) The stairway, with Kevin's shirt still on the landing. The bathroom, where a heavy-duty piss scene was in progress; some poor skinny guy playing at being urinal was practically drowning under the flood going down his throat from the huge men in line. The sign in front... Kevin's attention jerked back to an image which had not registered at first. My...? Oh, Light shining down from Heaven.
Kevin thought that the skin would creep right off of his body. He was looking into his own apartment. He could see his living room and bit of the dining area before the image shifted to his bedroom. It was placed so that no matter where you were, you were in range of the camera. The bed, however, was the center of the frame. And it was a live image. The clock in the image read almost the same time as the clock he saw on the desk next to him.
The entire scene was surreal. Time slowed to a crawl and his mouth opened and closed with nothing coming out. Even his perceptions seemed altered, like he was drugged. When he was finally able to find his voice, he said, "How long?" It was all he could croak out. He could not make his mind move above a crawl, but the words were at normal speed.
The monitor changed again. I TOLD YOU I WAS WATCHING YOU. And again. TO GIVE CONTROL IS TO GET CONTROL, KEVIN. Again. DO YOU SEE THE MANILA FOLDER ON THE DESK? Kevin looked, involuntarily. There was the folder the man had been reading. The other one was nowhere to be seen. PICK IT UP, KEVIN. READ IT.
Kevin looked at it like it was a viper ready to strike. He could not move. For the first time that evening, he could no longer feel his gut, but now his whole body dragged at him. He didn't know why, but the folder made him afraid. Somehow, demons were waiting inside that folder. Monsters. They would come out and they would tear him apart and he would not die. He would live in eternal pain and torment. His belly recoiled from the edge of the desk, and he blinked. He hadn't realized he'd moved until he was there. He was still in fear and disgust over his belly, but had no time for it now. The folder waited for him.
Kevin Cantore. Age 32. Currently certified personal trainer, certified aerobics instructor, and certified massage therapist at the Phoenix Center for Health. Apartment in gay ghetto. Some money in investments. Closest ten friends, listed in alphabetical order. List of his clients. List of his clients that were also fuck buddies. His bank accounts, including account numbers, PINs, and current amounts as of an hour ago. His e-mail address, his personal website, and the muscle worship website he had under the screen name that only he knew, "MuslTrnr." His shoe size. How much he spent on junk food on the sly. Where he bought his antiques, his flowers, and his steroids.
After that, the file got personal.
Kevin threw the file back down on the desk without finishing it. There were even *pictures* of him! They were mundane things; personal training, doing laundry, dancing at the clubs on his rare visits out, changing his oil and the like, but from the perspective of the shots they all had to have been taken from less than ten feet from him at the time! He was shaking, but from fear or anger, he was not sure. He hugged himself, or tried to, and his belly got in the way. This is not just someone who gets off on fat guys, he thought.
"You should obey the Master, Kevin."
Kevin jumped nearly over the desk at the sudden voice. Fortunately, his new weight kept him anchored. Yeah, right, fortunately. Kevin focused on an adolescent male who had silently walked up behind him. His fear gave way to anger and disgust. This man does it with young boys?? He wanted to back right through the monitors. "Who are you?" It was a trite question, but all he could think of to say.
The boy laughed, a surprisingly ironic laugh for someone his age. What was he, eleven? Twelve? "You don't recognize me. No reason why you should, I suppose. I have no identity, Kevin, while I'm like this. That is the Master's wish. When I am restored, you will know me." He hesitated, looking nervously around him at the darkness. "If the Master feels I deserve to be restored, that is." He hesitated again, and then all the words came out in a rush. "I have progressed in my training, but the Master may feel that I need a... a reminder. It is a privilege to serve the Master as a slave. I will atone for my sins and serve the Master faithfully as He sees fit."
Kevin stared as though the boy had sprouted a third eye in his forehead. That was a catechism; faithfully learned by rote and now believed wholeheartedly. Or at least attempted to be believed... Kevin remembered that from Catholic school only too vividly. This boy was a *slave*? Restored? He glanced down at his own expanse. Something is not right. Something is wrong! He remembered reading those lines in a novel somewhere, but couldn't remember which. Robert Jordan, maybe. "He changed you?" He managed to keep disbelief out of his voice, but only just. "What did he...?" You don't recognize me. I wouldn't recognize a twelve-year-old, but I would a grown man... Kevin's mind seemed to freeze on the concept. Impossible. But, just as Kevin thought that...
"Obey the Master, Kevin. Please. If you obey Him, He will be generous. If not..." He took a breath, steeling himself. "I'm thirty-nine years old, Kevin. Because of, of..." He choked abruptly, as though unable to continue, "certain things that I have done, Mister Jake feels I was immature and childish. And I was. He sometimes will make me this age and... and discipline me so that I may atone for my sins." The boy started pacing nervously. He was plainly terrified. "But this is not the only change I have been through. I have been changed many times at the command of the Master or the command of Mister Jake. Sometimes older, sometimes younger, or fatter, or thinner, or sometimes changes that I cannot describe." He stopped and swallowed. The silence was more provocative than any details he could give. "I spent three weeks posing as... as my own father! The Master found out! He knew!" His voice broke as he finished. Kevin could appreciate not wanting to be older prematurely, but why was he so upset about being associated with his father? What did this Master know? He started shaking, and Kevin wanted to hug him and tell him it would be all right. Irrational... this man was an adult, not a child, impossible as it was to believe. Kevin felt as though he were familiar, though, even though he truly didn't recognize him. Odd.
The boy had stopped pacing with the monitors behind his back, and a good thing too. LISTEN TO THE BOY, KEVIN. THE THINGS HE COULD TELL YOU WOULD SURPRISE YOU. Kevin forced his face smooth. It would do this boy... this man no good to show fear. More than he already was, in any event. The boy opened his eyes and continued, oblivious. "I know that you want to be restored. I understand better than most. But one of the first lessons you will learn, as I learned, is acceptance of what occurs. Once that happens, you will--"
"That is enough." The voice was iron hard and commanding, as he came striding out of the darkness. The boy became instantly contrite and still, all evident fear gone in a twinkling. He clasped his hands behind his back and held his gaze steadily in front of him, staring at Kevin. No, not at Kevin. Through him. The man stopped, staring down at the boy, less than three feet from Kevin. "You exceed your bounds. It is not your place to instruct. That is mine alone. More to the point, you have been instructed to think neither of the past nor the future in my presence, yet you stand here and tell my guest about both!" The boy squeezed his eyes shut, looking close to crying. "You fear my anger. Good. You do not want me to be angry with you. Well, do not fear, I have never abused you and I never will." The boy opened his eyes, looking hopeful. "Any pain you experience is for justice and discipline, not abuse." The boy's face changed again. Horribly.
Kevin's mouth was hanging open again. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. A slave. Was Kevin supposed to be the next one? I need to get out of here! Suddenly the Master looked at him sharply, and the thought evaporated under a stern gaze. Not a man to cross. Ever. "Your face betrays your thoughts more than you think. You will not leave this place until I am through with you. And this one's fate is not your concern." He glanced at the boy again, who was aghast at the use of the word "fate." "If you knew how and why he became a slave, you would not question my attitude toward him. In fact, you would encourage it."
Kevin rather doubted that, but instead of addressing it, he said, "The Master, I presume?" The sarcasm was thick.
The Master's mouth tightened. "You do want to make this difficult, don't you? I do not reward bad behavior. I *am* a Master, Kevin. I earned that Title. And this one is to be a slave. You do want to be a slave, don't you?" He directed the question to the boy, who stuttered while reassuring the Master that he would enjoy the privilege of being His slave. "What we are to be concerned about is your own training, Kevin, which will commence shortly." He held up a small black band with a smaller black metal box attached to it. "I find these very effective. A training collar." He moved toward Kevin, holding it up.
Kevin backed away, his fists upraised. He'd never been a fighter but was desperate, so he figured it would be a fair fight. "Get away from me! You're not putting that on my neck!" It didn't look big enough for the neck, but no matter.
The Master did not even slow in advancement. "Your neck? You truly know nothing, do you?" He came closer, and Kevin was suddenly backed against the monitors, still half-heartedly upraising his fists. "Hold still." He reached forward with his hands, and Kevin reached forward with his fist. It was an awkward punch, as Kevin was not used to fisticuffs and it glanced off the Master's face, but it did push him back a foot or two. The boy looked at the scene as though he had looked into the pit of hell itself. He was now more afraid than he had been before, if that was possible, and looked ready to bolt.
The Master shook his head for a moment, then glared at Kevin. He did not appear even slightly bruised. Too much to hope for. "That tears it, Kevin. I was prepared to be lenient with you, but I have run out of patience." He turned so quickly to the boy that the latter jumped. "It is in the usual spot. Drink it all, now. I have need of your strength." The boy did not hesitate; he disappeared into the darkness.
"Yes, I have watched you, Kevin. Closely. And the thing I have learned most intimately about you is that you accept nothing easily. You have to be forced into everything, whether you ultimately enjoy it or not. Well, here you will have your wish granted." His smile was not friendly. "I wanted to make the beginning easy on you, but you do not want it that way. So be it."
Kevin had questions there, but could not make them go from his head to his mouth. Make it easy? Why me? Who is this boy - this man? And why are they both looking at me that way? He bit his lower lip as the next questions came unbidden. And why do I want to obey him? And why do I want him to...? He glanced at his enormous sphere again. Why aren't I fighting this harder?
The boy returned almost immediately. "Well?" The boy hastily explained that he had followed all orders exactly. "Now, Kevin, we will truly begin. And you will learn more than you expect." He turned his full attention to the boy. Kevin did as well. He wanted the beginning to be easy and was prepared to be lenient? After all this? Why?
The change that started at that moment was not a surprise to Kevin. He realized just how much he'd been through in the span of a couple of hours when he took the boy aging to adulthood in a matter of minutes as a matter of course. Seeing the boy suddenly growing taller and heavier, splitting his clothes and bursting his shoes seemed appropriate. The boy suddenly losing all of his hair was a mild surprise, but not an undue one. His face getting more solid, rounder, and harder was a bit striking, but also acceptable. Even the rapidly growing musculature, too thick for most average men and evident of heavy training - and not a slight amount of steroid use - was not too out of the ordinary, although Kevin wondered what a powerlifter might have done to...
A powerlifter. Kevin's eyes became the size of saucers. The face was maturing rapidly, and the familiarity he felt was no longer just a vague impression. This wasn't the final piece of the puzzle, but it was definitely more complete now. If his hair had gone up when he saw his apartment on the monitors, it was nothing compared to the man he was now facing. Kevin felt trapped even more than he had, and the light was dwindling. The Devil would come to steal his eyes. His grandmother's warning against not praying before bed, forgotten for so many years, was ringing in his ears. The Devil was right in front of him. He looked at The Master. And got a surprise.
For a moment, The Master was looking at Kevin in a very strange way while he was distracted, not at all the way Kevin was expecting. Then the mask returned. There was not a hint of irony or superiority on his face. "I believe you and Ted are acquainted, are you not?" The monitors changed again. It was his bedroom again, but this time it was not live. The recording showed two men in his bed, a large, heavily muscled man, and a leaner, more toned man. The leaner toned man was in a servile position to the larger man. There was no sound, but the video was clear enough.
Lick my balls, Twinkie. You're my Twinkie boy, aintcha? Kevin knew that scene very well. He knew it all by rote at this point. Ted always called him Twinkie. He hated it. And he hated that this man knew it. Kevin stared at him and at Ted in hatred and disbelief. One question answered, and a hundred more appear unasked and unanswered. No wonder Kevin had ended up here tonight... but that didn't answer why.
He opened his mouth... and everything happened at once.
The monitors and lights went out simultaneously, plunging all three of them in darkness, and then Ted's bulk was on top of him, and it was not a loving embrace. A second pair of hands grabbed at his privates roughly. The three of them rapidly went down to the floor. Kevin fought back with what few moves he knew, vaguely remembered from a martial arts class of some months back, but he was overwhelmed. Then he was thrown back, breathing heavily and feeling trampled but basically uninjured. The lights abruptly came back on.
The two were standing again, and Ted was breathing heavily, his thick arms back once again behind his back in a submissive pose. The Master did not even look as though he had moved. His shirt and slacks were still starched, and he was calm and breathing normally. Kevin wondered how this man had learned such self-control. "I do wish you had just stayed calm, Kevin. We could have avoided this."
Kevin was angry, embarrassed, frustrated, frightened, and worst of all, hungry. He took a step toward The Master, about to tell the man where his wishes could go...
...and abruptly fell to his knees on the floor, crying and screaming for the agony to stop. He wondered what had been done to him, how many men had kicked him, knowing that days had passed since the pain had started.
After an eternity - well, a month, at least - the pain ceased, making Kevin feel almost worse. He made an observation: the sudden cessation of pain is worse than pain itself; it gives you something with which to compare it. Such was Kevin's irrelevant thought process as he struggled to peel his face off of the floor.
Neither man had moved. And according to the clock, not even a minute had passed. Looking down to his genitals, and realizing he could not see them around his belly, he felt for them and found a strange thing. There was a narrow band around his cock and balls, and at the part of the band near his balls, a small metal box. He reached to pull it off as he would a cock ring and the pain seared him again.
"*That* is a training collar, Kevin. Not for your neck at all." His face... softened. Kevin wanted to spit in that face; giving false sympathy on top of it! "Kevin, you aren't used to this kind of treatment, and I can appreciate that. But I have... reasons for doing this. Once you have come to understand them, you will accept and even enjoy what you are now going through."
Kevin felt rage. Not anger, not fury, pure unadulterated rage. "How can you stand there and tell me that?" His voice was cold. Ice. "My entire life has been violated, my body has been ravaged, and now you tell me that it this is the best time I've ever had!" The Master was caught off-guard by this; he blinked. It seemed to be the most he was ever not in control. "Put me back the...!" Kevin was abruptly face down on the floor again and the pain was receding. It was easier to take the more it happened. At least it seemed that he recovered faster. How was he controlling this box? The man's hands had not moved as far as he'd seen. Of course, Kevin had been face down at the time, also.
The Master said nothing. His head was tilted slightly to one side and He was looking at Kevin. He was not angry, or upset, or pleased, he simply looked. Consideringly. Kevin did not like that look. "You want to lose that marvelous gut of yours? A pity; I find it attractive. But then, I always did have a thing for roid guts. Don't you?" The Master's voice was so serious that Kevin knew he was being laughed at. He stiffened, offended. This man knew that Kevin had been taking steroids, and Kevin had feared that very thing. If he ended up with a gut he couldn't get rid of, he'd kill himself. He was still lean, though...
The Master seemed to unfocus. "Ravaged. You don't know what it means for a body to be ravaged. I do, but you don't." He seemed to be talking to himself. Kevin knew he must look puzzled; he knew...? "Very well. I will take the gut off of you, Kevin. It's what you want, after all, and I believe in giving people what they deserve." He leaned in closer, until Kevin's view was filled by the man's face. Kevin found his breath taken away. It was... impressive. "But I want you to understand something. You aren't done yet. By far."
Not breaking his look with Kevin or moving away, The Master slowly and methodically took off his shirt. Without looking, he handed it to the empty air behind him. Ted appeared at his side as though he'd been conjured and took the shirt before it left the man's hand.
Kevin blinked at what he saw on the man's lean, muscled torso: a large, intricately designed tattoo starting at the man's right shoulder and progressing down his front. A phoenix. The design work was incredible, the image rendered in exquisite detail. It was in profile, the head resting on the right pec, with part of the body and the wings below it, and extending below the waist of his pants. He wondered if the design continued on his back. Beautiful. It seemed familiar too, like he'd seen it before somewhere, but it was vague.
The Master's eyes were strong, his gaze clear. And warm. Something they had not been before. Kevin felt trapped, but now he was not even thinking of escape. He found himself leaning forward slightly and parting his lips, until The Master suddenly stepped back and away. Kevin blinked uncertainly, not sure of what he'd been thinking or why, but certain that he was disappointed.
Still confused, he latched onto the smallest part of the past few minutes. Hope. He's going to put me back. He promised. Somehow, Kevin knew that the man's word could be trusted. He didn't know how, but he knew. Escape had become a very real possibility, and he'd do it even if he had to go out a window. The small detail of the dossier he ignored.
The Master pulled back again and turned to Ted. It was amazing to Kevin that Ted was twice the other man's weight in solid muscle, but at the same time it was clear which of the two was superior. Kevin was very bothered by finding out that Ted was under this 'Master's' control. It explained so much; the odd phone calls from unidentified numbers, how Ted always had to know where Kevin was, the strange bruises that Ted sometimes had in odd places that he wouldn't talk about. On the other hand, considering how Kevin had been treated over the past year, he got a grim satisfaction in seeing Ted submissive for once. He'd fantasized about it himself a time or two (or ten); having Ted under his control. It had made for odd yet fun J/O sessions.
"Ted, get the orange jug," he said. Ted bowed slightly and started moving toward the surrounding darkness, but before he could get more than a step away, The Master reached up and grasped Ted's chin solidly. Ted could easily pull away, he was physically much stronger, but he was caught as surely as a rat in a trap. Body size does not determine self-assurance. "You have failings, and part of you still fights the changes wrought on you, but you have begun to make a true effort to serve. Continue to make that effort, and you will be an excellent slave. I will be proud of you. I am proud of you now simply for the effort."
Ted stood there staring at The Master for a long moment, a strange expression on his face. Not only was he was pleased by the praise, he was surprised that he was pleased. The Master, seeing Ted not moving, became very serious, but before he could say anything Ted hurried into the darkness.
He was so different from the arrogant man who had kept Kevin as *his* virtual sex slave.
The Master was turned toward Ted's massive retreating back. Kevin took the opportunity to observe him. What kind of man was this? Self-possessed to a fault, utterly ruthless in his dealings - not to mention a fan of gathering information on others - and yet, he was supportive and caring, in his own strange way. His comments to Ted had been supportive, sort of.
Kevin had enough experience on the fringes of the leather community to know a good Master when he saw one, and this Master appeared to be one. And as annoyed as Kevin was with being manipulated - and with having his entire life laid bare - he admitted that his treatment wasn't as brutal as obviously what this man was capable of doing. And he admitted something to himself that he never would to this man: Kevin liked a man who took charge and told him what to do. And it helped that he wasn't bad looking either. Ravaged?
Abruptly Kevin became aware of The Master watching him in return with a slight smile. Or perhaps it was the natural curve of his lips. "Lost in thought? A dangerous thing to do in my presence. You never know where you'll end up." He was smiling. Kevin started to smile back for some reason, but frowned instead. Really! "Aah, and here is Ted."
Ted handed the jug with a slightly bowed head and Kevin grabbed it with more force than necessary. He was eager to be rid of this... his rounded expanse was still weighing him down. Not that he expected otherwise, but still! He almost reached forward to pat it goodbye, but kept his hand still. Irrational. It was going away, it was not coming back, and saying goodbye was ridiculous! Drink it!
He looked into the large jug the man had given him. In it was a strange fluid, not at all like the drinks that had started all of this only a very small while ago. His usual protein drink it was not. He was half expecting it to be some sort of bubbling, smoking brew out of a mad scientist's movie, but it was perfectly grey in color. It didn't even really look like a liquid, more like... it was hard to describe. A solid that moved, or energy that flowed. And there was another strange quality to it, one that he almost didn't see. When he looked at it in the right way, out of the corner of his eye, there seemed to be a glow to it, or somehow *behind* it...
Whatever it was, it was cool and tasteless as it went down his throat. He imagined that it tasted like the same vile broth he'd had in the hospital as a child, but that was mental association, trying to fix it to something in his experience. Wait. Hospital? When was I in the hospital? I don't remember that... I was very hungry... The memory slipped away like smoke. Not yet, said the phantom voice...
The Master was watching Kevin silently, albeit intently. Ted was standing at parade rest, his face impassive. Kevin glared back at them both. And waited.
He could not be sure at first when it started, but suddenly when he breathed in and out, there did not seem to be as much resistance. He felt lighter. And his center of gravity was shifting again. Backwards. Looking down in a sort of dazed shock, he watched as the sphere deflated off of his front and pulled inward, faster and faster. He could not help it, he grasped the gut as it grew smaller and smaller, reveling in the change he felt in his fingertips. He felt his cock twitch again, but ignored it as the blissful feeling of returning to normal.
Interestingly, it was only the size of the belly that changed, not the firmness. It had stayed firm the whole time it had gone from flat, ridged abs to grotesquely inflated beach ball and now back again. Amazing... but it was hardly his first priority. He ran his fingers through the ridges, now forming on his front again, exactly as they had been, a sigh of pleasure and relief escaping his lips. He couldn't help it. He wouldn't die after all. He reacted in surprise at his own thought. Die?
Kevin focused on The Master again. He still felt violated, but the man deserved at least a... "Thank you," he began, but a belch rolled out of him, a heavy, thick one. A bit embarrassing. "Sorry. I want to..." An even heavier belch rolled out, a record setting one. "I haven't done that since I was in college." And a third one came out, louder and more intense than the previous two combined. His throat opened and a deafening gale force belch filled the space between the three of them, and it went on for over fifteen seconds. Ted stared in surprise. The Master was of course not affected, but he had gotten an incredulously puzzled look on his face. "What the hell...!"
Kevin's attention span toward his body had ended the moment he felt the gut disappear, but now he focused on it again with a vengeance. He was growing. Every cell, every tissue, every muscle felt attenuated and energized, like he might explode with the power he felt surging into him, as though electricity could be poured into him like water. The bliss hit him, uplifted him, enervated him.
And made him grow. He watched almost dispassionately, albeit dazed, as his body started expanding again. Not his gut. He was now growing uniformly, thickening in all directions. His muscle tone became less striated, but did not disappear. If anything, he appeared more muscular than he had, but he was increasing in size proportionally and everything was growing outward. His fingers became like cigars, then fat sausages, and then like... the analogy failed him. His arms were expanding like overfilled fire hoses pushed to the limit. He was barely aware of The Master's angry (and frightened?) yell of, "Ted! What have you done?!" and whatever Ted's panicky reply was.
The change, however, evolved. His chest and abdomen went from lean and toned to husky to rounded to simply rotund. He was not seeing past to his legs any more, but his last sight of them showed them growing together, and his stance had been wide. He was, somewhat guiltily, pleased that his genitals had grown with the rest of him as well. His cock had thickened and lengthened rather nicely. He hadn't been underendowed before, but what was there now might make even a fisting bottom blink; long and thick, he casually estimated it to be approaching the size of two soda cans placed end to end, if not past it. And his balls were growing to match it.
The laughter bubbled out of him before he could stop it. The change is happening, the change is happening... the ridiculous statement kept repeating itself in his head over and over for no real reason. But it was happening. He barely noticed his shoulders rounding out and his neck thickening, disappearing beneath a mass increasing exponentially and starting to lose the fight against gravity. The impressive cock was only visible briefly before it started disappearing again, this time because of advancing middle creeping down from above.
He felt it this time, welling up and forcing its way out and his eyes shot wide in a small panic. He felt as though a jet airliner was trying to force its way out of him, and when his throat opened, it wasn't that different. The rocketing force of his belch was loud enough to echo around the room and went on and on. He was brought back to reality abruptly as he realized that it was physically impossible to have a belch last longer than a minute yet he was doing it. Something is wrong! His face was frozen in fear as the explosive wind kept working its way out.
But that was hardly the worst of his troubles; the belch died abruptly, but his growth had not slowed by a bit. If anything, it had sped up. He had become a solid mass of flesh, unable to distinguish one body part from another as it all blended together. His weight pulled him downward, and either his strength became less and less as time by or the weight simply was too much for him to handle. He was sure he felt the floor groan.
He wasn't aware of when it happened, or how it happened, but he was abruptly lying on the floor, face up, and he could not move. He knew why he could not move, did not want to believe it, but knew. Oh, how he knew. There was a lamp right above his head, but the light was not bright enough to hurt his eyes. His eyes were the only parts of him that still had mobility.
Glancing around as much as he could, he saw a vast mound directly in front of him, and for a moment could not comprehend what it could be, until he realized it was his own mass, extending six feet above him at least, and more to each side. So much weight had been added to his body that he had become a completely shapeless blob. His legs felt encased in lead. His arms were pushed so far to his sides by his burgeoning middle that they were horizontal to his shoulders. He could not turn his head or even move it to any extent. Only his eyes could move, and his field of vision was limited.
Suddenly an intruding object obscured the light above him. Kevin could barely move his jaw as his neck had become a mass of chins, but he could make the sounds. "Why?" he asked the newcomer.
The Master's face had a very unexpected look. Panic and worry. "Kevin, I didn't intend...!" he began, and then his features became controlled. "It is not your place to question what I do to you or what the consequences become. It is your place to accept." Kevin's mind was starting to recede into shock, but he still registered the worry in the man's face... but the thought became extraneous. He was fat. Enormously so. More than enormous, he was beyond even fat men in the record books. He wanted to crawl away, to shake his head in denial, to yell and scream, and he was denied the release by the prison his body had become. Help me. Non voglio morire.
"Please." Kevin could only make monosyllables. "No." Put me back, he wanted to say. I don't want to die. I don't want to be fat. I'll do whatever you want.
"I know you're frightened, Kevin, but relax. The process is not irreversible. No harm will come to you." The look on His face was perfectly bland, as though he couldn't show emotion of any kind. Kevin was very close to tears just looking at it, but he did not even have the luxury of hiding his head from the shame, and closing his eyes would not bring back his mobility. "Kevin, can you hear me? Blink twice if you can."
But Kevin's thoughts had become confused and started to wander, the memories of the evening melting together. Why is Ted a slave? Jake felt threatened. I was six years old. What does he really want? Bioengineering. Only because what? Not yet. Something about the eyes. Where is the camera? I lost something and now I can't find it... "Kevin?"
Kevin felt his consciousness fragmenting, his mind shutting down. The room hazed out to shades of grey, getting darker and darker. The Master, his phoenix tattoo rippling over his body, knelt down over his head, looking horrified. "Kevin, stay awake!" Kevin smiled, his mind drifting away; even upside-down he thought the man was very good looking. Kevin wanted to touch him, to touch his beautiful face, but he couldn't move and he felt so sleepy, like he wanted to sleep for a hundred years. Or never wake up at all.
"Kevin, look at me!" The Master said hurriedly. "Listen to the sound of my voice. It is the only sound you can hear. The only sound in the building. The only sound in the world. Only my voice. Relax and listen to my voice. You are feeling relaxed but not sleepy. You will relax. As you relax, you will..." He droned on and on, with that odd quality he had added to his voice that commanded attention, and Kevin felt drawn to listen and obey. The only sound in the world. But he could hardly pay attention. He was so sleepy that he didn't even register the commands The Master gave him, or the responses he gave. He was so tired.
His eyes flickered and slid shut.
...and he began wandering the halls, searching...