A Change Could Do You Good, Part VII: Tempest in a Teacup
by Flashpoint
He waited in darkness.
The Master had ordered it. He had long since learned the folly of disobeying the Master.
Sometimes when he was allowed his own thoughts (which was not very often) he was surprised to realize just how short a time it had been since his training had begun. A matter of months. In that time he had lived decades, all for the Master and Mister Jake. Even his time alone had been dedicated to them, if only in the control of his thoughts.
After The Master and Mister Jake had broken him, when the atonement for his crimes began, he was stripped of his identity: his job, his apartment, his possessions and, for a time, his name. The Master then eradicated any trace that he had ever existed. All records, all pictures, all files were eradicated from the world entirely. He was nothing and no one.
He was then trained not only in his body but also in the meditative arts to control his thoughts as well. When he had mastery of many of their forms, The Master gave him the order: when not ordered to do so or did not need to, he would not have his own thoughts either. He could now enter a waking trance state that would permit him to follow orders but still have no conscious thought unless required. After spending a lifetime building his physical being, he had built his mental being as well.
If only he could control his fear as easily. He no longer feared the Master, but he more than feared Mister Jake. Mister Jake had given him reason to be afraid on more than one occasion.
The first time he was allowed his own thoughts and time alone after his breaking, he howled in grief. Grief for the crime he had committed, grief over how difficult his training was, and grief over the travesty of his life. For the first time in his life, he was aware of who he was and how he got there. It tore him apart.
Ted had been abused as a child. It didn't excuse anything but it explained much.
Ted learned at age five that it wasn't good to wake up daddy in the mornings. He liked to hit people, and that early he always had headaches and smelled bad. Ted went to school with lots of bruises some days. And in those days teachers "didn't notice" when students had black eyes or sore legs or fingers at wrong angles. Those type of things didn't happen in *their* school.
Mommy had learned to not wake up daddy in the mornings either.
Ted, as an adult, was still astounded that she would stay with the abuse that came from the man. But Ted had been a child at the time; he didn't understand that things weren't the same in other kids' houses. And it was just as well Ted wasn't home the day his mother died. She had run out of the house to escape more abuse and without looking ran into the path of an incoming semi barreling down the road at 75 mph. The coroner was hard pressed to find a large enough piece of her to bury.
Ted knew things couldn't get worse. He hadn't seen her run into the street and die horribly and suddenly, but knew that this was the worst that his life could get.
He was, of course, wrong.
Daddy told the police investigators that she had been frightened by a snake and had run in fright not looking where she was going. They didn't quite buy that, but as fate would have it no one in the neighborhood was looking in that direction when it happened, and even if they had they wouldn't have been able to see her black eye.
They asked Ted if he knew why mommy had run into the street, and seeing the threat in his father's eyes if he said the wrong thing, Ted had simply kept his mouth shut and started crying. So it was a horrible accident. There was a funeral and his father collected a lot of insurance money. Ted thought daddy would be pleased. He knew that if he was just nice and kept things clean and neat, daddy would be better now. Thinking back on his thought processes, he wondered how he could have ever thought that.
But daddy got worse, not better. He kept drinking (for that's what he had been doing, Ted finally realized) and got more and more dangerous to be around. He stopped saying much at all even when he was sober. He smacked Ted around if he made noise. Or if he was quiet. Or if he came in too late. Or spent the day at home. And he started watching Ted with a very disturbing look in his eyes whenever Ted was undressing for bed or taking a bath. Ted didn't know at the time what it meant, only that it scared him.
Then one night daddy came to Ted's room.
Daddy had missed mommy. A lot.
All Ted knew was that he was suddenly awake facedown on his bed, his hands tied to his headboard with a thick leather belt, and there was a foul stench and a heavy weight on him. When his father suddenly thrust in him with no warning, he had a pillow shoved into his mouth to stifle the screams.
Ted's violation was brutal. Apparently, the only redeeming feature his father could be said to have was an insatiable sex drive and quick recovery. Also, though Ted would have had no way of knowing it, he was also far above average in size, approaching mammoth.
It was well past dawn when his father came for the last time and pulled out. He looked at his helpless son, who was beyond making a sound or even moving, and untied his hands. All Ted was praying for at this point was his father to leave, to go away, so that Ted could lie in agony alone.
Instead, his father whispered hoarsely, "If you tell anyone I'll kill you." There was no joke in his voice. Ted froze in horror. His father wiped off his dick on the sheets (there was no shit but a lot of blood) and said as he left the room, "You sleep in my bed from now on."
Ted had no choice. He was 13 years old, not strong, and fear paralyzed him. If he said he wouldn't, he'd get beaten and it would happen again anyway. If he tried to run away, he'd get caught and get beaten and it would happen again anyway. So he slept with his father. It took surprisingly little time before he could take his father effortlessly. Primarily because his father learned to use lube.
It didn't happen every night. More often then not his father was on a drunk, but it happened often enough. He got used to cum running down his legs while at school, and the loud wet farts that followed him everywhere. He discovered years later during a doctor's visit that his rectum had been permanently damaged by his father's attentions.
Ted started eating. It was easy and the closest to fun that Ted could have and it gave him something to do when he wasn't at school or hiding from his father. Money was no problem; just raid his dad's wallet while he was passed out. His dad never remembered how much he'd had in it, and always got more from the bank. The insurance had made sure he hadn't had to work (barely), not that he had much inclination to do so.
Ted ballooned up almost 25 pounds in under two months, and an average of another 10 pounds a month after that for a while. He didn't care; it gave him something to do. And if he suddenly started having to buy adult sizes, so what? He just reached for another burger. Could I get another order of fries? And it would have kept up this way had two things not happened.
First, his father came out of a drunken stupor one night and saw his now 245 pound 14-year-old son waddling toward his bed, with a huge belly rolling with fat and love handles that looked like loaves of bread. He hadn't noticed the changes in his son even while fucking him almost every night.
What happened next was unpleasant.
Ted's father didn't give him any broken bones but only just. And the sex that night was different: his father threw constant verbal abuse at him about what a fat fuck he had become and what a tub of lard felt like to get fucked, among others. In fact, that was his new pet name for Ted from then on: Tub. Ted ate more than ever after that, miserable but unable to stop himself.
Second, an ex-pro wrestler turned fitness guru showed up at their school to extol the virtues of working out and getting healthy. The fact that it happened to be at the same time his latest book was released was entirely coincidental, of course. He was magnetic. He said all the things that every concerned adult says about getting children involved in fitness and working out, but it was different when he said it. He had a charisma, a charm to his words, and even teachers were listening intently to his speech. Then he tore off his shirt and flexed. The collective gasp of the crowd was deafening.
Ted was awestruck by this massive example of manhood. He wasn't ripped and veiny like a bodybuilder or lean and athletic like a swimmer, he was massive. He had concentrated on powerlifting with a judicious amount of bodybuilding thrown in and it showed. With every double bicep and most muscular he saw, Ted's mouth dropped open even further. The man was big and he was strong. And Ted suddenly knew what he wanted.
The coaches let the ex-pro shower and generally crash in the coach's office after his presentation. Part of it was respect, because the football coach was an unabashed groupie of the man's wrestling days, but a good part of it was fear too. He was a big man and he made no bones about getting things he wanted. They gave him pretty much anything. Free meals? Sure. Room? No problem. The football coach on his knees in the locker room after school begging to suck this muscle giant's dick? Absolutely.
Of course, most of the school never found out about that part. The only one who knew was the coach himself. Oh yes, and Ted.
Ted watched from the darkness of the gym after school as this muscle god completely dominated and humiliated a man who was arguably one of the meanest men in the school, taunting him with his dick, overpowering him with feats of strength, and finally threw him over his shoulder and carried him like a sack of potatoes into the showers. From the coach's moans, Ted could imagine what was going on.
The scene drove him wild. He had never seen a man so dominant become so humbled just by a display of strength. And it went right to his cock, which had grown to dimensions similar to his father's. That night, in the gym, in the dark, listening to his school's football coach get his ass reamed by a huge muscleman, he had his first orgasm. It had never happened with his father.
Everything the man said and did became ingrained into Ted's mind, like a glass etching. And suddenly, looking down at his bloated form, he knew what he had to do. So he waited. Finally, the coach came out of the showers, looking exhausted and walking funny - the same way Ted had after the first time - and putting on his clothes. Then from the showers came the big man's voice: "Go get me dinner. I almost worked up a sweat on you, boy." Boy?? The coach was in his thirties!
But that wasn't as surprising as the coach's response: instead of being insulted and hurt, the coach looked more excited than ever. "Thank You, Sir! I hope I pleased You, Sir! Your cock pounding my ass is like nothing else, Sir!" SIR?!? This from the man who called the Superintendent of Schools a butthead to her *face*?? "Can we please do it again, Sir?" The pleading in his voice was obvious.
The man suddenly stalked out of the shower, his face set and determined. Grabbing the coach's wrist, he clenched and the coach was on his knees immediately in pain. Biting off each word, he said, "I. Said. Get. Me. Dinner. Boy." No nonsense there.
The coach's face turned red and he was in obvious pain. His cock was also tenting out the front of his sweat pants like a wooden post. "Yes, Sir," he wheezed. "I'll be right back, Sir! I'm sorry, Sir!" The muscle man let go and the coach was out of the locker room so fast he almost left a vapor trail.
Ted didn't even see him leave. Ted was still mesmerized by this big man, covered with droplets and hair, and his own cock, not unimpressive in itself, twitched to full attention as he watched with a slight sneer as the smaller man disappeared. Then he turned and started toweling himself off in front of the mirror, enjoying the show as his body rippled and flexed in the harsh locker room light.
Ted couldn't wait any longer. The only reason why he hadn't run right in was caution bred by his father's abuse, but even that didn't stop him standing at the door of the locker room and tentatively saying, "Mister?"
The giant whirled around, dropping the towel, his now full-mast cock staring at Ted. "Who the fuck are you?" He caught Ted by the neck, and Ted felt fear. Not the fear that accompanied his father's constant abuse, but a new fear: the realization that this man could snap his neck like a twig with no effort. He had feared and hated his father but never felt this helpless before.
It made his dick hard as a rock. He would forget about that reaction, but it would come to haunt him later.
"Please, Mister.." he wheezed. "I just... I just wanted..."
"What, fatso! Tell me what you wanted, you roly poly!" His face was irate and his cock started dripping. Although he didn't realize it at the time, Ted learned a lot about power relationships at that moment. Most of it wrong. "You can open that hole to stuff it with food, you can tell me what you want, you pig!" He slapped Ted's belly hard and laughed as the shock wave of the impact spread across the wide expanse. Ted had never seen that happen before, and was ashamed that this man had seen it.
"I.. I.. I want to be like you!" Ted spluttered.
The big man was so shocked by the answer that he let go and Ted stepped back, massaging his throat. He was sure he had just written his death warrant. "What?"
"I want to be like you, Mister!" He realized he hadn't even listened to what the man's name was, in his presentation. "I want to be big and strong like you. I want to be tough and in control and.. and... " He trailed off, humiliated, unable to look the man in the eyes.
"Well, well. So what do we have here?" the man said finally. "A big ol' fat pig thinking he can be like Big Ronnie Crusher." Okay, so now he had a name. "You don't have what it takes, boy. You need to be a big, mean, dedicated motherfucker to get like me." He flexed his bicep right in Ted's face. "You need muscle bellies, not cow bellies, boy." He poked Ted hard in his gut again. "You never lifted a weight in your life, did you, boy? The most you ever lifted was your carcass out of a chair, wasn't it?" Ted's silence was deafening. "Uh huh. Thought so. What do you weigh, 250, 255?"
"Two-seventy." Ted was very near tears of shame. He was the fattest kid in school. Even teachers made comments about him thinking he couldn't hear. His girth had grown so wide that he didn't fit into regular school desks anymore. He had to sit at the back of the class at a little table of his own, and its chair creaked alarmingly when he sat down.
"Right. What kind of lardass do you think you are, boy? I've never seen such a piggy body up close before." Before Ted could do anything, Big Ronnie ripped the shirt right off of Ted, sending buttons flying everywhere. To his horror, his fat belly and love handles spilled out over his belt. He hadn't been sure whether to tuck the fat into this pants or let it hang over, and finally elected to let it hang. He thought he didn't look quite so freaky that way. "And look at that ass!" he said, spinning Ted around. With a quick yank and tear, Ted's pants went the way of his shirt, in tatters, followed by the "big and tall" underwear he'd recently started buying. "Fuck, last time I saw that much fabric it was on a circus tent! Man, that much ass would make the elephants feel skinny!"
Ted wanted to drop through the floor. This had been a mistake; he saw that now. He was hurt, humiliated, and worthless. He'd never be anything. He'd never escape from his father. Never, never, never.
Big Ronnie just turned and walked into the locker room and grabbed the towel off the floor. "Nah, you ain't got what it takes. You need dedication. Drive." He started posing in the mirror again. Ted stared at him, naked and hurt and humiliated. "You need to know how to get what you want, boy." He hit a most muscular and Ted felt that stab again. His humiliation hit his anger and collided. "You gotta have the hunger for it, boy." He considered his own muscularity. Ted had ceased to exist as far as he was concerned.
Ted started speaking before he knew he was going to. "Please, Mister. I do want to be just like you." Big Ronnie Crusher just kept posing. "I have the drive. I want it." He hit a most muscular, unheeding. "Please, Mister. It's all I dream about." He flexed his triceps. "Please..." Ted began, and suddenly felt a tightening, a burning desire, and a fierceness swell inside him that told him what to do. "...Sir," he concluded, bowing his head.
And the man turned, smiling a cruel smile. "Good boy. Thought you'd never figure it out." He considered for a moment. "Okay, boy, you want what I got. Well, if you think I'm gonna waste my time on a fathead wimp who just wants to be around my muscle, you got another thing coming, boy. You better be ready to work, and work hard. You do what I say, no question, no hesitation, no nonsense. You eat what I say and only what I say. You work out when, where, and how much I say. I am not your father. I am not your mother. I am your God, and my word is law." He tilted Ted's head up, not gently. Ted nodded, unsure what he had gotten into. "If you can't cut it, the buffet table's that way. Pig out, dude. But if you want muscle, then you know what to do. You got that boy?"
Ted stuttered that he did. After a long pause where Big Ronnie said nothing, Ted belatedly added, "Sir."
"That was your first and last opportunity to forget that, boy." He smacked Ted's belly again, much harder. He left a large red handprint. "A little reminder. There won't be another one. Now, what's my name, boy?"
"Sir."
"What was that, boy?"
"Sir!"
"I SAID WHAT'S MY NAME BOY!"
"SIR!!!" Ted screamed at the top of his lungs, echoing around the gym.
"Good boy." He looked around for a moment and then reached over into an electrical junction box. The gym suddenly sprang into bright life. Ted jumped, half expecting to see the gym full of people, but it was still empty. "Okay, boy, here's your first test. Give me fifty laps. You have 30 minutes." He turned back into the locker room without looking back. Ted stood there, stunned for a moment. Huh? "Twenty-nine minutes boy!" came Big Ronnie's voice. "The more you stand like a rhino, the more time you'll lose! Lose more and you're out of here!"
Ted turned and ran. He didn't go very fast, as his weight was not conducive to speed, and his rolls of fat jiggled and jumped with every step. He started getting winded almost immediately, but did not stop. Fifty laps, fifty laps, fifty laps... it became his mantra. Forty-nine laps, forty-nine laps...
Big Ronnie stood out of sight near the windows. Oh, this was going to be *sweet*. The kid really had it in him. He had deliberately humiliated the kid and instead of slinking off ashamed he stood up and asked, and asked correctly. He didn't know what demons drove the kid, and he didn't care. But now he had a protégé. He could imagine this kid in only a year... his cock started dripping again. Fortunately, it didn't go to waste, as the coach shortly returned with his dinner. He was nonplussed to see a naked whale of a kid waddling and wheezing his way around the gym court ("Twenty-seven laps, twenty-seven laps.."), but Sir would explain in due time. Or not.
Ted was startled out of his reminiscences by the sudden brightening of the lights surrounding him. That meant that the Master was approaching. He had a momentary flash of fear: the Master had not forbidden his thoughts the past few minutes so Ted had taken that to mean they were allowed, but he was naturally hesitant to do anything which the Master did not expressly approve. He had a way of knowing when Ted had done or thought the wrong thing. Still, he did not move, staying on his knees until given a direct order.
The Master entered, his face a thunderhead. "Up!" he barked, and Ted scrambled to his feet, his hands clasped behind him, his head level and looking forward. He did not look around. He did not ask. He waited for what would come, as he had been taught. The Master was a smaller man than Ted, but his stride and manner were that of a leviathan. He was angry. Ted did not fear The Master per se, but he still had trouble controlling his fear of The Master's wrath, or worse, His disappointment. Ted's training had been that intensive.
As the Master approached, Ted felt the awe he always felt. The Master was a smaller man than Ted, and of less strength, but had a commanding presence that invariably was the deciding factor anywhere he went. Ted had been witness to many of the Master's business dealings over the past few months and never had He come out the worse. In fact, He worked quite often so that things were to mutual advantage to both parties. He was a strong-willed and demanding man, but He was not unkind or evil. Considering how Ted had been treated, and what he had become, that thought should have been shocking, but it wasn't: he had had it before.
There are exceptions to every rule, and rules for every exception. The Master was, well, no exception. The Master worked for unity and harmony... but would not balk at meting out justice. There was Ted's own case, which Ted now fully agreed had been mild, all things considered. And, of course, the case of the two undercover cops that raided the bar, many many months back...
In reality, Ted had no knowledge of what really happened that night, other than from overheard snippets of conversation between The Master and Mister Jake, but from what he gathered, it had not been a pleasant incident for anyone involved. All he ultimately knew was that at the end of the night, long after closing, a hastily-summoned semi pulled out from behind the bar with a cargo of two men, both of whom had bloated beyond mobility. In fact, in raising them on the forklift, listening to their nonstop lists of invective and empty threats, Ted thought they looked like nothing so much as blimps with arms, legs, and heads, they were so round. The forklift itself had strained to lift them in, but then it needed service anyway. Ted also learned their later fates as well; each of them had settled into their new lives (having no choice), and after over a year of forced stuffing and judicious potions supplied from Mister Jake, they had learned to accept and even enjoy their new enormous selves.
The first one, bought by the Canadian multi-millionaire, had been impossible to identify from a picture sent until The Master realized that it was taken from a distance so that all of the man could be in one shot. An unexpected effect had occurred with him: after months of daily feeding and formula, he had suddenly started gaining weight exponentially, far beyond what he should have. He had gained an average of between one and five pounds nearly every day since even without the formula, with no explanation and no way to stop it even had he been allowed. Mister Jake had been at a loss, certainly. The Canadian sent a progress report that had made the Master's eyes bulge, as it had seemed to be impossible, but a trip to visit this monolith of bulk had cured that misconception. The man was well on his way to filling a warehouse and was still growing.
The second one had not been quite so lucky in his gains but had a similar situation. As a circus fat man, he was well on his way to breaking the ton mark. In the traveling show he was with, he required his own semi truck just to transport him alone, and a building devoted strictly to himself as no one could fit in with him. Also, sharing with him usually meant having to bathe his enormous bulk, which took well over four hours every day. Everyone else flatly refused, and finally the ringmaster had to hire three people simply to take care of the man's daily needs.
Ted had wondered, when he could, how the Master had made them both disappear so easily and quickly and not even been suspected of it. More importantly, how he kept the police from sending more. But then, the healthy stipend He now annually gave to the Policemen's Retirement Fund, more than tripling the amount it had had previously, probably had helped that somewhat. The Master had nothing against law enforcement, and in fact agreed and supported their efforts... as long as they did not interfere with His plans. He also suspected that the Master had connections in the CIA, but that was just a suspicion. But then, with the Master's plans for the virus, it made sense.
As the Master passed Ted, the lights abruptly cycled brighter. Ted blinked as his eyes adjusted, wondering as he always did how He did that with no overt gesture or word. And the walls of Ted's chamber became apparent: the racks and holders for whips, clamps, ropes, and restraints; the often-used sling - Ted looked askance at that; he had learned to be fisted as well, and deeply, but did not like it; the electrical devices; the sterilizing equipment; and the monitors, which sometimes showed porn and sometimes the scene itself, and sometimes a mixture of both. Ted did not fear these things. Any more.
"St. Andrews Cross." At the Master's command, Ted immediately turned and went to the magnificently built and carved large X of wood and assumed the correct position facing the cross, his legs spread, his arms held above him at an angle, waiting until the Master affixed them in place. He could not see the Master's choice, but hoped it would not be the single-tail bullwhip tonight: it was always hard cleaning the blood from the floor afterward. The hardwood seemed to soak it right in, and even bleach didn't work that well. Kevin had seen how good The Master was with the whip that one day his back bled.
"Kevin has left the building." Ted froze. The Master's voice was iron. No, colder and harder. He knew that what was coming would not be pleasant. However, he already knew that the punishment for contaminating the formula was coming, so he was not surprised. Still, there was something in His tone... "He will probably not return. Our job is complete. You have served your function, slave." In quick order, the limbs were restrained and Ted relaxed into his fate.
Unseen, The Master continued. "I have not yet decided what to do with you. Perhaps I will decide you are ready for your first two-year contract. You may have your own thoughts on the matter." Involuntarily, Ted's cock, now restored to its normal size, jumped to half erection at the thought. My first two-year contract, he thought in wonder... and was surprised at how pleased he was that the Master thought him ready. "Soften," The Master continued, and Ted willed his cock to lose the erection, which it obediently did. "I have not yet decided to do this, and may not. I may decide you should be sold to another, or turned loose, forbidden to be a slave from this point on. It is my choice what happens to you."
Ted's brow furrowed in puzzlement. Aside from the matter of the contract being an imminent possibility, these were things that He had ingrained in Ted's head long ago. Why repeat it all now? More importantly, why did the Master sound so distant as he spoke? It was almost as though he were speaking to someone else. Of course, there could be someone else there and Ted would never see, but that wasn't the issue. What was really going on?
"Very well. That is a matter for another time. Until then, you are under my service and will remain as such." There was a snap. The Master had chosen a flogger, and a hefty one from the sound of it. It would be Ted's duty to identify which one. It suddenly started whistling through the air, whirling its way toward Ted's back. Then a slight, sharp graze. Another on the other side.
WHACK!! Ted let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A whirr in the air. It was harsh but paradoxically a relief at the same time. A slight graze on the back. It had been a long time since this particular type of treatment. WHACK!! Too long. WHACK WHACK!!
Ted knew he had been broken and reshaped by the Master and Mister Jake and he was proud of it. Oh, true, he still feared retribution for mistakes instead of complete acceptance, and he still felt like running when he was in Mister Jake's presence, but the truth was, he was a slave. Not as Mister Jake viewed slavery, of course. Though that was hard to ascertain from His attitude most days anyway.
WHACK!! "Which one is it?" Despite the heavy effort, the Master's voice was composed. Of course.
Ted grunted, "Number 14, Master." The heaviest flogger of the bunch. It sported 26 strips of thick firm leather, with a handle of solid mahogany wrapped in a crossed webbing of alternated red and white stripes. It hurt like hell. WHACK!! It felt wonderful. WHACK!!
"Good boy." WHACK!! WHACK!! "You'll make me proud, boy."
Ted blinked for a moment, even as he felt his mind entering an involuntary trance. The Master was not one to give Ted compliments. Heavy treatment, yes, reminders of Ted's position, often, but rarely compliments.
WHACK!! And Ted was gone.
The first year of Ted's training under Big Ronnie Crusher was the worst, not that any of them were any pinnacle. It took that long for Big Ronnie to strip the excess fat weight off of Ted and replace it with even a basic foundation of muscle. He wasn't pleased, and took every opportunity to taunt Ted's weight, the loose jiggly belly, or his wide ass. Big Ronnie was a real charmer all right.
It took no effort at all to convince Ted's dad that Ted needed this. Big Ronnie went to their house one night when his dad was relatively sober, and, in the guise of the high school football coach (the real one at Big Ronnie's home, now a live-in muscle worshipper and all-around sex slave), gave an impassioned plea for Ted's health and his overall well-being. Ted's father looked unconvinced until Big Ronnie mentioned that Ted would also be employed at a local gym after school earning his own money. He agreed on the spot. It was good he didn't realize what would happen to Ted in the next few months. Or maybe bad, all things considered.
Ted now had a mission in life: to be a big, bad, strong motherfucker, and he dedicated his entire life to it. Such as it was, at age 15. And Big Ronnie took advantage of that, too. The truth was, he wanted someone to mentor. Not to mention another guy who was willing to do *anything*, emphasize that, *anything* to get big. The workouts were brutal, and the sex nearly as. What Big Ronnie never found out, however, was what Ted had gone through with his own father. In that context, even the most degrading things he put Ted through were a walk in the park.
Ted lost almost 80 pounds of fat and put on nearly 40 pounds of muscle. The progress had been slow and the workouts difficult until Big Ronnie put Ted on his first steroid cycle. Seemingly overnight, Ted's body was swelling with muscle and strength. In the high school where he had been previously ridiculed he became feared and respected. He played football briefly, since Ted himself had started dominating the football coach with Big Ronnie's blessing, but found it unfulfilling. He just wanted to work out, get bigger, and be large and in charge.
The watershed event, however, came the night that Ted's father commanded him to come to his bed, shortly before Ted's 17th birthday. Ted, despite being "large and in charge" outside the house, had meekly followed his father's commands and submitted to receiving his father almost nightly. What his father was too blind to see, however, just like before, was how his son had transformed.
What happened next could be attributed to roid rage, but not entirely. When Ted's dad bellowed at him to get his clothes off and get in bed, something in Ted snapped. He stormed up to his father's bedroom and quite literally knocked the door off of its hinges.
That's when Ted's father realized that his son wasn't quite the meek little boy any more.
The details of what Ted did to his father are unimportant, but suffice to say the man ended up in the hospital with multiple contusions, a fractured femur, and a serious concussion. When they asked him how it had all happened, he looked up and saw in his giant son's eyes the same look that he himself had given years earlier, during the police inquest: the promise of swift retribution. On the chart, it was written: "Cause of injuries: fall down stairs."
Two things happened as a result of this incident: one, Ted's father gave up drinking for the rest of his life, and two, he gave complete control over his life to his son. Ted's father didn't enjoy getting fucked nightly as much as he'd enjoyed doing it.
But all that didn't matter any more; Ted's dad was now far away from this place and...
WHACK!! Ted was jolted into reality by the unexpected force of the blow. It was harder, much harder, than the previous ones. This was odd; The Master had a certain technique to his flogging, and this was unusual. Ted also knew it wasn't Mister Jake. Mister Jake didn't like flogging that much, and in any regard He had a certain approach of His own.
"Take it, boy!" WHACK!! The blows were harder. Much harder. "Take it, Kevin!" WHACK!! Kevin? What did Ke - WHACK!!! Ted was taken aback... this was not like the Master at all. WHACK!! WHACK!! "Take *that *, boy, yeah!" WHACK!! "After all I've done you think you can just walk out?" WHACK!! "You think you can just leave?" WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! "After!" WHACK!! "All!" WHACK!! "I've" WHACK!! "Done!" WHACK!! "For!" WHACK!! "YOU!" WHACK WHACK WHACK!!
Ted was in pain. Not the blissful electric pain of the Master's usual attentions, but sheer agony. This was definitely punishment. Ted knew he deserved punishment for his past sins and for his disobedience and for his carelessness, but treatment even approaching this had not been given to him since the Master decided that he had been broken, and even then it had never been this severe. Also, Ted had known what was coming and when... He was given detailed warnings each time and graphic descriptions of what would occur. It was part of the discipline itself, to let Ted anticipate the discipline.
Ted was grunting involuntarily. The flogging was making him lose his hard-learned self-control in front of the Master, and he feared more punishment for it, but he couldn't help himself. The Master was continuing the relentless battering, increasing in force and frequency with practically every strike, and it was quickly pushing and then exceeding even Ted's limits. Then the grunting became a constant cry, rising in pitch and volume, and unexpectedly matched by the Master. Ted was screaming, crying, sinking, dying; I am a slave, he thought. I will obey my Master. I will become who and what He wants of me. I am complete as a slave.
And Ted opened his mouth in a scream that would have shattered windows, had his chamber had any. The tears started immediately afterward. I am a slave, he thought, with regret and with joy. I am happy as a slave. The fire he felt in his body was a christening to his new life. No longer would he be afraid. He would accept.
It took Ted about fifteen minutes to realize that he was no longer on the Cross. He was barely aware he was alive. But eventually, as his mind rejoined the world, he became aware of his tears, of his desperate clutching, like a small child, to the Master, who was holding him tenderly. The first time He had ever done so. "Shh..." the Master was saying. "You're all right. You're here with me. Just relax down and come back. It's all right..." Nonsense phrases, said softly, to bring Ted's mind back. "You can speak freely, you can have your own thoughts... just come back, be relaxed and gentle..."
The words came out before Ted knew what it was he wanted to say. "I am sorry, Master," he said. "I am a poor slave and I have disappointed You. I accept what You give to me and will endeavor to do better in Your eyes." The tears flowed freely down his face, cleansing him. "I am happy and complete being Your slave. I desire nothing else in this world than to serve You, or, if You choose, to leave Your service forever." He was babbling, he had no idea what he was saying... but he meant every word.
Then the Master did the unexpected. The Master was always unpredictable, but what He did next was outside even the realm of fantasy: He raised Ted's head, and abruptly kissed him deeply and passionately.
Ted felt as though he would explode with joy. The Master accepted him, finally, completely, fully. He knew without knowing how he knew. Oh, Blessed Spirit, he knew! His heart overflowed with love for his Master.
When the liquid fire ended, the Master pushed Ted's head back and said, "I am proud of you. You have finally accepted your new life and mind. You will do well as My slave." Ted held his breath, waiting, not wanting the moment to end. For a long moment it didn't as the Master sat holding him, looking at him with an intent considering look in His eyes. "Very well," He said finally. "You have learned to embrace slavery. Now you must learn to embrace freedom."
Ted looked at Him in puzzlement. The Master continued, "From tomorrow morning at 7 am, until 7 am seven days later, you are allowed your freedom. You will stay elsewhere, at a place of your choosing. I will provide enough funding to do this. You will have no contact with me or with Jake or with any denizens of the bar here. You will be, in essence, a free man. See a film or two. Go shopping. Have sex. Enjoy your freedom." Ted looked at him in slight horror. He accepted his slavery and was being let go??
The Master continued, softly, relentlessly. "During the following seven days, you will decide what it is you truly want. Slavery or freedom. You think it is simply something to enter into, but it is not an easy decision, even for ones whose training has been as intense as yours. And because I care for your well being, I am giving this time for yourself."
"In seven days, I will have a contract ready for you to sign, if you choose to do so." Ted started to babble that that was what he wanted, but the Master put his finger over Ted's lips. "Speak when you know what to say." Ted reluctantly nodded. "You will return promptly at 7am in seven days time. You will be punctual. At that time, having spent time alone, weighing your life and decisions, you will inform Me what your decision is to be. Slavery or freedom. Not before," He interjected, as Ted opened his mouth again, then shut it just as quickly. "I know you don't understand, but you don't have to. You simply have to accept. Understanding will come in time." This got through Ted's hard head, at least. He nodded.
The Master smiled. "Good. Now, I will show you to your bed," He said, rising to His feet and bringing Ted up as well. Ted gaped down at Him. A *bed*? He was going to sleep in a *bed*?? The Master grinned at him sardonically. "Yes, Ted, a real bed for once. It is part of my agreement. You will sleep in a bed tonight, wake tomorrow morning, and go out into the world." His tone turned serious. "You will not see me when you wake up tomorrow. I have... other business to attend to." Ted nodded. It made sense.
In short order, Ted was led into the main chamber, and, as usual, the lights sprang into existence with no order given. In the center of the main space, He stopped Ted and said, "You will find your bed in the northwest corner. It is made up already. Your clothes will be nearby, and enough money to allow you whatever you wish over the next seven days, when you wake tomorrow morning." Ted nodded again. He felt too overwhelmed to say even thank you. "If you have any questions or comments, you may say them now."
Ted, after a rough clearing of throat and one last wiping of his eyes, finally found his voice. "Master? I... I want to thank You, for... for..." he hesitated, afraid he had made a fool of himself, but the Master simply nodded. Clearing his throat again, he went on. "Master, do You wish to... I mean, if You truly wanted to, would You consent to, ah... that is, I... I... haven't slept in a bed by myself since, well, and I will be alone, so..." He trailed off again, feeling like an awkward virgin.
The Master smiled again, but a somewhat fatherly smile. "No, Ted. Not tonight. I would very much like to share a bed with you at some point, but not now. You need the solitary sleep more than you know." Ted nodded, feeling disappointed, but accepted it. "Besides which, I will not..." He hesitated, uncharacteristically, which caught Ted's attention immediately. What was this? "I will not be here tonight. My business begins immediately. I will be spending the night elsewhere." Ted blinked at the harshness of His voice. There was something there... What had He been about to say that he changed His mind about? "Enjoy yourself. You may even masturbate, if you wish." Ted was certainly surprised by *that* freedom.
The Master nodded in good night and began to walk away, but Ted had one last question. He knew this was dangerous territory, but he had to know while he still had the freedom to ask. "Master?" The Master stopped, and turned with a questioning glance. "What of Kevin, Master?"
It was the wrong thing to say. Ted knew that immediately. The Master's entire manner changed, and a darkness descended in him. Ted was so put off by the abrupt change that he took an involuntary step backward. "That," the Master said, in icy tones, "is none of your affair, slave. What happens with Kevin is up to the fates now. Not Me. Not you. Do not bring up his name in this place again."
Ted's babbling effusive apologies flowed out for a full five minutes before the Master relaxed again. "Very well. You understand the gravity of... that subject. Let it lie." And with that, he turned and walked away. As He reached the limit of the visible light, He said with strange timbre to his voice He used sometimes, "I will see you in seven days time." And with that, He was gone.
Ahead of him, he saw two open doorways, divided by a thin line. On one side, he saw large clunky, greasy, noisy machinery and it needed work and maintenance. On the other side, he saw a large, pristinely sparkling floor, with a huge swan sculpture, and the air shimmered with scintillating light and energy and magic... but it seemed too ethereal to be real. And he was paralyzed. One led to bliss that might be misleading, the other to harsh toil that might be fulfilling. He looked at both and either one was difficult to see, to appreciate, to hold in his mind; the machinery was too gritty in his mind, the swan too magical. And he felt himself drawn to -
Ted jerked awake. As The Master had trained him, his internal clock had warned him of being late once again: the clock next to the bed read 6:35 am. Blinking, he realized that all the lights in the place were on full, as well. The Master must have set them on automatic...
He sighed, stretched, and went toward the front. Looking at his clothes, his actual real clothes, somehow cleaned and pressed since they had fallen off of his body the night before, he wondered what was going to happen next. And he worried about the Master. His back felt better, but lingering doubt still remained. It was scandalous for him to even think it, but Kevin had affected The Master harder than He was prepared to admit. Ted also wondered how Mister Jake would feel about that... Mister Jake's love for the Master was plainly obvious, even if it wasn't reciprocated. Mister Jake sometimes got upset about that. Bad things always happened with Mister Jake when He was upset. He was like a different person...
Jake shuddered thinking about the last time that had happened. In the midst of Ted's training session that day, Mister Jake had suddenly started pacing around, babbling about some girl or woman named Sally and driving cross-country in a stolen car and how some man named Stephen, who apparently couldn't walk, didn't believe him either about something. Ted didn't really remember the details all that well; he had been on the floor crying and moaning due to the crushing pain in his abdomen.
Mister Jake, after bloating him up to over 700 pounds, had suddenly kicked him hard enough to leave a bruise! He'd been harsh in his discipline but never truly damaged Ted's body before this incident, much as he had wanted to. After the Master soothed Mister Jake, He restored Ted and gave Ted a custard with his protein meal that night to soothe him as well. The Master was harsh but kind. The next day Ted was sent to a doctor The Master had approved who said that aside from some light trauma there was no internal injury.
Ted blinked. He was dressed. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it while thinking. He had to pay better attention to what was going on around him.
As he picked up his wallet, he felt a crinkle and looked carefully. To his surprise, the Master had put $1000 in small bills into his billfold. He hadn't expected that much. The Master was generous as well.
Ted moved toward the door, but slowly. He knew The Master's orders had been precise, but still he hesitated. Would the Master be pleased or angry if Ted simply, you know, hung around and waited for Him to -
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! Ted covered his ears in sudden pain as the klaxon bells went off. They sounded like old fire bells. Stunned, he looked around, and found, on the wall of monitors, one that had a simple legend: LEAVE. RETURN IN SEVEN DAYS. The bells abruptly got louder. Shouting, Ted ran toward the door, begging for the sound to go away...
...and it did. The moment he was on the landing. Shocked, he turned and started to enter again... and the door abruptly slid shut in his face. The Master was also serious.
Ted was afraid. For the first time in his life, he realized, he had to make up his own mind. His father had made up his mind for him at first. Then Big Ronnie. Then the Master, and Mister Jake. Now he had to make up his own mind about what he wanted and no one could advise him. No one would even understand except another slave, and even then Ted had to make the decision himself.
His dream plagued him as he walked out the front door, and into the driver's side of his truck. It was hard to believe he'd last driven it here less than ten hours before. One option offered bliss. The other toil. Which would he choose?
For that matter, which one was which?