O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

Turning the Tables

by Peircedskin

The Beginning

Once upon a time there were three little boys. Mind you, when I say little, I actually mean large and horny. But that’s how these things go I suppose. When you hold all the power in your large and meaty paws, there isn’t really a lot of growing up to be done. Until I got involved that is, but I jump ahead of myself here. Lets start at the beginning shall we?

The first of the boys was Brad. He was around six feet tall and well built. His biceps were larger than most cantaloupes, and he had a six pack to die for. Long blonde hair cascaded down his back and he walked with an arrogant come fuck me swagger which I found quite adorable.

Next up was Chris. He was the brunette to Brads blonde. His shoulder length black hair was usually pulled into a tight pony tail and though he wasn’t as big as Brad, the thick hair on his chest and arms was an extreme turn on for me.

The final member of the trio was Carl. He was more of the swimmer type. Slim build and short brown hair, he shaved all his body hair off to make himself look sleek and smooth. The only concession he made was to have a small well trimmed goatee.

The three of them were well into the whole surfing gig and used the language peppering their comments with words like gnarly and awesome, calling everyone dude, that sort of thing. If there was any justice, they would have been thick as shit but unfortunately they were all grade A students, with guaranteed scholarships to the university of their choice. They were also the three meanest bullies in the school. Many a student had fled in terror as they walked down the corridor towards them, and god help the poor sod taking a leak in the bathroom if they happened to walk in. Having your head flushed down the toilet then having them piss all over you is not the nicest thing in the world. Well, maybe for some people, but not for me at any rate. Trust me, having seen them get their long thick cocks out and let free the golden stream at first hand I know what I’m talking about.

As for me, my name is Malcolm. I’m nothing special. I’m 18, the same as the three guys, and very boring. I have an average body, average grades, average looks and don’t really stand out in a crowd. To be honest, this is intentional. I could be very different if I wanted, but my family makes it a policy not to draw attention to ourselves. My parents are your average pair of home makers. Dad works in an insurance office and Mom stays at home making the place look nice. They are second cousins or something, for various reasons we marry within certain bloodlines but try to avoid marrying too close. My grand parents on my Dads side were cousins but this is considered to be a little close. All sorts of tests had to be carried out to make sure the offspring wouldn’t be harmed. This is where I sprang from. Scrying showed that I would be the most powerful of my generation, so it was allowed. Didn’t I mention about me? Sorry, it just goes to show that power doesn’t grant brains!! I am a sorcerer. My whole family are sorcerers. And you don’t want to piss off a sorcerer. Dad had given me the whole lecture on responsibility and power, but when you boil it down to it’s basics, there is no good or evil, there is only justice. As long as there is justice, good and evil don’t come into it.

Anyway, after the whole toilet business, I was steaming. (No pun intended). I decided that something had to be done to teach these guys a lesson and if I couldn’t do it, then who could?

After I got home that day I decided to create something a little different for the guys. Instead of a specific spell, I thought it might be better to cast something a little more generic. I had all the ingredients I needed, including a sample of their DNA courtesy of their impromptu toilet training session, so the trick was finding the right incantation to turn the tables but allow them to pick their own punishment.

After several hours and a lot of paper crumpling I began the ceremony.

“I call upon the spirits to hear my plea,
Take the fluids I give thee and hearken.
Break the ties that bind these three
And make their lives darken.”

“The threads of fate I command to break
By changing the way their lives should be.
Alter the paths their lives should take
And what they hate so shall they be.”

Okay, so I’ll never win prizes for poetry, but it seemed to do the trick. As the last word fell from my lips, three thick black streams of smoke poured from the cauldron I was using (it was really moms big mixing bowl, but you have to make do) and twisted round the room. Locating the window, they shot away into the night and as I watched them fly away. I smiled. Justice would be done.

 

Brad

As the nominal leader of the group, Brad felt on top of the world. One does when one has all the power. A good athlete, he felt that the world should be at his command. The scholarship he had been awarded along with his two friends was just a case in point. They had worked damned hard to get a copy of the answers for the final test, and it just went to show that with enough money and determination you could achieve anything.

As he prepared to go out, he looked at himself in the mirror. Damn, he was fine. It was no wonder all the girls wanted his body. He remembered fucking Cindy in the back of his dads car the previous weekend. She had screamed like a bitch when his thick heavy cock had punctured her hymen. He hadn’t realised she was a virgin until that moment, but the bitch was fucking hot.

Flicking the long hair from his shoulders he put on his leather blouson coat and walked out of the door, his bubble butt looking hot encased as it was in skin tight denim jeans.

As he walked through the door he looked up at the clear summer sky and was thrown backwards as a thick black rope of cloud plunged into his chest. Dazed, he picked himself up off the floor and shook his head. What the hell was that? His head was a little muzzy, then cleared as he shook it. “Must have been static shock off the door handle,” he thought to himself and he walked into the clear night air without another thought.

As he walked into town, he had to pass a rough, seedy biker bar. The patrons were outside drinking and laughing, their bikes propped up at the side.

“Hey pretty boy,” shouted one of the drunk bikers.

Looking towards the men, Brad saw that it was one of the biggest men he had ever seen. Thick bushy beard, hair cropped on top, he had a greasy tail of hair going down his back. His heavily tattooed arms poked out from a dirty denim cut-off and he had thick rings in his ears and nose. “Fucking animal” thought Brad. “Wasted his life and thinks he’s all that.”

As he went to walk away, he felt a wave of dizziness pass over him and he was amazed as he turned to the biker and said, “Yes Sir?”

Yes Sir? What was that shit, thought Brad.

“Get your arse over here boy, you look like you could do with a beer.” Pushing one of the other rough looking men away from him, the biker made a space on the bench next to him. Brad moved to sit down, unable to control himself. As he looked at the biker all he felt was disgust, but he found himself unable to move away as a large glass of beer was placed in front of him, and a thick meaty tattooed hand came to rest on his knee. Taking a sip of the beer, he was embarrassed to realise that his cock was fully hard. More to the point, the biker knew it was hard too and started to rub his hand up and down the shaft through the denim. Trickles of precum soaked through the fabric and Brad groaned at the unaccustomed pleasure.

In defence, Brad drank more of the beer but jumped when he felt the bikers arm going round his shoulders. Brad was used to being the powerful one but this guy gave a sense of coiled power and suppressed violence that was turning Brad on big time. As he turned his head to ask the biker to stop, his head was grabbed and the biker thrust his pierced tongue into Brad’s mouth. Brad tried to pull back but the heavy hand on his neck was too strong and the tongue too insistent. All Brad could taste was the bikers mouth. A combination of beer and stale cigarettes which both repulsed and excited him. As he relaxed into the kiss he felt something inside give way and started to shoot hot thick spunk into his jeans. The biker pulled away from Brad’s mouth as his shuddering subsided and grinned. “Looks like daddy has a new bitch.” He said. The other bikers laughed heartily as Brad was taken round the waist and pulled into the rear of the bar.

The dark seedy room needed a good sweep, there was dust all over the floor and Brad could smell old stale beer and piss as he was half pulled, half dragged up the stairs to a dark damp room at the far end of the corridor. As the door shut behind them Brads nightmare began as he was brutally and repeatedly raped in every way it was possible for one man to take another. Something inside Brad died as he found himself enjoying the brutality he was experiencing and when he woke the following morning it was a very different Brad that left the room, hanging onto his new daddy’s arm.

 

Chris

Chris stood at the starting line coiled like a spring, waiting for the starter pistol to go. The other guys in the line up were no competition for him, the champion one hundred metre hurdler. As the gun went off, Chris flew down the track leaving everyone else behind. Vaulting the hurdles with ease, he won the race by a comfortable margin and lay back in the dirt getting his breath back, knowing he was the best.

“That was totally awesome, dude” said one of the observers as he walked past towards the changing rooms. Chris grinned in his direction but didn’t stop to chat. He was due to meet up with his parents after the race for dinner at a nice restaurant to celebrate his fathers acquisition of a new building contract. His father ran a small construction company and had managed to snag a large contract to put up a set of houses on some old derelict waste ground on the other side of town, beating off stiff competition from other larger companies. It meant hiring a load of new staff, but with unemployment as high as it was, his father didn’t feel it would be a problem.

Without thinking, Chris glanced up at the clear blue summer sky and squinted. What was that? Suddenly a thick rope of black cloud plummeted from the heavens and slammed into his chest. Chris was thrown backwards and passers by looked at him strangely. Shaking his head to clear the sudden feeling of dizziness he turned to the people round him “Must have tripped guys” and smiled. Everyone looked relieved as he walked away seemingly unhurt.

Stripping off his running gear, Chris stepped into the shower and started to soap himself all over. As he ran his hands over his hairy body he thanked whatever gods were watching that there wasn’t an once of spare fat anywhere on his body. He hated fat men more than anything and worked out like crazy to make sure he stayed as fit as possible. Shower finished, he quickly dried himself off and dressed in his smart suit with the matching tie and shoes. His hair was a problem, but he was inordinately fond of it so he carefully dried it and brushed it till it shone, then tied it up in his trademark pony tail before heading out for the waiting taxi.

As he entered the restaurant he saw his parents waiting in the bar and went out to join them. Hugging his Mom, he shook hands with his Dad before taking the waiting drink. Vodka and orange, plenty of ice. Just as he liked it.

“Got a surprise for you son, the new foreman I hired today is going to join us for dinner.” Said his Dad.

“I thought this was just a family thing, Dad?” replied Chris with some surprise.

“Well, he is new in town, and I thought it would be nice to introduce you to him as we’ll be working so closely together. You’ll like him. He’s a nice guy.”

Turning to towards the door he said, “And here he is now.” Waving, he called out “Bill! Over here, mate.”

Looking in the direction his father was waving, Chris did a double take. There was no way this guy was Dad’s new foreman. Bill was around six foot six, and stood out in the crowd. His head was completely shaved, but he had a long thick black beard which had to be about two foot long. Through the center of his nose was a large thick ring, and a bent pipe was clutched in his teeth belching out clouds of smoke every time Bill sucked on it. His stomach was immense. It stuck out from his front like a large beach ball and hung over the tight denim jeans encasing his mammoth thighs. As he turned to let someone pass, Chris could see his wide arse was held tightly by the fabric, and he wondered how the hell Bill was going to sit down without splitting the seams. He was wearing a thick red check shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a heavy leather waistcoat that had silver chain links instead of seams at the side. On his feet he was wearing heavy engineer boots that made loud clicking noises on the floor as he walked. Chris felt sick as he looked at the monstrosity his father had hired and was determined to have as little as possible to do with him.

“John, great to see you again. And Maggie, you look as lovely as ever. I can’t believe it’s been twelve years since we last saw each other. And is this little Chris?? Damn you’ve grown boy. And a fine looking boy he is too, John. You should be proud.”

“I am Bill. Glad you could join us. We tried a couple of times to get in touch, but you always seem to be on the move.”

“Well, I’m here for a couple of years at least. But never mind work, where’s the food? I’m starving”

And with that, Bill grabbed hold of Chris’s mom and started to whisper in her ear. She turned bright red, looked at her husband then dissolved in a fit of giggles. Rolling his eyes and grinning, he turned and winked at Chris who was trying to hide in the background. Just then, a waiter came to show them to their table and Chris suddenly found himself sitting next to Bill who smiled at Chris and then shrugged when Chris turned away to speak to his father.

“You don’t mind if I smoke between courses do you boy?” asked Bill. Now Chris hated smoking, and pipes in particular but he found himself replying “Not at all. I like the smell of a good pipe.”

“Good lad.”

Chris did a double take, then thought about it. There was no sense in being rude to someone who was obviously an old friend of the family as well as someone his father was going to be working with for the next two or three years. If Bill wanted to smoke, he might as well be gracious about it for the night.

Bill seemed to draw attention to himself and enjoyed it. Looking down at the modest portions that Chris had put out for himself, he started joking about picky eaters and eating like a pigeon, before piling Chris’s plate high with potatoes and meat. Chris felt the urge to empty his plate, to do otherwise would have been rude, and when Bill piled his plate up again, he forced that lot down too. As dessert arrived, his stomach felt stretched and bloated and he undid the top button of his trousers to take away the pressure. Bill saw this and joked about making room before piling a huge slice of gateaux onto the plate and watching until Chris choked down every morsel. Chris looked at his parents who seemed to be behaving quite oddly. Normally his mother would have been as conscious as he was about his calorie intake, and all she was doing was clapping as his plate was cleaned. His father was almost vague about Bill, saying all sorts of odd things that Chris didn’t understand about clubs and parties. There was something mysterious about both the statements and responses. Almost as though there was a joke and history that they didn’t want Chris to know about.

Eventually, the pressure on his bladder became too great and he excused himself. As he stood in the bathroom pissing, he smelt pipe smoke and realised that Bill had come in after him. As Bill stood next to him in the stall Chris felt a moment of panic as his cock suddenly grew hard and began to poke forward. Looking at Bills thick monster didn’t help either. It was really thick, and hung down at least twice the length of Chris’s. Through the end was a large thick ring, and as the stream of piss began, a stray ribbon shot off to the side and covered Chris’s cock with hot yellow liquid. Turning slightly to apologise, Bill saw the throbbing hard-on and smiled at Chris.

“Looks like someone likes what they see. Why don’t you get down and help me with this?”

Slowly dropping to his knees, Chris felt the overwhelming urge to take the yellow stream into his mouth. As his lips slowly closed over the cock head Chris closed his eyes and started to swallow. Gradually the flow lessened, and the cock began to grow hard. Bill slowly stared thrusting into Chris’s mouth until with an animal grunt he flooded the eager mouth with shot after shot of thick white spunk. Chris too came, spilling his seed all over the floor and just as he did, the bathroom door opened and in walked his father. “Have you guys fallen down the hole, or something?” he said as he walked in, then noticed what was happening in front of his eyes. “Oh fuck!” was all he could seem to manage.

Feeling the need to explain, Chris looked at his dad and tried to apologise, but Bill beat him to it. “You can’t really blame the kid, John. Like father like son, really. He wants it bad, I’m telling you. If the kid wants it, I’m more than willing to take him in hand and show him the ropes.”

“and chains, and whips, and toys if I remember right.” Grinned John. “Well, if it’s what Chris wants, then we won’t stand in his way. I know how this works, and he’ll move in with you tonight. Chris, do you really want this son?”

Chris was trying to say something along the lines of “hang on, want what?” but what came out of his mouth was “Yes Dad. More than anything.” And sealed his fate as he felt something inside of him shatter and blow away into the night.

“I’ll leave you two to finish up in here then. But hurry please, Maggie wants to move on to the coffee.”

As John left the bathroom, Bill grabbed Chris and kissed him deeply before slapping him hard across the face. “I’m proud that you have decided to become my slave, boy, but you need to be punished for your attitude earlier. As your mother is waiting I’ll make it an easy one for now, I want you to get on your knees and clean up every drop of spunk you spilled without permission.”

Chris dropped to his knees, his new position in life apparent. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but felt strangely eager to find out.

 

Carl

Carl was bored. He had spent all day at the beach trying to catch a decent wave, and the whole ocean was as still as a mill pond. Even the girls that usually hung around waiting for some hot surfer dude to fuck were gone. The air hung still and heavy, and Carl thought it might thunder later. As he picked up his board he started to walk up the hill to the car park where his step-fathers car was parked.

At the top, he noticed a pickup was just pulling up.

“Oh crap.” thought Carl. “Just what I need.”

Inside the pickup were a couple of the guys who worked the doors at the night club Carl did part time bar work at. Carl tried to avoid them as much as possible, as he thought they were the typical dumb muscle bound gorillas that most clubs employed as bouncers. Both the guys were 30 year old twin brothers and looked like a pair of matching book ends. They had completely shaved heads and were so massive that their necks were almost non-existent. Each of them had thick wide flesh tunnels in their ears and a stud in their lip. Both of their arms were covered in heavy black tribal tattoos and they talked in a guttural growl peppered with constant swear words. At work they usually wore the standard monkey suit with bow tie, their massive chests straining the fabric of the black shirts they always wore, but out of work they always wore high red boots with yellow laces and yellow braces holding up the various assortment of pants that they wore on a whim. Sometimes jeans, cut off to the top of the boots, other times combat trousers or camouflage pants, they were proud of being skinheads and let everyone know the fact.

Today they were both in matching jeans and polo shirt buttoned up to the neck. As they came nearer with a menacing smile on their piggy faces, Carl could see the outline of thick rings in their protruding nipples.

Just then, a thick rope of black cloud slammed into Carls chest and he fell to the floor gasping for breath. As he shook his head to clear away the fog that was clouding his thinking he felt his hair grabbed and yelped in the pain of his head being dragged up.

“Well, well. What have we here then? Fuckers on his own, without his posse of scum to back him up.” Looking at his brother, he raised his eyebrow and asked “Whatcha think, Bro? Got a plan for scumbag here?”

His brother looked for a minute, then grabbed Carls head and forced it down onto the highly polished red boot. “Lick it, cunt.” He ordered.

Carl struggled for a moment, then opened his mouth and stuck his tongue onto the glossy surface. As he did so, he felt his cock growing in his pants and started to get off on the humiliation of his ordeal. He didn’t know why, but the most important thing in the world to him at that moment was to do whatever the big skinheads demanded. Inside, he felt something snap and slither off into the distance, like a piece of thread under high tension had just been cut.

“Hey bro, cunt is getting off on this. Think we ought to go somewhere private where we can play in peace?”

“Fucking A man, looks like we got us a little playmate. If he likes this, then lets see how far he’ll go for a bit of skinhead meat.”

“We might have to make a few changes to him though.”

“That’s part of the fun mate.”

“Oi, cunt, on your feet. We’ve got a few hours before work, and it looks like you’re the entertainment.”

Carl looked up and smiled. “Yes Boss.” And he climbed into the pickup without a second thought.

 

Aftermath

Malcolm here again. After the spell, I had to go away for a few weeks and never got to see the results till I got back. Man, was I impressed. It looks like the spell was quite effective and I couldn’t believe what I saw when I got back.

All three of them had dropped out of school before finishing their exams, so no college or career in the future for any of them. Not that I was bothered, but it was nice to see that the success they were due to have had been destroyed. I used a small spell to see what their lives should have been like and what it was like now.

Brad should have had a great modelling career. He would have had great wealth and a great marriage, leading to a successful movie career and several Oscars ending his life as one of the grand old statesmen of the movie industry.

Should have!!

Now, he was the bitch of a very unpleasant biker named Scuzz. His once beautiful long blonde hair was now hacked off at the sides into a crude crop, with a dirty plait left at the back. His muscles had sagged somewhat leaving him with a beer belly poking over the top of the filthy jeans he was forced to wear at all times. His ears were pierced several times, and a thick ring in the center of his broken nose drew attention to the yellow teeth in his mouth. He smoked constantly, and the home made tattoos all over his arms and hands made him look dirty and uncouth. He was used as a sex toy by any man that Scuzz took a liking to and loved every minute of it.

 

Chris should have become a professional athlete. In his original future lay Olympic and European gold medals, a lucrative sponsorship deal and a career as a professional sports commentator.

Things had changed a lot now.

The first thing Bill had done was to shave off all Chris’s hair, leaving him totally bald, then made him grow his beard out. Once the beard was in he had Chris’s septum pierced and stretched up until it matched the one in Bills own nose. Chris was pierced in his nipples and cock as well, with a thick padlock through the end of his cock to prevent him from coming until his master gave permission. Bill spent many hours teaching Chris the best ways to care for, and smoke, his large collection of pipes. Chris had no choice, he had to smoke constantly or be punished in a variety of unpleasant and inventive ways. The constant diet of high protein and high carbohydrate had filled out Chris’s frame until he was now a fat hairy beach ball of a man, a perfect cub to his fat bear master. Chris now dressed at all times like Bill, and they were a regular site at the leather bars in the area, Chris with his masters cock in his mouth drinking the piss straight from the source. Bill had decided that Chris was going to join his building gang as a labourer and Chris was a regular sight in his overalls and boots, a large pipe on the go, fetching and carrying for the other more skilled workers. Eventually, Bill would move on to other projects and Chris would follow, destined forever to be an unskilled manual worker, enslaved to a powerful pipe smoking sadist bear.

 

Carl was the saddest case. He only joined in with the other two because he was so insecure in himself. Eventually, he should have grown away from them and developed a keen sense of right and wrong. This would have led him to become a law enforcement officer, then eventually he would have ended up as mayor of his small town and a life of contentment.

Unfortunately, this was not to be.

Carl was taken and forced to service the twin skinheads. They decided that Carl was just the slave they wanted, and made radical changes to his appearance and lifestyle. After shaving his head completely bald, they put him on a strict exercise regime with high amounts of steroids and protein to give him the physique and look that they wanted. His face filled out and became rounder, with the thick ridge above his eyebrows and the creased skin at the back of his neck so indicative of steroid abuse. His ears were pierced and stretched to the same size as theirs, and his nipples and cock were ringed to match. His lip was pierced with a large stud, and his left eyebrow sported a thick golden barbell. He dressed and acted at all times like a dumb skinhead, and gave up his bar job to become a full time bouncer. His two masters introduced him to the joys of rubber and given the choice, he would walk round in a sleeveless rubber vest showing off the thick tribal tattoos on his overly muscular arms. The padlocked chain round his neck showed his status and he went through life one step behind the two men so obviously his superior.

 

So that’s my tale. The story of three guys who got their just desserts at the hands of someone they didn’t even remember that well.

The moral of the tale is pretty obvious, don’t piss of a sorcerer. You never know when the tables will be turned.

END

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