Checking In (hypno)
by Touchstone
"Greg?"
Alan knocked on the door a third time, feeling more than a little worried now. It wasn't like Alan to miss a day at work without calling in, or at least texting him to let him know. Having worked in neighboring cubicles for two years now, on Friday nights like these, they'd normally go out for a drink together, maybe the local strip club unless of course, the other had a date.
On the fourth knock, Alan decided to try his luck and turn the doorknob- and, lo and behold, the door was unlocked. If Greg was anywhere else, he wouldn't leave his apartment unlocked, would he?
Hesitantly, Alan tipped the door inwards slowly, his silence barred only by the minor creak the door made as he stepped inside. The living room was dark, empty, which was unusual. If Greg wasn't stuck on the leather black couch with his widescreen TV blasting reruns of old westerns, he must be REALLY sick.
"Greg? You home?" Alan called out, chiding himself immediately after for asking a question to which Greg obviously couldn't answer ‘no' truthfully.
In the darkness of the apartment, as Alan's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he realized that the only sources of illumination were the city lights from the sliding glass doors leading out to the balcony, the light from the hallway he'd just come from, and the thin bar of light stretching across the living room carpet from Greg's bedroom.
Guessing that his friend must be fast asleep if he wasn't responding, Greg decided to hazard a peek through the slightly open bedroom door. At the very least he could help by turning off the light switch and leaving a note on the counter of Greg really was sick. Maybe he'd come back tomorrow with breakfast.
The sight that awaited him immediately banished any thoughts of breakfast from his mind.
There was a stranger, sitting on Alan's bed, completely naked save for a pair of black boxer briefs. Between his spread thighs, knelt down on the floor with his back to the door was the unmistakable frame of Greg, his bare ass open for the world to see as he braced himself with his hands behind the stranger's back. Worse still was the fact that his face was, even in the dim light of the room's table lamp, quite clearly buried in the stranger's crotch.
Alan recoiled almost immediately, hoping to God that the stranger didn't notice his presence. Backing away from the door, he started cursing himself for having seen something he was quite sure he would never be able to unsee. Yes, a trip down to the stripped club after this would be advised, even if he was alone. But more importantly, what the hell was going on? It was only yesterday that Greg was bragging about some college chick he scored the night before.
Like a moth to a flame, his curiosity brought him inching back towards the door. Perhaps the lack of response meant that the stranger hadn't noticed him after all. As Alan peeked in a second time, he figured that the man was probably too preoccupied with what Greg was doing to notice anything else anyway.
And wow, was that a collar around Greg's neck?
Something was definitely wrong here.
What could possibly precipitate Greg suddenly turning around and embracing whatever buried homosexual tendencies he might have had in less than 24 hours? Especially considering that he'd lately been complaining about some dirty old fag down at the gym who'd been eyeing him during his sessions.
Now taking a good hard look at the man on the bed, Alan figured he was in his early fifties, his salt and pepper hair receding slightly but still plentiful, tousled somewhat from things Alan just did not want to imagine. He was built too. Probably not like a cardboard cut-out ad with ‘Can You Believe This Man is 55?!' printed on it, but built nonetheless. The thin gold chain round his thick neck dangling in a light forest of chest hair, the man definitely had pecs and shoulders other men would die to have.
"Mm..yesss.. you like that, don't you boy?" the man moaned approvingly, pressing Greg's face harder into his groin. If anything, it seemed to encourage Greg to move on from sniffing to licking the man's engorged member through the fabric of his boxers with a kind of fervor Alan had only seen him have when thoroughly starved.
"Yes, master," came the somewhat muffled reply. Wow, AND he was into kinky shit? If he hadn't been able to believe his eyes before, now he was becoming less and less certain that the man on his knees was his friend at all.
"Such a good boy," the stranger praised in between moans, now appearing less forceful with keeping Greg's face between his thighs. Those thick fingers were now stroking Greg's head in an almost loving fashion as Greg continued his frenzied licking and suckling, making wanton slurping and gulping noises that made Alan more and more uncomfortable.
‘Oh man I'm going to get nightmares about this,' Alan thought to himself. Although it strangely never occurred to him to leave as he stood there, transfixed to the spot still trying to puzzle out how on earth this was happening.
Eventually the man reached down to cup Greg's chin, raising his face up so that they were staring at each other. They said nothing, did nothing for awhile, except Greg's left hand was still anxiously stroking the man's massive thigh. Unable to see Greg's face, Alan was thus unable to see the thin string of drool running down his best friend's chin.
"Yes, I guess I was right," the stranger sighed heavily. "Wasn't I, boy?"
"Yes master," Alan heard Greg agree, something strangely off about his tone
.
"About everything. I was only rude to you at the gym because I wanted this for so long."
"As have I, boy. As have I."
And with this, Greg raised himself off the ground with sudden renewed passion that, before Alan could digest what was happening, they were both laid back on the bed, with Greg lying on top of the older man, their faces pressed against each other as their limbs frantically explored each other's sweat-covered bodies. Their moans loud and their kisses vocal, Alan's left hand was unconsciously drifting towards the tenting erection in his pants, his right hand loosening the tie round his neck.
Jake, that's right. The older man's name was Jake. Greg mentioned that last week.
‘How do you know his name?' Alan remembered asking. ‘I thought you were going to ignore him.'
‘I dunno. He just introduced himself. Like he was going to ask me out for dinner or something. Pfft. Stupid old faggot.'
‘He probably doesn't deserve that,' Alan remembered saying. He never did hold anything against gay people. People could do whatever they wanted to do as long as it didn't involve him.
Now as he watched Greg's real idea of what Jake ‘deserved', Alan began to find himself wondering what it was like for Greg, kissing the older man. With the goatee scratching at his chin, and the rough way the man was holding his face in place, there was a strange kind of raw, animalistic force behind the two men that Alan suddenly realized had been absent from his life.
Before long, the two had rolled over with Greg lying beneath Jake, the older man rising up onto his knees and edging up the bed, peeling his boxers off his monumental erection, dripping with pre-cum and sweat off a neat forest of pubic hair.
"It's time, boy," Jake growled unceremoniously, aligning his cock with Greg's waiting lips. "Once your drink daddy's seed, you'll stay this way forever. As master's obedient cock-slave. All the changes I made to you today will become permanent, and the old Greg will cease to exist."
Wait, Alan whispered to himself. Changes? What was going on here?
Still it wasn't like his answers were going to be answered anytime soon. He watched as Greg voiced his silent approval by taking Jake's cock into his mouth, both his hands reaching around to cup his master's ass as the older man braced himself against the bedframe.
"Mmm..." Greg's murmured happily beneath Jake's muscular frame, like a child finally getting a reward.
And what a reward it was, Alan thought to himself as Jake started moving his hips, slowly, tantalizingly as Greg savoured every languish movement. Suddenly the words the two had exchanged were insignificant now, and for Alan there was only the sight of the two men, moving in complete synchrony as though they were becoming extensions of one another.
More like Greg is becoming a part of him, Alan's mind corrected himself as he stared on, completely entranced by the sight in front of him. After all, Jake was clearly the older, more experienced of the two. His perfectly sculpted body, his sexy, deep voice deserving nothing less but utter worship. Whoever or whatever Greg was before, this man was giving him purpose, putting him in his place.
Alan wondered what it was like down there, smelling nothing but him, tasting nothing but him, feeling nothing but him. Every drop of sweat, every inch of skin savoured with such zeal that it was like paying tribute to a God.
He watched as they moved faster and faster, Jake's growls and exclamations growing more possessive, more feral as Greg seemed to grow in the opposite direction, like the cock in his mouth was siphoning more and more of his will to resist, soon to be replaced with perfect and unquestioning servitude.
And with a final roar that shook the room, the master came, finally laying claim to the slave beneath him as Greg noisily gulped down every drop, his throat rhythmically moving up and down while his hands softened and fell, exhausted to his sides.
Alan wondered what Greg was feeling right now. Wondered what complete blissful submission would taste like on his lips. And it was only now that he suddenly remembered that something was wrong here. That he wasn't meant to be here, that none of this was meant to be happening.
‘What am I thinking? I'm not gay! I'm not-
"That can be fixed, boy," he heard Jake's voice cutting through the panic. And though ‘boy' was exactly the same thing he had been calling Greg, Alan somehow knew, in that moment that the man was addressing him now.
"What... what did you do to him?" the words left Alan's mouth in quivering notes, the tone of a man who was about to lose everything. Why, he wondered to himself, had he not left when he had the chance?
Jake, having pulled out of Greg's mouth lay back on the bed beside his most recent conquest, already luring in his next one. Somehow the sight of Greg, lazily licking his lips with a look of pure content on his face seemed to drift out of his peripheral vision as Alan saw only the man who would soon become his master.
"Come here, boy," Jake grinned wickedly, his finger beckoning. "And find out for yourself."
Barely realizing that he had been standing past the threshold of the door, or that he had somewhere while watching Greg and Jake unbuttoned his shirt, Alan shut the door behind him, his body moving against what little will he had left.
Drawn by the gravity of the man's masculine frame and promises of purpose and completion, Alan was powerless to resist.
END