When I Fight Authority, Authority Always Wins

All right here we go again, so let me for posterity reiterate this is a mind Control story about gay sex. If the words Mind control, gay, or sex do not encourage you to read on, don't. Also, if you are not old enough to vote, do not read on. Barring that enjoy. Also this story follows behind my others in this order, "That Old Black Magic", "What's in a name", "The Time Warp...Again", and "Let's Get Physical", all of these stories are my own and are protected by an Egyptian curse, So don't try to steal credit or post 'em on paysites. And if you would like to lodge a formal complaint with the bureau or would like to drop the author a line please send a self addressed stamped envelope to [email protected] and remember, have a nice day!

Part 1

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Somebody get that!" I yelled.

No answer.


It continued to ring. Oh, that's right... they all have jobs. Oh well. I reached out from under the comfort of my sheets and grabbed for the phone drowsily. "If this ain't Keanu Reeves calling to admit his uncontrollable attraction to me, you're going to be very sorry."

"Damien.....?" came a tentative voice on the other side of the phone.

"This don't sound like Keanu," I accused as I started to drift back asleep.

"It's Mark."

I woke up a little, I hadn't heard from Mark since I moved in with his old roommates. Them finding out I knew Mark, the gay man they threw out and beat up for coming out of the closet in their house, might cause some awkward questions, "Mark, how are you? You know you shouldn't be calling here, I'm not quite done yet, and if you..." I started saying but he cut me off.

"I had to call and tell you this weird thing I saw yesterday," he pressed on in his cloying tone.

"What?" I asked in confusion, I'll admit, I'm not the most coherent person when I wake up.

He paused and then launched into one of his typical long-winded stories. "Well, the other night I went clubbing with a bunch of friends downtown, and we ended up in this bar called the Meat Market. It was really hopping, and there was this gorgeous guy there..."

"Mark, if you woke me up to tell me about some one night stand I'm gonna..."

"Let me finish," he said."Anyway there was this gorgeous guy there. He had all these big round muscles, the roundest pecs I've ever seen, and he was wearing this outrageous outfit. Just a pair of tiny red Lycra shorts and a pair of knee high cast hugging plastic red boots." There was a pause so I could take in all the information. "Oh, and the cutest blonde dye job I've ever seen. His dark roots were all growing out so it looked frosted. Anyway, I spent the whole night staring at this hunk. One, because well how could you not? And two, because I could have sworn I knew him. And guess who it was?"

I irritably asked him, "I don't know, Mark. Who was it?"

"It was Gino!" he yelled in an accusatory tone. "Why the hell was Gino Slavatore dancing in a pair of hot pants at a club like the meat market and making out with some blonde guy?" he demanded.

I was suddenly extremely interested in what Mark was saying, "What do you mean HE was dancing with some blonde guy?" I asked hotly, surprised by the jealousy in my voice.

"That's not the point."

"Oh... what is?"

He practically was shrieking in my ear. "What did you do to him?"

"What I said I would, I have to say, at first I was a little shocked it worked too. But you should see what else I've been able to do. We're not talkin' about turning scarves into doves here, man."

"You made Gino--hard as nails, mean to the bone, Italian tempered, Gino the street thug--gay?"



Why was he so stupid? "I convinced him it was the only way to go with my good looks and charm, oh and lots of pie graphs."

"You didn't use that weird stuff you major in, did you?"

I was so irritated I didn't have time to come up with a snide remark, "Of course, you moron."

"Oh my god," he gasped.

"Christ if you're getting this worked up over Gino, seeing Red would absolutely send you into hysterics."

"Who's Red?" he asked confused.

"Oh, I mean Eric."

"What did you do to Eric?" he asked in a frightened tone.

"First let me ask you this, have you ever been laid bareback in the cab of 18 wheeler Mac truck, using your flannel shirt as a blanket?" I asked with a Cheshire cat grin.

"Hell no!" he exclaimed confused.

"I bet Eric has." And then I started laughing really hard.

"Why are you doing this to them?" his waify voice blared at me

I sat up in bed. "You know why. Because they were rude to you and needed a lesson. Well, that was the reason in the beginning, then it was because I was bored... then because they're like really hot, but I think when I write the book I'll say it was because I felt that I was somehow giving something back to society."

"Stop making jokes," he snapped in a bitchy tone.

"Mark, quit the Drama Queen routine. This doesn't concern you." My rope was quickly ending.

"How could you do this to three unsuspecting men?" He whined in my ear.

I lit a cigarette in the cup of my hand and shut my blinds. "Nine," I mumbled through my clenched lips as I struggled to hold the phone and light my cigarette.

"What?" he almost screamed.

I exhaled a cloud of smoke, more interested in the shapes it made then the idiot on the line, "The last count was nine."

"How did you involve 6 other men in this nightmare?"

"I got on a roll." I shrugged.

"You're losing you mind!" he simpered.

I rolled my eyes heavenward. "We all go a little mad sometimes, Mark," I paused, thinking."I just know enough about the occult to make my insanity productive."

"Someone has got to stop you," he said over dramatically.

"Get real, Mark." He was pissing me off.

"No, this is unnatural Damien. You've taken things to far. Someone's got to put an end to this," he stated nobly

"What are you going to do? Call the Ghostbusters?"

"No, I'm going to tell them what you did to them..." he said with a little more apprehension than he intended.

I blew him off. "Get real Indiana Mary. You're not going to do anything."

"Oh yes I am," he threatened.

"Look here Mark. You're a sweet albeit pathetically stupid and weak guy. Don't mess with a force beyond your comprehension."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" He asked snidely.

"Me. And I don't need a magic wand to take you out back and beat the piss out of you." I hung up the phone and didn't give the issue another thought, which, in retrospect, was a big mistake....

When events spiral out of your control so completely, it's hard to trace events back to the point where things began to fall apart. But if I were really thinking, I would know it was the day I had overestimated myself and regrettably underestimated other key figures. Basically I was getting cocky and bored and had thrown far too many balls in the air.

It was the night after the phone call from frantic little Mark and the weekend after I had helped Gino reorganize his gym and was probably riding a little high off the thrill of reshaping reality to fit my mood and also gaining Gino's further gratitude and amorous attentions. Those big Italian eyes thankful and mooning would go to anyone's head. I had never been good at what you would call multi-tasking.

I was in the middle of a large tome of religious purification rights from a rare Tigris and Euphrates River religious sect. It was as dull as watching paint dry... on a mime.

So when Brian walked in the front door dripping sweat still in his football uniform and growling like a rabid dog, it was a welcome respite.

"You look happy." I told the ripped and sweating picture of Americana.

"What's it to you?" he sneered as he dropped his shoulder pads and helmet on the couch.

I considered. "Nothing really, just bored." I answered matter-o-factly.

He peeled off his jersey showing his strong torso ripped to functional perfection. "Coach is bullshittin' me, treatin' me like a damn freshman. I know how to run MY team better then that old jerk." He threw back his head and squirted water from his water bottle into his mouth. His shaggy brown hair matted to his head, his every pore oozing sweat and his tight game pants all combined to make the scene look like a sports spread in Playgirl. I started laughing almost immediately.

"You think that's funny, asshole?" Brian barked.

"Yeah..." I said smiling at the centerfold the jerk was giving me, "but anyway aren't you supposed to do what the coach says... I mean isn't that the whole point of having a coach?"

"Look I know what the hell I'm doing and I don't need some old woman trying to fuss over me, he better just sit on the sidelines like a good girl or I'll beat his..." He mumbled on in a juvenile tangent like a spoiled brat.

"Well that's a mature and level-headed solution. Why don't you just take his lunch money?"

I watched in morbid fascination as Brian's Face grew redder and redder and he began to almost foam at the mouth. His strong square jaw roaring in frustration and his whole body tensing in anger. He squeezed the water bottle in his hand until the tanned flesh of his arm erupted into the large muscles of his bicep. His chest heaved up and down forcing the hairy fur of his pecs to lift up and down in steady rhythm. Brian was hot. No doubt about it so masculine, he was living breathing testosterone. With his rock hard body, bad attitude and natural athletic ability, no one ever probably told him no.

"You need some discipline," I offered offhandedly.


"Oh... I'm sorry... nothing, I mean, right on man!"

"That's what I thought." Brian trudged up the stairs to his room with me watching his beefy ass move underneath the tight white pants. His legs were furry trunks of raw power that made me salivate.

"What a dick," I said after my roommate was out of earshot.

"How do you know? Don't tell me you've seen it?" Gino said lecherously from behind me.

I mentally swore in irritation. "I hate it when you sneak up on me like that."

I turned around and was stunned. "Did you fuck a Brooks Brother and then in the rush to get dressed before his wife got home, ended up in his clothes instead of yours?"

"Has anyone ever told you, that you aren't as funny as you think you are?" Gino said to me. As he came around to the front of the couch. He was dressed to the nine's. He was wearing a deep blue suit with a red power tie. He looked elegantly handsome. His large shoulders and wide biceps only looked bigger in his well-cut suit.

"Repeatedly. But honestly, you look great."

"Thanks, I had a meeting with the owners of the gym, They were really pleased with my management especially how I filled all the open positions so fast." He gave me a killer smile and then a polite little thank you clap.

"Please no applause, just throw money," I answered.

"I have a better idea on how I could thank you." He gave me a lusty smirk and began to advance on me...


Saved by the bell, as it were.

"Christ, Every time I get ready to..." he grumbled as he went to the door.

He opened the door and was greeted by the wide vacant eyes of a blonde girl in a tank top and shorts. "Hi, does a Brian live here?"

"Yeah," Gino let her in.

"We're supposed to go out tonight, my name's Chrissy." She giggled.

I looked over at her impatiently. People who conform to stereotypes based souly on the pigment of their hair bother me. "He just came home from practice, he probably won't be ready for awhile." I explained.

She took along time to absorb that information and the smiled looking at Gino's hunky body tightly clothed in expensive fabric. "That's okay by me, I'm sure I'll fine someway to entertain myself." She gave Gino a wink.

The old Gino would have had his hands all over her big tits and plowing her mouth with his tongue. My Gino just gave her a flat unimpressed look and sat down grumpily.

I gave her a look that spoke volumes. The daggers my eyes were shooting basically translated into, Look here sister I've already staked my claim on this here territory, now get to steppin'. Chrissy, obviously the idiot her name and bustline belied, didn't catch the warning she went over and sat right next to Gino with one hand on his big thigh, "So what is it you do?"

I gave her another dark look, "I'm sorry, Gino prefers silence to awkward conversation."

She got all huffy. "How do you know what he prefers."

Gino intervened cordially "We're sorry. Damien and I were in the middle of a long overdue discussion when you showed up, We're both a little irritable, we apologize Mandy."

"Chrissy," She corrected.

"Whatever," he answered obviously pushed beyond even his limitless patience.

The little skank looked as if she was going to mount a second attack on Gino when there was a loud rumble that brought all our attentions to the staircase as Brian ran down them like a roll of thunder. He had changed into a pair of khaki shorts and a T-shirt. He hadn't taken the time to shower and the sweat from his practice and its accompanying prevalent odor remained. "C'mon Chrissy let's get going."

"You're going like that?" She asked skeptically sizing up his sweaty forehead and matted hair.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"She means you're not going to shower or anything?" I pointed out.

"Fuck no."

Chrissy looked distraught "But..."

He gave her a dark look, "But what, bitch? If you got a problem you can go home, and I can call somebody else."

Chrissy smiled a big dumb pleasing smile, "Sorry Brian."

"That's better, now let's go."

I heard the door slam behind Brian and Chrissy. "I said it once, and I'll say it again: What a dick."

I looked for Gino's agreement but caught instead an excited and intense glance. He obviously saw this as an opportunity for some alone time so I immediately reached for the nearest book and hid behind the aged leather.

"I wanna have a little talk with you D," Gino said seductively.

I reached into my shirt pocket and grabbed my reading glasses. And began to read the most uninteresting passage about how the Maenads of Ancient Greece drank the blood of their victims in a rite to ensure sexual stamina. "Go right ahead." I said offhandedly. "And stop calling me D."

"Alright. I get you're game buddy." He smiled.

"What are you babbling about." I asked as I continued to immerse myself in my reading.

"Two can play this game baby. And I should warn you..." A bold red tie landed on the large page I was reading. "I'm into games."

"What are you...?" I looked up to be greeted by the welcome vision of Gino loosening his collar and unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his gorgeously muscled chest. He pulled his white shirt out from his pants revealing his low hanging waistline and the enticing curve of his exposed hip bones.

"Every time I try and have a serious discussion with you hide behind one of those old books to ignore me." He shrugged out his jacket letting it drop to the floor. He removed one bulging arm from the coning sleeves off his cuffed shirt. I found myself intently following the swell of his bicep as he reached across his pecs to remove the other sleeve. "So I'm just going to have to find some way to keep your attention." He threw the discarded shirt and it landed next to me. He stood before me naked to the waist his big upper body pumped and perfect in contrast to his well-fitted pants. I took one look at the mind numbingly hunky Italian stallion before me and had to repress a sigh of sexual appreciation. He stood relaxed and cocky that the mere sight of his muscled body would be enough to impress me. And it sure as hell was but I wasn't going to let him know that.

"I've got work to do, Gino. Either get serious or come back later, alright?" I had to force myself to return my gaze to the stupid-fucking book.

"This is as serious as I get." I heard the faint thud oh him removing his loafers. Oh Christ, he wouldn't... There was the sound of metal clicking from him undoing his belt... of course he would. I couldn't help but to look up as he dropped his pants to the floor. He was wearing a pair of tiny black boxer briefs that had to be the single most erotic things I'd ever seen in my life. They hugged his big ass and showed off his heavy package perfectly. His big hairless thighs were olive skinned perfection against the black bushel of his immense bulge. He stepped out of the pants and again stood confident in front of me in only his skimpy underwear and black socks. He kept his socks on. And that for some reason combined with the picture of his humpy muscled body and tightly packed cock seemed wildly sexy to me. "Now, do I have your full attention?"

I started to speak, but I was silenced by the beauty of watching this paragon of masculine splendor strut toward me on legs as thick as my waist. With one powerful arm, he knocked the book at of my hand. He put one meaty thigh beside me, propping himself up on one knee. And then grabbed the couch with his opposite arm effectively imprisoning me in the span of his wide form. The big peaks of his pecs were only inches away from me and the protruding pouch of his skin tight boxer briefs dangled only inches above my own crotch. I looked up, and our eyes met. His chiseled but soft Italian features looked down at me ,and I could feel his hot sexed up breath on my face, "Your eyes say, 'No, no,' but..." He took his free hand and grabbed my chest, placing his fingers along my side and running his thumb tantalizingly up and down my chest and shoulder. "Your dick says, 'Fuck yes.'"

I might make very convincing show, but I am not made out of stone.

I put one hand on his back and the other on the flexing bicep that he was using to steady himself on the couch. He looked into my eyes and arched on of his thick dark eyebrows. He took his hand off my side and grabbed the hand I was using to stoke the dent in his lower back. He pushed my examining hand forcefully onto the swell of his bubble butt. My dick leaped at the feel of the cotton veiled muscled ass. His hands ran mine up and down his own ass harshly, making it fell every inch of his fantastic ass.

He leaned down, I arched up, and in one moment that seemed forever our hungry lips met and his tongue entered my mouth on contact. His commanding broad jaw brushed against mine as his fat tongue caressed every inch of mine. His sensual Italian lips seemed hell bent on taking in every inch of mine. It was like something that had been building in him had broken free and he had to devour me before the moment ended.

"OH GROSS!" screamed into my ears.

Gino tumbled off me as I stood up in shock. Across the room straining in front of the open door was Chrissy with her hands on her mouth, stunned.

She had walked in and saw Gino in only underwear and socks making out with me as we both ran our hands over his glorious butt. To say we were caught red-handed wouldn't do it justice.

Brian came running in on legs built to speed down the countless yards of a football field, "What's wrong?" He saw me standing, clumsily regaining my bearings and resituating my glasses and Gino lying on the floor in nothing but his jockey shorts and a smile, on his elbows and spread eagle.

"I came in here and these two were going at it like dogs. They're perverts," she whined.

That put me back in control real quick. "Watch it, Barbie." I snapped.

Brian looked as stunned as his date, but Gino's rock hard cock tenting his underwear a good 8 inches high was enough proof to sustain her claim. "No, you watch it, faggot!" he yelled.

I sat back down tiredly; I shook my head. "This is not going to go well," I sighed.

"Look Brian just take your date and go, alright?" Gino said.

"No, it's not alright! What the fuck has gotten into you lately. Between you and Red, I don't even think I know you two anymore. Nothing has been 'alright,' man, ever since this asshole showed up." I still had my head in my hand when Brian's abrasive grasp yanked me out of the chair.

"What the fu-..." I yelled startled.

"What the hell is your deal anyway? Comin' up here making all kinds of trouble?" He was raging and I was so surprised at the suddenness of his outburst I just stared at him. After a second, however, I was reaching back ready to cold cock the asshole. But before I could ever land a punch. Gino was there. My knight in shining boxer briefs. He pushed Brian to the side and stood between us like a referee.

"I said go!" he roared.

"Fine if you fairies want to play it this way, I'm gone. And that means I'm getting my stuff and getting the hell outa here too. I gots some friends over at the frat house who'll put me up," he snapped. Then he turned to his date, "C'mon Chrissy...move." And they were gone again.

Gino and I were both silent for awhile, and then he looked at me worriedly. "What are you thinking about?"

"I was just wondering," I answered pondering aloud. "So you think Brian would make a better hairdresser or a make-up artist?"

Gino looked at me angrily, "NO!"


"I said leave Brian alone," he ordered.

"Gino, what are you-"

"Look, Brian and I have been friends for a long time, and I don't want you to do to him, what you did to those guys at the gym alright?" he explained. "Not that I'm not grateful for your help or anything."

"But c'mon man, you should have heard him talking about his coach, and the way he treats his dates and then the ass had the nerve to get up in my face. He needs to be brought down a peg or too," I told him.

"And you're just the person to do that, I guess?"

"You bet."

The sensitive Mediterranean man put one hand on my forearm and looked at me anxiously. "Look D, I'm worried about you. All this magic bullshit it can't be good for you. What's that they say about a lot of power?"

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," I answered reflexively.

"Yeah that's it. I think you should back off the Hocus for awhile. If you're going to do anything to Brian , just teach him some manners. That's all you gotta do."

Why did everybody think I was turning into Rasputin here? I mean you completely alter the fabric of reality for a bunch of unsuspecting men and all of a sudden you're a megalomaniac. "If you feel that way, okay."


"Just a couple manners."

He let me go and sighed tiredly, "Good. I'm going to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

Teach Brian some manners, huh?

I know just the obedience school to send him too.


Part 2

The next day at practice Brian was running the ball wide when Coach Foreman stopped the play. Blowing on his whistle like a freight train, he ran onto the field throwing his clipboard to the ground behind him. Foreman was far from the old man Brian had painted him to be. He was a man in his late thirties with just the slightest signs of a receding hairline in his short-cropped brown crew cut. And like many men his age, the extra years only made his craggy face look more handsome. The small running shorts he wore did little to conceal the peak shape he maintained. Years of playing ball had left him with a beefy physique that could still put fear into the heart of any 20-year-old on a defensive line. He was a big guy, what a lot of people would call hirsute. And it wasn't really a bright idea to piss him off.

He bolted over to where Brian had stopped and took one massive paw and grabbed his star quarter back by his face guard. Foreman lurched the younger man until they were face to face holding the plastic of the helmet so tight the veins on his forearm shot up like pythons. "What the hell was that."

"I sized up the play and decided to run the ball out," Brian mumbled with just enough insolence to make things worse.

"You decided?" The coach spat twisting his whiskered chin to form a deep frown. "You don't decide nothin'! We're running passing plays!"

Brian looked into the man's deep brown eyes hidden beneath the heavy brow and his thick eyebrows, "I saw an opening and took the spot, I didn't do anything wrong."

Foreman was in a rage. He pulled him even closer and growled in his deep voice. "I, I, I... You better learn to understand mister that there is no 'I' in team, but let me tell you there is one in 'Kick your ass', which is what I'm gonna do if you don't start shaping up. You better start treatin' me real sweet little girl or you'll be out on your ass." He punctuated the macho threat with a smack to his helmet.

"Whatever, you wouldn't even have a team if it weren't for me," he pulled out of the man's iron grip and picked up the ball.

"I don't give a damn, I'll cut you too boy. Now listen up and do what you're told boy."

Brian was about to sling an insult back when the strangest thing happened, he got a little sexual rush. A sudden burst of adrenaline from being turned on ran down his spine and right to his jock covered groin. "What'd you say?" he asked again.

"You hear what I said boy."

Now he was hard, which was very uncomfortable under the restriction of his cup. In fact, he was rock hard. He was really turned on and really worried. He wasn't gay. He had checked out other guys during showers, but that was just basic comparison. For some reason the coach yelling at him was turning him on quicker then any of the coeds on sorority row ever did. His sudden sexual impulses toward the big man made him extremely uncomfortable.

Foreman grabbed his helmet again and pulled him close to give him another reaming out. This time his close proximity awakened Brian's senses. The deep masculine smell of sweat that he had never noticed before wafted off the coach's sweaty body and intoxicated him. The musk of Foreman's body combined with the heat of his breath made Brian impossibly harder, and he began to sweat not from the heat or exertion but from erotic stimulation. And for the first time Brian realized what a good looking man Jon Foreman was with his ruggedly handsome older face and strong jaw, the powerful almost primal brow ridge on top of that thick neck.

"Listen here punk you go out there and do the plays I call or you sit on the bench and do nothing." There was a pause as Brian just stared into those deep brown eyes. "Are you even listening to me boy?"

He fumbled to recover. "Yes...whatever." Then he urgently pulled away and ran back to the huddle. Anything to get away from the other man. What was wrong with him? He did not like men. Ever. He wasn't queer. In the huddle he nervously looked around at the other players and was disgusted. He wasn't attracted to these pricks. The thought of one of these dudes touching him made him sick. It must have been a fluke like morning wood or something that's all. Butt for the rest of the day he obeyed the coach and only ran the plays he called.

The coach was noticed how obedient Brian became after the incident; there was no more backtalk or fighting. As a matter of fact, Brian did exactly what he told him to do. Exactly.

Brian himself couldn't understand his weird compulsion to suddenly behave and follow the coach's orders either. And he sure as hell didn't know why he all of a sudden felt this sick attraction to the bastard either.

After a hellish practice where Foreman took every advantage to exploit Brian's newfound obedience by running him ragged. He and the rest of the team retired to the locker room. All the other team members who either lived in fear of his ego or was one of his sycophantic buddies came up to him and asked why he wasn't giving the coach shit. Brian just shrugged and said he didn't care enough to get into another fight.

But as all the guys crowded around him in curiosity as he tried to change He heard a bellowing voice echo over the heads of his fellow athletes. "Tell the QB to get his ass in here."

Brian had to catch himself from rushing into the Coach's office when he was called. To think he was going to go running out of the locker room in just his jock and a towel. He steadied himself and went back to getting ready to shower. "I mean NOW!" the voice yelled back. This time Brian couldn't help it he turned tail and ran to the office with his well-formed lightly haired ass bouncing exposed behind him.

"What?" he mumbled once in the doorway.

The coach looked up and was obviously stunned from the look on his face. He hadn't expected Brian to come half-naked. "What's wrong with you Brian?" he asked confused.

"What are you talking about?" he answered with a look away embarrassed.

Jon Foreman looked at him with a look of disgust and a profound curiosity, "What is going on with you? Every other day you're spitting in my face, getting the guys all riled up against me and doing pretty much whatever your punk ass wants."

Brian used the towel around his neck to cover his overexposed sweaty body, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under the bulky man's glare."So?"

"So what's the deal? Why are you changing your tune."

"I don't know," he said shrugging his big shoulders forcing his traps to flex.

"Well you had better tell me." Foreman commanded.

Brian heard the order and shot his head up shaking his mop of shaggy brown hair. "Because you told me sir," he answered with knee jerk response time.

"Huh," his superior looked even more confused than the arrogant football star felt. "And why did you come running in here without even getting dressed and leaving your ass hanging out?"

Brian's eyes looked like he wanted to start cussing out the coach he completely didn't respect but his mouth only said, "Because you told me to."

The dark blue eyes of Jon Foreman remained skeptical, but they glinted with an abrupt comprehension. "Brian, tell me you're sorry that you've been such a prick all season."

Brian's mouth twisted around the words in a sneer and his eyes glowed with contempt, but his voice was plaintive when he repeated verbatim the coach's request. "Coach Foreman I'm sorry I've been a prick all season."

"Are you really sorry?" he asked darkly.

"No," he spat.

Foreman decided to test his theory and took a leap, "Yes you are, Brian."

And then he was. Brian was very sorry he hadn't shown his coach, his appointed leader the respect he deserved. He stood before the man he so often disregarded as unimportant and useless and put his head down apologetically to stair at his feet like a chastised child. He had never felt this way. It was humbling to be embarrassed by his behavior, and Brian was never humbled.

The coach smiled a scary smile that seemed filled with hidden prospect. "Now are you sorry?"

"Yes," the cocky quarterback answered honestly his voice pleading unspoken forgiveness.

"Yes what?" The man behind the desk asked.

Brian understood the request for a term of respect. "Yes sir," he said as he looked up from his contemplation of the floor to beg forgiveness with his eyes.

When Brian looked up the coach was sitting bare chest revealing his hulking torso and massive barrel chest. He was intensely enthralled. The sight of this half-naked bear of a man sent Brian's cock more rigid then any girl ever had. The coach sat in his chair with only the small pair of blue running shorts to conceal the muscled bulk of his huge hairy thighs. His broad arms rested on the back of his head forcing the huge planes of flesh and hair that shaped his pecs to jut out compactly. He had a hungry look in his mature brown eyes made all the more enticing and frightening by the shadow cast by his bushy eyebrows. "You don't seem sorry."

"I really am," Brian answered awkwardly putting his hands in front of the obvious bulge he was now unexpectedly sporting. "Can I go now sir?" his voice cracked, and he visibly cringed.

"You don't have to hide that boy," Foreman shockingly said as he gestured toward Brian's unruly cock. "That's a good sized piece of meat. You should be proud." Almost instinctively Brian dropped his hands and followed the coach's suggestion.

Foreman's whole attitude had changed after realizing Brian's new bizarre pliant nature he became very authoritative and disturbingly sexual, making Brian uncomfortable. But still he couldn't control the impulses of his strange acting cock.

"But that still doesn't make up for your bad attitude today." He leered at the young man, "In my day boys like you would have got a good ass-whuppin' for that kind of behavior."

Sweat trickled down the bow of Brian's ripped back, and he twitched from how turned on he was. All thoughts of gay, straight, man, woman, were completely lost to him. All he could think about was the throbbing in his cock.

"Do you think that would be a good punishment, Brian?" Foreman grabbed his own swelling crotch with both hands and massaged his balls through the nylon fabric of his shorts "...an ass whuppin'? You do, don't you. In fact, you think that would be just fucking great don't you?"

"Yes sir." He practically moaned his response.

"Then get your pansy ass over here and bend the fuck over," his gruff voice commanded as he took control. In response he actually shuffled submissively toward his desk and gripped tightly to the far side exposing the white flesh of his meaty ass. The position was instinctual and forced his round ass in the air expectantly. He became to whimper in heated anticipation.

He hadn't long to wait there was only a moment of hesitation before he put one wide hand in Brian's mass of dirty blonde hair and brought the other with all the crushing force of his brawny arm onto the soft rotund orbs of his quarterback's ass. There was a loud thwack, and he yelped loudly but quickly followed it with a moan of pleasure, which only encouraged the coach to slap the soft pliant ass again and again. Brian's balls shook forcefully under the pressure of each smack jarring his excruciatingly stiff cock against the desk. His whole muscled body shook under the power of the blows that this other man was raining down on his butt. Yet he felt no real pain, only absolute sexual ecstasy. He was whimpering and writhing under the weight of his dominator rocking his hips, licking his lips, actively rubbing his nipples against the hard grain of the desk beneath him. He had never been this uninhibited acting like a bitch in heat. He had no control over himself he just moved his body to the rhythm of his need. He ached with sexual energy.

After what seemed like hours of abuse the coach paused, ceasing the hot sound of slapping flesh and whispered in his star player's ear, "Are you sorry now?"

"Yes sir, oh yes sir."

"Well then, you deserve a reward boy." The younger man was visibly upset at the loss of contact, and his large frame contorted in need. "And I'm going to give that big punk ass exactly what it fucking deserves," growled Foreman.


Part 3

Brian had completely lost control of his life. Last week he was the captain of the football team, dating a successful cheerleader and up for the presidency of his frat. Now he was fantasizing about Coach Foreman as he rode through the seedier part of town in the cab of his pickup truck. His every thought seemed to revolve around the big hands and harsh voice of the older man. The domination at the hands of his superior opened up a whole new realm of sexual fantasies to him. He was constantly having thoughts of being tied up and forcefully fucked by the man he used to disregard contemptuously.

Foreman had told him to put on his practice clothes and meet him at his truck. Brian didn't even think to ask where the coach would take him. But as the truck pulled into a parking place in front of a store called "The Bit", a sleazy Porno shop he knew of because he had been here once with a couple of buddies. They had all got together to by dildos to use on their girlfriends.

He was covered in sweat and walked gently due to the fact that his ass had almost been ripped raw from the harsh paddling that he had oddly gladly submitted to.

It was with this bow legged anxious strut that he and Foreman who all but led him by the nose entered the porn shop. Every time he slowed or hesitated the big man grabbed him by his belt and swatted his causing the taunt flesh smack loudly. And even though he wanted to hate the feeling he had to repress the urge to the thank him. The usual cocky bragging speech that Brian used as basic communication was nowhere to be found. In fact, he hadn't said a word since the coach told him to get in the car. Every time he went to speak, to say he wanted to leave, to say he wanted the coach to stop slapping his ass, to say anything at all he was stopped by one look from Foreman.

He had always thought of himself as imposing, but now he almost cowered behind the coach. His hands were held tightly behind his back, and his head was hanging down pushing his bangs into his eyes. His posture wasn't the awe-inspiring broad shouldered lumber of the peerless athletic star; it was the shuffle of someone who knew their place and liked it.

They passed a guy with a shaved head and what seemed a thousand piercings on their way to the back of the store. He gave Brian a knowing and lecherous grin. He flinched visibly when his gaze returned with brutal anger. How dare that pervert look at him like that? He wasn't some kind of freak. As soon as Foreman let him go he was gonna come back and teach that queer a lesson.

He turned quickly to catch up to the other man's powerful strides. He was led to a rack at the back of the store covered in a variety of leather garments. Brian had only a second to inspect and become weary of the hanging clothes before Jon grabbed him by the chin in vice like grip. The coach's other hand clutched his sore ass roughly. "You've disrespected that uniform boy." He tsked, "You don't deserve to wear it."

The quarterback lowered his eyes in shame at the big man's displeasure. "I'm sorry."

"I still don't believe you. I don't think you should be aloud to wear it until your honestly sorry, boy. What do you think?"

Brian was going to disagree loudly but for some reason he became even more intensely turned on at the prospect of helping in his humiliation "I think....you're right." He ended in a strangled whisper. And then without even realizing what he was doing he added, "Master." At the utterance of the word he became so hard he thought he would explode again right there.

"Good. Now we're going to get you a new uniform to help teach you that lesson." And with that his new master began pulling things from the racks of the seedy back alley shop. After much consideration he settled on a few select items and turned to the store clerk who Brian had glared at early. "You got somewhere he can change?"

The clerk looked confused for a second then shrugged and said, "They're some stalls in the back you can use."

"Thanks buddy," Foreman grabbed his boy and pushed him through the door the clerk had mentioned. Brian looked ominously at the leather pile in his hand, which caused him to smile cruelly before he ordered, "Strip!"

Without a moment's hesitation, the once insolently independent man began to peel off the grimy practice uniform with the immediate response of someone conditioned to follow command. As he removed the tattered shirt and slid his practice pants to the floor releasing his painfully rigid dick, Brian thought of what a nice change it was to not have to fight everything his coach said. To instead of listening to his pride and letting rule his life, just giving into someone else's control. He stood stoically with an eager smile on his face when he finished. He was as almost as big as Foreman, and he was much bigger than half the men his age but now under this man's gaze he felt weak and inadequate. All the brawn and muscle he had earned with countless hours on the playing field meant nothing, and he was helpless as a child under the disapproving eyes of the man he had willingly called Master.

Foreman looked at Brian in a detached way, the way one would look at a piece of property you owned and were considering the value of. He didn't say a word as he grabbed the younger man's large arms and turned him around violently. He was forced to brace himself by placing his arms in front of him against the wall of the stall. The coach kicked his taut calves apart spreading his legs wide causing the soreness in his ass to become a fiery pain. His big coarse paws roamed all over Brian's virile body inspecting every inch.

He began to fasten a tight back thong around his waist. It hooked onto a studded leather belt. The belt was then buckled onto a tight leather harness that was looped over his shoulders. His hair was grabbed and his head yanked back so that a wide collar could be wound round his neck. The coach slid two large leather boots on his big feet and then laced them up meticulously. In all the time it took to redress him Brian had only moved inches.

He was spun around so that he and his Master could admire their handiwork in a nearby mirror.

The proud college celebrity took one look at his ridiculously dressed form and turned away quickly with a strangled gasp of repugnance. Brian was repulsed. He looked like something out of one of his nightmares, one with a dungeon theme. His suntanned hairy body seemed different, as if the restricting leather made him bigger by squeezing him to capacity. It was humiliating to be dressed like this sideshow, and in that humiliation he was disgusted to find he was overjoyed. The large harness crisscrossed his bare chest in an X formation. It covered nothing. And it even had large silver hoops sewn into it that encircled his revealed nipples. The bands of leather that were pulled taunt across him were decorated with dangling hoops that shook when he moved and made him feel less like a man and more like some kind of animal dressed for show. The worst part was the flimsy covering for his cock was made to push his cock and balls forward to show them off and forced him to walk with his ass sticking out.

"What seems to be the problem boy?"

"I look like goddamn freak!" he yelled reclaiming some of the superiority of his regular attitude.

"No," a big hairy hamfisted hand ran down his spine. "You love this. You love the way the leather feels and how it makes you look, and you're grateful I showed you."

Brian stared at his degraded appearance in the seedy mirror of the back room of the porn shop. Brian was a proud cock of the walk strutting football star; the man in the mirror was very different. The man in the mirror looked exactly like Brian. He had Brian's short cropped ear length blonde-brown hair. Brian's thick frat boy, college boy muscled body. He had Brian's hairy chest. He had Brian's ruggedly handsome face with its strong chin, and dominating eyes. But the way the man in the mirror stood, with his head tucked between the broad football shoulders, his feet shifting and his eyes looking like a docile puppy made it clear that he didn't look like Brian should.

Not to mention the fact that he was wrapped head to toe in skimpy leather and adorned in steel.

But it wasn't bad. It was hot. The tight leather brushing against his skin was insanely thrilling. He never knew leather could feel this damn good. The way it felt like a second skin tucked on top of him. It was almost animalistic. He didn't feel emasculated by the weird outfit now; he felt like it gave him more prowess, even more of the hot man he was. The way his chest was bound with Leather straps, the tight bicep band, the restricting collar straining around his thick neck they were all incredibly sexy. The pronounced way his ass moved and the flagrant way his cock protruded in front of him made Brian feel like that was what he had been reduced to: Just sex. That's all he was now. A glorified tool for the coach's pleasure.

The thought made his erect dick leak pre-cum like a faucet.

He tried to focus his thoughts and muster his energy to fight back against these foreign urges that beat through his body like war drums. But he found suddenly that his appearance turned him on. The wide collar most of all. It confined the range of motion of his neck because it was so big. The coach saw him admiring it and ran his hands through Brian's hair "There's a good boy." And then as a reward he took a long chain from the wall and attached it to the collar giving the college boy a good-sized leash that he could be lead around on. He was a dog. An animal to fulfill his Master's need. And that thought made him happier than any other in his entire life.

"Well I'm afraid we're going to have to start training you boy. So you're good and ready for me," Foreman said hotly. "First, we're going to have to get the hungry little ass of yours used to a big dick inside of it." He reached behind him and pulled out a butt plug and cock ring. He easily moved the flimsy material of the thong. He took the long erect cock in his hands rocketing Brian into sexual euphoria. "This'll make sure you're always good and hard for me." And then he took two large fingers and shoved them angrily into the man's virgin hole. It caused the poor boy to yelp and squirm. "And this is so your cunt is always nice and ready for me." The large butt plug jarred Brian with its girth and slid it into his ass, which was completely unaccustomed to the treatment it was receiving.

The degradation was becoming too much for Brian's poor battered psyche and the pain and discomfort of the thing in his ass was the last straw. Tears of shame began to trickle down his dirty cheek unbidden.

He felt the coach's strong thumb brush against his dirty cheek to brush away the tear that was leaking out of his once stone eye. "It's all right, sweetheart," he said comfortingly and then he darted his arm out suddenly and grabbed Brian by his leather clad balls with such force that it made Brian yelp in a high soprano, "But if you don't stop crying I'll give you something to cry about." He growled applying force to the tender flesh forcing the quarterback's huge from to quiver in pain and fear. Brian made no move to resist.

"Yes sir," he said meekly.

"Now boy I want you to show me how much you appreciate my helping you apologize." Foreman removed his own sweaty shirt revealing the broad expanse of his colossal chest. He was damp with sweat and as the shirt fell to the floor Brian was washed in the deep musk of a man's sent. The pungent aroma of the coaches sweat and the masculine aroma of his heavy body. As he stretched the sweatshirt off above his head, his cumbersome arms lifted into the air revealing the dark patched of dense hair under his suntanned shoulders. "Come here."

Brian immediately shuffled toward the man he had once openly mocked. Walking was still very uncomfortable due to the cock ring and of course the butt plug that sat awkwardly in his recently deflowered ass. The pain and discomfort made him walk delicately like leather bound little ballerina. He stopped directly in the in coach's stony gaze. Both men were roughly the same height, but now it seemed to Brian that the coach was so much taller than him, so much bigger, so much more imposing then he had once been.

One big paw came to rest on his exposed shoulder and began needing the hard flesh. "Now boy, stick out your tongue." He complied. The other paw grabbed a hold of the released organ of speech harshly. "You used this to mouth of to me all season, now I want you to use it productively. I was in such a rush to get you the discipline you need I didn't have time to shower. Give me one now." He released the tongue clenched in his fist.

Brian's eyes got big with confusion and apprehension, "But how am I supposed to..." The paw on his shoulder grabbed his hair and forced his face down into the cleft of the coach's mammoth tits.


His tongue was running along the grimy skin of the older man before he had time to process the thought. He swathed his mouth along the edge of the jutting pec flesh wiping down the coarse skin with ever stroke. The coach tasted of salty perspiration. The sweat from another man's dirty body was running down his throat, Brian's mind seemed to detach and look at the situation as an outsider. He realized that he was worshipfully licking a man's gruff form but he had never even been this devoted or unselfish even when he was with a beautiful woman. What was going on with him?

The coach's hand took control again and pushed Brian's probing tongue up into his armpit. His nose was brushing against wiry dark hair and his lips were wet with ample moisture. The coach's strangely body odor clouded his mind. He started gagging. He felt like he was going to throw up.

"Stop being a pussy, you know you love this," Foreman told him.

And suddenly it seemed true. The coach was right. His tongue bath became more intense and exuberant. He was wildly trying to suck up every inch of the coach's hairy body. Roaming his slack and dry tongue all over him like a wild animal. Why hadn't he ever realized this before? He had once thought he loved the fragrant smell of a soft woman but that was so wrong. He wanted to smell and taste a man. To adore the tough body of another man. Why hadn't he ever taken advantage of being on a football team by sniffing the musky used equipment or bring a discarded jock up to his nose and jerkoff to the overpowering stench of another man's crotch? He had missed so many opportunities. He could have been enjoying the perfume of dirty uniforms instead he was busy eating out sorority girls. What had he been thinking?

Foreman grinned at his slave's new fervor for bathing him. The boy's savage manner was making his cock leak precum. The tongue ran savagely across the underside of his arms all through his pits, into the crevice of pecs, across the expanse of his back, along the edges of his half-Ab-half beer gut stomach until it lingered on one of his nipple's. First the quarterback sucked, and then he gently nipped. He stimulated the other man's nipple the way he had learned while trying to please the hundreds of woman he had bedded over the years. The entire mouth massage was the single most erotic experience that Foreman had ever had. The only sound in the dressing room was Brian's adamantly lapping tongue.

"All right, that's a good boy," he cooed. "Now Clean off my tool." He began unbuttoning his jeans.

Brian balked. He wasn't going to suck another man's Dick no matter what the coach said. That was going too far. He didn't even consider the fact that back in the locker room he had let the other man brutally fuck him. In his tangled confused psyche he was still the straight quarterback; it's just there were other incidentals now. He hadn't let the coach spank him because he enjoyed it. He had to bend over and get beat because he was disobedient. Which was the reason he was now wearing all this queer as leather bullshit. And just because he was an utter slave to the sensuous smell of man funk and the taste of another guy's ruddy skin that didn't make him gay.

"What's wrong boy?" Foreman said noticing his protégé's reticence at giving him the deep face fucking he deserved.

"I don't like to suck dick, sir." His voice was that of an apologetic child.

"What?" Foreman said angrily. "Yes you do, you can't wait to get your big ole man lips around my rod. The reason you've been giving me so much shit is because you've been anxious to get your mouth around my heavy balls since you saw me showering with the team after practices. You've been hungry for this cock since Day 1." He held his phallus flagrantly in front of him like a cudgel, gripping it as a visual aid.

And again after the coach told him so, it became true in his mind. The hugely erect cock in the other man's hand that had once repulsed him now was what he wanted most on the planet. He looked at the cut marble perfection of every vein and was in lust. His memories began to change perspective. Innocent memories of casually glancing at the coach soaping down his meaty body next to him in the open showers of the locker room changed to hot sexual interludes of Brian tugging on his own lather-covered dick to thoughts of taking one of the coach's heavy balls in his mouth. Strange that he didn't remember envying and being enthralled by the older man's dick until now. But he was definitely fucking enthralled now. His legs buckled out from under him and he was on his knees and face first into the groin of his coach before Foreman had finished the word "one."

He was ravenous, an insatiable animal, whose only thoughts were to have the dick. To pass it inside his mouth. To show the big man how much he appreciated the majesty of his cock.

"Go to it boy."

And he did. Brian began by controlling his desperate need to smother the dick with his lips and gently lapping at the base of dick and sliding his tongue against the sensitive skin of his hefty sac. He flicked his tongue around the hairy spheres flirtatiously while running his fist up and down the shaft. He employed every tactic that years of having his own dick sucked by experienced and eager young woman had vicariously taught him. He was having his dick sucked by adoring female sports fans since age 13 so his body knowledge was impressive. His hand moved to the flesh hidden behind the coach's encroaching forest of pubic hair and rubbed it slowly while brushing his pursed and wetted lips along the mushroom head of the beautiful cock. He continued kissing the head around the piss slit catching the entire head in the ridiculously puckered soft tissue of hid inner lip. He learned that from a girl sophomore year of high school after a homecoming game.

After teasing the head of the cock he returned to making love to the coaches balls with his mouth. He ever so gently enclosed one fat fleshy pouch in the sensitive caress of his hot mouth and then began to slide his finger down the separation and down along the ridge of skin between the coach's legs. He felt Foreman's granite thighs twitch and knew he was doing a good job. He learned that little trick from a cheerleader during senior week, who was a little trick in her own right. After swallowing the other ball like the first, he could no longer stave off his fulfillment.

With both big hands braced against the brick wall of the coach's hips Brian lurched forward with the same sped he would have broken through a defensive line and swallowed the penis all the way to the hilt. Foreman almost lost his balance. There was nothing like having your whole dick deep throated on the first lunge, his date for the senior prom taught him that. He gauged himself on the long dick and as his nose hit skin and pubic hair the cock slapped against the membrane of his throat. He had the sudden fear that he might gag and ruin the greatest moment of his sexual life, but he took the immense girth of the pole with consummate ease.

He then settled into the steady lip and tongue stroking of the pole that every girl who had ever had the honor to suck on his stick had shown him. He was sliding his face up and down on the dick like it was a horizontal lollipop for what seemed hours, fucking fantastic hours. He didn't want to give up his relentless slurping but his jaw began to ache from being stretched for so long. Then realizing Foreman was probably close to giving up his seed Brian pulled out his favorite procedure. He leaned in impossibly far on a thrust and caught the head of the cock in the gullet of his throat and began to massage the head with the soft wet membrane. A girl had done that to him at a frat party once, and he remembered it was like having your dick in a pussy and a throat at the same time. He longed to give Foreman that, his magnificent cock deserved it.

He brought his head back and returned to sucking the spit dripping cock. Saliva slid off the length of the cock and down over Brian's chin onto the fur of his chest, onto the floor, everywhere. Brian's face was slick with the lube from his intent cocksucking. During all this Foreman had been letting Brian doing all the work, keeping his hands on his tense ass or finger his nipple but that last throat fuck drove him beyond control and he put both hands on the back of his quarterbacks head and began ramming his hips into the man's face and ferociously bobbing his head up and down on the length of his fiercely hard dick.

Until that Brian had not even looked up into the coach's face because he was so mesmerized being able to suck at the cock he obviously was so craving. Now as his face was being speared without any effort of his own, he awkwardly shifted his gaze upward to see the strained look of pleasure that tightened his master's face. Foreman's lip was curled and his eyes were closed and his big guns were heedlessly shoving his head into his groin over and over again rapidly. So this was what it was like to be face fucked? He had himself done it to many women, been so turned out that you abandoned all pretense and began primaly fucking away in their mouth. He never realized how lucky they all had been.

The reverie of having his mouth be used was broken however when he felt the shaft jerk in his mouth and knew that the man was soon going to cum. He moved to pull away, but Foreman was prepared for this eventuality. Before Brian's lips even left the head he was grunting above him, "No baby this is what you want. This is your reward. You want my cum in your mouth. You covet my juice. It's the ultimate baby..." and then Brian was again convinced the man was right and he was ardently waiting for the pearly white fluid to snake down his throat. There was another flinch and the cock began spurting like an unsheathed firehouse. Jizz splattered onto the back of his throat and began pumping so hard and fast that he was trying frantically to get it all. He never tasted cum before. He had thought it would be disgusting. It was wonderful! It was so sensual, the ultimate expression of a man's sexuality and he was desperate to take it all. But he had brought Foreman so far that he was pumping out cum like a sailor on leave, and his mouth overflowed before he could swallow it all, and cords of spilling cum landed on his furry chest and even on the floor. Here was the star quarterback of the college football team on his knees in a ratty downtown porn shop, dressed in a queer dominatrix outfit with his mouth leaking cum like a 10-cent whore. If he wasn't that quarterback he might have laughed.

When Foreman's cock was finally spent and lay sensually flaccid against Brian's whiskered cheek. Brian instinctively made his move to retrieve the lost cum from the dirty floor of the dressing room. He leaned over shoving his ass out and displaying the lewd butt-plug from underneath the fabric of his little black Speedo. Without thinking he began licking the cum from the floor like a dog. Foreman was at first shocked at the man's behavior but then thought it was only fitting.

"You get it all boy?"

"Yes sir," Brian roared happily.

"Good put these on. I'm ready to leave." The coach threw a pair of little leather shorts at him with a wide tooth zipper in the front. He slid one thick leg threw it gracefully maintaining his balance and the second.

"Sorry for the modesty boy but we can't get you arrested for indecent exposure ...yet." His master said stroking the hair behind his ear soothingly. The quarterback bent into the caress like a pliant puppy or an eager schoolgirl his face wide with a sexually incoherent grin.

"Now get movin'." There was a wide handed slap on his ass forcing his cheeks to vibrate and he jumped to attention scurrying out of the booth.

As Foreman went to the trashy fag behind the counter Brian realized how queer he must look. It was one thing to have his Master see him dressed up like this, but not other people. He didn't want people think he was gay or anything. His apprehension must have been apparent because Foreman caught him lingering behind the shadow of the racks while he paid. "Come here boy." Brian trotted unconfidently over to his master self consciously aware of how naked he seemed with only the straps and bare tatters of leather hiding his well built athletic form. With every step he could fell his hairy thighs rub together or the strain of the leather against his pecs.

He came up beside the big man and stood with his head down until he caught the faggy clerk leering at him "What the fuck are you looking at bitch?" He snarled menacingly.

The pierced and shaved clerk with his handsome jaw and heavy lips was taken aback unprepared for the ferocity of the leather boy's voice. "Sorry," he stammered.

"No don't apologize!" Foreman ordered. Then he grabbed Brians chain link leash and yanked his head up until they were nose to nose. "What the fuck was that?" he yelled, spit and hot breath coating Brian's cheeks.

"I don't want that pussy ass fag looking at me, sir," Brian explained.

The coach looked confused for a minute and then considered the reaction. "I see...Well you were impolite to..." He looked to the weary clerk searching for a name.

"Kyle." He offered still seeming timid from behind his myriad of facial piercings.

Brian was upset that he had displeased his Master, so he automatically mumbled unhappily "Sorry" to the man while fanatisizing in his head about how after his Master left him go home he was going to come back and kick this bitch's ass.

"That's not enough," the big man said with flat menace.

"What sir?"

"Show him you're sorry. Get over there and suck his cock so he knows how sorry you really are, you arrogant little shit."

Kyle looked like he was completely confused and a little scared, and Brian looked like a caged animal ready to bolt. He didn't want to touch this homo's dick, but he didn't want to disobey his Master... his head was starting to hurt.

"What's wrong with you?" Foreman demanded when Brian didn't comply with his command.

"Sir, I don't want to touch this fairy's dick. That's disgusting."

"What are you talking about? You just sucked me off like a true born cocksucker not three minutes ago." The coach looked at him like he was crazy.

The quarterback was humiliated that his master had said that he was a cocksucker in front of the clerk and reached up to his master's ear and whispered, "Yeah but that's different you're my master. I don't like to suck dick sir, just yours." he pleaded.

"Oh, I understand," Foreman realized.

"Thank you," Brian said with relief turning away, the coach wouldn't make him touch the fag trash.

The leash was jerked again and Brian's head swung back around to meet the coach's intent and somewhat frightening face and hot breath. "You are a cocksucker, Brian." It was a statement flat and to the point, and Brian was going to protest but his mind seemed to cloud. "You love to suck dick. You want to worship and make love to men's cocks. You love the feel of a big tool in your mouth sliding in and out. It doesn't matter who it belongs to. And you're always grateful to whoever is nice enough to allow you to put your cocksucker lips on his big hot cock. It's not just my dick that makes your mouth water, it's every man's, but you just want mine the most. You can't walk down the street without checking out the crotch on every guy in a ten-mile radius. You are always scoping out the bulge in their jeans and judging the size and weight of their hidden dick and balls. You can't meet another man without stealing a glance at the weight between his legs. That's how much you love to suck dick."

Thoughts of dick flooded Brian's clouded mind, all the guys he had seen hanging loose in the showers from high school to college, all the men in tight Jeans walking the halls of school all the men in the frat bars whose laps he hardly noticed. And the coach's words become true. He was lust hungry for a dick. Without much thought he compliantly crawled over to the stunned porn store clerk and unzipped him nonchalantly. Reaching into his boxer briefs as casually as if he was shaking his hand and coaxed out his quickly hardening dick. "Holy shit." the other man said.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, just wait till he gets his tongue on you," Foreman chuckled.

The clerk had a nice sized piece, but his balls were hidden behind the tight confine of his briefs giving Brians hungry mouth a little disappointment. However, that just gave him more time to focus his attention on the clerk's shaft. The guy, Kyle, had a really good dick with interesting features. It wasn't just his face pierced, there was big gauge barbell going through his cock head that gave Brian a whole set of more lewd ideas of how to make the clerk come like a volcano.

The smell of the clerk's sweaty crotch sent Brian's head rolling in ecstasy ,and he had only begun to bob up and down on the rigid cock before he felt that familiar tightening in his throat and knew the clerk was going to come. Above him the stranger was moaning wildly turned on by all rational thought by having the submissive jock forced to suck him dry. Foreman must have noticed that the guy was ready to blow to because he grabbed Brian's hair and pulled him off for a second. "You don't swallow on anyone but me boy. Remember that." Brian nodded taking the new information into his mind as law and then returned to his ministrations on the clerk's sweat- and spit-soaked twitching dick. With both hands, he gripped the shaft and began rapidly and savagely pumping the cock. His hands slicked up and down with sloppy sounds of saliva smacks. The clerk almost screamed as his metal-speared dick began to erupt. Brian moved to turn his head to avoid being hit with the hot cum, but the coach pushed him back forward so the hot juice fell all over his chest and face. "I said don't swallow, that doesn't mean you can't take a shower." Drop after drop fell onto Brian's dirty face and hairy chest and he just whorishly threw his head back and forth like the slut in a porno enjoying the sexual spray.

As the jizz hit his cheeks he could feel his own cock lurch in his leather cod piece and felt his own release stream across his tightly packed balls. He bucked and ran his hands across his cum-covered chest making noises like a frenzied gorilla feeling so fucking hot because he was such a bitch for a hard cock.

The clerk looked like he was so spent he was ready to pass out and Brian just quietly moaned as he ran his fingers over his tired body. The clerk was zipping up when the coach broke his tight gaze on how hot his new little leather boy and put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Listen here pal. I think you owe my boy here a little something after that little show."

The guy looked at him dubiously. "Look man I ain't got no money...so."

"Oh no," the coach laughed a good-natured hardy laugh that was completely out of place after what he had just witnessed. "I'm talking about a service for services rendered."

"I getcha" the guy said catching on, "What were you thinking?" he said smiling.

"Nothing fancy just something simple." They were both inspecting a weary Brian like they were talking about remodeling a house. "I think hoops..." he grabbed Brian's fur covered big brown Nipple with a harsh tweak, "Two big fucking door knockers on each one of these tits."

Brian's eyes got big as the clerk went for a needle, "I think we can do that."

When Foreman said he wanted doorknockers he wasn't lying. The hoops the viscous piercer inserted threw his tortured nipples were huge. They hung heavy off his chest and pulled the speared and sensitive nipple down stretching it under the weight. They were thick as all hell and as wide as a fucking beer can. The proud quarterback was mortified because in the middle of the first piercing he started screaming and crying, but the coach was right beside him holding his shoulder and patting his head. The coach was so good to him.

"Alright, that's enough for today. Let's get you home before someone thinks I kidnapped you," Foreman announced after he saw the porn shop workers handiwork.

"Yes sir," Brian answered a little dejectedly. He was upset that he was going to have be away from his coach and Master but glad he could get away from the weirdness of the day. He headed toward the back changing room to get his clothes.

"Where are you going boy?" Foreman asked curiously.

"To go change back into my clothes, sir."

"What's wrong with the way you're dressed boy?" he said impatiently.

"Sir, it's alright if you see me like this, but if people on the street see me, they'll think..." he stuttered not trying to rise the coach's anger but desperate not to be forced into public like this,

"They'll think WHAT?"

"That I'm a fag," he answered.

The clerk broke out laughing hysterically.

Foreman sighed impatiently and slumped his shoulders. "You're a fucking stickler for detail boy, aren't you?"


"Never mind," He grabbed his new protégé and forced him in front of the nearest mirror. Brian's skin tingled to have the gorgeous brawny man touch his muscular bare shoulder. An idea formed in the older man's mind and his thick eyebrows came down mischievously. "Brian when you were in high school, was there a kid you would beat on 'cause you thought he was gay?"

Brian considered cocking his head to the side, which was hard, because his collar restricted a lot of his motion. "Yeah there was this queer named Cori. Me and the guys used to blaze him a lot," he chuckled.

The coach smiled, "Why'd you think he was gay?"

"Because he was always hanging out with the chicks...and plus he was a real fruit. He didn't play any sports. He was in the glee club and musicals. He was singing all the time acting all fruity," Brian offered.

The coach's face hardened, and he spoke directly into Brian's ear. "Listen up my little leather boy, You love to sing. It's your passion as much as Football. You want to be the best singer in the school as a matter of fact you want to be the best alto in the county by spring term. You'll sing anything, but you like old Operas the best. You understand?"

Brian's face looked repulsed for a second but then smoothed out benignly. "Yes sir, I love to sing."

"Well then boy, we'll have to get you voice lessons," the coach offered.

The young man clapped with glee. "That would be great sir!"

At that moment the coach jerked him toward the mirror, "Now look at yourself Brian!"

The All-Star Quarterback to a long look at himself in the mirror at the coach's command. He was a fantastic male specimen. He had always been a big guy but years of athletics had honed his body into a rock hard muscled machine. He was the poster boy for a gorgeous collage jock frat boy. But now that poster boy stood before him in a pair of tight boots that laced up his bulging calves like something from World War II. Where they stopped at the knee, they was just exposed skin all for what seemed like miles, showing every muscle and hair on his thick powerful thighs. His cock and balls bulged obscenely beneath his almost nonexistent short leather shorts. The wide zipper accentuated the length of his ever-hard cockring-encircled dick. The shorts made his ass look huge. Like it was packed so tightly inside the leather that it rode high up on his body like a shelf beneath his back... and he could still feel the lewd butt-plug filling his once virgin hole erotically.

A thick studded belt encircled his waist and two wide straps just out from it restricting his chest like he was a prisoner of the leather and pushing his tired body into a state of constant attention. The large hoops that hung off his leather bindings however could not compare to the huge circles dangling from his purple nipples wide and engorged with pain sticking straight out from his forest of short hair. And finally the collar that encircled his already thick neck and made him look like a slave with its leash dangling humiliatingly behind him. The way he was dressed was a thousand times worse then being naked but it was his master's pleasure not his that was important. "Yes sir?" he answered after he was done inspecting his trussed and hunky body.

"Now Brian if you saw the man in the mirror what would you think?"

"Well sir, I'd think he was a pervert."

"Really? And what if I told you he loved to sing Opera."

"Then sir, I'd say he was a queer too."

"Well boy," he spoke hotly into Brian's ear palming the boy's high bubble butt ass tensely, "What would you say if I told you the man in the mirror loves to suck dick more the a big tittied blonde from a porno? That he loved to bobb up and down on one until his jaw ached and went slack and he drooled down his mouth from numbness?"

"I'd say he was a fag, sir," Brian answered sadly.

"Exactly boy and that's what you are. But don't be sad. You're proud to be a fag. You're proud to be the hard body stud that you are. It makes you happy when people stare at your impressive body on the street. It makes you hard to know other men get hard just looking at you. You boy are the proudest hottest queer in town."

Brian smiled realizing his Master was right. He moved his hand up the side of his thigh onto his big bulky crotch and then up his abs then ripped chest before finally tentatively tasting his sexuality with his fingertips. He was gay and the hottest piece of ass in three states. His Master was so right.

Before they left Foreman bought himself a pair of leather chaps and an arm band. He said it was for "When they went out to all the bars."

The walk to the car was great. Brian strutted like a slut from a B-movie to let everyone on the street get a good look at his leather clad legs and tanned marble thighs and made sure to shake his big propped up bubble butt built from countless grass drills. Some men looked disgusted, some leered lustfully, but Brian knew as he rubbed his big package with both hands and sat back onto the head off his butt-plug that they all wanted to touch his hot body and that he would be glad to let them if they would let him suck their cocks. It was a fair trade. Just like him. Fair Trade.

Once in the cab of his Master's SUV, the coach had a hand on his exposed thigh and was massaging his hard cock through the leather as Brian licked his big hairy forearm. "We're going to have to go back to your house and get your stuff boy."

"Why Master?"

"Because if you're going to live with me I can't buy you ALL your clothes."

Brian laughed happily and leaned over unzipping his Master and Lover and giving his magnificent cock the attention it deserved. His collared head flew up and down over the dashboard and down between the Coach's sweaty musky thighs as they drove through town. Foreman's dick vibrated as his boy hummed tunelessly. Brian couldn't wait to learn his first aria.


"How do I look?" Gino asked me archly as he descended the staircase.

"Like the illegitimate love child of Tinkerbell and Captain Hook." Gino was wearing a shiny disco ball shirt and a pair of white pants. His dark Italian skin was covered with sparkles.

"Hey, screw you," he laughed.

"You going to another club tonight?"

He looked at me like I was a complete idiot. "No, I get dressed like this to go over my taxes." His face was so serious when he said it that it cracked me up.

"Who's your accountant, Diana Ross?"

"Oh shut up, bitch." He checked himself out in the mirror striking about a thousand poses. He was strikingly gorgeous. Dark Italian looks, platinum blonde hair, devastating fashion sense, all in all Gino had improved a thousandfold. "Damien why don't you come with me tonight? You never go out all you do is sit here and sneeze over your old books."

He leaped over the couch and sat down heavily beside me. All the mass of his big muscled body was practical crushing me. "I have a lot of work to do yet."

"Sure you do, C'mon you... me... and three hundred shirtless dudes dancin' to bad club mixes. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Now that you mention it... NO." I disagreed and pried myself away from Gino's vice grip.

The way the big lug pouted for a couple secs made me feel like the Grinch Who Stole Casual Sex, but he quickly recovered. "Well I want to get out of here before Brian or Eric get home. They've been acting all weird lately."

"I'm sure they think the same thing about you..." I laughed under my breath.

It was then that Brian, dressed as a reject from Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, entered the house with Foreman close at his leather padded heels.

Foreman smiled at us pleasantly but Brian kept his head down making no contact.

"Holy..." I started,

"...Shit," Gino finished.

And just when things couldn't get any weirder, down the stairs trudged Red wearing only a pair of tighty whites. His imposing burly frame dwarfed both Gino's large gym muscle and Foreman's bulky football weight. He lumbered uninterestedly through the shocked tableau of me and Gino gawking at Foreman and his little dominatrix in training. The man was so unobservant. He stalked on thunderously heavy feet into the kitchen like a sleepwalking bear.

I turned to Gino in a completely casual tone and said, "Gino, did forget to pay the Twilight Zone repellant bill, this month?"

Gino didn't miss a beat he just stared forward and said, "Shit, I thought you were going to get it."

"I take you guys didn't know Brian was gay?" Foreman asked.

"Or that he had been shopping at the Gap for Sadomasochists," I pointed out.

Gino punched me in the arm and the hauled me off to a corner of the room to talk privately. "I thought you said you were just going to make him more easygoing and obedient towards his coach?!" he whispered animatedly as he continued to stare at the strange pair in our living room.

"That's all I did!" I swore.

"Then how the fuck did that happen."

I ran my hand through my hair searching for sort of explanation. I really hadn't planned on any of this happening. I mean, yeah I thought Brian needed to be taught a lesson, but not one that involved a torture wheel and a cat o' nine tails. "Well I had intended for Brian to take everything his football coach said seriously and that he should follow his instructions to the letter.... And OH FUCK!" I said slapping the palm of my hand against my forehead, as I suddenly realized where the problem stemmed from.

"What?" Gino asked

"His coach! How was I supposed to know that his coach was a closet case with a penchant for a little slap and tickle... with an emphasis on the slap?"

"You had nothing to do with him making Brian his S/M lover?" Gino asked me in doubting tones.

"Look if I had a heart, I'd cross it and hope to die," I said trying to prove my innocence.

"I'm sure Damien," he spat escalating the argument

"It's not like he didn't deserve it. He was using every girl on campus as a never ending supply of fuck toys. His arrogance on the field was losing the games for his entire team. He was picking fights with you by making all those fag jokes, and he was even beat up poor wimpy-ass Mark..." I rambled on as I tried unsuccessfully to assuage my feelings of guilt.

"Look honey, I don't care how you try to justify this... Wait a minute... how did you know about Mark?" he asked in sudden suspicion.

My head shot up in swift concern, too swift. "What? Mark? Who said anything about Mark? Gino, who is this Mark person? We're talking about the problem with Brian right now, and frankly I'm disappointed by your inability to stay on topic."

"We threw Mark out before you got here, and we've never talked about it with you. How would you know anything about that?" I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

"Would you believe magic?" I said hopefully.

"Yeah, like you saw it your crystal fucking ball?" he said flatly. You know when he was straight, he wasn't this damn witty.

"Oh you'll believe that I can turn those troublemakers at your gym into happy little gay gym rats and make Brian into the queer prisoner of Zenda but a crystal ball you're having trouble with?"

"Look D, you're doing a lot of back peddling here. I thought we were close friends... I hoped we could get closer. You can trust me. Just tell me what's going on, okay?" He put one gorgeous olive skinned hand on my shoulder comfortingly and looked at me with heartbreakingly sincere eyes. My icicle heart was melting at his sweet gentle soul...

...But let me tell you what was at the top of my list of things to NEVER fucking tell people.

"Why don't we sort out this mess with Brian and then go get a drink to calm our nerves, I'll even go to that Meat Market place if you want," I said trying to slip out of the question.

He gave me a long look of skepticism, and then said "Alright..."

Thank the gods he bought it now what to do about coach leather boots and...


What now?

I escaped from the confrontation with Gino as he went to answer the door.

The only way this could get worse is if there's a busload of Jehovah's witnesses on the other side of that door.

When Gino opened the door to reveal the visitor I realized how wrong I was. It could be much worse then that. Mark could be behind that door. And he was.

"What are you doin' here?" Gino demanded.

Mark's lean form inched back, "I need to talk to you guys."

The little twerp.

"I thought we told you never to show your face around here again," Red growled idly readjusting the bulge in his underwear with one big hand distending the elastic around his massive paw vulgarly.

Mark made an uncharacteristic move of boldness and brushed passed Gino to stand center stage in the center of the entire circus in the living room.

Gino shut the door still leering at the unwelcome guest. I was coyly inching into the shadows under the staircase.

"Yeah you did, but don't you guys remember why you did?" Mark was going for the Meryl Streep award.

From my somewhat outside space I could see a very dim light start to flicker behind Brian's eyes. "Wait a minute..."

Gino looked around confused, "We kicked you out because... because..." I could see the bewilderment in his trusting big eyes. And to my surprise I felt real bad about it.

"Gino, look at yourself! I mean you guys were dicks, but I don't think..."

"What the fuck do you want anyway, kid?" Red grumbled. He had obviously already lost interest.

"I want to... hey, who are you anyway?" Mark asked obviously not recognizing crass crude lumberjack that Eric had become.

"Red," he said and punctuated the introduction by spitting into the nearest potted plant.

Mark studied him carefully "Eric?" he asked uncertainly, "Jesus, what did Damien do to you?"

"What?" Brian barked.

"What are you talking about?" Gino said suspiciously his hands raking threw his hair nervously.

"Damien, he's been screwing with your heads and your lives. He's dangerous. He's into all this voodoo magic stuff. He..."

"Wait a minute!" For the first time since he and Foreman arrived, Brian asserted his old dominant aggressive voice. "I remember now. We threw you out on your ass cause you were a pansy ass faggot."

"Watch how you're talking boy," Foreman commanded giving the leash around Brian's bulging neck a tug.

"Shut the fuck up, you prick," Brian roared and yanked the chain out of the big man's hand.

Gino's voice was unsure and he looked ready to cry or start swinging, "But... but why would we do that. We're all gay... aren't we?"

"I ain't no damn fairy," Brian said posturing. "What the... How the fuck did I get dressed like this?" He yelled noticing his S&M attire. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded in typical Brian regal fashion. He picked at the leather straps encircling his chest like poison.

Red's usual look of incomprehension seemed to intensify. "Are you saying we used to be straight guys?"

"Not just that," the little Judas answered, "you used to weigh like a hundred pounds less, and you were all cleanliness is next to godliness. I mean Eric, you were an executive."

"I was a..." The light I saw flick on in Eric's eyes went on in Red's. He turned quickly to look at his underwear clad behemoth body covered in thick body hair and exaggerated labor muscle. He put too massive hand on his grotesquely huge thigh astounded at its mass. "Oh my god... What's happened to me!" he asked in horror. His long Billy Ray Cyrus hair fell around his face as his towering form bent over, causing him to panic even more.

Visions of being burned at the stake began to run through my head. I wonder if they'd do that? Take me into the town square... Maybe they'd just stone me?

"No, this can't be happening," Gino's voice seemed to plead. "Damien wouldn't do that, we're friends... I mean him and me, we're boys... you."

"No you're not. He did this to you guys." Mark was casting himself as the hero of the piece, and it's not that I minded being the villain, but I sure as hell wasn't thrilled about being made to look like a fool.

The Italian stud looked at himself in the mirror his luscious shaved olive skin bulging under his sequined shirt and his fleshy pillars of thighs practically spilling out his skimpy shorts. " Yo, did I always dress like dis?" His voice was fluctuating from his current regular sweet speech to his old thuggish bully street talk. He was actually trying to stop the spell from breaking. "Did I always dress like some fag ass bitch..."

I was not going to let them throw me into the river and see if I float that's for damn sure.

Anyone paying close attention to me would have noticed that the shadows of the darkened corner were starting to almost come alive around me shielding me except for my eyes.

Brian was still occupied by being revolted at the way he was trussed up, Gino seemed to be contemplating the reality of his own personality, his new attitude at war with the old one, and poor Red just kept touching his huge body in horror and disbelief. I was going to have to do something. I hate being forced into things.

The immediacy of my actions was stepped up when Brian snapped out of it and came rushing at me like a bull in the streets of Spain. "What the fuck did you do to us?" he screamed. One very powerful arm was in midswing when I reached my hands up calmly, and he stopped frozen. His clenched fist paused just in front of my nose. All the others also found themselves in various states of frozen time. All of them except Mark of course.

The minute I saw Mark at the door I knew that trouble was on the way so I slinked into my nice unnoticeable spot and began to weave an incantation. My hands were lacing in foreign patterns behind my back the whole time. "Are you quite finished?" I thundered at Mark.

The little weasel fell backwards onto the floorboards, "Holy shit!" he whispered in stark raving fear.

"Oh no... quite unholy." I was on autopilot, my fury boiled so deep that I could feel the cold rage take over. My head was crouched between my shoulders like a stalking animal as I advanced on the idiot on the floor "I warned you."

"What's going on... What are you doing..."

I slid past Red in my advance and ran my fingertips across the tantalizing broad expanse of his muscular back in a deceptively playful way, "The funny thing about magic, Marky boy, is that the more you use the better you get. It gets to the point where you can pretty much do anything on your own."

Mark's eyes were wild. "What... What are you going to do." I realized in a detached way that the tips of my shoes were scraping across the floor, I was floating toward Mark. I had kicked up the juice full force. I could really feel it.

"Do you know what you almost did?" My voice didn't sound like mine, it was deeper darker, a lot more threatening. "These guys weren't my toys, you ass, They were actually happy. Eric with his ruthless ambition would never have found a relationship as happy as the one he has with his boyfriend Hank. Brian with a little discipline and some well earned humiliation is well on his way to becoming a person... and Gino," I looked at the conflicted face of my beautiful Italian friend thoughtfully, "Gino's not the thug bully he was. He's sensitive and sweet and smart, and he..." I broke myself off. "The point is, Mark, what I did was more help than hurt."

"Alright, whatever you say man," The jerk was actually trying to placate me so as to aid in his escape. He was skidding across the floor backward on his hands and knees to avoid me. "I'm just going to get out of here then..."

"Think again." With one swing of my left fist invisible hands grabbed Mark and dragged him into the air.

I had never personally witnessed my handiwork. I always cast it and waited. This was the first time I had taken things into my own hands. It was terribly scary and the most powerful drug I'd ever had.

"Damien, please I'm sorry, Please..." Mark whined as tears of panic slid down his pale face.

"Dammit Mark! Stop being a little bitch, If you had a fucking inch of courage in the first place we wouldn't be in this mess." I snapped, "You could have handled these guys on your own and I would be back in my nice happy isolated apartment. You need to grow a damn back bone you wuss." When the words were out of my mouth I felt a rush and a plan formed very quickly.

"It's not my fault..I..I," my friend and betrayer stammered uncontrollably while he hung in front of me motionless.

"You're right Mark. It was your deep sense of righteousness, and of course, the overdramatic." My feet landed on firm terra firma with a thud. I paced around Mark's suspended form in cat like consideration. "And you shouldn't be punished for that, you should be rewarded."

"Don't do it Damien, please...please..." And he was still crying. I was very irritated.

"I'm going to give you the perfect outlet for your need to protect and serve others, and then I'm going to personally grow you that back bone, Sound fair..."

"Damien I," he sniveled louder.

"You talk too much Mark." His mouth kept working, but no sound came out. "No, no offense Mark buddy, but I'm going to have build you from the ground up. Let's see what kind of clay I've got to work with here." My hands spread wide and Mark's Dockers and polo shirt disappeared simultaneously. He now hung pale and shaky in his boxer briefs. He wasn't an unattractive guy, just non-descript. He had an average body, no muscle, but no fat, and at 5'7", he had a bookish charm with his shaggy hair and glasses. But that just wouldn't do for what I had planned.

"You always told me you wanted to be taller right?" His eyes grew wide with terror. "Well consider it done." To tell you what happened next wasn't surreal would be a lie, a big fucking lie. Mark's scrawny body seemed to stretch and warp, with the naturalness of someone really growing taller like he hit a growth spurt but it took him 10 inches in 5 seconds instead of two over years. Mark now stood before me a towering 6'4" instead of his diminutive 5'6". The added height made him dreadfully lanky like Ichabod Crane.

"There you go, but I can't leave you like that, can I? All skin and bones..." Another hand sweep across my line of vision and Mark began to change in a most interesting way. His skinny frame began to expand with muscle and tendon.

My dick began to expand too. This was hot as all hell.

"I've always loved a man with soccer legs, don't you, Mark?" His calves flexed to well formed perfection and slid into well-trimmed thighs that were poetry in their impeccable thick and lithe shape. The muscle tightened around his abdomen and groin until it was the beautiful cut grace of stone-etched curves.

"And an ass, Mark, you need an ass you could eat breakfast off of." The fabric of his underwear stretched under the formation of his glutes as they shaped themselves into the most impressive ass I had ever laid eyes on. Masculine prowess and perfection. Tight and round and so high and proud it almost had an arrogant pride. This was the ass that young gay men salivated over in their wet dreams.

"Now Marky boy, we don't want you too bulky. You're going to need to be quick and athletic in your new line of work," I told him as I cupped my well-formed handiwork. God the feel of that magnificent ass almost made me cum in my jeans. "So how bout big broad shoulders and tight pecs. Big and square and flat. And we'll keep that little waist of yours, okay?

There was another shift, and Mark's upper body contorted until it was a very defined 'V'. The shape of his torso was so exquisite it seemed impossible. His slim waist expanded into the broad expanse of a tight chest and wide shoulders.

"One more thing, you need strong arms. Nice carved biceps." And of course there they were after I had said it. His arms hung heavy against the air. His shoulders jutted out at such a strong angle against his slim form that this muscular round biceps dangled against the air instead of brushing against his side.

"Beat that Bailey's."

I inspected Mark's ultimate body. A body that could have only been achieved with optimum genes and rigorous workouts. This body was so fine it made your eyes ache just to look at it. Mark whose face seemed to contort with stress look at himself in awe. "Cat got your tongue?" I asked releasing his invisible gag.

"Oh my god look at me," he squealed as I set him on the floor. He stared at his reflection with the same posture he always had. Unconfident and shy Mark slouched in the body of the Grecian God I had gave him. Still looking to the entire world like the weak loser he was under all that muscle and beauty.

"Well that's going to ruin the whole affect." I noted. "You're not going to be able to intimidate civilians with that whiny little voice."

"What are you talking about you..." he trailed off in a fit.

"You wanted to play the hero. That's fine by me. You can protect and serve like everybody else, behind a uniform and a badge." I considered. "But that voice and that baby face... isn't going to get you a lot of respect." The sweet round face of unassuming Mark blurred a little becoming more angular, craggy. Weatherworn not from age but from life. A very handsome harsh masculine face appeared from behind the wire rim glasses. As an afterthought, the glasses changed from transparent prescription lenses to reflective mirror sunglasses.

"This is fucking insane! You've got to stop this..." His high-pitched whine deepened as he ranted into a deep resonant commanding tone, a rich sound that rumbled out of his chest with force. It sounded like a voice not accustomed to be questioned. Mark's harder face twisted in confusion at the new sound erupting from his mouth.

"Hey buddy, how 'bout just for kicks I make ya southern?" I asked.

"Ya'll can't do tha'," he drawled in a thick Tennessee bass. "I reckon, tha's nah e'ven possible." His eyes went wild at the sound of his country western twang.

"You'd be surprised at what's possible and what's not."

"See here now boy, Ya got's ta ch-ah-aynge mah back," he pleaded.

"Nope." I finished my masterpiece with a few minor details. Giving him a tight trimmed goatee and a military haircut you could set your watch by. Altogether he looked, and sounded like the butch cop from every gay man's fantasy. Now to make sure he acted the part.

I ran my inspecting hands over the long stretch of Mark's tight legs from behind him. "Tell me Mark. What's your Ideal Man?"

There's was a far too boyish wistful grin on the hard face. "Ah want ah man who'll bring me roses and who'll always be there ta support me..."

You've got to be kidding me. I was doing Mark a big favor. "No you don't You want a hard as nails aggressive bear of man just like you."

He looked at me. "Like me?"

"Yes. Now you see here Mark. You are now officially Officer Mark Smith. You don't take shit from anyone. You are one hard ass cop. You like to fight in bars, you love a good brawl, and you're just about three evolutionary steps away from a gorilla. You have the mentality of the Terminator. You, in short, have the brass balls and backbone you never had before." You could see the changes on Mark's face as his soft expression shifted to that of one of suspicious consideration and a cocky confidence that wasn't there before. "And you know Mark I think the reason you were so unhappy before was all the overthinking you did. You overthought every second of your life. I think you need something better to worry about. Let something else do the thinking for you." Mark with his almost sneer look at me confused and then suddenly put one vein-dissected hand down onto the bulge in his shorts which was once a modest 6 inches and now began to snake into a rigid 9 and half, with the heavy brass balls I mentioned to match. His briefs were now packed tight enough to cut off circulation as he ran his hand up and down the length of his cock. Officer Smith would be to worried about keeping his monster cock happy to worry about much other than it. Officer Smith would now understand the simple pleasures of servicing the needs of his sexual urges instead of his neurotic hang-ups.

His brains were in his dick now.

"So you see Officer Smith, you're going to be able to protect and serve every man woman and child in the state." Mark now wore the tan and black uniform of a state bike cop. It was so fitted to his supple body that every cut of muscle could be made out in the folds of the fabric. The shirt was stretch so taut against his skin the nipples were as apparent as the buttons. The tight Black pants seemed design just to accentuate the massive bulge between the runner's legs. "And when I said Serve, I meant it." I gave into my own lust while looking at my own private Adam. "You're going to be the most popular patrolman on the force. Whenever you pull a guy over and he seems pliable, you're going to get onto those boot-covered knees and blow him like there's no tomorrow and use that porn star cock of yours whenever you can. Got it?"

"Yah, ah gahtcha," he drawled as he lick the rim of his goatee with his tongue and rubbed a gloved hand across his crotch. Where weak, neurotic, miserable, punching bag Mark Smith had been there was now a hunk motorcycle cop named Officer Smith, too concerned about keeping the peace and getting a piece to worry about shit.

"Now in review," I said, "Who are you?

"Offi'cah M-ah-rk Smi-ya-th. State Bike Cop." He smirked as he thumbed at the cleft between his thigh and the straining fabric of his crotch.

"I thought you were Mark Smith, college student and computer programmer."

He tilted his sunglasses down to look at me with intense and rude eyes. "Fuh-ck nah. Tha sounds like some pussy, with ah pussy ass job."

"And where you born in Dayton, Ohio?" which was Mark's dull little hometown.

"Nah ah grew up in Kentucky. Where a man learns how ta be ah man."

"And Officer Smith, whatis your favorite thing to do, sit at home and watch Dawson's Creek?" I said mocking poor Mark's pervious life.

Officer Smith crossed his cut arms in front of himself and gave me a savage angry glare. "Ah you tryin' tah make an ass o' me, man?" He stood with a cocky slouch that illustrated his insolent behavior.

"No," I snapped quickly.

"Good, 'cause ah'll tell yah what mah favorite thang to do is. Ah like to get out on an empty stretch of highway," he moved like a stalking animal toward me strutting boldly, "and pull ovah a good lookin' man in a minivan and then show him jus' how straight he ain't by suckin him dry and then bendin him ovah my bike and fuckin his brain's out." He was right against me his tan uniform moving like liquid over his buff body.

"Wow." I exhaled with very real excitement. I hadn't been this hard and this intimidated in... a long time. "That was vivid."

The man I had completely disregarded as a human doormat and whiney loser, now stood two inches above me and put one large confident leather gloved hand on my ass and pressed me against him forcefully, "Now let me show ya how vivid I can be, bend the fuck over that couch, bitch."

That was incredibly fucking hot but taking it way too far.

I pulled away from my latest masterpiece a little shaky, from sexual chemistry and a little out of intimidation.

"Good', I'm glad you see things my way. Let's try this again." I took one last look at the disdainful form of Mark as he postured in front of me hips forward and leer enticing me. I quickly focused my concentration trying to set everyone else in the room back in motion while making them ignore the changes in officer smith. But as I released the spell I could feel it changing. It was twisting around all the other magics in the room. I was reverberating off the other spells that I had cast bouncing off Gino to Red to Brian's and back again,

You've heard of the term too many cooks in the kitchen well this was like to many grease fires in the kitchen.

All that force spiraled out of my control and took on a life of it's own. As Gino, Red, Brian and his coach stood motionless and Officer Smith continued to leer at himself hungrily in the mirror, I tried to regain control over the primal energies I had set loose. It was like trying to stop a flood with an umbrella.

Why don't I ever stop while I'm ahead?

There was a flash.

"....So's ah Was hopin' y'all wouldn't be too mad tha ah came back to poach a roommate from ya'll." Officer smith said with a forward look on his handsome and stern face.

"That's fine Mark, It's just I don't think any of us saw it coming." Gino Laughed from where he was sitting lazily on the couch.

"Speak for yourself," Red chuckled as he went back up the staircase uninterested, big legs and wide cotton covered ass pumping.

"When Brian, here told Jon he wanted ta come stay wit us, we were jus' as surprised as ya'll" the young police man explained from behind the protective wall of his mirrored glasses.

I was having problems registering what was going on a couple seconds ago I felt like Pandora with a very open box and now I was back sitting next to Gino on the couch. I stared over at the mass of glittering sequined Italian muscle, searching for some clue as to what was going on and he just shot a confused look at the cop, the coach and their leatherboy.

Red had gone back up stairs so that left me with one less variable.

I looked on at the new Mark. He stood tall and dark and drop dead studly gorgeous next to Brian's burly coach. Brian still dressed in his Leather boy gear was standing docile between them with his head down and a pleased grin on his face.

What did I do?

"What Mark is trying to say," Foreman explained in his authoritative voice, "Is that Brian asked if he could stay with us for the rest of the semester. And even though Mark and I are damn happy together," He put one big paw and Mark's shoulder and rubbed the cop's neck affectionately, "We wouldn't mind having a houseboy."

"Ah hope y'all ain't too put out," Mark offered returning Foreman's tender touch with a more flagrant pat on the older man's meaty thigh.

"Wait a minute," I objected standing on shaky legs.

"Don't ya worry non, Dah-mien," Mark advised crossing his arms against his chest, stretching the fabric of his button down shirt to the point it looked like the seams were going to burst.

Foreman intervened. "Yeah it's no problem. Brian can stay with us rent-free, and he can have a hell of a lotta fun just raisin' hell with us before he gets out of school and has to join the real world. Plus he's got his submissive little heart set on it, don't you boy?"

It was the first time the young stallion had been addressed he raised his collared neck and beamed with appreciation. "Fuck yeah man, this is going to be wild." His leather shorts betrayed just how excited he was.

Officer Smith smiled a canine smirk. He grabbed Brian by his hair and took a hold of his chin in the firm grip of his gloved hand. And roughly brought the college boy's face up to his own whiskered square jaw. "Ah can't wait to get you home and start breakin' you in."

The athletic bully who had once beaten up defenseless weakling Mark Smith for being a gay weakling looked up into the Officer's eyes and said proudly, "Can't wait to be broken sir!" He almost said it like a challenge.

Mark reached down and smashed his open mouth into Brian's kissing him violently. Brian grappled back eagerly. Officer Smith tugged happily on Brian's nipple ring as Brian tugged on the other.

"That's not what I mean," I pointed out groggily, "Let me get this straight, you and Coach Foreman are living together?" I asked Officer Smith in confusion.

He pushed Brian away from him with the hand he had holding his chin and lowered his sunglasses with one leather coated hand, looking at me from underneath the sharp crest of his buzz cut. "Course we are Dah-mien. We've 'a been to'gether since ah met Jon at tha' leather bar downtown two years ago." Then he pulled an unfiltered cigarette out of his pocket, inhaled deeply and blew it into Brian's open mouth.

"...And now Brian want's to be your leather boy slash houseboy?"

"Do I ever!" Brian exclaimed stunned that I even had to ask.

And that ladies and gentlemen was all's I could take, and I couldn't take no more

I fainted dead away.


I woke up in the comfort of my bed with a pounding headache. "Looks like someone had decided to return to the land of the living." Gino whispered from the chair beside me.

"What the hell happened?" I asked incoherently.

Gino laughed quietly, "I think the shock of finding out that that cop friend of yours Mark was leather freak and that Brian wanted to be his boy toy was too much for you."

"Oh jeez..." I muttered suddenly remembering everything. The Coach and Brian. The fight with Mark. The spell. Losing control. The whole ordeal must have floored me. My whole body ached and I was in this complete fog of exhaustion.

I felt a big gentle hand on my shoulder, "Don't worry. I don't think it was too humiliating. However it took both me and Brian's football coach to drag your ass up here."

I took the hand abruptly and looked up into Gino's concerned eyes. "Remember yesterday when you told me that I should back off the hocus pocus stuff because I was getting to carried away?"

His face clouded and his big sensual lips began to work silently. "About that I'm sorry. I was tired and it had been a long day and I just..."

"You were right." I told him. "I need to step away from it for awhile. I should have listened to you."

He smiled his big self-effacing smile of delight. "I'm glad you see it my way, but why the sudden consensus?"

"I didn't have control of the situation tonight." I grudgingly told him possibly opening up more than I wanted to.

"Control's a big issue with you, isn't it?" he asked very seriously. "You always have to be in control don't you?"

"Yes," I answered point blank. I did. That's why I got so pissed at Mark he came into my experiment without knowing what I was doing and for no reason at all just started fucking with me... No reason at all. Why did Mark come here anyway. Out of moral indignation? That wasn't like him. He saw how I changed Gino and Red and then he...

That little weasel.

He duped me. He knew exactly what to do to goad me into using a spell on him. He knew I'd never change him into a dumb humpy stud if he asked me too. So he fooled me into punishing him that way. The little bitch predicted my every move.

"Dammit," I swore. Not only was my occult knowledge getting beyond my control, but I'd been tricked by a computer geek. But all my anger and tensions melted away unnoticed when I realized that my alarm clock was blinking 1:30. "Did you stay home all night just to make sure I was alright?" I asked amazed.

"You bet I did. And I'll have you know because of that fainting violent episode you had Mr. Melodrama I missed one of the best dance nights at the Meat Market," he joked.

"I guess I owe you one," I admitted

"You sure as hell do," he agreed.

How was I supposed to know just how big a debt Gino thought I owed him...?