This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.
The atmosphere at Buzzwords was not what Fred was used to. Everything from the music to the menu to the uncomfortable chairs screamed too many things to him. Too trendy. Too cool. Too youthful. Easily the oldest person in the café by two decades, Fred felt like an anachronism and like everyone in the place was staring at him, judging him. “Who’s the old guy at the corner table?” he was certain they were thinking. All he wanted to do was leave.
And yet he remained seated at the table by the restrooms, just as he’d been instructed to. Every few seconds, Fred checked his phone, but there was no message. His breath caught in his chest as he re-read Sir’s instructions.
![Man sitting in chair at cafe with back to camera](https://jayhypnowriter.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/08/when-sir-became-son-jayhypnowriter.png)
Today’s the day. Wait for Me at Buzzwords. Order yourself something and sit in the back somewhere. Wait for further instructions.
It was too late to back out. Fred had come this far and, despite his fear and anxiety about the future, he had to see this through. His desire overwhelmed him and made everything else fade into a fog at the back of his mind.
“Why am I sweating so much?” he thought as he checked his phone one more time.
“Looking good.”
Fred turned around. Sir stood behind him, holding a leather collar and two matching leather wrist cuffs. His expression was inscrutable, made even harder to gauge by the reflective sunglasses obscuring His eyes.
“S-Sir,” Fred stammered. “I expected You to text.”
“You assumed,” Sir smirked. “And we all know what happens when you assume.”
Sir set the leather gear on the table, the buckles making a loud clang as they landed. Fred was certain every single person at Buzzwords was staring at him.
“Coffee money,” Sir said. “Now.”
Fingers trembling, Fred opened his wallet and pulled out a crisp $20 bill. Sir reached forward and snatched the cash out of Fred’s fingers. “Please keep the change, Sir,” Fred said.
While he waited for Sir to return, Fred eyed the emergency exit door just a few feet from where he sat. He was decently athletic and a fairly fast runner. If he wanted to, he could probably get far enough away.
But he didn’t want to. Fred had been wanting this to happen ever since he and Sir first crossed paths. He’d been Sir’s submissive. He’d been Sir’s toy. But his ownership and subjugation were just moments away from a seismic change, a change Fred desperately needed.
Son returned with His coffee and sat down across from Fred. “Awareness now,” He commanded.
Suddenly, Fred became aware that he was wearing a full-body rubber suit. It was blue with white sleeves and fit so tightly that he could feel it squeezing against every inch of his body.
“Sir,” Fred gasped between quick, shallow breaths.
“Not anymore,” Sir said. “Are you ready to become My slave dad?”
Fred nodded, then bowed his head in deep respect. “Yes, Son,” he said, his eyes cast down at the collar and cuffs on the tabletop. “I am ready, Son. Please make this slave Your dad.”
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