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Tag: transformation (Page 5 of 7)

To chase and be chaste, part 4

Eric comes up with an idea for how to get out of his predicament, continued from part 3 of “To chase and be chaste.”

Trapped inside DateMaker’s underwear prison, Eric felt frustrated, empty, and hopeless. That night, he whined whenever he felt the impenetrable barrier between his fingertips and his cock and realized how often he unthinkingly groped himself. Periods of furious humping punctuated a fitful, dreamless sleep, and he awoke the next morning with bloodshot eyes and an incurable horniness that gave him no pleasure. 

He stumbled through his workday like a zombie. The combination of sexual denial and enforced numbness had affected his behavior in the office, and more than one colleague observed that he didn’t quite seem like himself. 

If they only knew, Eric thought as he tried to make it from the conference room to his office without anyone noticing or stopping him to talk. He was just a dozen paces away from the safety of his office when a gravelly, baritone voice called his name. 

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To chase and be chaste, part 3

Eric’s saga continues from part 2 of “To chase and be chaste.”

Eric tapped the RELEASE button on the screen. With the speed and force of a pressure valve being flipped, the sensation in his new underwear changed. The numbness was gone, and the rigid, plastic encasement felt like fabric again. Tentatively, Eric hooked a finger into the waistband and breathed a sigh of relief when it stretched away from his body. He was free. 

“Thank fuck,” he said, sliding the briefs down his thighs. He sat down naked on his sofa, legs splayed wide, and cradled his phone in his hands. DateMaker had locked him out of his phone once again. A countdown timer now filled the screen, ticking down from five minutes, and a line of text scrolled on a loop below. 

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Relaxing My Uptight Roommate (excerpt)

The following excerpt is from Relaxing My Uptight Roommate: A Gay Hypnosis Story, which is available exclusively for purchase on Kindle.

“Matt!” Oscar barked. “You’re getting the carpet wet. Go change.” 

Matt scurried down the hallway into Oscar’s bedroom and opened the door to his walk-in closet. He flipped through some shelves of neatly folded T-shirts and shorts, but then his gaze settled on a row of suits, collared shirts, and ties. Matt remembered how, when he first moved in, he would sneak glances of Oscar shedding his business attire at the end of a long workday, but he was no longer thinking about what Oscar looked like. He was thinking about how amazing it would feel to put on one of Oscar’s suits. 

Matt touched the fabric of a navy blue suit jacket and shivered as a wave of pleasure radiated outward from his cock. He was certain this wasn’t what Oscar meant when he said “go shopping” in his closet, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the smart-looking suits. The mindfuck of Oscar looking and acting more and more like Matt over the last several days now had Matt thinking what it would be like to flip the script on his sexy roommate. He wanted to try the suit on, and his cock agreed. 

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To chase and be chaste, part 1

Eric was a practiced hand. Each night after work, he sat on the couch for hours in nothing but socks and underwear and scrolled profiles on DateMaker. Any time a new match appeared in his inbox, the response was always the same: his standard opening line—Hey, hot stuff, you know you want this!—and a picture of his naked body with the head cropped out. He’d sent the same sentence so many times that his phone’s autocomplete had learned it, and all he had to do was tap the words on the screen. In a typical night, he’d send his dick pic to dozens of men and women, most of whom would never respond. 

On the off chance that he did get a response, Eric immediately directed the conversation toward sex and was relentless in his pursuit of his quarry. The conversations usually ended with the match going silent, or more frequently blocking him, but that didn’t stop him from beating off with one hand and typing explicit things with the other. Every night, Eric continued his chase undeterred, widening his search radius and even installing an app to fool DateMaker’s location settings. Each new conversation filled him with the adrenaline of a new chase, and when he was inevitably blocked, he pouted. 

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Proud dads (My perfect dad 41)

Norman parked his gray SUV in front of the rundown storefront and then lifted his sunglasses to get a better look at the surroundings. A feeling of unease rose in his gut. It occurred to him that this whole thing could have been a setup, but it was impossible to tell. The building’s windows were all papered over, and aside from an old camper that looked like it had been abandoned for months, the parking lot was empty. 

“Are you sure this is right, Dave?” he asked, turning to the passenger riding with him. “This place looks deserted. Check the group text again.” 

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Single-day project, part 2 (My perfect dad 40)

See Single-day project, part 1 for the first part of this story.

As usual, when the uplink terminated at the end of the day, the first thing I heard was the shriek of data noise in my head. I looked at my surroundings. It was nighttime, and I was alone sitting on a park bench in a neighborhood I didn’t recognize. I was still wearing the printed clothes I’d received that morning—a tight white T-shirt with DAD printed in block letters on the left breast and a pair of equally snug dark shorts. My entire body was drenched in sweat, which made my clothes cling to my skin. I was also holding a leash, with a golden retriever sitting obediently at my feet at the other end. 

That’s weird, I thought. If the project is over, why do I still have this dog

True to the confidentiality agreement I’d signed earlier that day, I had absolutely zero memories of the nature of the single-day project, or even anything I’d done that day. As the data noise quieted down inside my head, I waited for confirmation that Synaptica had processed my payment and the post-assignment instructions for how to arrange transportation home. 

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Single-day project, part 1 (My perfect dad 39)

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.

I always wanted to work for ThinkCorp because of their flashy slogan: New and Different Every Day. They weren’t kidding. No two days were alike, and I loved it that way.  

Occasionally, I’d get an assignment that lasted a week or two, but ThinkCorp only put me on those out of necessity. My demographic profile and skills inventory were much better suited to single-day projects. Heh, or so I was told. 

I used to get anxious about what each day’s project would be. When I first started, I would stay up late so I could be at my workstation at 3:14 a.m. precisely, when new ThinkCorp assignments were pushed out to the field. After about six months on the job, once I’d gotten the hang of things and received positive feedback on my projects, that changed. I started to enjoy the uncertainty and the surprise of receiving my instructions each morning. 

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What dad thinks (My perfect dad 37)

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.

I can’t believe it’s only been six months. There’s a part of me that is grateful You’ve changed my appearance so drastically, Son. At least I can go out in public without ex-friends and ex-colleagues noticing me. The beard and all the beef helps a lot, but I hate the way You dress me up and force me to act when You take me out, Son. It’s humiliating. No one really believes I’m Your dad. 

But I say it, loudly and proudly wherever we go. Why does that get You off so much, Son?  It’s perverted and twisted, and I hate it so much. Like yesterday at the Waffle House, when I refused the menu and said, “I’ll let my hot Son order for both of U/us. He knows what’s best for His dumb ole dad.” Why does that turn You on? And why is it starting to turn me on? 

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Property transfer (My perfect dad 35)

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.

When I returned to full awareness, I was on my knees. This part was not uncommon. Son often switched me off when He had some new programming to install in my head. Sometimes, I would wake up hours, even days later, in a different location, wearing different clothes. There was always a moment of disorientation before Son’s programming activated, but in a minute or two the installation would be complete, and the new information would override anything I’d previously thought or believed. 

The difference this time was that there was no new programming. I knelt on the cold pavement waiting for the new thoughts to fill my head, but nothing did. 

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When Sir became Son (My perfect dad 34)

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. 

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