Christopher & Craig
Part 64: The End of Donald...
In the harsh light of morning I once again had to face that I had a serious problem on my hands. Whomever had seen fit to send that snapshot was bound to come calling. Whether or not there was anything still here to substantiate a claim of foul play was the obstacle I had to overcome.
Up to now I had opted to stay out of Craig’s work with Donald. It was bad enough he was currently residing in my basement; I wanted very little to do with the abusive rapist who had violated not only Wade’s body, but his mind. Unfortunately the time for prudish distance had passed. I needed to get Donald out of the house ASAP.
For his part, Craig was satisfied that he had transformed Donald the banker into Donald the boxer. As far as he was concerned Donald was pretty much done. In my opinion, turning Donald loose in this state was both dangerous and not enough. He was more dedicated to the idea of boxing. Big deal. I had something bigger in mind.
And since Craig was currently hanging from his ankles in the barn he was really in no position to protest my involvement.
I threw back the covers and faced the day with renewed vigor. I had a course of action to follow. That was all I’d needed: a new plan. I showered and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. I had the sneaking suspicion that Craig had been shrinking my T-shirts on purpose of late—I wasn’t gaining any weight, but they were definitely growing tighter.
I walked downstairs to the basement.
Donald was naked, lying on his side in the cage that had become his home. If he was truly as suggestible as Craig claimed this would only take a day or two.
I unlocked the cage door. Donald crawled out and stood, hands behind his back, feet spread, head bowed. He was much more muscular than when he’d arrived here. His dark blonde hair had grown too long and shaggy. His cock stood pointing at his chin, surrounded by blond pubic hair. He was quite a specimen. Craig had apparently worked magic with weight-gainers and a workout regimen.
“Good morning, Boxer Boy,” I said.
Donald’s breathing changed immediately.
“Can you hear me?” I asked.
“Yes,” came the distant reply.
“Listen to my voice. Let it fill your mind. It is taking you over. You cannot resist it—don’t even want to resist it. You are surrendering completely to my voice. All your resolve is melting away. You will do anything my voice tells you—anything I say. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Follow me.”
I climbed the stairs to the first floor, then walked through the house and upstairs to the bathroom. As soon as he stopped walking Donald assumed his feet spread, hands behind his back, head bowed position. A nice touch; I’d have to compliment Craig.
“Step into the shower, Donald.”
He did. Same pose.
“Donald, you cannot move. Your body is frozen in place. Your flesh is becoming stone. Feel it move up your feet, through your legs, up your torso, down your arms, to your hands, through your neck, to your head. The last thing to turn to stone is your rock-hard cock right now. You are a statue of manhood to rival the David. You will not move until I tell you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he replied through a clenched jaw.
“Very good.”
I pulled on a pair of gloves. I had laid out all I would need for today before going downstairs. I opened a bottle of sunless tanner and squeezed some into my hand.
I began at Donald’s neck, coating his throat, working down over his shoulders, his arms, to his hands. I spread the tanner on his firm pecs, over his flat stomach, around his sides, over his back. I coated his legs liberally, working down the strong thighs, knees, calves, over his feet. I slathered tanner on his ass, then covered his groin—scrotum and hard cock. I stood and smoothed tanner over his face and ears.
I stepped back. Donald was about three shades darker. I repeated the entire process, slathering sunless tanner over his entire body. When I’d finished I turned on the water and hosed him down. I patted him dry with a towel and stood to assess my handiwork.
Donald was now a deep shade of golden brown. His blond hair and pubic hair stood out against the dark background—seeming out of place.
No matter.
I pulled on a new pair of gloves and mixed the hair dye. I coated Donald’s head in the thick cream, then knelt down and coated his pubic hair. I set a timer for twenty-five minutes and left my bronzed statue.
When I returned I hosed Donald off again. I picked up a pair of scissors and began trimming his hair. With clippers I shaved the back and sides of his head. I hosed him off a final time, then applied gel to slick his hair back.
He simply stood, feet apart, hands behind his back, head bowed, utterly unable to move, completely at the mercy of my whims.
Pale, blond Irish Donald had undergone a startling physical transformation. I was certain his own mother would pass him without a glance now. His dark skin glowed, setting off his slicked back black hair. His jet black pubic hair created a bush around his erect, dark cock.
Perfect.
I had conquered the body; now I’d simply alter the mind. Well, perhaps “simply” was the wrong word. First I had to return him from the land of statues.
And before I did that and traipsed him through the house, I had to make sure Wade was in no position to see him. Well, leaving him frozen in the shower couldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like he could wander off. Ever.
Wade was downstairs in the kitchen polishing off the last of what must’ve constituted breakfast today. It’s funny how he looked at home there. He wore jeans and a tank top.
“Hi, Chris,” he said as I strolled into the room.
“’Morning, Wade. What’s on your agenda today?”
He shrugged. “Not much. You want to do something?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Why don’t we spend the afternoon together?”
His face lit up in a smile. “That’d be great!”
“Do you think you could do me a favor first?”
“Sure thing. What is it?”
“Would you mind running down to the corner store and picking up milk and bread?”
He jumped to his feet eagerly. “I’ll go right now!”
I handed him some money. “If you see something you want, get it too.”
“Cool. Thanks.” Wade pulled on a baseball cap and headed for the front door. He grabbed a jacket on his way out.
I watched him go. I was going to miss having him around.
I didn’t have time to think about that now. Donald was in my shower convinced he was a statue.
I stood in the bathroom staring at him. He was a work of art. But I was in a committed relationship. And no matter how he appeared he was still the same bastard at heart.
“Donald, do you remember the cartoon puppet who wished and wished to be a real boy? Well, much like him you are no longer a statue. The stone has changed to flesh and blood. You’re a real boy, Donald. You may step out of the shower.”
Donald stepped into the bathroom and stood, awaiting instructions.
“Follow me, Boxer Boy.”
Back in the basement he assumed his position. His cock had remained at attention the entire time. I reached down and pumped it a few times.
His breathing quickened, but he didn’t move. Craig really had done quite a number on him already.
I stopped playing with his cock. Time to play with his mind.
“What is your name?”
“Donald Joseph Sullivan,” he replied by rote.
“That is no longer your name. Donald Joseph Sullivan was a banker. He was a pale, blond Irish man with a nice home and a fancy car. He has left his job, left his home. He has no contact with his former friends or family. He has ceased to exist in this world. His name means nothing to you. You no longer recall the name Donald Joseph Sullivan. You will not answer to that name. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“What is your name?”
“I—I—”
“I will tell you your name. Once I say it it will become the only name you know. It will be the only name you answer to and the only name you remember having. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Your name is Jose Sanchez. Say it and know that it is your name.”
“My name is Jose Sanchez.”
“Very good, Jose. I understand you speak fluent Spanish. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. Because at this very moment all of your knowledge of the English language is draining from your mind. Your lips and tongue will no longer be able to form English words. Your hand will no longer write in English. All knowledge of communication in English is being locked away deep in your mind, behind a door that only I can open. Can you see the door in your mind, Jose? Picture the big heavy door. See all your knowledge of the English language being put behind it. Watch as the door slowly swings shut until it slams will a dull thud. The lock turns. You do not have the key to open this door, Jose. You will speak and write only en Espanol. You cannot communicate in English. You will not be able to relearn English. You will be in an English-speaking country as a Spanish-speaking man. You will understand English when it is spoken to you. But you can only respond in Spanish. That will be the ultimate irony in your situation—you will understand perfectly, but be unable to reply. Do you understand?”
“Si.”
“Very good. Donald Joseph Sullivan has been erased. You are Jose Sanchez. You will continue your physical training for boxing. Do you understand?”
“Si.”
“Good. I’ll return tomorrow. You will begin your workout once you awaken. 1...2...3.”
Donald/Jose strode to the stationery bike. He donned the shorts, socks, and sneakers that were draped over it and climbed onto the bike.
I walked up the stairs to the main floor of the house. I’d be rid of Donald in a few days...
To be continued in Part 65...
Christopher & Craig
Part 65: ...A Fresh Start for Wade.
I strolled across the back yard in a remarkably good mood. Donald was close to being laid to rest for good. That was one less problem to deal with. Wade would be back from the store anytime now. Which meant it was the ideal moment to see how Craig was faring in the barn.
I opened the door and stepped inside.
Craig squinted in the harsh sunlight. His head and shoulders rested on the ground, but his torso and legs were suspended from a rope leading from his ankles to the ceiling.
He saw me and smiled.
My heart melted. Something about this boy’s smile had that effect on me.
“How are you this morning, Craig?”
“Good.”
“Did you enjoy your night out here?”
“Yes, sir!”
I unknotted the rope from his ankles and gently lowered his legs to the ground. It would take awhile for him to be able to stand. I took his head in my lap and stroked his hair. “I missed you in our bed.”
He forced himself up to meet my lips with a kiss. “I had a lot of time to think last night, Chris. You know I love you, right?”
“I know,” I said softly.
He smiled. “Can we do something today?”
I grimaced. “Tonight would be good. I have to deal with Wade this afternoon.”
“Oh.”
“And I should probably warn you I was with Donald all morning. He should be ready to leave here in a day or two. I have a call in to my friend Lee. I’m waiting to hear back from him.”
“Lee’s the fight promoter?”
I nodded. “You think you can stand?”
“Yes.”
“Better put on your cutoffs. Wade may be back by now.” I stood and helped Craig to his feet.
He retrieved his cast aside clothes and dressed to return to the house.
Wade was in the kitchen when we walked in the back door.
“Hi, Craig. Where you been?”
“I was out back,” he answered.
Wade nodded.
“I’m going to head upstairs and take a shower.” Craig kissed my cheek and took off upstairs.
Wade looked at me expectantly. “So what do you want to do this afternoon?”
“Well, we can do something fun. But first I’d like to have a talk with you, if you don’t mind.”
He shrugged.
I led the way into the den.
“On the couch?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply he stretched out on it.
I lowered myself into my chair. “You’re safe here.”
He drifted off.
I sat in awe of him. This was not the boy who had come here. Even physically. He had started out an emaciated, bruised, bundle of nerves. Now he was calm, poised, and at normal weight. Stretched out on the couch in his jeans and tank top he looked like any happy teenager who had dozed off.
But that wasn’t the case. Yet.
I walked to the blinds and closed them to the outside world. No sense in putting on a show for friendly photographers.
“Wade,” I said, “The last time we spoke we had just about reached the day you left home. Do you recall that?”
“Yes, Christopher.”
“Tell me about that night.”
“I was walking home from work.”
“Where were you? Remember, you’re safe here. It’s only you and me.”
“I was walking down Delaney. There are a lot of alleys along there. I usually go home that way because it’s shorter than walking all the way around.”
“What happened?”
“Somebody jumped out of the alley next to the Donut Shop and pulled me in. There were three guys. I couldn’t see their faces. I thought they were guys from school playing a prank.” Wade stopped speaking.
“Take your time, Wade. No one can hurt you here.”
“They had tape and they forced my hands behind my back and taped them. And they taped my feet together.”
I took a deep breath. “Then what?”
“They ripped off my clothes. One of them—” his voice broke “—forced my mouth open and shoved his dick in my mouth.” Tears rolled down his cheeks.
“You’re safe here, Wade. It’s all over. What did the other boys do?”
“One of them pulled my balls. It felt like he was ripping them off. He taped them really tight.”
“And the other?”
“H-h-he—”
“Breathe in and out. What did he do?”
“He ripped me open and—”
I had the idea. “You’re safe here. The boys finished with you. What happened next?”
“They put tape over my mouth. They were laughing and calling me a faggot.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood. I hate that word.
“Then they stole my sneakers so I couldn’t run away. They left me in the alley. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t move. Nobody could hear me. I was so afraid. It was cold.”
“Who found you?”
“It was garbage day. The garbage men found me. They stood over me. I wanted to die.”
“You’re safe here. What happened after they found you?”
“The police came. I went to the hospital. They asked who I was. I didn’t want to tell them. I was so embarrassed. I ran.”
“What about your family?”
“My parents were away for the weekend.”
“And you never spoke to them again?”
“No, Christopher.”
I wasn’t sure what to address first. I also wasn’t convinced I was a good enough hypnotist to help him over this last hurdle. It was too late to turn back now.
“Wade, you’re safe here. Everything that we’ve talked about today can’t harm you anymore. The night in the alley is fading away as you sit here listening to my voice. It never happened to you. Let my voice carry you away. Three men never dragged you into the alley. All of those thoughts, all of those memories are growing distant in your mind. They will fade and fuzz until they have no more form for you than a dream. And like most dreams when you awaken you will have forgotten them. All that you’ve experienced over the past two years before you came here was nothing but a bad dream. When I count three you’ll awaken from that dream. Do you understand?”
“Yesss, Chrissstopher.”
“The missing time will not concern you, Wade. You will know that two years have passed, but you will not recall what transpired before you came to live here. 1...2...3.”
Wade opened his eyes. He wiped them with the back of his hand.
“How do you feel?”
He didn’t answer. He seemed disoriented. He was having trouble focusing his eyes on me. Perhaps losing so much of his memory was having an adverse affect. I had never blocked so much through hypnosis before. While I knew I could create memories, I wasn’t sure what would happen by destroying them. With Craig I had created a new personality to replace the old. With Wade I wasn’t replacing what I erased.
“Wade?”
He touched his head gingerly. “I’m okay.”
“Just sit there a minute.” I walked to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I took it to him. “Drink some of this.”
He untwisted the cap and sipped the water.
I sat beside him on the couch. “Wade, I think you should call your parents.”
“My parents?”
“Yes. Do you remember them?”
He looked at me. “Yes.”
“You should call them and let them know where you are. I’m sure they—”
“You want me to leave?” he sounded wounded.
“What?”
“I-I thought it was okay, me staying here. I like it here.”
“It’s not that—”
“I mean, you’ve been great and living with you and Craig it doesn’t matter that I’m gay and you’re always checking up on me. I always wanted a big brother to hang out with...”
I hadn’t expected this reaction. I hadn’t really anticipated any reaction from him other than a desire to go home. I put my arm around his shoulders. “We like having you here, too, Wade. But your parents need to know you’re okay. Maybe we can work something out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tomorrow we’ll talk to them. After you’ve rested.” I stood.
So did Wade.
“Why don’t you run upstairs and lie down awhile. We’ll go out for dinner tonight.”
Wade started for the door, then turned and threw his arms around me in a bear hug. He buried his face in my shoulder. “Thanks, Chris.”
I was surprised. Wade had never initiated contact in as long as I’d known him. He shied away from people’s touch. I held him for a long time.
He’d be whole tomorrow.