Christopher, Craig & Co.
Part 38: Woodworking.
Ever since the other night at Kampas Alan has been so much easier to deal with. All I really need to do to get my way is kick off my shoes and flash my white socks. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. Alan was on the way to being a terrific lover...he liked to tie me up and see me in white socks. But something was still missing.
Alan entered the apartment carrying a brown paper bag. “I got Chinese for dinner. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.” I met him with a kiss. “And I have some ideas for dessert.”
“I just bet you do,” Alan laughed.
That was it. That was what was missing. The challenge. Alan was too eager to please me, too ready to do anything I asked. I held all the control, all the power in the relationship. With Chris there was always the chance that he would put me under and change the rules on me. I liked that unpredictability. There had to be a way to get some spontaneity into Alan. I just wasn’t sure how. How exactly do you plan for spontaneity?
I mulled it over all throughout dinner.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Alan said.
“I was just thinking.”
I shrugged. Was there any point in telling him? Alan had no idea about my hypnotizing him. He didn’t know the reason he was so enamored of my white socks. He didn’t understand that he’d do anything I suggested after I gave him his trigger.
I watched him lapse into a trance. He wouldn’t find out tonight either.
What could I have Alan do that would be somehow different and exciting? Suddenly I started to laugh. Granted I had never tried anything like it before, but I knew that Chris had been able to temporarily change guys’ personalities pretty quickly. Couldn’t hurt to try it.
“Alan, when you awaken you will go to your car and drive to the mall. You will shop for all the things you think a carpenter or construction worker would need. You will dress in those clothes and you will drive back here. When you knock on the door you will believe you are the handyman I have called to do some odd jobs around the apartment. You will not recognize me. You will not remember that you live here or that I am your lover. You will believe you are here to do some construction work for me. However, once you see my white socks you will do whatever it takes to get me to have sex with you. You will find me irresistibly attractive and be unable to leave here without fucking me. Understand?”
“You will not remember your life as Alan Jacoby until I tell you to. Understand?”
“Once I count to three you will leave immediately for the mall. 1...2...3.”
Alan got to his feet, swung a leg over the dining room chair, and strode to the door. Wordlessly he left the apartment.
Over an hour later Alan still hadn’t returned to the apartment and I was beginning to wonder if I had somehow made a terrible error in my instructions to him. God, what if I had sent him out into the world with no memory of who he was and something had happened to him? Chris always said I didn’t think about consequences. I shrugged that off. Alan had his wallet and identification on him. If there had been an accident I would have heard about it.
I had cleaned up from dinner and hung around waiting for the doorbell to ring. I leafed through a magazine, then straightened up the living room a bit. Finally I decided to take a quick shower while he was gone.
I had no sooner soaped up than I heard a knock at the door. Figures!
“I’ll be right there!” I yelled. I rinsed off as quickly as possible and wrapped a towel around my waist. I grabbed a second towel and began drying my hair as I hurried to the front door.
I opened it.
It was Alan, but not really. He was wearing a pair of tan construction boots, tight blue jeans, a wifebeater T-shirt with a short-sleeved shirt open over it, and a ballcap on backward. In his right hand he held a large toolbox.
He looked me up and down. “You called for a carpenter?” His voice was low and husky.
Wow. What a change. “Yes, yes, I did. Come in. I’m sorry, I was in the shower. Just give me a minute to get dressed.”
I turned and hurried to the bedroom, letting out a low whistle. Carpenter Alan was hot!
I pulled on clean briefs and a fresh pair of white crew socks then threw on the jeans I’d been wearing. I was just pulling a T-shirt over my head when I caught Alan’s refelection in the mirror on the closet door. He was leaning in the bedroom doorway, arms folded, hands tucked under his arms. There was a glint in his eye.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I shook my head. “It’s all right.”
“Which room did you need the work done in?”
I hadn’t thought about that. “Ummmm...”
Alan’s eyes cut to the bed and then back to me. He was staring at my feet. He began to look hungry.
I bent over to pick up the towel from where it had fallen.
In a flash Alan was behind me, pulling my back against his chest; his groin against my ass.
“Oh!” I laughed nervously. I mean, I knew it was Alan, but I hadn’t expected that.
“You didn’t say what type of work you needed. I brought my tools...” Alan’s breath was hot on my neck.
Heat was spreading through my groin. I could feel the bulge in his pants pressed against me.
“I always heard handymen were good with their hands,” I said.
He turned me round to face him. “We are.” He slid his hands down over my ass and squeezed. Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine, his lips strong, his tongue working its way into my mouth. I felt his hands on my back, then sliding up under my T-shirt.
He tugged my T-shirt up over my head. “I knew when I saw you just what kind of work you needed,” he rasped, his mouth near my ear. “When a guy answers the door in just a towel after calling a carpenter he’s looking for the old hammer and nail, if you know what I mean.” Alan chuckled in a way I’d never before heard him laugh. He was guiding me toward the bed.
He eased me backward on the bed, his mouth nibbling my ear, kissing my neck, smothering my mouth. He reached down and unfastened my jeans, drawing them slowly down. His hand reached inside my briefs until it found my cock. He began massaging my hard cock, tickling my balls. All the while he was kissing me.
I reached for his shirt and pushed the sleeves down his arms. He shook loose of the material and cast it aside. I pulled his wifebeater out of his jeans and worked it up his body. He threw it aside, too.
He climbed up on the bed, straddling me on his knees. “You want me to screw you, don’t you, Mister?”
I shivered. This was definitely not Alan. I nodded.
He popped open his jeans and pushed them down to his ankles. He was still wearing his boots; his ballcap was still on his head. He reached up and plucked the cap off his head, throwing it aside.
He rolled me over onto my stomach. I hadn’t seen him grab a condom, but he was suddenly tearing open the wrapper with his teeth. As he put it on he was talking softly to me. “I’m going to nail you like you’ve never been done before. And you’re gonna love it.”
He entered me and I was lost in the moment, being fucked by the hot carpenter. He rode my ass slowly...in and out, in and out. He reached around my body, exploring my chest with his hands, my belly, my cock. His fingers closed around my hard cock and began to pump slowly, in time with his cock sliding in and out of my ass.
He began to speed up, pressing my body into the bed, still keeping his hand on my cock.
“Are you close?” he asked, his breath hot on my ear, his mouth barely an inch from the side of my face.
“Yes,” I gasped.
“Remember how I hammered your ass, boy. Tell all your friends I nailed you good.”
And suddenly he came, his body bucking against mine. He gave a jerk to my cock and I shot, too, cum filling the space between my belly and the bed. He lay atop me a moment, then slid out of me. I heard him walk to the bathroom, heard the toilet flush. When he returned his pants were fastened. He stooped over to pick up his undershirt and shirt.
I lay on the bed, sweating and panting.
“Any other work you want done?” he asked, pulling on his shirts.
“Huh? Uh, no, I think that about does it for now.”
He grinned and cocked his head. “If you ever need a handyman again, give me a call.” He picked up his hat and left the bedroom.
I scrambled out of the bed after him. “Wait!”
I grabbed my discarded towel and covered myself with it. I was sticky with sweat and cum, and I needed another shower.
Alan was standing at the door, holding his toolbox. “Something else?”
The toolbox fell from his grasp, clanging on the floor.
I ran a hand through my damp hair. “Alan, when I count to three you will go down to your car and stash your tools and these clothes you bought. You will change back into your clothes and return to the apartment. When I open the door and you see my white socks you will remember who you are. But you will not remember being a handyman. Understand?”
I took a deep breath. “1...2...3.”
As soon as the door was closed I hurried to the shower. I needed to be cleaned up and wearing my socks by the time he got back.
As the water cascaded over me I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. This had been fun. I’d have to try it again.
To be continued in Part 39...
Christopher, Craig & Co.
Part 39: Andrew’s Aid.
This was a nightmare. It had to be. This sort of thing just doesn’t happen in real life. Not in this town. Not to someone like me.
The events of the last few hours were somewhat jumbled and hazy in my mind, even though I had gone over them repeatedly. I remembered walking toward my car when somebody grabbed me by the shoulder, pinning my arms to my sides. Something—well, someone—hit me in the stomach, hard. Then my left eye.
The next thing I knew the maitre d’ from Belladonna’s was standing over me saying the police were on their way. The kids were gone.
I later found out that at least one of the kids had been kicking me while I was down, which explained the sharp pain in my side. It currently hurt to breathe, although with the fog induced by the pain killers they’d given me it was difficult to focus on it. Or anything else, for that matter.
After a ride to the emergency room I was X-rayed and treated for bruised ribs, a couple of minor cuts on my arm, and a black eye. I gave a statement to the police about the three kids in the station wagon, and was finally released.
Only my car was still in the lot at Belladonna’s and I wasn’t feeling so hot at the moment.
I considered calling Wade, but I knew he was at work at Kampas with Scott. Which also left Scott out, not to mention the fact that I was sure I looked lousy and I didn’t really want to be seen like this. Hell would freeze over before I’d call Craig for help. Which left me standing in the emergency room with very few options.
I found a pay phone and called for a taxi. After informing me I looked like I’d been run over he dropped me at Belladonna’s and I climbed into my car, locking the door. I took a deep breath—note to self: bad idea—and started the car.
I reached the driveway a short time later and willed myself into the house. I had a prescription for pain meds, but I really didn’t see myself going to the pharmacy in this condition. I made it to my desk and hit the button on the answering machine.
“Christopher, it’s Lee. I need the boy for the tele show ASAP. Call me.”
That was the least of my problems. At this moment in time I neither cared about Nick or the Faking It television show. Or any of the other boys who were currently under my influence.
Damn! David was in the cellar waiting to be fed. The idea of traipsing down a flight of stairs made me lean on the desk for support. I had to feed him. I may toy with his basic personality make-up, but I had no intention of starving him.
I made my way slowly to the kitchen and opened the cellar door. “Slave, can you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” he called back.
“I’m fixing your dinner now. Come to the foot of the stairs.”
“I can’t, sir.”
“I’m locked in my cage, sir.”
Mental scream. Why, oh, why did I lock the cage door this morning after breakfast? I had programmed him not to leave the cellar, he would be unable to set foot on the stairs without express permission from me. Why did I have to be so damn careful today?
“Okay, slave. I’ll be down shortly.”
I shut the door and sagged against it. Despite the bandages squeezing my sides together I felt like my insides could fall out at any moment. Which said nothing of the throbbing on the side of my face or the headache that had begun to make my skull feel two sizes too small.
There was no way I could do this alone. I had to call somebody. Leatherman was out. As were Marty and Nick. That only left one person.
I reached for the kitchen extension and punched in a number. “Hi, Andrew? Can you come over here? I really need your help.”
The doorbell rang a little later. I was seated at the kitchen table, and I didn’t think I could get up even if I wanted to.
“Andrew? It’s open!” I yelled, but immediately wished I hadn’t. Everything hurt.
The front door swung open and Andrew called, “Christopher?”
“In the kitchen,” I said, not as loudly.
I heard the door close and Andrew walk down the hall. He paused in the doorway.
“Oh my God. What the hell happened?”
I looked up at him. Andrew was still in full skater mode. The neat goatee on his chin made his face look entirely different from the preppy shoe salesman I had met months ago. He was clad in baggy jeans, a pair of Vans, and a hoodie.
“God, look at you!” He dropped to one knee beside me. “I knew something was wrong when you called. I raced over here. I’m glad I did. What can I do? Are you all right? What happened?”
“Slow down, Andrew. I’ll be all right. I got home from the emergency room a little while ago.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“I was lucky.” Hard to believe he’d said that considering how I felt.
“What hit you? Is your car totaled?”
“The car’s fine. I wasn’t in it.”
Andrew squinted at me. “It wasn’t a car accident?”
“What was it?”
“Three kids. I really don’t want to go into it right now. I was sort of hoping you could go to the pharmacy and pick up a prescription for me.”
“Of course! But why would three kids do this to you? Mugging? In broad daylight?”
“It wasn’t a mugging.” I shifted my weight and pulled my wallet from my back pocket. I retrieved the prescription from it and handed the paper to him.
“How come Wade isn’t here?” Andrew asked.
“He’s at work.”
“He doesn’t know?” Andrew looked horrified.
“Not yet. Let him finish his shift. There’s nothing he can do anyway. And now you’re here. Unless you have something else to do...”
Andrew frowned. “Like I’d run out on you now. Do you want me to help you to the couch at least?”
I shook me head. “I can manage. I think. But there is one thing you could do for me.”
I closed my eyes. “Shine your shoes.”
Andrew had been under many times; his trigger took immediate effect. I had been hypnotizing him over time in order to alter his personality to make him somehow different—that had been his request: to be different. So far this year he’d been made over into a construction type, a military boy, a cowboy, a biker, and a skater. I had a one man Village People reunion at my beck and call. Eyeroll. It was probably past time to change him again, though this incarnation was actually working for him.
“Andrew, I need you to take the sandwich and can of soda on the counter down the cellar. While you’re down there you will unlock the lock on the cage. The combination is 24-36-24. Instruct slave to eat his dinner. Then you will return upstairs. Do you understand?”
Andrew methodically got to his feet, picked up the plate with the sandwich and chips on it, lifted the sodacan, walked to the cellar door and opened it. I could hear him moving around downstairs.
I was sore everywhere at this point; everywhere that wasn’t throbbing simply ached. I really wanted to sleep, but I suspected sleep was the last thing I was going to be able to do.
Andrew reappeared in the cellar doorway and shut the door behind him.
“Kneel beside me, Andrew,” I instructed.
Usually this is when the sexually explicit part of our hypnotic program would begin. Not tonight. I had a headache.
I grimaced. Pretend I didn’t think that. “When you awaken you will not notice that any time has passed. 1...2...3.”
Andrew looked at me expectantly. “What do you need?”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I really appreciate you running to the drugstore, though.”
“I’ll be back as fast as I can. You’re sure you don’t want me to call Wade?”
“I wish you’d tell me what happened.”
“I will. Later.” Right after I figured it out myself.
To be continued in Part 40...
Christopher, Craig & Co.
Part 40: Bashed.
I was half-sitting, half-lying on the sofa in the den. The television was on, but I wasn’t really paying close attention to it. Andrew was sprawled in my club chair reading a magazine that promised 10 Tips To A Better Love Life! on the cover. The telephone receiver was inches from my right hand.
The pain in my side was gradually converting to stiffness at this point. I should probably get up and move around, but could only grimace at the prospect. It was a quarter past two and Wade would be returning home from work momentarily.
Plus Scott would be calling. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I finally have a really great date with a terrific guy and I end up in the emergency room. My karma must be worse than I thought. I knew all of these slaves I’d been turning out were a bad idea. I left David locked up in the basement and now look what happened.
Logically I knew that had nothing to do with it. But at two in the morning, with my side burning and my entire head aching I really wasn’t at my most logical.
The phone chirped.
“Hell-o?” I aimed for throaty and sexy. It sounded more like a croak.
“We’re almost through here. I just wanted to tell you that I understand if you don’t want to wait up ‘til I get home.”
“Actually, is there any chance you could swing by here on your way home?”
Scott paused. “Yes, I think that could be arranged. Any reason?”
“Yes. But I’ll explain when you get here.”
“I won’t be long.” He disconnected.
Actually it wasn’t long before I heard two cars pull up out front. Wade and Scott. I braced myself.
Andrew looked at me over his magazine. “You sure you want him to see you like this?”
“No. But it won’t be any better tomorrow. And I’d rather only explain everything once.”
The front door opened.
“—must’ve been some date,” Wade was saying on a laugh.
Scott gave him a withering look.
“In the den,” I called.
I had cheated a little bit. The lighting in here was dim except for the lamp Andrew was reading by. I figured I’d put the theory of diffused lighting to the test.
I had my back to them when I said, “Thanks for stopping by, Scott. Sorry I didn’t meet you at the door...”
And that’s when they were far enough into the room to see me. That’s when they both froze. That’s when Wade turned very pale.
Andrew came up behind Wade. “I told him to call you.”
Scott stepped forward and bent at the waist to see me up close. “What happened?”
I detailed as best I could the events of this afternoon after Scott had left me at Belladonna’s. When I finished Andrew had returned to sitting in the club chair, Wade was perched on the arm, and Scott was sitting on the floor beside the couch. It was extremely quiet in the house.
“Well, somebody say something,” I said.
Scott’s eyebrows were raised. “Can I get you anything?”
I shook my head.
He exhaled heavily. “If only I had waited for you to get in your car before I drove off.”
“No, now stop that. There’s no going back. And it wouldn’t have necessarily changed anything. We’d both be black and blue.”
Wade jumped up. “Well, this is just crazy. I don’t care what you were doing in that parking lot! There’s no reason on Earth that this was all right. I mean, this is crazy! Of all the people I’ve ever met you are like the least likely to ever get in some kind of fight! What are the police doing about this?”
I held up my hands. “I don’t know. The maitre d’ gave them a description of what he saw. And I told them what little I could. I doubt anything will ever come of it.”
“Are you in much pain?” Scott asked.
I didn’t answer right away.
“I thought so,” he said. “Damn. I hope they catch those kids.”
I wasn’t holding my breath. And even if they did then I’d have to go to court and testify that I’d been kissing my date goodbye in the parking lot when they pulled in and decided to use me as a punching bag...
Scott flashed a killer grin. “Guess this will be hard to top with a second date, huh?”
“A second date?” Wade asked. “I knew you two would hit it off.”
Andrew poked him in the side.
“I’m sure I’ll feel much better tomorrow. Who knows, maybe this black eye will fade a lot overnight?”
As it turned out I didn’t feel better in the morning. In fact I felt much worse. What’s more, after I showered there was no way for me to wrap my own ribs. I pulled on a pair of pants and padded to the bedroom door.
“Wade, are you awake?”
He appeared in the doorway in seconds, hair tousled, dressed in his pajama pants and T-shirt. “What is it? What do you need?”
Wade screwed up his eyes. He was staring at my abdomen.
“I know, it’s a mess,” I said. I was all too aware of how bruised and swollen the right side of my body appeared. The good news was I could hide that from the world. Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for the incredible shiner surrounding my left eye. “I need you to bandage me up.”
Wade looked surprised. “Okay.”
He was careful as he bandaged me, but it hurt nonetheless. As he finished up he looked me in the eyes.
“Chris, how are you gonna explain this at school? I mean, classes start Monday.”
I started to shrug, but thought better of it. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to bring sexuality into the classroom. It doesn’t matter that I’m gay or not, and I don’t want it to be an issue.”
“You could always say your girlfriend’s jealous husband punched you out.”
I laughed. And it hurt so I scowled.
“I know,” Wade said. “It only hurts when you laugh.”