dressed-euphoric

[dressed-euphoric]

The Induction

By. Euphoric Dressed

A college student attempts to infiltrate a group. The photo is used as an inspiration. Word Count: 7600

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” my friend exclaimed, his eyes reflecting a lingering sense of letdown. 

“It’ll be fun!” I playfully nudged my friend while extending the pamphlet before him. “Don’t you want to see what goes behind these meetings?”

I could immediately sense he was nowhere as piqued as I was. He rolled his eyes dismissively when I took the pamphlet from a random man a while ago. The man was unusual and everyone could tell he was not your average Joe. 

The man exuded an air of immaculateness. His black hair neatly combed in a conservative manner. He had on a dark charcoal suit that draped on perfectly. His black leather shoes, devoid of any blemishes, gleamed of a mirror shine. His shirt boasted a starched precision, his tie formed a formulated dimple, and his pants displayed razor sharp creases. How would I be if I were to be in his position? The mere thought made me recoil. Could I ever envision myself dressed as he was? Absolutely not. It was out of the question. 

"I'm not that insane," my friend dismissed the invitation.

I lowered my gaze to the paper and observed the intricate details. My eyes scanned across the displayed photos of the individual men. They too were dressed in suits.

"Discover more about our essence and enrich your life today," I read aloud.

He groaned, echoing the reservation swirling in my mind. “That’s how they lure you in, and make you apart of them.”

"Where's your faith in me?" I asked him, seriousness etched on my face. "You know I won't fall for this stuff!”

"Well, I won't be going," he replied firmly.

"Oh, come on!" I whined. "You can't leave me hanging!"

"I'm not going anywhere near that stuff," he persisted.

"You're abandoning me?"

"It was your idea!" he shot back.

"Fine. You'll miss out.”

"Yeah, let me know how it goes," he smirked at me.

I rolled my eyes and looked at him. "It's going to be an epic tale of my infiltration."

------------

The following day, I stood before the mirror. As I examined my t-shirt and jeans, my thoughts drifted to the suited stranger I had encountered on the street. Would I appear out of place?

I laughed. Why should I even care? It was just one meeting, and all I had to do was step inside and witness the nonsense being propagated. With a smile playing on my lips, I gathered the last remnants of my courage. This was it. I was going to infiltrate them. 

As I arrived, the building appeared ordinary, with only a handful of individuals gathered at the entrance. Just as I had anticipated, the attendees had an air of refinement, dressed in dress shirts and ties, trousers, and well polished leather shoes. 

I approached them, and they regarded me with a peculiar stare. I had assumed that I wouldn't blend in, yet they greeted me with smiles. Their eyes revealed a hidden excitement, as if they believed a lost soul like me would willingly join their cause. But there was no chance of that happening.

The entrance led to a corridor, guarded by two suited men. The number of people visiting the place seemed limited. Those who did attend stood out, much like myself, among the established members of the organization.

I observed their interaction with the two men, then they proceeded further down the hallway. I followed suit and approached the man stationed behind a desk. 

He was engrossed in scribbling notes on a piece of paper, but as he glanced up, our eyes met. His neatly combed brown hair was meticulously styled to the side, accentuated by a precise part. His short brown beard was flawlessly groomed. Then there was his dark suit that highlighted his physique. My gaze lingered upon his navy striped tie. How could anyone wear such a thing around their neck!?

“Mr. Porter.” He extended his hands. I reciprocated, but his firm was heavier than mine. 

"We don't often see many young folks around here," he smiled and then glanced down at his logbook. "What's your name and phone number?"

"Mike," my voice squeaked out filled with nerves. Then, I provided him with a fictitious phone number. 

He moistened his finger and turned the pages, scanning for my name.

"You're not on the list," he informed me. "Did you register?"

"I have to register?" A lump formed in my throat.

"Don't worry. Let me check if there's anyone on the list who will be willing to take you in," he searched through the papers again.

"What do you mean?" I asked, fearing the implications of his statement.

“Oh, we have a mentorship program where we pair young men like you with a member. It’s meant to facilitate your transition.” 

"No, I won't need that," I interjected hastily, realizing immediately that it was something to avoid.

He continued without a care to my response. Did he even hear me? Or did he choose to ignore me? 

"Here we go," he tapped on the paper, presumably the person he had found. "Mr. Burton will be pleased to take you under his wing."

"Wait," I tried to stop him, but he raised his hands and reached out to his phone to dial. The phone connected and my heart sank as he mentioned me.

"He will be here shortly," he acknowledged, giving me a nod.

I simply nodded in return and stepped aside, deciding it was better not to arouse suspicion. My gaze fixated on the approaching bystanders. Some were dressed, while others were like me. 

Those who were in suits headed towards a separate entrance, guided by two individuals donning charcoal suits. The rest of them made their way through the main entrance. 

After a few moments, a voice announced itself.

"You must be Mike?" it asked.

Startled from my reverie, I turned to face an older gentleman. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and a partially white scruffy beard adorned his face. Round eyeglasses complemented his facial features. Like the others, he was no exception when it came to attire. He sported an exquisite gray suit, tailored impeccably to his frame, along with a white dress shirt and a yellow striped tie.

This was it. Heat began to radiate through my body as I extended my hand for a handshake. "Mr. Burton?"

There was no turning back now.

"That's me," he grinned, reciprocating the gesture. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Like…Likewise," I managed to choke out.

His handshake was firm, in stark contrast to my own lackluster grip. It surely didn't leave the best impression, but I couldn't dwell on it too much. He stood there with an air of distinction, while I felt insignificant in comparison. I wouldn't say I was scared of him, but he certainly was daunting. 

"Come this way," he motioned for me to follow him into a separate hallway. I glanced around, noticing that no one else seemed to be heading in our direction.

"Are we going the right way?" My voice quivered. 

He chuckled warmly, "it seems like you're familiar with this place."

"Oh. No," I quickly retracted my statement, feeling ashamed of my comment. There must be a reason why Mr. Burton was deviating from the standard protocol. I didn't know what to expect, but I followed him obediently, like a lamb.

"We don't often see many young people here. How old are you, boy?" he inquired.

"Yeah, Mr. Porter mentioned it. I'm 21," I replied, slightly taken aback by being referred to as a "boy." "Young man" would have sufficed.

"As Mr. Porter may have mentioned, we have a mentorship program in place to help young individuals like yourself transition into the group," he explained.

I nodded nervously, acknowledging his words.

"As you know, young people can be more resistant to these kinds of ideals," he commented, hinting at the challenges of acceptance within the organization.

I couldn’t help but laugh inside. He was right. There was absolutely no way I would ever be interested in any of this. Did he seriously think I would consider joining their group? Not to mention how they were all dressed, there was no way I could be like that! I shook my head in disbelief, wondering how people could become so trapped and revolve their lives around such things.

"So, what will we be doing?" I asked, attempting to extract more information from him.

"I thought I'd give you a warm welcome," he replied kindly, as he began approaching a door.

"Right this way," he said, opening the door and extending his arms to invite me in.

I stepped into the dark room, dimly lit by a single lightbulb, with two foldable chairs positioned in the center. The door closed behind me as he entered the room. I glanced back at the door, then shifted my gaze back to the man standing before me.

He chuckled, breaking the silence. "I know how this may appear, but the door isn't locked."

"Okay..." I let out a nervous laugh.

"I thought I could bring you here, so I can get to know you better," he confessed, settling into one of the chairs. As he crossed his legs, I noticed his gray socks peeking out from underneath his trousers. It was the first time I truly took notice of his black dress shoes, polished to a high degree of shine.

He extended his hands towards the vacant chair in front of him. "Come, have a seat."

Following his guidance, I sat across from him. My throat felt heavy, and my nerves were on edge. He wanted to know more about me... Then, the realization hit me hard—I didn't have a story.

"So, boy, tell me about yourself," he said casually.

I flinched at his words, feeling his gaze penetrating into me. Would I slip up? What if he discovered the true reason for my presence here?

"I..." My voice croaked, my mind racing for something to say.

He noticed my hesitation and offered a comforting smile. "I apologize if it feels like an interview. It's natural to be nervous in a situation like this."

If there was one thing remarkable about Mr. Burton, it was his smile. A grinning eminence of warmth and ease. There was a man like this, here. 

"I don't mind," I blurted out, trying to sound confident.

And so, I began to weave a tale about myself—a fabricated version of me.

I introduced myself as Mike, a 21-year-old college student nearing the end of my studies. I mentioned my uncertain future, lacking prospects for a job or a clear path in life, which ultimately led me to this place.

I sprinkled in a mix of fake hobbies along with a few genuine ones, embellishing the lie to make it more convincing.

Mr. Burton sat there, his smile unwavering. He listened attentively, occasionally offering a comment or two. It was easy to forget that he was a man in a suit; he seemed so genuine and down-to-earth. There was something about him that drew me in.

He leaned forward, displaying a genuine interest in what I had to say. He laughed at my jokes and sang with agreement.

As I continued to weave my tale, a part of me longed for him to know the real me. I had to admit, he wasn't at all what I had expected. There was a gentle charm about him that assuaged my worries. If he weren't a part of this group, perhaps I would have genuinely enjoyed getting to know him better.

"Tell me about your family. Do your parents know that you're here?" 

I chuckled and shook my head. "No, my mom is working hard back at home, and, well..."

I didn’t know why but my mind conjured what seemed plausible, “my dad passed away when I was little, so I had a harder time growing up. So you know, without a figure in life, I was a bit rebellious growing up.” 

Mr. Burton nodded empathetically, his eyes filled with understanding. What was it about those eyes that captivated me as the lies spilled out of my lips.

"That must have been challenging for you," his soft voice melded with compassion. 

"Yeah... it was," I replied, lowering my voice as if sharing a deeply personal secret.

In reality, I hadn't lost my father. In fact, my family was ordinary and happy. My parents were well-off, and I had a bright future ahead of me, following in their footsteps—school, job, and eventually starting a family of my own.

But as Mr. Burton expressed his understanding, a pang of guilt tugged at my conscience. Somehow, my words had convinced him that I was on a journey of self-discovery.

"If I had to guess, you're here because you're seeking a new sense of direction," he commented perceptively.

"Yeah," I affirmed, trying to match his understanding tone. Definitely. I definitely came here for a new sense of direction. 

He rose from his chair, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. Confusion filled me as he approached me suddenly, his embrace engulfing me, drawing me close to his chest.

A rush of warmth enveloped me, evoking a sense of safety and comfort that felt foreign in this context. No. No… this wasn’t what I came here for. My heart pounded against his chest as his hand rhythmically patted and rubbed my back.

"You don't have to worry anymore, Mike. I'm here for you," he reassured me with a sincerity that caught me off guard.

His presence surrounded me like a soothing breeze, and his warmth washed over me like gentle waves lapping at the shore. At that moment, I caught a glimpse of an idyllic sunset, its hues reflecting upon the tranquil ocean. Strangely, a part of me wanted to hold onto this feeling.

Though I knew his sympathy was directed towards the fabricated version of me, I couldn't shield myself from the genuine comfort he provided.

"We can help you here," his voice broke the silence, brushing against my ear. "I can help you."

I stood in silence, caught between the allure of his offer and the realization of my ulterior motives. Yet, he drew me even closer, holding me tightly. My face pressed against his soft, gentle dress shirt as my arms instinctively wrapped around his back. The earthy scent of pine trees mixed with a subtle hint of leather filled my senses.

I hadn't anticipated this intimate encounter. What was this? I was perfectly normal… but to be embraced by him made my gut scream in anticipation. This wasn't part of the plan. This was not it. I should start focusing on… what… was… this smell? His smell was heavenly intoxicating. 

All the tension in my muscles melted away as he pulled back slightly, meeting my gaze with his deep blue eyes. "You've made the right choice, boy," he affirmed.

"I..." My words trailed off, captivated by the mesmerizing depth of his eyes. They seemed to hold the secrets of the vast ocean, yet the surface waves were so soothing. If Mr. Burton deemed it the right choice, then perhaps it truly was. What was I here for again?

"I know what you need," he stated with confidence.

"Which is...?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"What sizes do you wear?" he inquired, his tone gentle.

Without hesitation, I shared my shirt, pants, and shoe sizes, as if compelled to do so. There was an odd sense of surrender in that moment, as if I had relinquished control.

A smile curved on his lips. "Stay here, and I will be back shortly."

Anxious anticipation filled me as I nodded in response. I mustered a wry smile as he left the room. Deep down, I knew what awaited me if he was asking for my sizes. This was my chance to leave, to escape this place. I had gone too far, and it was not baring well for me.

But the thought of Mr. Burton leaked into my mind and suddenly a whirlpool of curiosity and intrigue opened up. It revealed an entirely new world beneath the surface. What would it be like to be mentored by him, to truly get to know him? Did it even matter if he was part of this group?

The mere idea of being under his guidance ignited a nervous tremor within me. Was I going mad? What was I thinking? Yet, a surge of excitement coursed through my body, heat flushing my face with warmth. What was this feeling?

The door swung open, extinguishing any flicker of hope for escape. I tried to reassure myself that everything would be alright, that I could still accomplish my mission.

In Mr. Burton's hand, he held a stack of garment bags, and dread washed over me. The sight of those bags could only mean one thing: I was about to be enveloped in the same attire worn by the rest of their members. Was I prepared for that? 

The thought of wearing their fine dress shirts and exquisite trousers seemed unimaginable. Me, in a suit? It felt like an absurd notion. Yet, there stood Mr. Burton, radiating warmth and confidence in his tailored suit. The way it accented his form was undeniably attractive. In that moment, I found myself longing to be like him, to be under his guidance.

"Thank goodness we have them in your size, isn't that great?" he exclaimed joyfully as he approached the center of the room.

I forced a smile, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yeah. What's in the bag?"

A part of me already knew the answer, but I had to ask. He gently placed the bag on the chair and turned his attention back to me, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Just a simple initiation. Nothing too daunting.” He assured me as he reached into the bag and retrieved a package. 

He approached me with it, his voice assuring, “see, nothing bad.”

My gaze fixated on the package. As he opened it, revealing a pair of white undergarments, I couldn't help but feel a surge of apprehension. A nylon undershirt and a white underwear stared back at me.

He handed me the garments, and I held them in my hands, my body tense with uncertainty. Should I accept them? No, it felt like a surrender, a step towards becoming one of them.

I glanced back at him, and his expression shifted upon meeting my hesitant gaze. Has my body language betrayed my doubts?

"I understand what you're thinking," he sighed, his tone empathetic. "Here, let me show you something."

Time seemed to slow as my eyes widened, witnessing what unfolded before me. His hands gravitated towards his belt, the familiar sound of a buckle being undone filling the air. He removed his belt, and a mixture of curiosity and unease coursed through me.

What was he doing!? What was I seeing?

His hands reached towards his trousers, unclasping them. His attention then shifted to the zipper. The sound echoed in the room of his zipper being undone. 

I stared in horror as he dropped his trousers onto the ground. He stepped out of them nonchalantly, revealing his long gray socks that extended above his calves. My attention remained fixed as he slid his hands to his white shirt beneath the gray jacket. 

I couldn’t shift my gaze away from what he had revealed. His white briefs, the same pair he had given me, outlined an enlarged cock behind his brief. It was clearly for me to see.

"Don't worry, Mr. Burton wears them too," he reassured me.

I snapped out of it and refocused my attention on him. His tie still collared onto him. He had already unbuttoned some on his dress shirt and pulled it to the side, revealing the white nylon undershirt tucked into his white briefs. His chest was partially visible, displaying his muscular physique. His hardened nipples along with his fuzzy chest hair faintly visible through the fabric.

"Do you like them?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

I was at a loss for words. My mouth dried and empty. 

"I understand your hesitation. It's natural," he said, attempting to sway me. "But I assure you, you'll find them enjoyable."

I… will enjoy them? I tried to redirect my thoughts on Mr. Burton and not what he displayed in front of me. 

"Go ahead, feel the pair," he gestured, his hands in motion.

I couldn't believe I was engaging in this. My heart raced as I cautiously placed my hands on the garments he had given me. My gaze remained fixed on Mr. Burton as I explored the texture of the fabric. I didn’t hate it. Each touch of it sends a spark against my body. 

"Now, imagine yourself wearing them," he encouraged.

And so I did. I envisioned myself wearing the white nylon undershirt and underwear, picturing myself standing before him.

"Very good," he praised, acknowledging my visualization. "Now, I'd like to see how you would look in them."

I knew what he wanted before he asked. The words stirred a mixture of emotions with me. A sense of uncertainty and unknown. What can I do? What other options did I have?  

Approaching me with warmth emanating from him, he wore a genuine smile on his face. His body moved with poise and his eyes filled with ambition.

How could anyone resist his presence? His hands made contact with me as he visualized the transformation he had in mind.

"I'm going to get rid of this improper appearance," he informed me.

Suddenly, a desire emerged. I want him to get rid of my flaws. I watched as he reached out to my belt and tugged it.

“You’ll no longer be lost, my boy.” His words laced with a drug, pulling me in. 

What was I doing here? What am I doing? I glanced down at my chest as his other hand gently rested there. I observed his hands moving downward, reaching towards my belt.

His hands joined together, their synchronized movement gripping onto my belt. With a bit of fumbling and intertwining of fingers, my belt succumbed to his touch. He swiftly unlocked it.

"There we go," he exclaimed cheerfully as he removed my belt from my jeans, casually discarding it onto the ground. Then, both of his hands proceeded to the hem of my shirt. His touch radiated warmth, akin to the comforting embers of a fireplace.

"Good boy," his words of approval echoed, "good boy."

His hands moved deliberately, gently pulling my shirt outward. My body responded instinctively, allowing him to remove it.

"You just let me guide you," he whispered softly, his words hanging in the air. "I'll ensure you find the right path. Will you allow me to do that for you?"

I hesitated. Why was my body reacting this way? Why did his words hold such allure? My lips began to search for the word “yes.” No, I was perfectly normal. I needed to regain control. I don’t… I gazed into his eyes, searching for clarity, but words eluded me.

There I stood, partially naked in front of him, as his hands continued their purposeful movement. My jeans were eased down, revealing my briefs. Without hesitation, I stepped out of my pants.

His smile stirred something within me. This was my choice, my decision.

He didn't stop there. He wanted to see the holy grail. His gaze met mine once more, seeking permission. Slowly, he descended, removing my last layer of protection. I let him stripped it away.  

"That’s my boy,” his voice growled with approval. 

Never before had I allowed someone to see me completely exposed with my cock hanging out. Mr. Burton was the first to witness it, and he seemed to take pride in that fact, discerning it from a single glance into my eyes.

It was absurd, wasn't it? My original purpose had been to infiltrate their group, and now here I stood, utterly naked before Mr. Burton. I couldn't tear my gaze away from him, captivated by his presence.

His left hand rested gently on my shoulder, while his right hand delicately lifted my chin, directing my gaze towards him. The sensations coursing through my body felt palpable, like resounding drums. Once again, I found myself lost in his eyes, drawn to his white teeth gracing me with a smile.

"Don't be shy. Keep your head up. I promise you'll find pleasure in this," he reassured me, his hands offering a comforting massage to my shoulders.

Radiating with a sense of pride, he stepped away from me, retrieving the garments he had previously shown me. I knew what was to come, and yet my thoughts couldn't help but linger on it…

The allure of wearing their acclaimed garment consumed my thoughts. The vibrations within me intensified, synchronized with the rhythmic tapping of Mr. Burton's leather shoe on the floor.

"Remember, it's just a simple initiation. Nothing to worry about," he reassured, patting me gently on the shoulder. "You want to try them on, don't you?"

My desire to put on the garment was undeniable. I swallowed nervously. After all, it was merely a part of the initiation. Mr. Burton handed it to me with ease. Why did I accept it? Why did I now find it in my grasp? I examined it once more, realizing there were no valid reasons to resist.

It was too late for hesitation. The first piece presented was their white brief. My body seemed to move instinctively as my legs guided themselves into the garment. With each pull, I felt the fabric enveloping me, caressing my skin, and pulling me within them.

“That’s my boy.”

My hands smoothly pulled the garment over my cock, feeling the softness of the white briefs as they embraced me. A sigh of comfort escaped my lips as I relished in the soothing sensation.

Without delay, Mr. Burton handed me the undershirt, and I swiftly slipped it on. The fabric draped over me, and although slightly translucent, it provided a sense of coverage.

“Tuck it in.” He instructed.

Following his guidance, I obediently tucked the undershirt into my briefs. As I completed the task, a deep groan escaped me. I couldn't help but wonder about the unfamiliar emotions stirring within.

"You appear much more dignified now," Mr. Burton commended.

My gaze fixated on his hands as they reached out and rested on top of my bulge.

"How does it feel?" he inquired softly, his fingers tenderly caressing my balls through the fabric.

A faint whimper escaped my lips as his touch elicited a pleasurable response. His fingers moved with gentle strokes, caressing my balls.

“Does it feel good?” He whispered.

“Yes.” I gently bit my lips.

“Wonderful.” His eyes brimmed with pride. 

I couldn't stop looking down at myself at what I had done. The garments I had put on, his hands delicately placed on top of my covered bulge, arousing a newfound erection within me.

"You'll fit right in," he reassured me, a sense of belonging in his tone.

“Oooah…” A low moan escaped my lips as his fingers continued their mesmerizing touch, overpowering my ability to control my own body.

"But we're not finished yet," Mr. Burton grinned, pleased with the progress I had made. How far had I come? Did I even want to resist? Such thoughts escaped from me as my body reveled in the sensation of the garments and his touch. It felt right.

"You, my boy, deserve to embrace your best self every day," he promised, his words tinged with sincerity.

His words caused a blush to color my cheeks, and I looked up at him. Mr. Burton stood there, still partially dressed in his suit, oozing confidence.

"What you see here is what all men should wear," he declared proudly, his words echoed with conviction. 

He then dangled a pair of long black socks in his hands.

"Put these on," he commanded.

Complying with his orders, I slid my feet into the fabric... It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It provided a comforting warmth against my skin as the sock extended beyond my calves.

At that moment, I was being dressed according to his vision. A sense of fear stirred within me—an apprehensive panic born out of the unknown.

"Now, for the rest of the ensemble," he declared.

With those words, I knew what was left and my body eagerly awaited it. He approached me, holding the next piece of the ensemble in his hands. The missing piece that will start to make me whole. A white dress shirt in his hands, calling for me. 

I couldn’t resist his gentle touches as he starts to enveloped me in a fragment of their uniform. His hands guided my arms into the sleeves. Then he starts to button up the shirt, the fabric delicately caressing me. He reached out to adjust my collar with a gentle touch. I can tell in his eyes how the white dress shirt was fitting for a young man like myself.

Why did everything feel so aligned? With every touch from Mr. Burton, it was no longer me wearing the shirt; instead, it was as if the shirt was embracing me, becoming an integral part of who I am. 

Mr. Burton completed dressing me in the shirt, a wide smile gracing his face. “You’ve started to come along nicely,” he acknowledge. 

I stared down at myself, the unfamiliar long black socks to my calves, the white dress shirt, the white nylon undershirt into the white briefs, some part of me knew I looked funny. This wasn’t me. These clothes weren’t me at all. It didn't fit me. But another part of me…

A spontaneous smile emerged on my face as I examined myself. Simultaneously, an unexpected feeling surfaced within me. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nervousness. Why, I pondered? Why did excitement surge through my veins?

“I had mentioned earlier you’ll find it pleasurable and it seems I was correct.” He remarked. 

I swallowed uneasily, a swirl of foreign thoughts and feelings wrestling within me. I knew what was happening, yet I fought against it in my mind. I wasn’t going to fall for this. I wasn’t going to be swayed by this group. All I wanted was to go in and get out, enduring and revealing the nonsense meeting.

He wasn’t right. He wasn’t right at all. I can’t find these clothes… enjoyable. However, despite my resistance, I found myself inevitably drawing comparisons to Mr. Burton. I was becoming like him, wearing the same garments he wore. Now, starting to wear the same clothes as he does. I… I couldn’t help but admire him, even against my will.

Mr. Burton swiftly moved on to the next item. He draped a pair of charcoal trousers over his hands. I swallowed hard. I hated the implication of it. One step closer. One step closer to becoming one of them. 

“You are to wear the proper attire befitting of a man.” Mr. Burton extended his hands towards me, almost like he had sensed the oncoming distraught. 

Was Mr. Burton the embodiment of it all?

“Please rest assured, you don’t need to worry about anything. As your mentor, it is my duty to provide guidance and support. The decisions I make on your behalf are intended to help you, mold you, and reform you. You can trust that my choices will always be correct." His smile radiated warmth and reassurance.

His words resonated within me… he always had my best interests at heart… he… he was going to my mentor, leading me towards the path I needed to follow. 

“Put on these trousers and let go of all thoughts of the past. You will grow to appreciate them and only desire to wear of such.” He extended them towards me. 

I stared intently, but no resistance surfaced in my mind. Mr. Burton was here, surrounding me with his care. Without any more thoughts, I reached out and accepted the trousers. 

“That’s my boy,” he praised.

I wasn’t merely a young man anymore… I was now Mr. Burton’s boy, entrusted to his care. I couldn’t deny him. I had to wear the pants he had given me. Thus, I slipped into the trousers. His hands moved quickly, assisting in tucking my shirt neatly. 

“Good boy,” he uttered, zipping up my fly. 

His words stirred a flutter in my stomach. Just moments ago, his praises were unwarranted, even cringe-worthy. They were false. Thoughts of why I should care about a man like him praising me, and how being referred to as a “good boy” stung my pride, crossed my mind. I was not a boy; I was a man.

Yet, those thoughts faded away. I’m doing the right thing… I… I was a… a good boy. 

Me with them. Me with Mr. Burton. A strange sensation stirred within me at the thought, but it was not the end. Swiftly, I felt the presence of something around my neck—a red and black striped tie. I watched, allowing him to knot it around my collar.

His hands moved gently against my neck as he skillfully tied the knot. It took shape, and then he tugged it snugly against my neck, ensuring it was just tight.

"Now, that's what I want to see," he remarked, gripping onto my tie.

My thoughts froze in my head, shrouded in the mystery of my own feelings.

"Now, onto the final piece," he declared, walking over to a pair of black loafers.

A lump formed in my throat as he approached with the loafers. They were impeccably polished and shiny. I didn’t know how I would feel about wearing them. I had found them to be… worn by older generations.

Mr. Burton motioned for me to sit on the chair, waiting to give me a prized possession of their shoes. This was the final piece… my body complied.

I watched as he bent down, grasping my feet, and slipped on one loafer, followed by the other. Finally, he completed the ensemble with the second loafer. They fit perfectly on my feet. 

He tapped the black loafers on my feet, then looked up at me. "How do they feel? Do they fit?"

I nodded towards him. They fitted perfectly and it was scary. I had never worn a pair in my life and yet they snuggled me comfortably. All the men wore such beautiful pairs of leather shoes and now, one was on me.

Deep breaths escaped my lips as I sat there, allowing the moment to sink in. The gnawing sensation inside me grew stronger as I stood up, gazing down at my new pair of shoes.

My vision blurred momentarily, and my heart chimed loudly, resonating through the empty room. I could feel it coursing through me— the shoes, the shirt and pants, the knot. Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. But I couldn't help but steal glances at myself in their clothes. What would it do to me? Was I truly mad to crave it? I was. I was insane.

I looked like one of them. I looked like one of his own. Such a thought was welcomed. I want to be one of them. I want to be like Mr. Burton’s and now I stood there in their uniform. I stood there and looked like him. I was complete.

My lips broke the silence I had held so tightly within me. “Everything… feels…”

“Wonderful,” he finished my sentence, stealing my words.

I couldn’t help but found myself riveting to what he had put me in. I can see myself in their clothes. I can see myself wearing a suit walking amongst them. I can see myself always neatly dressed and proper. My hair conservatively like Mr. Burton’s. My ties knotted tightly and formulated. A dress shirt always worn by me accompanied by razor sharped creased trousers. Then at last, long socks and polished shoes of a man. 

His hands guided along my chest, up to my tie, as he grabbed the knot and pulled me closer.

"Don't you agree that this is a much better representation of who you are?" His hands traced the front of my dress shirt.

My voice croaked under his touch. "Yes."

His other hand found itself again on top of my bulge of my newly charcoal trousers.

“Ooooah!” My mouth opened wide in earnest, allowing him massaging it through my trousers. His hands had its touches, binding pleasure to him. 

His gaze steadfastly locked with mine, his hold on my tie unyielding, “it’s time to make you a member.”

I…it was finally time for me to be under him. I want to be a member. I want to be Mr. Burton’s. After all, I was already one of them dressed in their clothes.

“What… what do I do?” I silently panted, waiting to hear the secrets.

“Surrender yourself to me.” He whispered into my ears, as he tenderly gripped my hardened cock.

“Oooo.” I moaned upon hearing his voice. Surrender myself to Mr. Burton.

“Truly etched my words into your heart and soul. Make it a part of who you are.” He continued.

I needed to fully commit to his teaching… how can I not? 

He grabbed a hold of the back of my head and gently led it close to his chest. Then suddenly, his firm was hard and then he invited me to his hardened nipples. 

“Urgh… that’s my boy.” He groaned out loud as I opened my mouth upon his nipples.

My tongue lashed out into his nylon undershirt as it twirled and sucked on his nipples. I can taste his musk inside my mouth. It was a godsend. A heavenly taste that burnt itself into my memory. 

I want him. I want Mr. Burton. I couldn’t stop myself. He pushed me harder and I followed. His hands groped hard upon my hidden cock alluding me into him.

Surrender myself to Mr. Burton.

“Argh.” He growled in pleasure.

“Mmmm!” My mouth watered.

He pulled my head away with a wide grin on his face. His eyes were full of pride for me. 

"Listen carefully, Mike." His voice reverberated through the room.

I focused my gaze on him, attentively absorbing each word.

"You're about to become a member," he began.

My heart swelled with excitement. The thought of officially becoming one of them swells inside of me, waiting to burst. I was one of them in their uniforms. Next was the pledge.

"To proceed, there is something you must accept from me."

I was prepared to accept anything he offered.

“You will drink my seed that I will bestow on you. You will let it take root. You will let me watered it and nurture it. In return, you will adopt the Burton name as a symbol of your commitment.” His words commanded my attention. 

I accept. My body accepted. What was this overwhelming sensation of joy that surged within me when considering adopting his name as my own? Excitement coursed through me, flowing through every fiber of my being, longing for it. I want to embrace and etch it into me… Mike...

"Mike Burton." It effortlessly slipped off my tongue, solidifying its existence. The name suited me perfectly... I was destined to become a Burton...

"That's right, boy." His grin widened even further upon hearing me softly utter what he had desired from me. Once again, a sense of pride illuminated his eyes.

“Kneel.” He ordered me.

“Yes, Mr. Burton.” My lips moved involuntarily, submitting to his commands. His words carried a melody, and my body gladly followed his tunes. My knees sank to the ground before him.

"Yes, Father Burton," he instructed for the correction.

"Yes, Father Burton," I followed his commands.

“That’s my boy… good boy.” He praised with a whistle.

His words filled me with a sense of delight. A yearning to be a good boy. I longed to satisfy his desires. There was no shame within me, as he had trained me to seek his praises. 

I watched as his hands descended down to his white briefs. I watched again as his hands unveiled his Fatherhood right before me. I watched and wanted his seeds. I want to be Mike Burton. I want to be his.

I descended upon his Fatherhood. Oh! How I yearned for this! 

“Argh!” His moan raged against the room at the stroke of my mouth. 

His grunts were the epitome of happiness. My mouth watered and it soaked his Fatherhood, enveloped it all inside of my lips. 

“ARGH!!” He roughly grunted as he pushed his Fatherhood further in. My mouth was full of acceptance allowing him to prepare me for his seed.

“Goood…. Boy.” He huffed out loud as he gracefully thrust his hips.

The sound of the praises ushered me harder and faster. My eyes were drawn up to his and we locked gazes. He was so proud of me. I melted, becoming one with him.

“You’re… doing… so… good… boy.” Sweat drops on the side of his head as I continue loving his Fatherhood.

“ARGH!” He screamed out in ecstasy, motioning his hips against my mouth.

I can taste the beginning of his seeds. How tasteful and fulfilling it was to me. I want it. I want it all! My tongue mirrored his rhythmic movements, becoming one with his passionate drive. Together, we danced.

“OOOOOAH!” His moans louder and heavier.

I can taste his constant stream of his leaking nourishment, gently cascading me. It’s not enough.

“You want it badly, boy!” His voice commanded me.

“ARGHHHH!” He let out another roar.

“I hereby declare you Mike Burton!” He proclaimed.

Yes. Father Burton.

“OOOOOAH!” 

His Fatherhood bursted. Yes… yes! My mouth remains unyielding to his Fatherhood as his seed shoots out. I can taste him. I can taste the sweetness and saltiness of it all. 

His seed entered my throat and it dripped down, covering my walls. I could feel it entering through me, marking me as his. His seed was inside me, and my body accepted him.

“OOOOAH!” I moaned out as I let his seed soak me in. A wave crashed over me, and I found my cock bursting out.

“Let it out. Let it out, boy!” He shouts.

“ARRGHHH!” My eyes shut closed, embracing what he gave me. My cum seeps out into the nylon shirt, the white briefs, then out to my charcoal trousers. It seeped out, telling me the clothes were now mine.

“I… can’t… stop!” I groaned out loud as it continued bursting, “ooooooahhhh.”

“Good boy.” He praised me as I let myself out, and in its place was his seed.

“Ooooah…” I panted as the feeling fell down. I want more. I craved it. I can feel his seed taking root inside of me, pushing the last remnants of myself out. My body accepted it with open arms. I want his seed. I want it inside of me, overwhelming me. I was his vessel. 

My breaths labored heavily as my knees remained planted on the ground. With a gentle gesture, he lifted me up, his gaze filled with a newfound brightness.

"Welcome, my protege," he declared, his voice resonating with approval. His eyes twinkled with anticipation as he prompted, "Share with me what you have learned today."

I found myself lost in his presence, drowning in his appearance. Father Burton, my mentor, stood before me. His neatly trimmed brown hair set a standard for grooming that I aspired to achieve. His partially white, well-kept scruffy beard mirrored the same attention to detail. I felt compelled to emulate such facial grooming.

He wore a gray suit jacket that draped elegantly over him. I want a suit like his. Underneath, a white nylon undershirt was tucked into his white briefs. It truly is the  epitome of appropriate undergarments for a man. His white dress shirt, paired with a yellow striped tie, embodied sartorial excellence. His black, shiny shoes served as a constant reminder of proper footwear.

“I am the newest member under the teachings of Father Burton.” The words slipped out my tongue, “I will follow Father Burton and will always wear the proper garments of a white nylon undershirt tucked into my white briefs.”

I… this was me… this was who I will become.

"I will always wear a dress shirt, tie, and creased trousers befitting a young man. On my feet will always be long dress socks and polished leather shoes.”

That was an outfit befitting me.

"I… I am Mike Burton.” My voice declared.

"Marvelous!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands in approval.

"I..." my words struggled to find their place, a sense of trepidation filling me. However he being Mr. Burton, he had the hues of a sunset. He leaned in forward, listening attentively.

"Do you seek my praise?" he guessed.

I swallowed hard.

"Say yes, boy," he urged.

"Ye..." my lips strained to confess the words.

"Yes, Father Burton," I uttered, my lips giving voice to the truth.

He approached me, placing both hands on my shoulders.

"You... are an extraordinary young man," he uttered those magical words. "Make me proud."

My blood danced and leaped. My smile widened from cheeks to cheeks. I will make him proud. I will make Father Burton proud. 

His hands moved towards the wet spot on my trousers. Embarrassment flushed my cheeks as I had wet my trousers with my cum.

“Please don’t worry, boy.” He assured me, his tone comforting. “When others see this, they will know without a doubt that you belong to me.”  

Blushing forward, I slowly accepted what I had done to my trousers.

“I’m glad you came here today.” His eyes smiled.

“I… I am too.” I grinned back at him.

“We have much work ahead of us, you and I.”

“Yes, Father Burton.”

[dressed-euphoric]

Vintage Program

By. Euphoric Dressed

An unexpected television program sets off a change for you.

Word Count: 6160

Your back slumps upon the couch with a sigh of relief releasing into the air. Your feet resting upon the table in front of you with your favorite drink nearby. The feeling was momentary until the clock breaks the calm: the day was already over, again. 

It was always like this, every single day: you would go to work, then you would come home. You would change into your comfortable clothes, then make your favorite drink. Then, at last, it was you, the couch, and the TV. A routine that has become your life. 

Except, tonight was filled with a bit of hope, a hope that something will change this pitying routine of yours. The clock still shows a few hours before midnight, and you got nothing to lose from losing out on sleep. You hope when midnight hums, everyone’s vow will somehow enlighten you for yours. You let out a small chuckle at the thought of it. Maybe it was the pessimistic side of you that knew nothing will change. 

After all, you’ve made goals to become fit, to eat healthier, to find someone you would connect with; all of them barely lasted a week. So what will change this time that will suddenly make you break this mundane life of yours? At this point, it might as well be nothing.

Yet, you lay there hearing the clock tick, and tick, and tick nested in the sounds of your favorite show. Your throat gulping your favorite drink till finally, midnight made her sounds. 

You stare at the clock, unable to keep your eyes open: 12:01 AM it says. That was it. Your shoulder shrugs at the time. There was nothing to be felt. No sudden wave of adrenaline pushing you to your dreams, or how your body starts to dance to life. Nothing. All that will continue to exist is work and your couch. 

Wait. What had happened? Your teeth tighten, fuming your breaths outward. Great. A static screen on your modern TV. Your hands dash toward the clicker in an attempt to roll it back. You press the button which devolves into a smashing of buttons. You snarl a curse under your breath.

Your heart jumps as it comes back on, just not your show. The colors were a bit odd, reminding you of the old retro shows. A man stood there dressed in the most elegant suit you’ve ever seen: a charcoal gray suit that draped perfectly on his body. His trousers were sharply creased and underneath it, was a pair of shiny black oxfords. He looked like an old-school gentleman with his appearance.

His hair was black with slight streaks of silver. It was slick smoothly to the side with a hard part and shimmers underneath the light. Then there were his eyes, a deep blue that ensnares at you; they seem almost too hypnotic. Your nerves jump out under his gaze as he flashes a smile behind the screen.

“Greetings gents, I’m Dr. Wilton.” He announces with a small bow, “welcome to my program, where I’m here to change your life.” 

Change your life? You scoff at him. What was with this TV program? Your hands went straight to the clicker to change the show. You watch as your hands hover on top of the clicker, as you contemplate your decision. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tune in and get a few laughs. You even wonder what kind of a ridiculous show it would turn out to be. 

It was propaganda. You let out a loud laugh at yourself. You couldn’t believe you watched the whole thing! 

Dr. Wilton talked about the imperfection of current society: how men carried themselves, and the way they were portrayed. He then preached values that all men should aspire to uphold. And like how he was presented, he reminded everyone of their appearances. The exact statement rang clear as bells in your head:

“Gents, you are destined to wear the appropriate clothes. We do not carry ourselves in a ‘disrespectful manner’. A clean crisp ironed shirt and trousers are to be expected. A perfectly knotted tie among your necks. Your socks should be conservative and show no skin. Your shoes are leather and polished. I would even go as far as to encourage the suit as all men should wear.”

You shake your head in disbelief. What nonsense was the man spewing? To expect everyone to conform to such values and mannerisms? Then, to even imagine yourself dressed all day in such dying clothes! You glimpse at your attire, and it’s no wonder everyone else does too. What was he to declare what was appropriate or not? At the very least, he had made your night amusing, a great start to your year. 

——

Tomorrow came as quickly as any other day with yesterday tossed into the wind. You carry on, even forgetting the program you’ve watched last night. Even with the new year, there were no expectations or any goals. 

And yet, why did it feel there was a change? A feeling that arouses inside the pit of your stomach: it gnarls and hisses. It gnaws, turning your inside out. It started this morning, and you had hoped it’ll die down. But even now at work, the feeling grows inside of you. Your body’s a bit tense as you labor your breathing. Your palms start to sweat, although you never had sweaty palms in the past. 

Then upon reaching home and changing into your comfortable clothes, you thought your haven will save you from whatever it was. If you just sit back on your couch with your favorite drink and your favorite show, it will all go away. And yet for the first time in a while, you browse the TV in search of something. Your favorite show wasn’t doing it so you tried the next, then the next of your interest.

Why? What was wrong? You clench your fist and a grunt of many words lashes into the night. Your voice slowly became loud at the insignificant details. You didn’t feel sick nor was there a fever coming in, but something was ramping you up. That was it. You were done with the night. 

The next couple of days didn’t get better. It grew and became more of a bottomless pit that dugs into you, pulling your body awry. You feel yourself always shuffling your feet in your athletic shoes. Your knees clad in jeans, constantly bounces upon sitting down. Somehow all of the sudden, you could feel bugs swarming all around your shirt, even though you’ve checked it a million times. Nothing was ever there. 

Your nights weren’t better at all; they became worse. Your haven slowly dissolved into a discordance of madness. You try so hard to watch even 10 minutes of your shows before you couldn’t stand it. Your body’s constantly shuffling on your couch with your dry throat. Your words start to express more, none of it filled with the laughter of the past.

Then there was that craving, a hunger yearning to be satiated. It grows every night as you flip through shows trying to figure out what the hunger desires. Why can’t you get what you wanted?

This went on for another couple of days, then a trip to the doctor ensued. “You’re looking pretty healthy.” The doctor told you.

That was a lie. You weren’t healthy at all by how you were acting. The doctor told you physically, there was nothing wrong. Then, it must be a psychological effect. If so, what was the cause? 

On your way back home, your fingers intensely tap against the wheel. Your body keeps fidgeting, and your feet encumber against the pedal. Then somehow, your eyes caught a glance upon a store. A display window showcasing a mannequin dressed in a gray plaid suit. 

Right there and then, it was like the tense packed clouds in your mind suddenly releasing their gates. Your body and your shoulder lose all the weight of the world as the light slowly descends. At last, there was no monster inside of you devouring you whole. There was nothing more than your body could ever crave. 

Your body was still with your feet gently touching the pedal. Your hands soften against the wheel. A smile widens as you welcome the feeling. Till your eyes focus elsewhere, and all is gone. 

The monster was back, and you can hear it roaring at you. Your teeth clench as the monstrous feeling claws your body apart. Your hands ferociously grip the wheel as you can hear your heart bursting so loudly at the speed of light. Something was defective inside of you. 

It was that store. How could it be? It was just a suit store… there was nothing more to it. Your feet stomp onto the pedal with no care for the speed limit. There the store was again right in front of you. You found yourself escaping out of the car, then your feet rushing to the front of the door. A long wind of breath slowly upheaves from you and slowly, everything was silent. Except, the echo of your heartbeats, as your eyes delicately peel the display windows. 

You had never gone into a suit store or had any desire to in the past. So why now do you so desperately want to go inside? Was it insanity that you felt drawn to the store? The thought makes you boil under your skin. What could you possibly want in this place? 

There was no reason to go in. Rather, your precious time was ripping away from your routine; that was going to be the solution to your madness. You just have to crank your favorite drink, sit down on your couch, and desperately watch your favorite show. 

No… there was no favorite show anymore. Your routine was a failure for your problem. It was never going to fix that gnawing feeling that keeps troubling you. You focus on the door till everything else fades. That was it. You have to go in. So you open the door and step into an undesired realm. 

Your eyes flash toward the vast selection of clothes they hold. A bundle of kindle sets ablaze in your heart. You could feel the sweat on the back of your neck. None of it was a result of the gnawing pit. No, your symptoms were from a different feeling: one that a new child rejoices upon a discovery.

You couldn’t help yourself as you stroke your hands on the fabric of the suit jackets. Each touch sends a beautiful shock that trembles your core. You couldn’t keep your eyes off the dress shirts and ties that hung out and above. You study the creases on each pair of trousers and note how pristine they were. You inspect each of the leather dress shoes, ranging from oxfords, brogues, and loafers, feeling the artwork. 

You knew you didn’t fit into any of these clothes. You let out a small laugh imagining yourself dressed in such attire. No way was that going to happen. 

But your mind toys with the idea. You bet having that button-up dress shirt would’ve felt delightful against your skin compared to the shirt you were wearing now. You could feel it hug around your chest and shoulder. Then there was the collar as it tightens against your neck. You reach with your hands to touch your collarbone. You didn’t like how the collar was always stiff on your neck but now… it was a strange desire: you wouldn’t mind it. Maybe even with a tie? The tie would be tightened and warm against your neck with a distinguishable knot. The thought makes you blush as you imagine yourself.

You couldn’t believe what your mind was conjuring! This wasn’t you. What was going on that you must think of such thoughts? No. This isn’t what you wanted. 

But the trousers that were hung would’ve looked good on you. How the crease makes you more refined. How the trousers will clasp against your waist instead of your usual choice of pants. Staring down at your pants sickens you as you feel it is undesirable. 

Then there were the leather dress shoes. Your heart’s still pumping as suddenly, your feet crave to step into them. How good it would feel to walk in them. You couldn’t resist as you examine a pair. A groan escapes your lips as the smell of the rich alluring leather travels to your nose. Just touching a pair made your feet wince against the feeling of your athletic shoes. 

But if you were to wear a pair of leather dress shoes, then you can’t wear your short white socks. The thought makes you cringe as you look down at your feet. You were going to need one of the many conservative dress socks displayed, all labeled over the calf. You didn’t know how you will feel about them. Only thoughts of how they would caress against your feet or how they will feel when you lounge in them. The thought makes you flush even harder as you pick up a pair.

This was the most insane trip you’ve ever gone on! You were not going to become a dandy. What are you thinking!? A sense of disgust toils inside of you at your thoughts. You needed to leave. 

But you can’t leave without the suit jacket. You needed one to complete the set! Just imagine wearing one on top of your dress shirt, trousers, and leather shoes. The fabric would weave everything into harmony, and you would be the eloquent man you’ve desired. 

“Can I help you?” A voice came behind you.

The shopkeeper stood there dressed in his brown plaid suit, white shirt, green tie, and brown loafers. His brown hair neatly parted to the side. His beard was neatly trimmed and distinguished by a handlebar mustache.

A thought came to invade your mind: the man was where you wanted to be, an embodiment of what you saw yourself. 

That was it. That was the final evidence that you weren’t yourself. An outrageous flame howls at your thoughts and emotions. Your voice fills with harsh tones and consonants towards the man: you were just browsing. Your feet storm off the door and into your car, unable to comprehend what went through you in the store. 

You didn’t need any of those clothes. You didn’t want anything relating to the idea of being dressed in such attire. No, because that wasn’t you. A growl erupts from you. Just a week ago, you were fine. But now, your clothes are harsh and itch against your skin. Your feet stomp around the house. You chug water down your throat in an attempt to calm down. 

Then the image of that man came into your head. The hysterical-dressed man who spoke of such ideals. Dr. Wilton was his name. What was it that he spoke of? You couldn’t remember because you laughed at his comedic program. It drives you nuts as you try to recount how to find him. 

You quickly descend upon your couch and turn the clicker. You flip through channels on your TV, hoping to find him. Your heart jumps at the familiar face on the screen. The colors are still the same in reminiscence of the retro shows you’ve encountered. 

Dr. Wilton stood there in his lavish charcoal suit. He still has the same black parted hair as you first saw him. His hair was as greasy and shiny as his black shoes. You didn’t care for it at first, but you found yourself in awe of his hair. What was it about his hair? 

There’s also the fact that you didn’t like Dr. Wilton. Why didn’t you? Maybe because he seemed like an outdated man with an outdated view. He was out of touch in this modern society of yours. All factors contribute to your disdain. But yet, here you were watching him. 

“Did you find me?” He grins at you.

His blue eyes still stare at you, just like he was directly talking to you. That hypnotic trance feeling when you first watch him. You could feel the chill settling into your body. What were you doing here, watching the outrageous man? 

But the thing is, the sensation that was devouring you inside out was gone. The distraught rhythm in your body soon came to a steady metronome. You didn’t miss the loud thumps of your heartbeat or how your breaths were like sparks of electricity fizzling outwards.

No. There was none of that. Instead, it was just the sensation of the breeze lightly grazing your skin. What is the word that you couldn’t grasp? It felt just right. That was the sensation: right. When everything finally fits in the puzzle.

So your body starts to slouch against the back of the couch. Your dancing legs are no more and finally, you raise your feet to rest on top of your table. You glimpse at your white socks and instinctively took them off your feet. Then something was missing from your feet for comfort. You just didn’t know what it was. 

Then, there was an urge to take off your shirt and lounging pants, but you stop yourself. A bit too uncomfortable to just be in your undergarments, and besides, you want to replace them. Of what? 

You reach upward to scratch your Adam’s apple like there was something that was supposed to be there. You couldn’t make it out but just felt your neck, looking for something. 

At which point, all sense of care and sane steam into the air. Your mind is already too fatigued from the constant agony in the past days. For once, you just want to enjoy the missed calm.

You didn’t care that you didn’t like Dr. Wilton, nor would you care if he spouts nonsense you disagree with. Your chest heaves inward and then puffs outwards, the sense of normality as you get back to your rhythm. Your eyes glue upon the screen of Dr. Wilton. So you watch as he talks throughout the night, as he lashes at you with his beliefs. 

The night was filled with what you had forgotten. How you miss the laughter and joy that used to accompany your nights. How your mouth was in bliss as you sip your favorite drink. You’ve let small chuckles in repulse at Dr. Wilton and his ideals. A couple of facepalms as you cringe at his words. But you bear with it for the entertainment he was giving you. 

Before you knew it, you did the same thing the next couple of days. The days were filled with the gnawing pit inside of you, followed by nights of dapper Dr. Wilton which you heartily disagree with. Soon, it evolved into a craving for the night: no, it wasn’t Dr. Wilton nor his show. You simply looked forward to the cure of your psychological being.

Then one night came as you settle on your couch, eagerly waiting for his show to come on. Your knee bounces up and down in anticipation of your fix. You hated that you felt like an addict, waiting every night just to watch the goddamn show to feel at peace. Your opinion of him hasn't changed one bit. He was still the same insane old-timer as he was. 

You pull your white socks off instantly, and you even watch the show in your underwear. A new addition to your routine. You didn’t recall when you started the habit, but you didn’t care. You had an urge to and you followed it. Either way, it felt much better getting them off of you. 

Your hands tap the glass of your favorite drink like time has been forever. Your body leans forward with your eyes darting from the clock to the screen. There he is, always dressed in his sophisticated suits. His shiny hair and his shiny shoes. His ample smile and abundant charm. 

Your body leans back against the couch with a smile on your face, awaiting to relieve yourself of the day. You couldn’t wait to laugh at his ridiculous program or to ridicule him like you’ve been doing the past couple of days. After all, you didn’t care at all for Dr. Wilton. It was just the fix you were after. 

He began and this time was different. You expected yourself to sit back, scoff at him and laugh, dismiss his ideas and values, and then shame him loudly. Your eyes will roll, and you will shake your head. You will tell him there was no chance you were going to follow his words, and move on, never minding he said anything worth hearing. 

It was different. He felt different. What was different this time? He was always the same man as he was in his show, so nothing changed. His manner and his belief were still the same. And yet, you look into his eyes, following his every move and pattern. Your ears listen to his words as clear as day in your head. 

You were listening to him. You, who have been ridiculing Dr. Wilton and spoke out loud in disbelief, were sitting on your couch with your ears open for him. What was going on? You didn’t find the programme as funny as before. 

Why weren’t you laughing at the statement he had just made? You let out a fake laugh at something he had said, but you stop yourself. This couldn’t be. Weren’t you going to refute him? You nod your head in agreement at what Dr. Wilton had said, which you caught yourself doing. That was weird. Your lips repeat in agreement with him, which you quickly take back. 

His words were strung along with clarity and conviction. They wrapped themselves around your heart so tightly that they could no longer be pried from you. The same words that you openly disagree with, became a muse whispering into your ears. Your head nods along his sentences. Your body leans forward to the screen.

There was no laughter and no ridicule. All that exists between you and the screen is genuine curiosity. You like the man on the screen. The way his body dances as he sings his speech, or how his hair and shoes dazzle under the spotlights. There was his tone of voice and his conduct that you enjoy. Then there was the suit that sets him apart, dressed in the finery that no one dares to stumble into. 

You couldn’t stop yourself. Did you want to stop? Listen to him. You shake your head at what you were listening to. Your normal course was to disagree and argue against his teaching and yet, your body resonates with his words. This was wrong. Pull yourself together. 

Your hands tremble at the sight of your conflict, unable to draw away from the screen. Watch him. Your eyes follow his every movement. Your mouth moves to a smile as he smiles, and laughs as he jokes. Your voice repeats the dissatisfaction he has expressed, then you give your heart away to the values he preaches. You listen to his every breath and reenact his lips. 

There was nothing to worry about. After all, you liked Dr. Wilton. What was so wrong with agreeing to a person you admire? There was no way you were going to laugh at him or refrain from his words. In fact, every word he has spoken thus far has enlightened you. 

The program ended before you knew it and a bitter taste left settling in your mouth. It was no longer a bitterness of disbelief but a bitterness of dissatisfaction. You wanted to watch the next part of Dr. Wilton’s program. But, then you remembered what he had talked about.

A newfound hope lit inside of you as you thought back and reflect upon Dr. Wilton. You laugh at your old ideals in comparison to Dr. Wilton’s. You couldn’t understand why you hated Dr. Wilton in the first place. His words were right. You cross your arms, thinking how crazy you must have been for not following Dr. Wilton’s words. Why didn’t you follow his words? 

The next morning couldn’t come soon enough. You got up bright and early, expecting yourself to be devoid of Dr. Wilton. It was the opposite: all you could think about was Dr. Wilton and his talk. You look at yourself in your mirror and feel the gnawing pit again. You know what you need to do. 

Your heart was racing as you search for a barber shop specializing in classic haircuts. You hesitate as you wonder if it was the right choice. You have to do it. You grin as you confirm the appointment. 

You didn’t know what to expect, but you yearn for correcting yourself. When it was time for your barber’s appointment, you went excitedly into the chair. One look in the mirror, and you knew exactly what you want.

The barber nods and starts to remove your old cherished hairstyle. In its place was something new and worthy. He asks if you want him to add the product to your hair, which you notice the pomade he carries. This was it. You smile at him, affirming the decision. 

He dips his hands into the shiny goo and rubs it between his hands. You watch as he descends his hands upon your hair. Normally, you couldn’t imagine yourself getting the haircut you were getting today or even wanting the shiny goo in your hair. But you know you were on the right track with Dr. Wilton’s wisdom. 

The barber’s hand massages your scalp, stripping the old you as he coats each strand of your hair into the new welcome territory. Then you could feel him combing your hair, molding you into what Dr. Wilton preached. 

You stare at yourself in your first step. You look different, away from your old self. Your hair was neatly trimmed, short, and combed perfectly over to the side. You notice the stark sharp parted line the barber had given you. You couldn’t help yourself grinning as your hair shines under the light. 

But something was missing, and you did feel it. You were out of touch with your hair, and you know what was next. You never had a desire for it in the past but now, all you could think of is what you should’ve been wearing your whole life. 

You tip the barber generously for what he had done for you and went on your merry way. Then, all you could think of was the next location that you were going to. 

The suit store stands in front of you. The same feeling you felt the first time you’ve been here was back. The sweat on the back of your neck. The alit blaze within your heart. Your glowing eyes at what’s to come. This time was going to be different. You came here to correct yourself. You walk in with no hesitation.

The first thing you wanted to get rid of was your shoes. It was time to let those improper dirty shoes go. Comfort wasn’t in athletic shoes. No, comfort lies in the leathers. Your eyes scan among the pairs, each one as exciting as the next. Then your eyes caught upon a pair and you knew it was meant for you: a pair of dress brown penny loafers. 

There was the smell again, the aroma of rich leather. You couldn’t stop yourself as you grab and inhale the freshness. You took off your shoes instantly and put the loafers on. Your feet scream in delight as you feel the loafers enveloping you. You didn’t care if you wear them with your white socks or if it looks a bit odd with your pants. You just couldn’t imagine yourself wearing anything else but the appropriate footwear.

But that doesn’t mean you will keep wearing your white socks. It was time to leave those behind. After all, a proper gentleman cares as much about the details as how he appears. You gaze upon the selection of dress socks they had, labeled over the calf. You pick a couple of them, knowing just how much enjoyment you will have upon slipping and lounging with them. 

Then it was finally time to get rid of the awful shirt you have on. Compared to the button-collared shirts on display, your shirt was inferior. You so desperately want it to drape over your torso, button yourself up, and then knot the collar tight upon your neck. Your smile was as wide as the earth spun. 

Then you couldn’t forget what should be knotted against your collar. A staple that every man should own and wear. It was a shame really, that all men couldn’t bear to enjoy such things. You found a stunning navy striped tie perfect for the pact you will knot yourself to. The first of many to come. Then all you were missing was the grand piece, and you know what you wanted. 

Your eyes first laid on it when you drove by. A hunger that awaits to be satiated by you putting it on. Perfection was the only word stuck in your mind. Your eyes caught sight of the gray plaid suit in the display window. The selection stood near and you went for it.

You missed the fabric that shook your core. Your hands are on top of the suit jacket, caressing it and feeling every fiber of the jacket. You were going to let it surround you and your body, and make you what you should’ve been. You picked it up and the matching trousers. It was then you decided your pants will be no more. In its place will be the fine trousers with the right crease. It will sit on your waist compared to your unsightly old pants. 

You encounter the same man and apologize to him for your disrespectful action. He smiles at you, taken aback by how different you look. He sent a compliment that he appreciates the new look, which you agree with.

Your voice strikes up a conversation with him, with your tongue almost a reminiscence of the man you’ve watched on TV. Your voice was different, and the way you spoke was not like yours, but you didn’t mind. 

Your eyes caught wind of the newspaper by the checkout, which you bought in an instant even though reading newspapers was not your hobby. You send your thanks to the man and wish him a proper good day. 

As you rush into your home, you can feel the sweat dripping from your body. Your heart thumps loudly more than ever. You couldn’t wait at all so you rush to your bedroom and shed away the undesired attire. 

You weren’t going to taint your closet with your old shirt and pants. Instead, you threw it into the trash. Along with it came your old shoes and your old white socks. You didn’t need them anymore. You look through your old clothes knowing that all of them will have to go, but that was for another day.

The first piece of garment was the socks. You rip into the packaging of the socks like a vulture. You grab a hold of the long black socks in your hands and feel the material: exquisite and soft. You slip the socks into your feet and a wave of relief escapes your mouth. This was it. Oh, how you dream of satisfying this craving of yours. This was what you were missing. Your hands went straight to caress the socks on your legs. You could feel the spark of ecstasy flying between your fingertips.

You hunger for more. You got up and took the white dress shirt over the back of your body. Your hands slip through the sleeves in an instant. Your hands flew to the buttons and lock them on you. Then, at last, the collar as you button it against your neck. 

It was just like how you imagined it on your body. It was a sweet taste that blossoms in your mouth, as your saliva drops onto the ground. You didn’t mind it. You embrace it. Your hands couldn’t move quickly enough as it grabs ahold of the tie. You wrap it around the collar of your neck. Your hand moves and weaves the tie, forming the knot. You pull it up, making sure it was secured tight against your neck.

It felt good having it tight against your neck. The warmth of the tie resting on your body. A sweet warmth that will never go away. It was also the proper accompaniment to yourself. It was at that moment, all you can envision was a tie on your neck every day. 

You took a moment and look down upon yourself: your white shirt with the navy stripe tie, your underwear, and your long black socks that went past your calves. A sense of great righteousness fills you up as you feel each of the garments on your body. You wiggle your toes in your socks, how soft they touch upon you. You feel your collar and pull the tie just a bit to ensure that it was indeed tight against your neck. 

Then, at last, the final piece. You slow your breath and cull your excitement. You couldn’t wait to put it on but you have to savor the moment. So, you slowly reach and grab the gray plaid trousers. You step into your new form, knowing you’re going to like it. 

You pull it up and tuck your shirt in gently. You clasp the trousers on your waist, feeling the fabric on your legs. It was smooth on your skin. You notice the stark crease on them, making you feel refined. From now on, all you will ever wear on your legs was a pair of trousers. 

Your hands reach for the jacket and flung it behind you. Finally. You let the jacket hug against you as it completes you. It envelopes you. It makes you into what you desire. It is the final piece to make you whole. 

Then you step your feet into the brown loafers, a newfound comfort. An admiration of how distinct they made you feel. Now, you were more mature than those hideous shoes you wore in the past. The loafers weren’t polished yet but you know there will be much joy from shining them. 

You let out a deep breath settling into yourself. You could smell the fabric, how intoxicating it was as it wraps around you. This was the right choice. 

You walk to the mirror and see yourself. A sight to behold with your body turning its wheel. You in the mirror stood properly dressed in a gray plaid suit, a white dress shirt with a navy striped tie. Your feet are shrouded in lovely brown loafers, revealing a bit of the long black socks underneath your trousers. 

Your hair was no longer what you had carried in the past. It was neat. It was elegant. It was trimmed and short. It was parted against the side and showed a sleek line. It glimmers under the light, a shine that distinguishes you. 

This was proper. That gnawing feeling inside of you transforms into a profound sense of self. An awakening if you call it. A contract that you willed into existence and will sign over and over again. You’ve made that decision to be like this, and each morning, you will make the same one. 

You will be dressed in the proper attire. You will wear the appropriate shoes. Your hair will be tidy. You couldn’t be happy enough! 

You walk out of your bedroom as a new man. You went to your couch and pull out the newspaper you’ve just bought. You cross your legs, staring at your loafers and dress socks on your feet. You smile knowing you’ve made the right choice. And thus, you open the newspaper wide and start reading. 

You wear your suit till evening. Then you turn on your favorite show. Dr. Wilton stood there dressed in his impeccable suit: this time, a navy blue. His hair and shoes are still as shiny as ever.

You liked Dr. Wilton. What he talked about. What he suggested. You laugh as he jokes, and you smile as he smiles. Your voice is distraught as he was the same. You agree with him heartily with no disagreement. Every day, you couldn’t wait to be dressed properly as Dr. Wilton have wanted. And every night, you couldn’t wait to settle into your couch, with your favorite newspaper, and your favorite show.

“This is the vintage program, where I show you the proper path by being a vintage man.” He grins. 

[dressed-euphoric]

Dandy Discipline

By Euphroic Dressed

Interlude

My butt stings. The moment I shared with him left a bitter taste in my mouth. Why were his words an mountatious force that moves my will? The moment replayed over and over in my head, as it rains regrets into my well. His wallet was the mistake of my life.

How dare the man do what he did to me. How he stripped my pride and spanked me like his own. A man should never have fallen victim to such action by another man. Anger should’ve been my response, but this.

This wasn’t right.

A hunger that grows in the pits of my stomach. The sizzling warmth that washes over me. My booming breaths in the silent night.

I wonder if the room beneath could hear my heart thundering against my inner walls.

I must not give in.

I must not do it.

“Do it, boy.”

I can see him standing in front of me in his commanding gray suit. His prideful grin and his eyes that I can not deny. His mouth moves ever elegantly ushering my salvation.

My hands slowly tremble down beneath the sheet as I stare at my hardened cock. It oozes its nectar. I can’t do it any more.

Oh! The forbidden warmth that I reject. The reminiscent taste of his leather and the lingering smell of his musk that I so crave! He stood there so daunting, taunting me.

Tell me what to do. Tell me, sir.

I have done you wrong. My behavior was unjust. Show me your wrath. Spank me harder! I will echo your lesson that should be taught.

I will make this right to you. I will kneel down and polish your shoes. I will relieve you of your stress. I will do what you ever so desire.

I can’t stand you, standing there staring at me. You are dazzling in your beauty. Your words that strung my body and move them to your will.

I can’t stop thinking of you and your discipline.

I can’t resist… no… more.

[dressed-euphoric]

Dandy Discipline

By. Euphoric Dressed

A thief undergoes a disciplinary action from his own victim, with the end goal to set the thief proper.

Word Count: 3840

I hold the brown leather wallet in front of my face, observing the intricacy of my treasure. 

“I just had to do it.” I smile to myself as my hands pry open the wallet. 

“Wyatt Wilborn.” The driver license reads. The man in the picture was sporting his thick brown mustache with a hint of white streaks. Then there was his brown hair that was neatly combed and parted with a line. Oddly enough, I couldn’t complain that he was unattractive with his get go. The man was all dressed up in his photo, a white dress shirt and blue-white stripe tie in the photo. I chuckle. Who in this day and age dresses up for a driver license’s photo? 

But why would it matter to me anyway? I threw the card onto the ground, watching it flop to the ground. My lips form a smirk staring at the man’s photo on the ground. The man was an easy target, gambling his life away beneath a couple of floors down at the casino. 

There it is. My face forms a wide grin from cheek to cheek holding my hostage’s credit card. The man even had a few 100’s bills. I quickly stash it into my jean’s pocket, then throw the wallet on top of the wooden dresser. 

All that was left was to wait the night away. I slump my body backwards, bouncing against the cushion of the bed below me. Judging from his grin and laughter, I bet the man wouldn’t even realize his wallet has gone missing.

I close my eyes and stretch my arms. A relief escapes from me, adjusting to the feeling of adrenaline pumping through my veins. Tomorrow early morning… His money will just be another tool to sustain me till my next victim. 

A knock on my door echoes through my room. 

What now? Didn’t I leave a no disturbance sign outside the room? I got up with scowl on my face. There goes my peace and tranquility, clearly disrupted by someone who couldn’t read. My feet forcefully trot along the way towards the door. 

My hands turn the knob and open the door. A man dressed in a charcoal gray pinstripe suit stands on the other side of the room. A frown on his face and his eyebrows crooked. His eyes study me as he reaches up to his red tie and adjusts it against his white dress shirt. There was something odd about his collar, one that I have never seen before. Its collar was higher and stiffer than the usual dress shirts. Underneath his tie was a small golden collar pin. 

He was the odd fellow. My stomach starts to churn and my mind profusely sweats at my guest. 

Wyatt Wilborn. What the hell was he doing here? 

He pushes his arm across the door, forcing me to step back. 

“Who - who the hell are you? Get the fuck away from my room or I’ll call secruity!” My eyes scan across the room with a streak of desperation. How the fuck did he find me? I made sure my operation was flawless. He didn’t even react when I took his wallet!

He prowls toward me, stepping forward every inch with his brown dress loafers. His glower face shows no intention of stopping.

“Stop!” My hands rush in front of me trying to protect from the man clearly double my age and body. He unbuttons his sleeves and rolls them above his elbow. My brain agape at his arm then to his body. I could see the crevices of his veins on his arms. The man was fit. I shook my head… compared to me, I was slim.

Fuck! My back presses against the back of the wall.

My heart races as he momentarily stops then looks to the ground. My vision starts to shake in disbelief. I was careless, except the man shouldn’t even be here. 

He bends down to grab his driver’s license, then straightens his back to face me. His eyes slowly cycle between me, the card, and his wallet on the dresser.

“It’s not what you think!” My voice quivers. I bet he can hear the desperation in my voice. He was still, with his stern face waiting for my explanation. 

“Look -” I stumble over my words. Where was my composure? My breaths exacerbate at his menacing stare and posture. I could feel myself gasping for air, trying to find the right words to play the moment right.

“Your wallet was on the ground, and I just happened to pick it up. I was going to give it to security, but I have a little bit too much to drink.” I quickly shrug with my palms upward pointing to his card on the ground. 

“Bullshit.” His voice was rough and deep. His gaze continues to aim at me as his hand reaches over to his wallet on the dresser, “that was a lie, and you know it.” 

He can’t be serious. How the hell did I fuck up? Did he play me? 

“You’ve messed with the one person you shouldn’t have.” A sense of authority reigns in his voice. 

“Good thing I like a naughty boy.” A grin washes over his face, “makes it worthwhile to see their change after a disciplinary training.” 

The hell he was talking about me? Naughty boy? Disciplinary training? A ripple of steaming heat rushes over my body. 

“What the hell did you say?” I raise my voice.

“I got two choices for you, boy.” He brushes my statement off, “I can use my influence and power to make your life a living hell or… a disciplinary training to set you straight.” 

A nervous laughter escapes from me, “what the hell are you talking about? What are you even going to do?” 

“Don’t test me, boy. Choose.” He grunts. His eyes were intent, and his face was sincere. 

A cold chill traverses through my spine as I feel his gaze. This feeling… the feeling was new. Who was he? I look down to my trembling hand in his presence. I gulp, trying to find the words but none would usher out. 

Choose. His voice echoes in my head. It was either a living hell or his discipline. My heart trembles at the thought of what he could accomplish. Why did I believe the words of this man? He could’ve been a fraud. What would he do to hurt me? I had nothing to lose. And yet, somehow deep inside me, he was the real deal. What man would he be to have that much power? What would he even do? Fuck. 

“I…” 

His stares only made it worse, as his eyes stole time. There was no room for a conscious thought, and my hesitation made a fleeting decision. The only word usher up from his pressure on my shoulder.

“Discipline.” My heart drops. Why did I say that? What had I done? To hell with discipline! Why am I letting him degrade me by addressing me as a boy? 

“Good boy.” His face beams. 

Infuriation rises over me watching the man gain his leveraging power. He walks over to the bed, where a while ago, I was basking in my fleeting sunshine. Now, instead of it belonging to me, I can see it in his mischief grin. 

He starts to unbelt his brown leather belt from his trousers. Then, he proceeds to sit on the edge of the bed, revealing his gray socks from beneath his trousers. He fingered me to come forward.

“This is what you’re going to do then, boy.” He looks at me, “you’re going to lay on my lap.” 

My body hardens at the realization of his words. I grit my teeth behind my closed mouth. Did he just say what I think he said? How dare he? How dare he demand me to lay on his lap? That smug look on his face. It was this or the alternative… I should’ve chosen the alternative, shouldn’t I? 

“You’re a man of your words, aren’t you?” He pats his lap, “come here, boy.” 

Was I really going to proceed with this? 

“I -” I close my mouth before making my situation worse. Fuck this. Fuck him. He was playing me, degrading me with such action.

And yet, my feet took a step and another towards the side of the man. It was this or the alternative. Maybe, he could have me in prison for years, or he could have me framed for something worse… would he have me in debt to him, enslaving me? I didn’t want to take that chance… I knew the risk when I did what I had to do. At least, this option wouldn’t make my former situation worse. Right? 

I guzzle my pride stepping within an arm's length away from him. My eyes peer upon his spread legs and his gently laid hand against his gray trousers. Then slowly, I bent my body forward. Without warning, his hand pushes me onto his lap. His other hand pushes my head down, staring down into his gray socks and his brown loafers. 

“Argh!” I grunt out loud as a sound ripples through the air. A force was felt onto my butt covered by my jeans. 

I couldn’t believe it. I, a full grown man, was getting spank by another man. What the hell was I doing? This can’t be serious. I shouldn’t even allow this to happen.

“Urgh!” Another grunt escapes from me as a quick pain jolt from my butt to the rest of my body. 

“Fuck this! Argh!” His hands start to increase in strength and speed, as the force slaps upon me, jerking my body forward and then back. 

“Shut your vulgar mouth, boy.” He commands me.

Another slap and another, as a boiling pot arises from within towards the man. How dare he do this to me? How dare he make me a fool? What did he take me to be? 

“Aaah!” I grunt out loud trying to shoulder the pain. This can’t be happening. I was really letting the man emasculate me. 

No. No. Not that. His hand rummages underneath me, pulling the belt off my jeans.

“No, please… don’t!” I plead to the man. 

He didn’t listen. My belt rips off from my jeans with his hands, then my jeans push down to my knee. 

“A naughty boy like you needs to be taught properly.” He states, “you need this, boy.”

I need this? I need this!? A spanking from another man? 

“Why else would you let me spank you?” He said before unleashing another on me.

“Ahhh!” I wince at the force of his belt on my butt. A hot sizzling pain erupts from my butt and into my head. 

I clench my teeth while taking it. I could imagine how red my buttocks would look. I couldn’t do it anymore. I can’t.

“Stop. Please.” 

“Tell me what you did wrong.” 

“Nothing!” I shout, “Argh!”

“Tell me. What. You. Did. Wrong.” Each word he emphasizes with clarity. 

“I swear it’s the truth! Your wallet was on the ground!” 

“Aaah!” The sizzling pain shot through me to my head. It hurts. I want it to stop. I need it to stop. Please, not anymore.

“This only ends when you tell the truth, boy!” 

Another belting came through, causing my butt to jiggle against his motions. The warmth and numbness wash over me from my butt. There was not one ounce of masculinity left in me as he continues to tore it down to the boy he shows me to be with each stroke. 

“I stole from you.” My voice broke, admitting to the man. My eyes shut wishing for the man to stop. 

“Good, boy.” He praises me as I could feel his hand rubbing my stiff butt, “and that’s exactly why you are taking this spanking.”

I am taking this spanking!? No. I shake my head repeatedly. I didn’t deserve this. It was him that forced me to be in this position. 

“Umpf.” I grunt. This time, it didn’t hurt but rather it came from his hand instead of the belt.

“You’re taking this spank because you want someone to discipline you properly.” He announces as he strikes again. 

I’m taking his spanking because I want it. No. What was I thinking? Screw that! What was he doing to me?

“Isn’t that right, boy?” The sound of the impact ripples through the air.

“No…” I shook my head. This isn’t right. Discipline properly? Maybe I… no! That conclusion was insane. 

His hand spanks me again. Doubt washes over me as I lay on his lap, allowing the man to have his way with me. 

“Isn’t that right, boy?” 

“Yes…” My own words shock me. 

“Good, boy.” His words float to my ear. His praise was an unusual pleasure to hear. 

“I bet your daddy didn’t discipline you.” He moves his hand over to my butt and caresses it gently, but all sensation is gone from his discipline. All I could feel was his hand. They were warm and… right?

“Good thing you have me now, boy.” He pauses his discipline, “you’ve done me wrong tonight. But you’re going to make it up to me.” 

What was he saying? I was going to make it right? How…? 

“Daddy’s here to set you properly.” He moves his hand to my mouth and sticks his thumb in between my mouth. 

“Mmm…” My mouth instinctively sucks onto his thumb. His thumb was in my mouth. I couldn’t believe what I was doing… This is… isn’t right. 

“Here’s what you’re going to do boy, you’re going to listen to every word your daddy tells you to do.” 

“Mmmm…” I lay on his lap, sucking on his thumb. Listen to his every word… Listen to… daddy’s words?

“Make it right.” He said.

Make it right to him. I… need to make it right with him.

“Got it, boy?” 

“Yes…” I whimper with his thumb in my mouth.

“Good boy.” He pats on my butt, “that’s what I want to hear.”

My body hums a tune against his hands, as he moves it to travel down along my legs. His hands grip onto my tennis shoes then pull with great force, throwing them across the room. He did the same to my low cut white socks. 

He pulls his thumb out of my mouth. Then he barks his next order.

“Stand up.” 

I follow his instruction and plant myself back up, standing with such vulnerability by his side. He leans his body backwards on the bed, with support from his elbow. He spread his legs, making sure I can see the outline of his erected cock underneath his trousers.

“Give daddy the view.” He waves his finger at my crotch.

My cock was never revealed to no man before. Now, for the first time it was demanded to be seen. I look at him with my trembling hands down on my side. Then I gaze upon my briefs and what was left of myself. 

“What are you waiting for, boy?” Impatience sparks off from his voice.

Listen to his every word. Make it right for him… it was a deranged concept. Why did I feel such a need to follow… to give in? Listen to him. 

I nod quickly to his whim and tear off my brief. There goes my cock out in the open to him. 

He whistles at my cock.

“I bet you've never had your cock out for a man before, haven’t you?” 

I look at him with no comments. It wasn’t a desire to put it on display. I did it because of him. His words that I so had to follow… I had to make it right for him. 

He grins at me, emitting his pride over me like a piece of his artworks. I could feel his eyes dissecting me, waiting to do what he wanted with me. He had a mission in his eyes, and it had to do with what he was looking at.

“Get down, boy.” 

My knees fall flat to the ground, following his words, awaiting for what he wants. 

“Polish my shoes with your tongue.” 

My heart sinks to his command. Follow his every word. Make it right to him. This was stupid.

My head bent down to his shoe like I was going to worship him. My tongue slowly drips out. I was really going to do this. I was really going to do what he told me to do. My tongue lands in contact with his brown loafer. Then it slid across, tasting what the leather had to offer. 

“Oooah.” His mouth agape watching me, “atta boy.” 

Every lick leaves a trail of a dark wet spot across his loafer. 

“Hold it nice and tight… you want that, boy.”  

My hands grips against his legs and my face implants in front of his shoe. Make it right. My moving tongue starts to accelerate as my grip hardens on his legs. It moves covering every ground possible on both of his loafers. I was to make it speckless. I was to polish his shoes. It can’t be dirty. 

“Ooooo… that’s it.” 

The numbing sensation from his spanking courses through me. The only feeling I could feel was my heart fluttering against every word he utters. It felt calming. His words were like a drug and slowly, all I could think of was him in my head. I did him wrong. 

“Take my loafers off, boy.”

My hands pull his loafer off of him with no hesitation.

“I want you to smell daddy’s shoes.” He orders.

Like a starving animal, I went in and feast without thinking. 

“Ohhh…” I whimper out as the gush of his musk rushes through my nose. That was daddy’s musk. His loafers continuously in my hand as I suck it all in. What was wrong with me? I… I want it. 

There was something addicting in his musk. The smell of his impurity as I allow it to course through within me. It made sure to contaminate me and fill me up with his own. 

“Ooooah!” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My cock slowly erupts from its reserve. I squirm as the man places his feet, covered in his gray socks, against my cock. 

“A.. ah.. oooh… don’t.” He jerks my cock up and down with his movements. My body limpers against the sensation of his soft material on my cock. 

“Fuck…” I couldn’t help it. I inhale his musk from his loafer deeply again, taking my hit. His aroma mixed in with the leather. The smell just tickles the inside of me, raising my heart rate. It was feeding me, a hunger that I did not know I had. How could a man do such a thing? How could he make me feel so… wild for him.

“You’re doing wonderful.” He smiles at me. 

Fuck. That smile does me wonder. Keep smiling. Make him happy. Make him feel right. 

“Argh!” I let out the beast he disciplined in me. I pull his second loafer out and inhale it right away. He wiggles in his gray socks in front of me, making sure to taint me with temptations. The look on his face told me everything.

Suck on it, his face says.

My mouth shows no signs of resistance as it lunges forward and devours his feet. The soft fuzzy texture of his socks engraves into my mind. His socks were like a dry crack desert, and I was its salvation. It was to rain, to wet the land and give the desert its desired life. 

“Ooooo!” His moans fill the room.

My hands clasp onto his feet and deepen it into my mouth. I suck on his toes, salivating the tips. My tongue pushes through and gives life between his toes. 

“Ah - Oo - Oooah.” His eyes roll back and his mouth drools. His hands reach to the bulge of his trousers and rubs his prized manhood. 

All that was left was the final act. I pull his feet out and implants my face on them. I could smell him clearly. My tongue lashes out, starting from his heel. It dances on its path to his toes. 

The sound of his fly unzipping booms in the room. He grabs his cock and flung it outside. His cock was serene. Never have I ever seen such depthness and shade in my life. My mouth oozes a heavy downpour soaking his beloved socks. 

His hands seizes upon his thick cock bulging in veins. Even a man like him couldn’t resist. 

“Come here, boy!” He gives out his final order. 

Just like his feet, my mouth shows no intention of slowing down. I pounce on his manhood and surround it with my warmth. My tongue plucks his sweet nectar off his cock, making sure to drink every last bit. 

“Mmmmmh!” His voice was lavish with appreciation.  

My hands embrace his cock and begin a duo with my mouth. They both ebb and flow alongside the man’s rod. My eyes and his intertwine. No longer was his gaze filled with determination. Instead, it was contentment. 

“A - Ah! Daddy’s going to cum!” 

I stole from him, so I have to make it right. This was it, my chance.

My mouth and hands accelerates on its tempo. His mouth wide open singing his pleasure. I affix onto his gray striped jacket, then his white dress shirt underneath. His red tie signals his commanding presence. They were complementary to the man. Stunning, the man in his finely dressed clothes. Then oddly enough, I found something in his collar. The way it sits on his neck and tugs against him. I… I shot down the thought. I can’t imagine what it meant for me. 

“ARGHH!” His moan of ecstasy burst from within him.

He blasts a jet stream of his cum into my mouth. My hands hold his cock down. I can feel his seed traveling from the tip of my tongue and into my soul. I want it. I want it all. Every bit of it. His cum was warm, safe and… right. 

I look upon him. His serious mood from the beginning of our interaction transformed into an unknowingly biggest grin on his face. He just sat there on the bed, his eyes containing a marvelous interest in me. 

“I want you first thing in the morning, tomorrow in my room.” He demands.

I watch him in silence as he gets up from the bed and begins to leave. He puts his loafers back on, then the belt he had used on me. He tucks his manhood back into his trousers up and zips his fly. Afterward, it was just the sound of the door opening, then it shut. 

What did I just do? 

Wyatt Wilborn. What have you done to me? 

It pains me to admit the words. I wasn’t a man anymore… I was his boy. 

[dressed-euphoric]

The Collaring

By. Euphoric Dressed

A man found himself awake in a strange situation. Forced to trod along with a process of "collaring", he undergoes a dandy change.

Author's Note: The short story was inspired by a prompt post by @hypnosisuit. I haven't encounter any stories written of such so thought I'd take a try with my imagination. The story was written in 1 day as I had a lot of fun with it. As such, I apologize if there's more grammar issues than usual. The inspiration photo, not prompt, is included at the end. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the short story!

Word Count: 3080

This is not happening. No way is this all real. This is a dream. This is a dream. Wake up. Wake the goddamn up!

I could hear my heartbeat, my breath, my confusion that surrounded itself in the midst of the hallway that I stood in. The poorly lit wall was covered with floral designs, contrasted with the hallway white rug underneath my running shoes. To make it worse, the light bulbs on the wall struggled for their life, as each would erratically flicker and then falsely lit bright. 

One moment, I woke up in a secluded room with no windows. Then the next, I ran out the door and here I was, standing in the middle of this eerily situation.

Fuck. Shit. What the hell. Every damn curse word I knew poured out of my head. It was the first time in my life that many concurrent curse words escaped my mouth.

“Sir.” A voice announced itself behind me.

“Fuck!” My body jolted as I quickly turned around and faced the voice.

A man that seemed to be in his 40s stood to face me. His face was clean shaven, and his hair was nicely combed. He was taller than me by a few inches and his body was much more well built compared to mine. 

But what distinguished him was the clothes he wore. A blue tie matched with an outdated white high-collared dress shirt, tucked into a sharply creased black trouser. His black oxfords were well polished and even shined in the atmospheric hallway.

“Sir. You have not been called yet and must remain in your room.”

“Where am I? Who are you? What the fuck am I doing here?” I blurted out, pleading for answers knowing that the man won’t give me what I wanted. On the other hand, my body was ready to run in an unwarranted situation. 

“I’d like you to calm down, sir.” The man responded.

“Tell me, where am I!?” I emphasized my question.

The man stood still and stayed silent, as he contemplated the choices of his words. Then he moved his lips as carefully as he could upon his answer.

“You have been chosen for the collaring.” 

“The what?” 

“Looks like the boss is ready for you.” He suddenly commented.

My heart skipped. Whatever he had said didn’t sound too good. I turned around, and started running for it.

“Ouargh!!” I grunted out in pain, and my knees fell flat down to the ground. My scream of anguish echoes through the empty hallway. It was a pain that I had never felt before: a deliberate shock that cut through my body. 

“What did you do to me?” My body trembled, and my voice quiver. 

“Please do not run away, sir.” The man walked beside me and then in front. He bent down, reached his hands forward and gripped onto my arm.

Before I could retaliate, the man took out a piece of syringe and jabbed it into my arm. I slammed my eyes shut in anticipation of the pain.

Nothing. It didn’t feel like anything. Was it a drug? Was it to knock me out? The questions flooded my head in a span of a second.

I slowly opened my eyes, preparing myself for the worst outcome. But there the man stood with his hands still gripped onto my arm. I turned my head to the side, and there was the syringe on the floor.

I opened my mouth to curse at him, “what did you fucking do to me?” But silence escaped through my lips. A dread sense of the unknown settled into my stomach. Before my head could continue to process, the man gripped my hand and pulled me upwards, standing straight.

“Follow me.” He ordered.

He turned his back around me and started walking in what seemed to be an endless hallway. My feet stepped forward, and then another. I was following him. Why? Why!? Why was I following the man? 

My body wasn’t listening to me. 

Stop. Stop! Run. Run away. 

My commands to my body were useless, and instead it was the man’s words that were absolute. But that couldn’t be it, could it? No. There’s no way a drug out there exists: one that would make a man mindlessly follow another around. 

“There you are!” A voice exclaimed.

Who was that? What’s going on?

My mind quickly snapped back into reality as I stared upon another man, standing behind an opened door. 

My mouth slowly opened to speak, words wanting to gush out to fight the confusion. 

I was silenced.

No. That wasn’t it. It was that I couldn’t find the words.

I stared astonished at the man in front of me. It was an older gentleman, who was very well dressed. 

His hair was neatly parted and combed. It was a shade of a darker brown but consisted of small white streaks. His brown eyes stared at me, and it spoke volume about the man: fierce, strong, and commanding.

It didn’t help that his charcoal suit was well fitted. He wore a clean crisp white dress shirt with a dark navy tie, under his buttoned jacket. His purple pocket square gleam with elegance in his jacket pouch. Finishing his outfit were his polished shiny brown oxfords. 

“Thank you for escorting him here. You may take your leave.” The older gentleman spoke clearly and firmly.

“Thank you, sir.” My escort politely bowed to the older gentleman and turned his back upon us, walking off into the distance.

My heart pounded and raced against the time. What was going to happen to me? This isn’t real. It’s all fictitious. I need to wake up. This is just one big ludicrous nightmare. 

“Come on in.” The older gentleman said. 

I took a second to stare at him as he stared back at me. Part of the hesitation was the situation itself but what won in the end, was the pain I felt a moment ago. 

So I walked in with a lump in my throat, a rock in my stomach, and a zip on my lips. My destiny was sealed; I was doomed. 

I was greeted with a warmly lit room with a window in the center of the back wall. Two wooden bookshelves laid against the wall on the left and right of the window. Daylight was still out as it shone in the middle of the room, a large circular rug. On top of that rug was an armchair, with two end tables on each side. Across from the chair, was an already lit fireplace. Strangely enough, there was a modern flat tv mounted above the fireplace. 

I then darted my attention to the older gentleman as he walked to a wooden table behind the armchair. I stared and observed the items. A pile of carefully folded clothes and what looked to be shoes right next to the pile. After that, were some items that I couldn’t fully dissect as I was obstructed by the older gentleman.

He motioned me to come forward to him with his finger. I wanted to protest, to resist, to fight against this screwed up situation. But the look on the man told me he was not going to play around. So I slowly stepped forward to the man.

“To be finely dressed is to have the utmost respect for yourself. You are a man, and while you may choose not to wear a suit everyday, you must still hold yourself to a high standard of what’s acceptable.” The older gentleman declared. “Now strip.”

“Wh - What?” My voice finally croaked up to the man’s words. 

“No jeans, shorts, shirts, and especially no running shoes.” He said firmly.

Who does the man think he was to declare such monstrosity? 

“Strip. Now.” 

I quickly nodded in defeat, in fear of his voice and what he could do after that running incident. How could I let him do this to me? I bashed myself for not having enough courage to fight. Was I a coward? I quickly pulled off my t-shirt and slipped my running shoes off. I reached for the zips on my jeans and pulled them off. Then I bent down and pulled my shorts socks off. I stared at him, standing with my briefs. 

“Off.”

My heart sank. He was a man of little words. and with the apparent goal of humiliating me. I looked down to my body and noticed my hands and legs were trembling. I looked back up to the man, and his body confirmed his statement: he wants them off.

I slowly reached down to my briefs and pulled them under, slowly revealing my flaccid cock. He had me at his whims, and there was nothing I could do about it. There I was, forsaking away my manhood to the man in front of me. He had stolen it. He had shown that I was willing to do what the man speaks.

The brief dropped to the ground and I was truly silent, staring at the older gentleman. His eyes looked up and down, observing me like I was a specimen. I even caught him staring at my cock for a couple of seconds. 

“Moments from now, you will be a greater asset to yourself and to society.” The man proclaimed.

How dare he? All sorts of emotions flared through me as I stood naked in front of the man. My body tensed with anger. 

“Put these on.” He grabbed two pieces of garments off the table, and handed it to me. I looked down and stared at what he was making me do. A piece of white brief and a white tank top. I gripped them hard on my hands.

I was a coward. 

I bent down and succumbed to the man. I pulled the white briefs up and then the tank top over me. Instinctively, my body tucked the white tank top into the brief.

“Good. You’re starting to look proper.” He commented, as he gave me the next piece of clothing.

A pair of long gray ribbed dress socks. 

I had never worn dress socks nor worn long ones. I had no desire to, but I simply stared and conformed to the man’s words. I pulled them through my feet as the man simply watched. Then, I pulled them up beyond my calves.

Before I could get another chance to brace myself, he had already handed me the next piece of garment.

A white neckband dress shirt.

I had never seen such a dress shirt without a collar. Where was the collar? I put it on for the sake of the older man. My hands slowly trembled as it moved to button each of the buttons of the dress shirt, signing away my will to the older gent. As I finished, the next piece of clothing was already in my peripheral vision.

A gray trouser.

I was becoming like them. I was going to be dressed like them. And it humiliates me to do what my captor wanted. I didn’t understand the man’s goal, why would he make me dress like them? I didn’t understand anything in the first place. I simply oblige and put the gray trousers on. Then he dropped something in front of me.

A pair of brown loafers. 

I gulped. He wanted me to descend into them, and so my will shall. My feet sipped into the loafers and it went down comfortably and smoothly. It was a perfect fit. 

There, I finally looked like them, except I was missing a collar and, judging from these men, a tie.

He simply grinned at me with pride as he observed his dressed up doll. There was nothing left in me. No fight. No words. And maybe no emotions left. After all, I was stuck, and I’ve lost. 

“Good. Good!” He praised his work.

He walked to the armchair, “come, sit.” 

Like a dog, I simply followed his orders as it felt like I had nothing to lose. Even though there was still a sense of resentment and even a burning desire to fight, I couldn’t let myself go through. The fear of pain. So I sat on the armchair as he had instructed.

As soon as I sat down, the TV instantly turned on. There was an attractive man shown with a suit and a top hat. His lips moved and his words spoken.

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see a single thing on the TV. I wanted it all to be over with. The words that he spoke turned gibberish as I blocked them out. 

I could feel something attaching to me on my neck. A collar. The older gentleman attached and buttoned the collar onto my neckband dress shirt. Then like a switch, everything became clear. The words on the TV started to paint a picture within my head. 

Home. I thought of home. For the first time since this madness, I smile at such a thought. I would walk into the door and be greeted with a warm sense of security and control. I would take my running shoes off.

No, that wasn’t right. I didn’t have any running shoes; in fact, I hated wearing them as they tarnish the image of a proper man.

Instead, I’d pulled off my beloved polished oxfords and set it next to my finely dressed shoe collection: from loafers, to brogues and oxfords. Classy and timeless and what should’ve been the expectation for years, before the world went casual. 

I’d take off my suit jacket and wander around the house with my dress shirt, tie, and trousers. I would read my news and drink my coffee, or tea whenever I feel like it. I’d make sure to look into the mirror and adjust accordingly. Whether my collar is on right, or my tie needs to be straightened, or I just needed to recomb my hair. 

I affirmed myself to the thoughts. It felt right. It felt correct. Like a man once said, “to be finely dressed is to have the utmost respect for yourself.”

“No jeans, shorts, shirts, and especially no running shoes.” A voice called out to me. 

I opened my eyes and stared back at the TV. The man on the TV was right. Those weren’t needed in my wardrobe. 

The man continued speaking on the TV, and I nodded along to his statement. I agreed with him. Men have lost the value of tradition, and the days where every man was finely dressed. I was to revitalize the lost art.

I could imagine it: a wardrobe consisting of only fine wear. There will no longer be t-shirts and instead, dress shirts. No more jeans, only dress trousers. There will be a plethora of ties waiting for me. But I can’t forget the most important of them all, the collars. 

Why didn’t I find the man sooner? He and I shared such similar values and beliefs. The man would have taught me so much. 

I felt another hand probing my neck as it was to attach the next thing. The older gentleman was tying a blue tie upon my collar. Then he swiftly completed me with the knot. That was what’s missing. I was missing the tie. 

“Thank you,” I thanked the older gentleman.

“Sir.” I quickly added, forgetting my manners.

My eyes quickly glued back onto the TV. This time, he talked about the etiquette, and the manners I was to show to others. I nodded along with each and every statement, ingraining them into my head. 

His words were like the gospel, and every sentence was an awakening within me. I looked down and observed my blue tie, my collared dress shirt, my gray trousers, socks, and brown loafers. 

I enjoyed them to say the least. No. That wasn’t it. Something about the program, something about the collar, had awakened me. It was excitement. It was gratitude. It was lust. I truly enjoyed the clothes and my manhood reflected it. I could feel it already erected under my trousers. 

I thought of the older gentleman that was working on me. He was plain astonishing and his clothes refined it. The escort that carried me in, I couldn’t believe it but I was starting to find him attractive as well. 

“This is proper.” I mumbled to myself.

A wide grin popped on my face as I stared at my brown loafers. As they said, clothes and shoes makes a man.

The older gentleman rubbed something behind me and then plopped it down to my head. I didn’t know what it was but it was gooey. I let the older gent have his way with my hair as he started to comb my hair. All I knew was that the older gentleman was guiding me. 

I continued to watch the TV, making sure I didn’t miss the program. 

“Yes sir.” I responded back to the TV.

“Yes.”

“That’s right.”

“Couldn’t speak truer words.”

Slowly and steady, the man’s words eroded into me, bringing along with it his beliefs and his values. I was collared and conformed to be a traditionalist, and I’m proud to be. That is who I am.

—

“You’re leaving, sir?” The gentleman asked as I approached the door. It was the gentleman who had escorted me to my awakening.

“Yes, indeed I am.” I replied with a smile.

He opened the door and held it for me as I stepped by him.

“I was instructed to give you this.” The gentleman said as he held out a beige trench coat and a top hat, “the boss has also sent you a couple of new clothes for you when you’ve returned home.” 

“He sends everyone a welcome present, due to the mass removal of undesired clothes.” The gentleman added, “I, and the boss, sincerely hope that you enjoy the gift.” 

“Thank you.” I expressed my sincerity and grabbed the two offered pieces, “I definitely will enjoy the gift.”

He offered to slip the trench coat on me and I accepted. I spread my arms wide and he slid it through. Then he handed me the top hat, which I grabbed and placed it on top of my neatly combed hair.

“It’s nice to have you, sir.” The gentleman said, “have a good day.”

“I’m glad to be here. You too now.” 

I was a new man with a new view in life. I smiled as I felt the collar on my neck and felt the newfound clothes on my skin. This is me.

=====

Inspiration Photo from hypnosisuit

It was meant to be. A piece of paper guided along the winds and towards your direction. As it followed the whispers of wanted temptation, it was caught by your hands, and you glanced at the poster with interest. 

“We would like to collar you.” It reads.

What would you like to do?

[dressed-euphoric]

Executive

By. Euphoric Dressed

A Detective pays the price after the arrest of an Executive's goon. After all, an equivalent exchange is demanded.

Involves bondage and brainwashing.

Word Count: 5990

The rain splattered upon the moon blessed roads as a man walked in the neon-lit signs. He looked up with his hands in his pocket, observing humanity’s greatest achievements. Unlike the sparse darkness around him, the night lit up with colors of a rainbow in every section an eye can stumble upon. They were the skyscrapers that pierced through the heavens, filled with each member of humanity and those who were invented by it.

“You can - get repot - reported.” A sound echoed through the eerily silent district the man was in.

He darted his eyes towards the direction of the sound, only to witness a man with a flannel shirt and jeans, surrounded by three men. Each of the three struck the man with a force like thunder with their shoes.

“Fucking android.” One of them shouted with bitterness.

“How did this stupid thing end up here.” Another spat at the body on the ground.

The man who observed sighed and walked away, for there was nothing he could do. The people here weren’t quite friendly to the likes of him, and he was here for another reason.

He made his way until he reached his destination. A crippled building stood in front of him with windows into the forgotten past world.

“The Old News.” The broken sign on the building read.

He entered and was met with stacked newspaper on tables and shelves. Each was noted from different periods, from the past to the current. He walked past them ignoring the museum that wanted to be appreciated.

A man wearing a brown suit stood by the checkout counter with a cigar popped in his mouth. He had his brown hair neatly trimmed and combed. His brown beard followed suit with no signs of raggedness.

“Detective.” The man looked up, removing the cigar from his mouth.

“I can get you arrested for that.” The Detective pointed to the cigar in his mouth.

“Sure, you could, but you won’t.” The man scoffed at the detective, challenging him, “what do you want?”

“Tsk.” The Detective stared at the man, “papers for today.”

As the man turned around to grab the latest news, the detective found his eyes glanced over at a book near the man.

“A Traditionalist Guide to Humanity.” The book title read.

The man threw the current paper towards the detective as he elegantly caught it with one of his hands and away from his focus on the book. The detective opened the newspaper and started to read the news line.

“Futurist Brightest Young Politician, Walter Kirth, Mysteriously Vanished.” One of the headlines read.

Not exactly what the detective was looking for. He continued to quickly skim to find his target.

“There we go.” The Detective smiled as his eyes focused on a section.

Crackdown on the Executives

“Newspapers are useless to you. What exactly did you want?” The man bitterly declared.

“Mhm.” The Detective simply nodded, “just making sure news is spreading about.”

The Detective did in fact want to make sure the news was spreading about. It was a message to the perpetrator: he will find them and he will bring them to justice. After all, he was the one who cracked the Executive case.

The Detective had caught a man belonging to the Executive. An elusive group of crooked businessmen, who donned their pinstripe suits. They kept themselves tidy. A physical appearance that deceits what’s truly insidious. They were the madmen of greed, power, corruption, and of all sorts. Funny thing was, no one had seen them and was only dismissed as a rumor. Until of course, the Detective caught one.

“Guys like you just get your news from the Network.” The checkout man bitterly blurted, “pay up Detective.”

The Detective smiled at the man and pulled up his phone. He hovered it over the cash register and the transaction was completed. Then he left with the piece of paper in his hands.

He returned to his home after midnight, located just on the outskirts of the city. He opened the door to his house and stepped onto his “Welcome” mat; except something was wrong.

He perked up facing his attention towards the hallway in front of him. A sound of rustling wind coming from the kitchen to his left.

The Detective had never left a window open before he left. Which could only mean someone had opened the window to his kitchen.

He made haste on his way to the kitchen, stumbling upon a stranger standing with a smile in the middle of the room.

“What th-” The Detective suddenly spoke as his eyes met the man.

The man stood there with his neatly combed black hair. A thick chevron mustache was spotted above his lips. More importantly, it was his figure and appearance that were weary. He wore a dark charcoal suit with his blue tie, finishing it off with his shiny black cap toe.

His eyes glowed with a glint of wickedness. His smile reeks of a stalking tiger. The man was the predator and the detective was the prey.

“Who the hell are you?” The Detective shouted as he grabbed his phone from his pocket.

“Hello Detective,” the man started speaking, “I believe you are the one who took a dear possession of mine.”

The Detective stared at him and noticed a stark similarity feature with the man he had captured and the man standing in front of him. They both were related somehow.

Then the epiphany struck at the Detective. The man standing in front of him belonged to the Executive.

“What was taken must be given.” The man declared.

The Detective quickly typed in the number on his phone as the man continued to grin.

“I ne-” The Detective couldn’t finish as his phone connected to backup.

“What…?” The Detective mumbled as he felt his eyes closed on themselves. His knee fell to the ground and his palms on the floor, then his body to the ground.

—------

“Detective.”

The Detective’s eyes opened and panicked at the sudden change of scenery. His eyes stared upon the stone wall that stood five feet away from him. A flickering ceiling lamp hung over him. Then he darted his attention to the man in front of him. The man with the suit who stood in his kitchen a moment ago.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The Detective spoke hastily as he tried to stand up from his position. He yanked his body out of the chair but quickly yelped at a sudden backlash.

He rapidly looked down upon himself and realized the situation he was in. The clothes he wore were still the same, moments before he was caught: a white dress shirt and his trousers. However, his shoes and his leather jacket were missing, only to be assumed it was taken by the man.

The Detective scanned the works that bound him. A long rope was wrapped around his chest and onto the chair. He tugged his hands once more to confirm that his hands were in fact bound by a rope. Then, he focused on his legs and noticed the two restraints attached to the chair legs.

“Executive. You can call me Executive” The Executive’s authoritative voice answered, “you, Detective, have taken something from me.”

“And what makes you think I’ve taken this something from you, Executive.”

“You know what you’ve taken.” The Executive approached the Detective.

The Detective glared at the Executive’s eyes and knew what the Executive wanted. The Detective has taken one of their own and the Executive wants him back.

“Hah - you think I can just free one of your crooks out? Screw your bullshit.” The Detective spat towards the Executive and landed upon his blue tie.

“Feisty one, aren’t you?” The Executive patted down the spit on his tie, then he glanced back upon the Detective, “enjoy your fight, it won’t matter soon.”

“Soon, you’ll be in the exact spot with your friend.” The Detective threatened, “you’ll release me now if you’re smart. I’ve called my superior and the moment they don’t hear from me, it’s only a matter of time that they will find you.”

The Executive laughed, amplified throughout the same compact room.

“Oh, Detective. What makes you think I need him when I’ve found a better one?”

“What?” The Detective was puzzled at the Executive’s statement, “I repeat, release me now or you’ll get a much worse sentence!”

The Detective rattled the chair that bound him in an attempt to fight for his freedom. Unable to prevail, the restraints held him in his place. The Executive stood in front of the Detective and with a grin, he eyed the Detective up and down.

“What are you looking at?” The Detective angrily questioned.

The Detective’s face flushed with horror as he witnessed the Executive reach his hands out upon the unspoken treasure.

“You fuck!?” The Detective winced as a sense of humiliation and fear ran through him. He couldn’t fathom that the Executive would resort to such methods.

“Something wrong?” The Executive smirked, “a man like you deserves so much more.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Quality, smart, and a witty man. Of course, there are a lot of things that could be improved. Your appearance for example. But most importantly, your attitude for authority is in desperate need of renovation.” The Executive raised his black shiny cap toe and pressed upon the Detective’s bulge.

The Detective grunted through the pain as the Executive wiggled his shoe.

“You bastard.” The Detective clenched through his teeth, “what nonsense are you spewing? Are you out of your mind!? Oh wait, maybe all of you executives are crazy fucks.”

“ARGH.” The Detective winced as the Executive pressed harder upon his bulge.

“Oh Detective, where’s the fun in you?” The Executive released the hold of his shoe. Then the Executive bent on his knees in front of the Detective.

“You crooks! You think you can get away with everything, don’t you? I’ll make sure every one of you rots in jail!” The Detective continued with his threats.

The Detective felt a hand grab upon his legs and then his pants, slowly pulled up to reveal his worn black socks.

“The hell are you doing?”

The Executive shook his head, “disappointing.”

Then the Executive grabbed ahold of the sock from the front and pulled off the Detective’s sock in a quick second.

The Detective nervously laughed at the strange occurrence, “What? You think that’s going to do something to me?”

The Executive performed the same action upon the other pair of the Detective’s black socks. Then the Executive stood up with the pair of socks crumbled in his hands. With one of his hands, he grabbed ahold of the Detective’s head.

“Wait -”

“Mmrr! MMMRR!” The Detective grunted as the Executive forcefully shoved the socks into the Detective’s mouth. Before the Detective could eject the socks out of his mouth, the Executive had already prepped a long strip of duct tape and wrapped it around the Detective’s mouth.

“Much better.” The Executive shook his head upon the helpless Detective, “that’ll teach you a lesson, Detective.”

“MNR MMUK!” The Detective squirmed in his chair.

The Executive grabbed ahold of the Detective’s chin and stared with a flicker of mischief.

“MMMRR!” The Detective shouted through his sock gag.

The Executive laughed in amusement of the helpless Detective who attempted to power through the restraints. For he could already see the outcome. Soon, the Detective will be in his grasp and formed to his desired appearance. The Detective with a neat slick combed hair like theirs. A thick mustache that will encompass above the lips. But most importantly of them all, the Detective will wear the distinguished pinstripe suit and become a man in their order.

“Give me 30 minutes and you’ll be mine.” The Executive stated. The Executive stepped away and then walked behind the Detective.

“GHH GHCK MRRN!” The Detective angrily shouted through the sock gag. But the Executive didn’t respond to him, only the sounds of an opened door and then momentarily slammed shut.

The Detective struggled with his feet and hands. He shook his hands, in an attempt to break the ropes that bound him. He pulled his hands apart but the pain quickly found him. He clenched upon the wet socks in his mouth as he pushed every ounce of energy into his legs to break the restraints on the chair.

The Detective was trapped, and he could feel the dread settling in. He counted the minutes and the seconds, anxiously waiting for the moment when reinforcements would arrive.

The door opened and the sounds of his enemy’s dress shoes echoed in the room.

“MMMM!” The Detective grunted as he tried again with every inch of his force to break out of his restraints. Every ounce of his emotions directed towards his enemy. It was now a fight for his survival.

“What happened to your reinforcements?” The Executive raised his eyebrows and his wicked smile in front of the Detective.

“MMNRR!” The Detective shouted through the sock gag. He couldn’t understand why reinforcements were taking so long. But it was a fleeting thought as he realized the Executive had brought something along.

In his right hand, the Executive held upon a shiny pair of black patent loafers with a pair of socks stuffed inside.

The Executive sat them down on the ground beside the Detective. Then he held up a small piece of chip in his left hand in front of the Detective.

“Do you know what this is?” The Executive dangled the chip in front of the Detective.

“Grrgh!” The Detective huffed with his remaining energy.

“This chip will be installed right on your temple. You’ll feel an initial shock and a little bit of disorientation, but it’s only temporary.” The Executive explained with a beaming smile, “then… the chip will start to feed information to you.”

“MmmNN!” The Detective shook his head rapidly.

“Sounds beneficial for you, doesn’t it?” The Executive continued, “don’t you want to find out?”

“MMMM!” The Detective attempted to move his head as far back as he could. He didn’t know what the chip exactly was but all he knew was his gut’s alarm system was going off.

The Executive reached with his hand to firmly grab hold upon the Detective’s head and with swiftness, he attached the chip to the Detective’s left temple. He finished it off with a tap on the chip.

“MMRGH!” The Detective winced through the wet socks in his mouth as he felt a shock through his head.

“Now who’s going to be a good goon?” The Executive stepped back.

The Detective’s head slumped down as he tried to revitalize himself. The shock had impaired his thoughts, sending a migraine through his head. His vision upon the ground was hazy. A cold shuddered through his body.

The shock lasted momentarily as the Detective observed in confusion upon his restraints. The Executive unclasped the bind upon the legs and then smiled back at the Detective.

“This is it.” The Detective managed a thought in his situation. A sudden burst of faith and strength arises within him, “this is my chance.”

“Let’s get you out of those awful pants.” The Executive muttered as he reached forward to the Detective’s belt.

The Detective rapidly formulated a plan in his head: he was going to focus all his energy onto his feet. He eyed the Executive’s bulge. Two can play the game. Then he was going to –

He couldn’t move his very own legs. His freedom was right in front of his eyes and yet he couldn’t usher any strength to move his own body. He couldn’t do anything.

The Detective scrutinize in terror at what unfolded. The Executive yanked the Detective’s belt off and then pulled his trousers. Then, the Executive’s hand grabbed upon the Detective’s briefs and was yanked off, revealing the Detective’s cock.

Powerless was what the Detective felt. His whole manhood was revealed to his enemy.

The Detective merely watched in defeat as the Executive reached into the patent black loafer and pulled up a long black silk sock. He dangled it in front of the Detective with the same grin. Then he grabbed ahold of one of the Detective’s legs. Slowly, the Executive descended the Detective’s leg into the black silk socks and up past the Detective’s calves.

“Oahmmmm.” The Detective instantly let out a muffled moan through the wet sock gag.

The Detective couldn’t believe the sensation the sock had upon his calves and feet. They were silky, smooth, and dandy. But more importantly above all, he found them to be of stimulation and delightful to wear.

“What the…” The Detective winced in his head. He could feel a tingle down his crotch and he couldn’t make sense why. After all, it was a sense of the unspeakable: his very own cock was growing.

“How does it feel, Detective?” The Executive grinned as he noticed the growth of the Detective’s cock.

The Executive repeated the process with the other pair.

“ORHAMMmm!” ” Again, an uncontrollable muffled moan escaped the Detective. He couldn’t imagine how good it felt on both of his feet.

He attempted to laugh at his situation. He couldn’t believe what the Executive was doing. His enemy was putting a pair of socks onto him. And yet, he also was puzzled at his body’s reaction. The sight bewildered and amused him. What did the Executive hope to achieve with this?

Then, the Executive presented the Detective with the black patent loafer. Leisurely, the Executive slipped the Detective’s feet into the loafer.

“Oafmm…” The Detective let out a moan.

“Oh… they feel so good…” An intrusive thought surmounted inside the Detective’s head upon his attention on the black silk sock and patent loafer.

The Detective couldn’t believe how undeniably comfortable the loafer was on his feet. He also didn’t understand how perfect the fit was. His eyes glued upon the loafer and the socks and suddenly, a fondness for the combination.

“What the hell…?” The Detective thought to himself once again, his mind in shambles. He couldn’t understand the occurrence of such thoughts.

“Mmmmmm!” An uncontrollable wave of pleasure escaped from the Detective.

The Detective stared in shock at his enlarged cock wrapped by the Executive’s hand.

“The chip is working,” the Executive smiled, “they’re quite fun to wear, aren’t they?”

“What?” The Detective sat there dazed. There was no way in hell the Detective found any of it enjoyable. The silk socks were far from it, and yet what was occurring in front of his eyes denied the truth.

He could feel his head slowly warp itself around the pleasure. His cock rocked hard around the feeling of the loafer and sock on his feet. His heartbeat thumped and his breathing increased. His teeth clenched through the sock gag.

“MMMmmmfp!” The Detective let out a loud moan through the sock gag as the Executive stroked it.

“God… the socks and loafers feel so good…”The Detective caught himself thinking. He found his mind loving the newfound clothing.

“What the hell am I thinking!?” The Detective shook his head fighting the invading thoughts.

The Detective found his eyes unconsciously darted to the Executive’s shiny black cap toe. Then, a feeling of admiration for the shoe bubbled inside of him. But underneath the Executive’s trouser and inside the shoe caught the Detective’s eyes. The Executive himself was wearing his pair of black silk socks.

“No...” The Detective grunted.

The Detective had arrived at a realization. His mind thought of the criminal, an Executive he had assumed, he had captured the previous days. The captured man wore the elaborate pinstripe suit but the epiphany was, the man himself wore the same pair of black silk socks.

“No…” The Detective winced in his head. He was not like them and he knew that, yet he felt a desire for their appearances.

For such thoughts made him feel dirty. After all, the Detective was a man who solve crimes and bring justice. He made a vow to bring peace within the city. To be tempted by these Executive were the obstruction to his very own beliefs.

“Look at your dandy little thing pumping from my hand.” The Executive commented.

“MMMARRGH!” The Detective shouted with anger as he tried to grip the last of his momentary strength, rattling the chair he was in. He was not going to let himself fall for such tricks.

The Executive smiled at his attempted resurrection. However, it was for naught as the Executive rebounded the Detective’s two legs with a rope.

“We’re not going to take any risks, aren’t we, Detective?” As he wrapped the Detective’s legs.

“Rrmgh!” The Detective struggled then looked in defeat. His chance of freedom was over.

“Let’s continue with the program.” The Executive insisted, “you’ll love what comes next.”

The Executive leaned in and place his shoe back upon the Detective’s bulge. He reached his hands upon the Detective’s chest and slowly unbuttoned the Detective’s dress shirt. The Detective wince upon the invasion of the Executive’s hands.

“Mmmrrr!” The Detective cringed in pain.

Then the Executive bent down to his oxford and undid his shoelaces. He lifted his feet out and grabbed the shoe with his hands.

“No. No. No.” the Detective shook his head in distraught. The humiliation would be too much for the Detective, but he didn’t have a choice.

The Executive forcefully plunged the inside of the oxford to the Detective's face. The Detective held his nose but with no way to breathe, the Detective slowly crumbled. He had to live, and with no control, the smell leaked through his nose and traveled through his nostrils.

It was an undesired minor leak, but there was no way around it. As his brain registered the smell, the chip on his forehead flickered on and off. Suddenly, he found himself devouring the smell of the Executive’s shoe. Like an addict, one small dose made him want more. He inhaled it through his nostrils. The smell of the deep enriched leather mixed with the personal musk of his enemy.

“You’re doing well Detective.” The Executive praised him.

“OOOAH!” The Detective moaned loudly through his sock gag as he inhaled the musk of the man.

“Good. Good. That’s what we want to see.” The Executive applauded, “you love the smell of my musk.”

The Detective continued to shove his face into the shoe held in front of him. He inhaled it with his nose continuously.

He found himself devoid of his thoughts. He couldn’t grasp any of his logic. His feeling of anger was subsiding and in its place was a pleasurable and euphoric sensation. He wanted more. He wanted more of the man’s musk.

“Ooommm.” The Detective groaned through his gag. Every ascending beat of his heart matched the rhythm of his inhale.

What was it that the Detective was thinking? The Detective scoured his head in the hope to find the suddenly important forgotten piece.

“Good… good… keep inhaling…” The Executive continued to hold his shoe to the Detective’s nose. With his other hand, the Executive slowly gripped onto the Detective’s enlarged cock.

“mmmmmm!” The Detective moaned through the soaked sock gag in his unknown sparked lust.

He loved the smell. He loved the musk inside the man’s Oxford. It was a mixture of the leather and the Executive’s pheromone. He loved it so much that his enlarged cock enjoyed the grasp by the Executive’s hand. His cock was gently stroked sending him into an enrage.

“You are to replace the goon I’ve lost.” The Executive declared, “you’re going to work for me now.”

“Mmmnn…” The Detective moaned through the strokes.

“You are like us, wearing the socks and the shoes. No one will see a lousy detective but a crook.”

The Detective took in the words of the man. It was true. Here, the Detective sat with part of their uniform. If anybody saw him, a detective is the farthest thing anybody would describe him. The Detective didn’t want to be associated with the Executives but his mind couldn’t deny what was to come. He had enjoyed part of the uniform. He had enjoyed the man; his mind had begun to rewire.

“Obey me.” The Executive commanded.

A foreign voice intruded into the Detective’s head.

“I am to obey the Executive.” The voice spoke inside his head.

“No…” the Detective’s mind resisted the foreign voice. This was not the Detective’s voice.

“Get out of my head.” He said inside of his thoughts.

“I am to obey the Executive.” The voice spoke again.

“Get out of my head!” The Detective shouted out in his head.

“Mmmrrrgh!!” was the only sound leaving from the Detective as his eyes showed the last gambit of the fight.

“I am to obey the Executive.”

“I am to obey the Executive.”

“Obey me, Detective.”

“I am to obey the Executive.” The voice repeated itself inside the Detective’s head. But it was no longer a foreign voice. Instead, it was the Detective’s voice that followed.

“I am to show loyalty by wearing the silk socks.” The voice changed its statement.

“No… No…No!” The Detective resisted against himself.

“I am to wear the silk socks.”

“No! I’m not like them… I’m not them!” The Detective shook his head rapidly, slapping the shoe he was inhaling away from him.

He then turned his attention to the Executive’s eyes that stared back upon him.

“I am to obey the Executive.” The voice echoed.

“Mmmmmmm!” The Detective groaned out. He was to obey the Executive.

He felt the silk socks on his feet and a sense of warmth journeyed through his body. He felt right to have them on. After all, it was what was expected of him.

“I am to wear the silk socks.” He told himself.

“Splendid.” The Executive rejoiced, “and if you are to work under me, Detective, the uniform is expected.”

“No… stop! Get out of my head…” The Detective continued his fight, unable to accept the foreign voice, “I’m not going to work for you!”

The Executive simply stepped aside from the Detective and pointed his forefinger at the wall. The Detective couldn’t believe what he had seen. On the wall was a hanger, and on that hanger was a suit. More specifically, a pinstripe suit jacket with its matching trouser hung inside of the hanger.

“Mn. Mn. Mn!” The Detective trembled at the sight.

“Get up.” The Executive pulled the Detective up.

The Detective was so busy battling the invasion that he had failed to notice the Executive’s adjustment of the Detective’s binding. He was no longer bound to the chair and the rope on his legs was removed. His hands continued to be tied behind his back.

The Executive pulled the Detective along to the wall until the Detective faced the hung pinstripe suit. The Detective couldn’t help but admire the suit in front of him. He imagined what it would feel like on his body. He imagined how it would fit. He imagined what he would look like in the suit. Then he found himself a desire for the pinstripe suit.

“No… Resist! I’m not one of them… I’m a detective.” The Detective’s voice protested.

“What do you say, Detective? Should we get you into the suit?” The Executive asked.

“Mmnh!” The Detective grunted and wavered his head. He wanted to plead to the Executive. Anything else besides wearing the uniform of his enemy.

“I am a Detective. I’m supposed to take in these criminals! Not to be like them!”

“I am to wear the uniform.” The voice surmounted again.

“No! I’m not going to be a crook!”

“I am to wear the uniform.” The voice echoed in his head.

“Take off your loafers.” The Executive ordered him.

The Executive smiled in response as he watched the Detective slip his feet out from the loafer. The Detective was in disbelief at himself. How could he listen to the man? There, the Detective stood dazed with his opened white dress shirt, his hanging cock, and the crook’s black silk socks.

The Detective was to wear the uniform.

The first piece the Executive took out under the hanger was a pair of white underwear. The Detective simply watched as the Executive approached him with the underwear. The Detective didn’t want it. He was not going to succumb. He was not going to be them.

But his body betrayed him as it yearned for it. He stepped into the white underwear as the Executive pulled it up for him. The Detective felt a flush of humiliation as he allowed the Executive to doll him. He stood still and allowed the Executive to continue further, buttoning back the white dress shirt that he was captured in. Then, the Executive tucked the shirt into the brief.

“I am to wear the uniform.” The Detective’s voice told himself. He couldn’t help himself but feel compelled to wear the uniform.

Next, the Executive pulled off the pinstripe trouser and approached the Detective. His heartbeat quivered in the sight of the trousers. It was the real deal and it was the step to completion. The Detective allowed the Executive, and thus the Detective stepped into the pinstripe trousers. The Executive pulled them up to the Detective’s waist and buttoned the trousers.

Upon wearing the pinstripe trousers, the Detective felt a click. It was like a forgotten piece of himself was found. Enlightened was the feeling. Moreover, his enjoyment of the trouser was way more than he had thought so.

The Executive beamed with pride as he overlooked the Detective. For the Detective was now starting to become of them.

“I am to wear the uniform.” The Detective told himself.

“Go on.” The Executive nudged the Detective towards the black shiny patent loafers.

The Detective looked down upon his black silk socks and then towards the Executive’s very own black silk socks. His mind registered that he was the same as the man in front of him. No. The man in front of him was more important than him. He was the inferior one to the Executive.

Nonetheless, the Detective knew what was right and slipped upon the black patent loafer. By the time he had settled into his loafer, the Executive had already undone his blue tie. The Executive approached the Detective and wrapped the blue tie around the Detective’s neck. Then, the blue tie was slowly knotted upon the Detective, sending a signal that the Detective now belong to the Executive.

“Now that’s appropriate.” The Executive commended the Detective.

“Take a good look at yourself, Detective.” The Executive pointed across the room.

The Detective turned around and was faced with a mirror. The man in front of the mirror was not a Detective. He was a crook with a white dress shirt and the executive’s blue tie. He wore their pinstripe trousers and the black patent loafer. Underneath it was the white brief and the black silk socks. All he was missing was the pinstripe jacket.

As the Detective continued to stare in the mirror, the image started to transfigure. In the mirror, the Detective’s hair was neatly combed like the Executive's. Then above his lips was a growth of a sheer resemblance of the Executive’s mustache and the criminal he had arrested. As the Detective continued to gaze upon the mirror, the more he enjoyed the look.

“I am to comb my hair and grow a mustache like my Executive.” His voice told him.

The Detective could feel the release of the binds upon his hands. The rope fell to the ground as the Detective’s arm dropped to the side of his body. The Executive was behind him, and he held the final piece of the uniform.

The Detective raised his arms and the Executive promptly slid the jacket upon his new goon. The Detective stood in admiration of the uniform, from every piece and component: from the suit jacket, to the brief, and the socks.

“How does it feel, Detective?” The Executive’s voice whispered into the Detective’s ears.

“Mmmm…” The Detective groaned as his bulge was massaged by the Executive. The Detective had wanted this, the uniform and the Executive.

The Executive led the Detective back to the chair and leaned him against the back of the chair. The Detective could hear the sound of his Executive’s fly zipped open. Then he felt the Executive’s cock rubbing between his buttocks.

The Detective’s heartbeat jumped as his trouser waist was touched by the Executive. Seconds later, it was undone and the trousers dropped down to the ground.

“You ever got fuck by a man, Detective?” The Executive wondered.

The Detective held in his breath for he had never had any man inside of him.

The Executive reached and pulled the Detective’s white brief down slightly and fondled the Detective’s cock.

With it came a silent voice echoed in the back of the Detective’s mind.

“I’m a detective, and I vowed to bring justice to this city.” A foreign voice restated his mission.

But the word “detective” no longer exists in the Detective’s head.

“Mmm!” The Detective moaned blissfully as his cock was stroked by the man behind him.

“I am to obey the Executive.”

The Detective couldn’t hold it in anymore. His body was in love with what he wore. His cock was in love, grasped by the Executive’s hand. He could feel the Executive’s tie knotted tight upon his neck, reminding him who was in charge.

“Mmmargh!” The Detective grunted in pain as he felt the Executive’s cock push through his hole.

“Oooah.” The Executive moaned as he slowly continued his way into his goon’s hole, “now that’s the way I like it.”

“I am to show loyalty with the black silk socks.” A voice rang inside the Detective’s head.

“MMMmm!” The Detective groaned.

The Detective bit the sock gag tight for he had never another man inside his hole. Except he found himself wanted of more. It was a desire to give his manhood to the man. He had never wished such a thought but the man behind him had changed everything.

“I am to wear the uniform.”

The statement rang inside the Detective’s head over and over again until eventually, it was the truth.

“Uuugh..” The Executive continued to plow deeper.

“Obey Executive.” The Detective affirmed.

“Fuck… yeah.” The Executive gripped his goon’s cock and rocked it back and forth slowly in motion with his cock.

“Mmmnnn!’ The Detective moaned, adjusting to the new experience.

“You’re mine now, you got that?” The Executive gripped the Detective’s tie as he slowly increase his rhythm.

“MMMnnN!”

“Servitude.” A voice inside the Detective told him.

“Yes...servitude.” The Detective responded to himself as the Executive ramped the cock inside of him.

“Hahh.. Oooah… Mmm.” The Executive thrust upon his subject.

The Executive was inside of the Detective, corrupting the Detective into the goon he had lost. On the other hand, the Detective could feel every inch of the Executive’s cock within him, guiding him to bliss.

“Mmh! O. Ooah! ARGH!”

The Detective clenched hard upon the Executive’s cock, then a sudden blast of warmth ejaculated into his hole.

“OOOAH!” The Executive moaned loudly.

The Detective groaned and accepted the Executive’s seed as it shot through and deposited itself within the body.

“MMMMNNRH!” The Detective roared in bliss moments later through his gag as his white stream shot into the air.

He bit upon his sock gag and allowed the man to propel him to the moon. A serene filled his lungs and his heart. Along with a stream of voices that injected into the Detective’s mind, overriding all that was left.

“I am to serve the Executive.”

“I am to be dressed properly.”

“I am to follow their mission.”

“I embody their values.”

“I am to obey.”

“I am a crook.”

“I am the Executive’s goon.”

[dressed-euphoric]

Mr. Dapper Dalton (Part 2)

By. Euphoric Dressed

With new struggling desires, Nate found himself back at Mr. Dalton (erotica).

Word Count: 5070

Part 2

Over the next couple of days after the fateful encounter, Nate didn’t give it much thought from his experiences with Mr. Dalton. In fact, he outright prevented himself from any remembrance of Mr. Dalton. He avoided the route past Mr. Dalton’s home. He blocked all thoughts of Mr. Dalton. But strangely enough, he couldn’t shake a strange yearning inside of him.

For Nate, he couldn’t stop thinking about being dressed up. How ‘right’ it felt to put on a trouser rather than jeans. How ‘right’ it felt to put on a dress shirt rather than a t-shirt. He found himself with different cravings of which he didn’t understand. Although, Nate couldn’t find acceptance of such new craves.

Until one day, Nate opened his closet searching for his sweater. His eyes accidentally stumbled upon the brown suit he had locked away.

“Mr. Dalton.” He mumbled.

That’s right. The suit was his, a gift to him. He looked down at the brown loafer where Mr. Dalton had made him ejaculate. Then his eyes darted towards the smeared purple socks. He quickly shut the closet door in an attempt to prevent himself from being curious, to succumb to his strange awakened feelings.

Another several days went on and he found himself spacing out. He found himself thinking of Mr. Dalton and the suit.

He laughed at himself for such thoughts. Surprisingly, Nate found himself entertained with a new idea: He wanted to put the suit back on, and he wanted to visit Mr. Dalton again.

He didn’t fully understand why except feeling unsatisfied and the desire of wanting more.

“I could put you into a dandy boy like this.” Mr. Dalton’s words ringed inside of Nate’s head.

Nate replayed his memory of him standing beside Mr Dalton, showing Nate who he was in the mirror with the brown suit and parted hair. Nate found himself admitting that he enjoyed what had happened. He in particular enjoyed what Mr. Dalton had gifted him.

He shook his head in disbelief. What was he thinking in the middle of class?

The moment he got home, he opened up the closet where the brown suit was hidden. The suit hung there waiting for Nate, calling for him. It wanted to be worn again. It wanted Nate to wear it once more, and Nate could hear it.

He stood there and stared at it down with interest and admiration.

“It won’t hurt.” Nate told himself.

He nodded at such a thought and before long, he found himself naked with his cock hanging out. On one hand was the white dress shirt and on the other hand was the white brief. He couldn’t believe himself that he kept the same brief that Mr. Dalton wore in the past.

He held the dress shirt close to his nose and sniffed it.

“Ooah.” He silently groaned as he smelled the reminiscent of Mr. Dalton.

Then, he slowly helped himself, pulling the white brief on, smudging his cock with Mr. Dalton’s past. He inserted his arms into the white dress shirt sleeves. Then, he looked down and saw the purple sock. He could feel his erection growing as he picked it up, noticing the faint cum stain on the bottom. He slowly pulled the socks through his feet and clipped the sock garters. The garters were meant to be bound to him.

As he stood up, all he could think of was Mr. Dalton. The touches Mr. Dalton had on Nate: when Mr. Dalton slid the socks up; when Mr. Dalton rubbed his calves; when Mr. Dalton attached the sock garter.

Nate slid into the brown trouser and tucked his white shirt in. He looked at himself in the mirror and weakly grinned at the sight. He was like Mr. Dalton.

He slid his feet into the brown loafers.

“Oah.” He silently took a deep breath.

He had forgotten how they felt on his feet. It was the comfortableness that enveloped around his feet. Moreover, Nate felt ‘right’ to have them on compared to his tennis shoes.

“Is this how Mr. Dalton felt?” A thought surmounted in his head.

Nate could imagine himself wearing the sorts everyday. They were transcendent. It was what was demanded.

Nate wiggled his toes in the loafer enjoying them for a second and then finally grace upon the mirror at himself.

He grabbed the purple tie and slowly tied it to his collar. He found himself disappointed in the fact that Mr. Dalton wasn’t there to tie the collar onto Nate, himself.

However, what was missing was the parted hair just like Mr. Dalton’s. Nate frowned upon himself as he can’t remember the product used or how Mr. Dalton did it himself.

“Ok,” Nate sighed to himself, “time to take them off.”

But he thought of Mr. Dalton once more. Nate was flabbergasted at himself: why was it that Mr. Dalton was the bane of his thoughts? Except all there was were a fondness for Mr. Dalton.

“However, if you want more, if you feel my proposal speaks the truth in you, wear the same outfit and meet me here.” Mr. Dalton’s ghost voice rang in Nate’s head.

What was it that Mr. Dalton offered? Nate couldn’t exactly remember the details but he knew that the statement was the cause of his desire.

Nate sighed and then he made his choice. He couldn’t afford to spend his college days thinking about Mr. Dalton. More importantly, it was the suit that was the cause of all deviation. Nate had to return the suit, and Nate wanted to say goodbye to Mr. Dalton.

He then nodded his head in agreement to his plan. It is what must be done.

Nate managed to walk all the way to Mr. Dalton's house in the brown suit. Indeed, he did feel strange as he stood out from the masses of the students, but he may as well enjoy his last moments with the suit.

Except, if he were to return the suit, what would he wear to return back?

“Shit.” Nate swore under his breath unaware of the predicament that was set by his lack of thinking. But it was too late, as he was already in front of Mr. Dalton’s door and had already mustered the courage to knock.

The door opened and Mr. Dalton stood there with a shocked face, then receded into a wide grin.

“What a surprise, young man!” Mr. Dalton exclaimed, “I thought you forgot all about me.”

“Hey there, Mr. Dalton.” Nate hesitated a bit.

“Look at you, all dandy.” Mr Dalton continued to grin, noticing the suit Nate wore. After all, it was Mr. Dalton’s gift to Nate.

“You –” Nate stared at Mr. Dalton, astonished how Mr. Dalton appeared.

Mr. Dalton was in a sharp charcoal suit with a blue tie. He wore his shiny black cap toe oxford. And nonetheless, his hair was always neatly parted along with his styled thick mustache.

“You look very good.” Nate found himself blurted out, “perhaps, you’re going somewhere? Is this a bad time?”

Nate could feel his stomach churning a hurricane. He wanted Mr. Dalton to say ‘no’.

No, that wasn’t it. Nate wanted Mr. Dalton to say ‘yes’.

“Of course not.” Mr. Dalton shook his head, “especially when I have you here, come on in!”

“It’ll be quick.” Nate said hastily.

Mr. Dalton raised an eyebrow.

“I -” Nate struggled to find the words, then he finally gathered himself and looked straight in to Mr. Dalton’s blue eyes.

“I just wanted to thank you for the suit.” Nate said, “and I’m very grateful for it but… I need to return it.”

Mr. Dalton looked at Nate with a puzzled look.

“Sorry.” Nate said.

“It’s alright.” Mr. Dalton responded and then paused for a moment, “Why don’t you come in and we can talk?”

Nate nodded at him and accepted his invitation. After all, he was here to say goodbye. Nate might as well settle it on good terms.

Mr. Dalton led Nate to the living room and pulled up a chair for him to sit. Nate could smell the remscient smell of wood mixed with a hint of lavender and mint. It reminded him of comfort and ease as he sat on the chair.

Mr. Dalton made his tea as usual and had already set the tea down on the table. He pulled up another chair and sat down. He crossed his leg in front of Nate, revealing his silky black socks. Mr. Dalton then placed his hands on his sock and slowly massaged it in front of Nate.

It was like a trap and Nate fell for it. Nate’s eyes glued onto the action and he noticed that he was growing a bit too hard on what Mr. Dalton was doing. He watched for a couple of seconds completely unaware of the silence in the room.

Mr. Dalton smiled, “did you think of my proposal?”

Nate jumped and quickly refocused himself on Mr. Dalton.

“Yes.” Nate said, “I’ve thought of it… and I just… I can’t. It’s an absurd request Mr. Dalton.”

Mr. Dalton just sat there with his hands on his sock. He nodded and listened intently and quietly.

“But you did come to visit me in the suit.” Mr. Dalton said.

Mr. Dalton was right. Nate questioned himself why he did such a thing. Nate didn’t want to give the wrong impression to Mr. Dalton. Afterall, Nate was here to return the suit.

“Young man…” Mr. Dalton continued to think, “do you remember what I said?”

“I -.” Nate quietly sat there.

“Go on.”

“That if I were… that if I wanted…” Nate didn’t want to say it because he knew it would be true. He knew that was the implication.

“I wanted you to join my household, Nate.” Mr. Dalton stated, “you wanted that too, didn’t you?”

“N - No sir.” Nate found himself having trouble speaking, “I’m just here to return the suit and say goodbye.”

“Right.” Mr Dalton nodded, “and what is it that you’re trying to say to me Nate?”

Seeing Mr. Dalton again arose new thoughts and feelings that Nate didn’t know he had. Nate just sat there unable to answer Mr. Dalton.

“I can see the potential in you.” Mr. Dalton stood up, “Nate, you are destined for so much more.”

“I can sculpt you under my control.” Mr. Dalton stared intently into Nate’s eyes, “I know you desire it. I can see it in your eyes.

Nate found himself lost in Mr. Dalton’s stare. A stare that was trapping Nate in. Was it true that Mr. Dalton knew what Nate had desired?

Nate pondered upon himself: did he intended to return the suit or did he intended to seek an answer to his unusual awakening from Mr. Dalton?

Mr. Dalton placed his hands on Nate’s shoulder and said with gentleness in his voice, “give me a chance, Nate.”

“I -” Nate stuttered. He was here to return the suit. He wasn’t here to indulge in Mr. Dalton’s proposal.

“Let me show you.” Mr. Dalton continued.

“Tell you what, don’t return the suit.” Mr. Dalton sighed, “instead, just follow me. And if you have any desire to leave, you can leave anytime.”

Nate gulped with a lump in his throat.

“Come with me Nate.” Mr. Dalton said with a gentle tone.

Nate unawarely nodded after Mr. Dalton and stood up to follow Mr. Dalton. Nate was puzzled at his thoughts. Instead of any desires to leave, Nate found himself wanting to stay. Nate was curious. Nate wanted… Nate desired…

Mr. Dalton stopped briefly at the entrance door and looked back at Nate.

“The exit is right there.” Mr. Dalton offered.

Nate looked toward the exit and hesitated. He could leave. He could leave all of this behind and never encounter Mr. Dalton again. He could go back to his old life where he hadn’t met Mr. Dalton. Had Nate wasn’t curious of Mr. Dalton’s ways. Had Nate not been tempted by Mr. Dalton’s principles. Had Nate didn’t received Mr. Dalton’s rite of passage.

Nate couldn’t shake the feeling. What had happened between him and Mr. Dalton was for this moment and Nate found himself not stepping through that door. Instead, Nate followed the fondness of a man he admired from afar into a room.

In the room lay a table in the middle of the room, bookshelves lined up against the walls, and a window in the center wall illuminating the center of the table. At the corner of the room was a red armchair.

“Lay on that table for me.” Mr. Dalton said.

Nate gulped and followed Mr. Dalton’s instructions.

“Lay face flat.”

Nate looked at him and then to the table. He slowly walked up the table and then nervously placed his hands on the table. Nate laid his body on the table face down with his head tilted to the side.

Each millisecond passed as he took deep breaths awaiting for what was to come.

“Good boy.” Mr. Dalton praised him as he grabbed one of Nate’s legs.

“What are you going to do?” Nate asked with a heaviness in his breaths.

Mr. Dalton stood quiet as he continued his work.

“Mr. Dalton –” Nate whimpered as he found himself bound to the table, before long both of his legs and arms were tied down.

Mr. Dalton demanded silence and Nate followed instinctually.

Nate’s breath became heavier and heavier as fear started to settle.

Mr. Dalton rubbed his hands on Nate's back then slowly down to Nate’s buttocks. Nate could feel his belt rummaged by Mr. Dalton’s hands. Then slowly, Mr. Dalton pulled the trouser down beyond the butt, revealing the white briefs.

Mr. Dalton grinned at such a sight, “I have done you well but it’s clearly not enough.”

“What are you going to do?” Nate asked again with fear in his voice. He feared the unknown of what was to come.

“We’re going to do what I’ve proposed.” Mr. Dalton explained, “you are to be initiated into the household.”

“Wait, Mr. Dalton!” Nate quickly spurred up, “I -”

“Nate.” Mr. Dalton said, silencing Nate.

Mr. Dalton had offered him the option to leave and Mr. Dalton was not going to tolerate resistance. Nate could leave anytime and Nate knew. And yet, Nate couldn’t find himself to mutter the words that he wanted to leave.

“I will not tolerate decit in this household.” Mr. Dalton began.

“What are you going to do-” Nate demanded an answer.

“OAW!” Nate yowl in pain as his body jolted from the force he felt through the white briefs.

“Discipline is required, my boy.” Mr. Dalton emphasized as another hand struck, of which echoed through the room, “You are in need of it.”

“OAH!” Nate whimpered, feeling the sudden backlash on his buttocks. Nate couldn't believe what was happening.

“You have done me a disservice.” Mr. Dalton continued.

“Mr. Dalton -!”

“You are to listen to me and answer when required!” The sounds echo through the room as Mr. Dalton’s hand made contact.

“ARHH!” Nate winced out in pain, “fuck!”

“Swearing will not be tolerated.” Mr. Dalton stated as another came through Nate’s brief.

Nate grunted against the pain. This was wrong. Spanking was wrong. An act of such would never be allowed in society. Nate needed to speak out. Except, within the small parts of Nate, his body needed it. Nate needed discipline from Mr. Dalton.

“Sir -” Nate's mouth started to open.

“Do you understand me, boy!” Mr. Dalton’s voice rang with authority, silencing what was to come.

“Yes sir.” Nate responded in hopes the spanking would stop; except it didn’t.

“The first thing that will be taught in this household is Discipline.” Mr. Dalton announced and then brought his hands once more upon Nate’s tender buttock.

Discipline was needed to be enforced upon Nate. Afterall, discipline was not only what was required of the Dalton’s household, but it was to guide Nate. Mr. Dalton knew Nate didn’t want to return the suit. For that, Mr. Dalton needed Nate to come into term with his desires.

“Do you enjoy wearing the suit?” Mr. Dalton asked.

Nate tried to recover his breath from what was occurring. Then he yelped in agony as he felt Mr. Dalton’s hands once more.

“Yes sir!” Nate whimpered out loud in accordance with his widespread pain.

“Good boy.” Mr. Dalton smiled.

Mr. Dalton’s rite of passage was to sculpt Nate’s desires. Now, Mr. Dalton’s hands were to sculpt Nate’s mind. At the end of it all, Nate will be molded into what Mr. Dalton wanted him to be.

Nate could feel the soaring of heat and pain through his buttocks. He knew he couldn’t withstand the next one of Mr. Dalton’s hands.

“Do you want to dress like me?”

“Yes sir.” Nate whimpered out with no control over his thoughts. After all, all he could focus on was the pain.

“Good answer.” Mr. Dalton responded, “then let’s make sure that happens, shouldn’t we?”

Mr. Dalton bent down and undid the shoelaces of his black oxford. Then he slid his feet out and grabbed it with one of his hands.

“Here,” he held the oxford in front of Nate’s face, “take it in.”

He tilted the oxford to its side and moved it closer to Nate’s nose.

“O-.” Nate whiffed. Then he found himself inhaling it in and sniffing Mr. Dalton’s oxford.

“Ooah…. Arghhh” Nate moaned as pleasure aroused within him as he slowly began to be reminded of Mr. Dalton’s scent.

“Good boy. Sniff that in and let it through.” Mr. Dalton praised him.

Nate continued to inhale it as he felt his cock beginning to rise. Mr. Dalton’s pheromones entered through Nate’s nose and continued to shiver into his body.

“This is it. This is what I wanted.” Nate found himself thinking. He wanted Mr. Dalton, or rather he found himself needing Mr. Dalton.

“And did you enjoy wearing your loafers?” Mr. Dalton asked.

“Yes sir.” Nate answered in the midst of his sniffing.

“Good.” Mr. Dalton said as he raised his hands up once more.

Another swoop came and another went on Nate’s butt. Tints of red could be shown under Nate’s briefs and as much as it hurts, Nate found himself surrendering to the process.

���Think of me as a father figure.” Mr. Dalton's voice rang in Nate’s head.

Nate accepted such a statement. After all, who would be in a position to do so if it wasn’t a role of authority.

“I’m going to take care of that hair of yours.” Mr. Dalton said.

Nate just laid there as Mr. Dalton started the process of his hair. This was what Nate wanted: he wanted his hair to be like Mr. Dalton’s.

Nate just laid there with his eyes closed. Thoughts of Mr. Dalton… a father figure.

“After all, you want to be like your father.” Mr. Dalton said.

“Isn’t that right son?” Mr. Dalton asked.

Nate moaned as Mr. Dalton parted and combed his hair. Mr. Dalton was oddly right.

“Like father, like son.” Mr. Dalton commented.

“Good. I’m glad you’ve given me a chance. Now, you will be a good son, won’t you?” Mr. Dalton reached for Nate’s trouser. He pulled it up and then fiddled his way to buckle it with the belt.

The spanking stopped and Mr. Dalton took his shoe. Slowly, Nate’s sanity came back. He couldn’t fathom what he had told Mr. Dalton, except what surprised him was that he didn’t mind the spanking experience. In fact, it was gratitude that Nate experienced. Was it because he felt guilty returning the suit back? Maybe that was it. Nate needed Mr. Dalton’s discipline for such an action.

“Stand up,” Mr. Dalton ordered, “and take off everything you’re wearing, at the table.”

Nate puffed heavily as he brought himself up. He wobbled a bit but stabilized himself in front of Mr. Dalton.

“Discipline.” Nate mouthed out loud. He was bewildered at himself. He was going to do it. He was going to take off his suit in front of Mr. Dalton.

Nate slowly walked over to the table and took off his suit jacket. Next came the trouser and the dress shirt. Then the white brief was off and Nate stood with his cock.

Mr. Dalton fingered at him, “come here.”

Nate couldn’t help himself but fell in Mr. Dalton’s authority. Nate was awe struck again from the way Mr. Dalton was in his sharp charcoal suit. His grin charmed Nate in some ways.

Before Nate knew it, he found himself in front of Mr. Dalton.

“All that’s left is a Dalton’s essence.” Mr. Dalton announced.

“A Dalton's essence?” Nate asked with shortness in his breath.

Then he noticed Mr. Dalton’s hands reached to his bulge and unzipped his fly. His hands entered into his sacred keep and unveiled the jewels. Mr. Dalton’s manhood stuck out in front of Nate.

Mr. Dalton smiled at Nate. Tonight, Mr. Dalton was going to make Nate his very own. His manhood shall reach into the core of Nate and convert the boy into a man.

Mr. Dalton led Nate to the table and turned Nate’s body away from him.

Nate’s breaths were heavy as Mr. Dalton guided him. Then, a weird sensation pulse through him as he felt Mr. Dalton’s fingers trying to insert itself into Nate’s hole. Nate instinctively tried his best to resist it.

“Sir,” Nate whimpered. Nate wasn’t ready.

“Take a deep breath and let this in.” Mr. Dalton said.

Nate held his breath as Mr. Dalton's finger slid through and into his hole. Nate groaned in minor pain as the finger went deep inside of him. Nate could feel a squish of goo entering him. His body limped towards the touches of Mr. Dalton.

“We’re almost done.” Mr. Dalton said as he finished the last touches and slowly exited.

“You’re going to be just exactly what I wanted.” Mr. Dalton whispered into Nate’s ear as he held Nate tight.

“O-” Nate moaned as he felt Mr. Dalton’s manhood poking his entrance.

“You want to be my dandy little boy don’t you?”

The words of Mr. Dalton sparked a lust within Nate. Nate found himself wanting it. His walls were slowly crumbling as Mr. Dalton continued to poke through.

“You want my ideals, you want my philosophy. You want me, don’t you?” Mr. Dalton grinned.

“Oah.” Nate moaned as he felt Mr. Dalton’s cock started to pierce through.

“Argh!” A sharp pain shot through Nate. His body pushed Mr. Dalton cock out before it went deep.

“There we go, just listen to my voice.” Mr. Dalton whispered.

“You enjoy the suit. You want it on you. You need to wear the suit, the dress shirt, the pants, the shoes.” Mr. Dalton continued with a soothing pleasure in his voice, emphasizing each statement.

Nate found himself nodding and holding his breath as Mr. Dalton cock slowly entered once again.

Nate groaned out loud as Mr. Dalton slid his cock in just a bit deeper but not deep enough.

“You are mine, Nate. I need to make you into the man you were meant to be.”

“Oooah.” Nate moaned as he felt his body accepting Mr. Dalton’s entry.

“Good boy.” Mr. Dalton leaned into Nate’s ears, “you don’t need to return the suit, it was meant for you. You were meant to be like me.”

“MMFH!” Nate moaned loudly as Mr. Dalton’s cock was fully in.

“Don’t you want that Nate, my boy?”

“Yes.” Nate found himself whispering.

“You want to be my dandy boy.”

“ARGH!” Nate shouted out as Mr. Dalton slowly weaved in and out with his cock.

“O- Oh! Arghh.” Mr. Dalton moaned with each thrust, “that’s what I’m talking about son.”

Nate grunted his teeth feeling the rock inside of him tingling in and out.

“You want to be just like me Nate.” Mr. Dalton stated.

Nate then felt the rod inside of him slowly increasing up and down in the goo that was inserted inside of him. A pain suddenly turned into a weird pleasure.

“Mmmmfhp.” A groan escaped from Nate as Mr. Dalton slowly slid it back and forth.

“You’re doing great. You just have to accept it, accept the feeling. Think of the loafers, the tie, the dress shirt, the suit.” He explained, “they’re waiting for you.”

“Oooah!” Nate moaned out loud listening to Mr. Dalton's voice. Images and sensations popped into his brain. He imagined himself in what Mr. Dalton described. He wanted it.

“See yourself like me Nate.” Mr. Dalton said.

Nate took a second to adjust himself and then no longer could conceal himself. He thought of himself next to Mr. Dalton' side, all dressed up like Mr. Dalton. His hair was to be parted and neat like Mr. Dalton. And in Nate’s closet were to be only of what was proper.

The image was completed. Nate thought of himself in that situation, and something about it made him awakened.

Mr. Dalton's words were to be respected. Nate felt obliged to follow them. As each pump of Mr. Dalton cock into Nate, a new sensation developed over him. Mr. Dalton was to have authority over Nate and Nate accepted it with open arms. It entered and placed a hold onto him. Within in was a new deeply found respect for Mr. Dalton. This was for Nate.

“Yes sir.” Nate blurted out.

“Good boy.” Mr. Dalton assured him.

“Oooh.” Nate groaned as he couldn’t stop thinking the fact that Mr. Dalton was inside of him.

“This is the ticket. You want it don’t you Nate?”

“Sir.” Nate whimpered and groaned as he felt the cock sliding in and out of his buttocks. Nate’s cock was hard from Mr. Dalton. But more importantly of what was expected of Nate. Nate couldn’t understand a single of it except that it felt… right.

“Good. That’s what I want to see.” Mr. Dalton said as he continued to slide his cock.

“I’m going to make you into a man.” Mr. Dalton started to fasten the hump.

“Yes sir.” Nate groaned in pain as he couldn’t help himself except to indulge in the sensations surmounted by Mr. Dalton’s cock inside of him. Nate truly felt he belong to Mr. Dalton.

“Oh. Oooah. OOAH. You’re inside of me!” Nate grunted as he gripped onto the table as Mr. Dalton continued to rock him.

Nate couldn’t stop it anymore as Mr. Dalton filled all of his rules into Nate.

“Sir! You feel so good.” Nate admitted. As each hump Mr. Dalton thrust his cock in, a burst of pleasure ram into Nate.

“You like me fucking you, don’t you?” Mr. Dalton said.

“Yes!” Nate admitted.

“You desire to be my dandy boy don’t you?”

“Yes!” Nate said out loud.

“What did I teach you son!?” Mr. Dalton thrusted.

“Discipline.” Nate whimpered as each thrust entered through him.

It was like a drug. As he continued to fall into Mr. Dalton's desires, it was easier and easier for Nate to fall forward inward to his desires.

Mr. Dalton moaned, “yes boy!”

“I’m going to make you a dapper man. You’d like that wouldn’t you, my son?”

“Yes sir!”

He moaned out loud as he continued to thrust into Nate.

“You’re mine, Nate. You belong to me.” He repeated.

“Let’s make you my dandy boy, young man.” Mr. Dalton shouted out loud.

All Nate could feel was the pleasure Mr. Dalton delivered. Nate had never felt so close to a person before. With each hump and thump Mr. Dalton thrust, it shook Nate’s core.

With no hesitation, Nate accepted Mr. Dalton inside of him.

“Yes Mr. Dalton!” Nate proclaimed.

“Atta boy!” Mr. Dalton shouted in admits of the moans.

“We’re going to get you that essence.” Mr. Dalton increased his speed as his breathing increased.

Nate wanted this. Nate desired it. Nate was Mr. Dalton’s.

“OOOAGH!” Natel groan loudly to the declaration of Mr. Dalton.

“Here comes, my son!” Mr. Dalton shouted and moaned, “take my seed and let it grow!”

“THAT’S MY BOY!” Mr. Dalton let out a loud moan.

A stream of Dalton’s essence burst out of Mr. Dalton manhood and entered into Nate.

Nate moaned out in ecstasy as he felt the entering of Mr. Dalton stream. Then his cock twitched and Nate moaned. An energy erupted out of Nate and poured itself outward to the ground.

“OORGHHH!” They both moaned in unison as Mr. Dalton continued to hump into Nate.

Successfully, the moment shared by both binded Nate into Mr. Dalton’s possession.

“Good boy.” Mr. Dalton said out loud as he continued to ooze.

“Good boy.” He said once more as he slowly took out his cock.

Nate puffed with a shortness of breath as he slowly realized what had happened. What he had done.

Nate felt strange inside. Something was different. He felt different and warm. He could feel Mr. Dalton’s essence sliding into him, like an alive being entering him, deeper and deeper. Nate was seeded by Mr. Dalton.

“Welcome to the family, son.” Mr. Dalton said, beaming with a smile.

“I’m going to teach you all there is to the world and a man of the Dalton’s family.” Mr. Dalton declared.

Nate stood there dazed and nodded towards Mr. Dalton’s statement. There was no turning back for Nate.

“Get dressed.” Mr. Dalton said, “I’m going to take you to the barber.”

“Yes sir.” Nate found himself responding to the man. His speech towards Mr. Dalton was filled with new respect and admiration. Nate was going to become a man like Mr. Dalton.

Nate knew what was expected of him. He walked over to the gift that was set off aside.

Nate pulled the purple socks back on above his calves. Then he attached the sock garters. He put the white dress shirt on and then tucked it in his brown trousers. He held the purple tie in his hand and slowly knotted around his collar. He finished it with the suit jacket and then slipped his feet into his brown loafers.

Nate felt complete with the outfit. He felt true to who he was. Nate enjoyed it. Nate wanted it. This was who he was.

But, change doesn't happen overnight and Nate would needed time to become what Mr. Dalton had intended.

Nate turned around and faced his declared household, his new father figure who awaited for what was to come.

“That’s my boy.” Mr. Dalton grinned.

[dressed-euphoric]

Mr. Dapper Dalton

By. Euphoric Dressed

A college student unexpectedly tastes a transformation when helping out a friendly dapper neighbor.

Word Count: 5971

Part 1

“Hello Mr. Dalton!” Nate waved a hand towards Mr. Dalton behind his fenced yard.

On Nate’s path to campus, he would walk by a modern two story home made out of wood and stone. Within that home resides Mr. Dalton who lived alone.

Mr. Dalton wasn’t always the friendly soul. In fact, it took Nate a couple of weeks to get Mr. Dalton to warm up. In the beginning, Nate would often smile and greet with a friendly gesture only to be met with a stern face. Slowly over time, Mr. Dalton would return the favor. Before they both knew it, they both found themselves exchanging pleasantries.

But what drew Nate to Mr. Dalton was the way Mr. Dalton held himself. Mr. Dalton was certainly the odd one in the neighborhood: he only wore a dress shirt and trousers. Only a few times where Mr. Dalton would have worn a polo shirt. Other times, Mr. Dalton would be seen wearing a tie with or without a blazer, and occasionally suits.

Along with his outfit were his traditional shoes: loafers and oxfords. He would wear loafers for the casual days and oxfords at any time he so chooses. Each style of footwear aiding in the construction of his image, creating a clean break with his trousers. Mr. Dalton loves his medium break, but was known to switch it up between a low break and a full break.

Nate did consider Mr. Dalton to be attractive for his age. Mr. Dalton’s brown hair was always neatly combed with small streaks of gray hair running through like small streams. What distinguished Mr. Dalton even more was the complimentary moustache Mr. Dalton had: a neatly combed thick brown moustache.

Nate always wondered how it would be like to be in Mr. Dalton’s spot. To make it a mission to be dressed dapper and well, certainly looked different and better than others. It definitely added to Mr. Dalton's charm.

Mr. Dalton walked up to the fence with his crossed arms, observing the physicality of Nate like he always does. Nate had black hair with bangs that would hang just above his brown eyes. Nate was dressed in his dark jeans and navy shirt. Nate wasn't particularly thin or stocky but an average build. He was shorter than most of his peers, including Mr. Dalton, with his 5’ 5”.

They usually exchanged their greetings with each other but today was different. Nate was on his way to shop.

“For clothes?” Mr. Dalton asked. Mr. Dalton wore his white dress shirt tucked into his sharp creased khaki trousers that fell upon his brown loafers, creating a small break.

“Yeah. I’m actually running low on clothes so I ought to buy some more.” Nate responded, “although, Mr. Dalton, you look quite dashing as you always are.”

Mr. Dalton grinned towards Nate, “with the way you’re shopping for clothes, you should grab yourself some trousers, dress shirts and a tie. I’m sure you’ll be quite dashing as well.”

Nate laughed and shrugged at the thought knowing what Mr. Dalton was implying, “I don’t think I’ll have the confidence to wear it around everyday like you.”

“That’s not true, it’s simple to put it on,” Mr. Dalton assures, “or you could have someone hold you accountable if you are worried about ‘confidence’.”

“As in you?” Nate looked at him.

“Yes,” Mr. Dalton grinned, “as in I could help you achieve that if you wish for it.”

Nate shrugged, “thank you Mr. Dalton, but I think I’ll be alright.”

“Well, it’s a shame.” Mr. Dalton frowned upon Nate’s response.

Nate nodded silently towards Mr. Dalton. Nate didn’t know what Mr. Dalton meant by the statement but quickly dismissed the thought.

“Well, it was nice seeing you Mr. Dalton, I will see you occasionally?” Nate brought up.

“You’re leaving that soon?” Mr. Dalton disappointedly said, “and here I thought I could sneak in a favor.”

“A favor?”

“I just bought a new suit for my son. I don’t know if it would fit for him but… I believe you and him had the same body physique.”

Nate nodded and waited to hear more.

“I’m wondering if you could do me a favor and try the suit for me. It would help greatly in the visualization.” Mr. Dalton suggested.

Nate stood there and pondered. Now that he had thought of it, he had never entered Mr. Dalton home over the course of their interaction. More so, it was the first request Mr. Dalton had from their relationship. After all, Nate did started to consider Mr. Dalton as a friend. Strangely, Nate didn’t know why he wanted to be friends with Mr. Dalton in the first place.

“Yeah. Sure.” Nate hesitated a bit before realizing that it was a simple matter.

Nate stopped by the fence gate and into Mr. Dalton yard. Mr. Dalton couldn’t help but give a wry smile upon Nate’s entrance. He placed his hands on Nate’s shoulder and rubbed it a bit, which Nate didn’t mind.

“Thank you.” Mr. Dalton said appreciatively, “come on in.”

Mr. Dalton led the way into his home. He first opened the amber wooden door that led into an entrance hallway. Nate took a step in and was greeted by the coziness of the hallway. A pleasant smell of wood mixed with a hint of lavender and mint filled the rooms.

“This way.” Mr. Dalton walked in front of him and into an archway on the hallway to the left.

Nate followed and was eventually led to a bedroom. Nate didn’t pay too much attention to the fact that he was led into a bedroom. After all, Nate was just going to try on a suit Mr. Dalton had bought for his son. It would have made sense that the suit was to be stored in the bedroom, hung in a closet.

Mr. Dalton walked into a walk-in closet, filled with suits, trousers, dress shoes, ties, and all the formality. Nate then realizes that the walk in closet belonged to Mr. Dalton’s.

“Give me a second as I bring it out.” Mr. Dalton told Nate.

“Go ahead.” Nate nodded.

“You have a son then?” Nate tried to converse.

“Yes.” Mr. Dalton stated as he came in and out of the walk-in closet. He laid the clothes on the bed neatly and gently. He didn’t elaborate more upon the subject. Nate gazed upon the bed and each of the items that Mr. Dalton took out. Mr. Dalton laid out a brown suit jacket with a brown trouser. A white dress shirt laid next to it along with the brown belt. Right next to it was a pair of a long ribbed purple sock, a purple tie, sock garters and a white brief. Mr. Dalton then proceeded to set down a pair of shiny polished brown loafers by the side of the bed.

“My son’s name is Victor. He wanted a suit for an upcoming event and wanted to make sure he looked presentable just like his dad,” Mr. Dalton explained, “he’s around the same age as you.”

Nate nodded and looked down at the elegant clothes laid in front of him.

“You wanted me to try them?” Nate asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Dalton said as he held out a measuring tape, “and if you don’t mind Nate, I was wondering if I can measure you as well?

“I don’t mind.” Nate nodded.

Mr. Dalton approached Nate with the measuring tape. The measuring process was a simple and quick process where Mr. Dalton measured Nate’s waist, hips, thigh, chest, and all the body measurement that Mr. Dalton so chose.

“Very good.” Mr. Dalton said, “Now I’ll need you to take off your clothes.”

Nate looked at Mr. Dalton weirdly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way,” Mr. Dalton waved his hands to dismiss the air, “it’s part of the measuring process and the clothes.”

Nate laughed nervously, “yeah.”

Nate slowly took off his clothes as nervousness creeped in. Nate quickly reassured himself that it was just like taking off his clothes in the locker room. They were both men as well. Before long, Nate was stripped down to his undergarments.

“You’re going to have to remove your undergarments.” Mr. Dalton said casually.

“I’m sorry what?” Nate looked at Mr. Dalton and gulped. Mr. Dalton just stared at Nate waiting for him to remove his undergarment. Nate shook his head in disbelief. A strange feeling rose in Nate. A feeling that he couldn’t deny Mr. Dalton.

“Ok. Ok.” Nate softly whispered as he slowly took off his brief revealing Nate’s flaccid rod. Nate chose to trust in Mr. Dalton. After all, it did seem the request was genuine.

“Sit on the bed.” Mr. Dalton said as he pointed to the bed.

Nate nodded and sat down on the bed with his bare butt. Mr. Dalton picked up the white briefs and then grabbed a hold of Nate’s leg. He slowly slid Nate’s feet into the white brief and then pulled it up covering Nate’s rod.

Nate’s face flushed with redness from the embarrassment. He had never shown his manhood to anybody willingly. It was the first time he had shown it to someone: Mr. Dalton.

But what was more strange was the sensation Nate felt from the white briefs. Nate wore a couple of white briefs when he was younger but quickly transitioned out of them when he found the world of boxers and trunks. The fact that Nate slipped back into a white brief at the hands of Mr. Dalton made Nate feel odd. Nate couldn’t identify the sensation but he knew he felt an unwanted tingle.

Mr. Dalton picked up the long purple sock and dangled them. Then he grabbed onto Nate’s feet and slid them through up past his calves.

Nate could feel his rod reacting. The tingle he had just felt was growing and coursing through his body. Why did he feel a tingle? Oddly enough, Nate was mesmerized by the purple socks and the white brief. Both of which felt satisfying to wear.

Mr. Dalton rubbed his hands on Nate’s calves. Nate couldn’t help it but felt oddly sensual at Mr. Dalton rubbing the socks. Nate quickly dismissed it. More importantly, Nate was feeling his rod slowly growing from the sensation. Nate tried to subdue the growth as Mr. Dalton gently grabbed a hold of Nate’s calves to attach the sock garter.

“This is for his son.” Nate justified in his head.

“Everything alright?” Mr. Dalton asked.

“Yea- yeah.” Nate quickly responded.

“I hope it’s ok. I want you to feel comfortable. If you’re not, please tell me. You don’t have to do this. We can stop.” Mr. Dalton said.

“No. It’s ok.”

Mr. Dalton nodded and led Nate into the walk-in closet. Nate observed himself in the white briefs, then in the purple socks and the sock garter. Something about the whole look ticked his engine. The garter was quite amusing as well. Nate tried to hide the growth of his manhood staring at himself in the newfound choice of clothes, but it was too late. Nate’s rod was slowly becoming erect under his white brief.

Fortunately though, Mr. Dalton didn’t turn too much attention to it.

“Here, let me put this on you.” Mr. Dalton suggested as he floated over Nate with the white dress shirt.

Nate simply nodded as he let Mr. Dalton slid the white dress shirt on him. Mr. Dalton pressed his hands on the button and slowly button Nate up. Nate could feel the gentle touches of Mr. Dalton meanwhile feeling Mr. Dalton’s breathing slowly increased.

Once the dress shirt was on Nate, Mr. Dalton also tied the knot of the purple tie onto Nate. With every action, inches of touches Mr. Dalton had over Nate, Nate couldn’t resist but let his pocket grow.

“Here,” Mr. Dalton handed Nate the brown trousers. Nate nodded quickly and accepted it, wishing to hide his bulge. He pulled the trousers upward with Mr. Dalton assistance tucking the dress shirt.

“Higher.” Mr. Dalton said as he gently grabbed the trousers and pulled it upward to a higher waist. He then zipped it and buckled it.

Mr. Dalton then proceeded to belt the brown belt onto Nate. By the time the belting was done, Mr. Dalton already had the suit jacket in his hand.

“Hands out.” Mr. Dalton said as he held the suit jacket outwards.

Nate listened and let out his arms. Mr. Dalton slid the jacket onto him, almost completing the outfit. The final piece was the brown loafers. Mr. Dalton laid them in front of Nate. Nate stared upon the brown loafers and thought to himself how old fashioned everything was. From the suits, shirt, tie, and the loafers themselves. Nate never thought to see himself like that. He slowly descended his feet into the loafer. They slid in perfectly. Even the loafer fitted him like a glove.

“You yourself look like a dapper young man.” Mr. Dalton complimented Nate.

“Thank you.” Nate looked down and observed his outfit. Something about the suit made him feel strange. He enjoyed it.

“I’m sure your son will love it.” Nate told him. Nate certainly did. While the suit itself was a bit bigger, he was surprised that almost everything fitted him a bit too well. With just a bit of tailoring, it could mold into Nate’s own personal suit.

“Indeed.” Mr. Dalton smiled, “one last thing.”

Mr. Dalton stepped away for a second as Nate observed himself in the mirror. Nate had never seen himself in such elegant clothes. In fact, He felt oddly similar to Mr. Dalton due to the suit.

Nate imagined himself what if he did have a moustache like Mr. Dalton. What if he had his hair combed? What if he were to be dressed like Mr. Dalton everyday? Nate laughed at the thought. There was no way Nate could or would. He wasn’t that sort of man.

“You look charming.” Mr. Dalton said unannounced.

Nate shook in surprise and turned around to face Mr. Dalton.

“Thanks.” Nate replied back.

“You should certainly wear such clothes more often.” Mr. Dalton remarked.

Nate glanced towards the mirror. He did feel better. Something about the suit did make Nate feel different.

Mr. Dalton approached Nate from behind and placed his hands on Nate’s shoulder.

“I don’t have much of a reason to dress up often. As a college student, there’s not a lot of events in the first place.” Nate replied.

Mr. Dalton shook his head, “that’s where you’re wrong Nate. It is not ‘dress up’. It is who you are.”

Nate was confused at Mr. Dalton sentiment.

“Just like what you’re doing Nate.” Mr. Dalton gently tugged Nate’s purple tie.

“Let me fix this for you.” Mr. Dalton ruffled Nate’s hair.

Nate didn’t know what Mr. Dalton meant but he understood the moment he glanced in the mirror. Mr. Dalton opened up what seemed to be a pomade. Mr. Dalton dipped his fingers into the goop and slowly rubbed it between his hands.

Nate stood there and allowed Mr. Dalton to slowly invite the goo into Nate’s hair.

Something about it was odd to Nate. The whole favor was meant for Mr. Dalton's son. But here Nate was getting the full package. Nate didn’t understand why Mr. Dalton felt a need to do Nate’s hair.

Even so strangely, Nate found himself growing fonder to Mr. Dalton. Maybe it was the fact that Mr. Dalton was treating Nate like his own. It was something about the act of Mr. Dalton’s control over Nate’s own hair.

The goo was applied to Nate’s hair and then slowly with the comb on Mr. Dalton’s hand, the hair was slowly combed over to the side with a part. Nate observed himself as he slowly saw his image transformed to be of similar to Mr. Dalton.

Nate looked different with the new hair and the suit. His hair was slick from the goo but Nate found himself liking it as his hair resembles of Mr. Dalton.

“There, now that’s proper.” Mr. Dalton smiled as he wiped the leftover off his hands with a cloth.

“It’ll be a shame to discard all our efforts after completing you.” Mr. Dalton said, “why don’t you enjoy tea with me for a bit.

Nate hesitated for a bit upon hearing the request. He didn’t plan for this and he did need to go to the mall for new clothes. Then Nate laughed at himself.

“Why is shopping more important?” Nate thought to himself. But it wasn’t the shopping that concerned him. It was seeing himself like Mr. Dalton. Something about it scared him.

“It’s for his son.” Nate tried to explain to himself why he did this in the first place.

Nate then pondered for a second and realized it was useless for such thoughts. To have tea with Mr. Dalton wouldn’t hurt.

“I wouldn’t mind it.”

Mr. Dalton smiled at the acceptance, “I’m glad.”

Mr. Dalton led Nate back to the dining room and had the tea set up for both of them. They chatted for a bit and before Nate knew, an hour had passed.

“How does everything feel?” Mr. Dalton asked, “the suit.”

“It feels great.” Nate exclaimed, “your son would love the suit. Speaking which, I bet your son is quite well dressed as you.”

Mr. Dalton smiled, “Yes he is. I am a strict man with rules.”

Nate glanced at the clock and was surprised at the time.

“Time sure flies by quickly.” Nate commented. He definitely didn’t expect to be at Mr. Dalton house for quite some time. Surely though, Nate did consider the time spent between them was a nice moment.

“I should get going.” Nate said with disappointment, “I had a great time Mr. Dalton. I’m sorry about the suit. I didn't mean to wear it for an hour when it’s meant for your son.”

“No worries.” Mr. Dalton laughed and shook his head, “tell me Nate, do you enjoy wearing the suit?”

Nate paused for a second to think about the question, “I do.”

Mr. Dalton smiled, “then it’s settled.”

“What’s settled?”

Mr. Dalton stood up and stood behind Nate who was sitting down on a wooden chair. He put his hands on Nate’s shoulder and massaged it a bit.

Mr. Dalton then leaned in towards Nate’s ear.

“Feel comfortable?” Mr. Dalton whispered.

Nate nodded nervously. Something was wrong. Nate could feel it in his gut.

Nate jolted when he felt Mr. Dalton’s hand gliding down the suit jacket to his nipples. Mr. Dalton's hands rubbed it a bit then gripped it gently.

“Mmmf.” Nate silently groaned as Mr. Dalton touched him for a couple of seconds.

“Do you like it?” Mr. Dalton asked.

Nate sat still unable to answer.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t have a son.” Mr. Dalton confessed.

Nate was stunned. All questions flooded into Nate’s mind. Mr. Dalton didn’t have a son? Then where did the suit come from? Why did Mr. Dalton owns a suit of such size? Why did Mr. Dalton made Nate wear the suit?

“In case you’re wondering, the suit belonged to me. It was what I wore when I had my rite of passage.” Mr. Dalton said.

Nate processed the information hard. He couldn’t believe it. The suit was Mr. Dalton’s. What Nate didn’t understand was the rite of passage. All sorts of emotions filled into Nate: betrayal, deception, anger, confusion, and fear.

“What you’re wearing right now, I wore it in the past.” Mr. Dalton explained.

Nate gulped nervously. He didn’t know how to react or what to do upon hearing what Mr. Dalton had just said. A seed of fear was starting to sprout inside of Nate. There was an intention to all of this and Nate was worried.

“You were interested.” Mr. Dalton said, “it’s ok.”

Nate weakly grunted as Mr. Dalton stood in front of him. Mr. Dalton then bent downward and grabbed Nate’s hand. Mr. Daltoned placed it onto his moustache.

“Go on. Feel it.” Mr. Dalton smiled.

Nate didn’t know what to do but felt Mr. Dalton's thick moustache. Despite all the information Nate was receiving, upon touching Mr. Dalton moustache, Nate could feel his rod slowly growing.

“Do you like it?” Mr. Dalton asked.

“Yes.” Nate weakly admitted. Nate was astonished by the fact that he could say such a thing.

“You could have one too.” Mr Dalton smiled, “I had one when I was your age.”

“I could help you grow one.” Mr. Dalton said.

Nate just stared at him, unable to speak. Fear filled into him, thoughts of the unknown.

“I could make you wear a suit every day.” Mr. Dalton said.

To wear a suit everyday. Nate couldn’t imagine himself to that extent. He could never follow such expectations.

Mr. Dalton grinned, “don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to commit nor give an answer today. Although, I do want to help you.” Mr. Dalton moved his hands to Nate’s bulge.

“After all, we can make sure you have confidence right?” Mr. Dalton said.

Nate gulped and just nodded mindlessly.

“I want you to try something. All you have to do is stay seated on your chair. You won’t even have to do anything.” Mr. Dalton assured Nate.

Mr. Dalton bent down and took off his brown loafers revealing his tan socks. Nate was confused as to why. In general, Nate was confused about everything. He found himself wanting to leave. Nate needed to get out. He couldn’t find courage.

Mr. Dalton approached him with the brown loafer.

“What was he going to do?” Nate asked himself as he felt his heart thumping.

Mr. Dalton held his loafer in one of his hands, then Mr. Dalton held it in front of Nate.

“Move your head forward.” Mr. Dalton said.

Nate couldn’t find himself to disobey. He didn’t know what would happen if he did. So Nate moved his head forward closer to the loafer in fear.

A smell hit his nose as he slowly got closer. It was an aroma of leather mixed with a hint of Mr. Dalton pheromones. Nate felt his cock instantly hard as the aroma hit him. It was the smell of leather. It was the smell of Mr. Dalton’s pheromones.

“Why?” Nate asked himself, “why am I…” Nate couldn’t explain why he felt oddly sensual.

“Good boy.” Mr. Dalton complimented, “now put your nose in there and smell Mr. Dalton’s loafer.”

“Oah.” Nate found himself moaning as he followed what Mr. Dalton told him. The thought had never ever occurred to him. Nate always found the whole sniffing shoe was humiliating. His past self would’ve laughed at himself if he found out he inhaled Mr. Dalton loafer. But this was different. It was Mr. Dalton’s. Nate was smelling the manliness aroma of Mr. Dalton and it made Nate hard.

Nate couldn’t help himself. He inhaled it and felt it coursing through his veins, entering through all the corners in his body.

“Feel the tie on your neck. Wiggle your toes in those socks and loafers. Feel the weight of the suit upon you Nate.”

Nate continued inhaling the aroma and couldn’t help it but did what Mr. Dalton told him. Mr. Dalton was right. Nate could feel the purple tie on his neck. The soft smooth socks he wore. How comfortable the loafers were. Nate found himself harder and harder at such thoughts.

Mr. Dalton pulled the loafer away and grinned at Nate’s response.

Nate’s breath was heavy. His cock was erected. He could feel his body heating. He felt lust. He wanted more.

“Fuck.” Nate shouted in his head. After all, Nate didn’t understand what was happening.

“That is a Dalton.” Mr. Dalton said.

“What do you think?” Mr. Dalton asked as he pushed the loafer back to Nate’s nose.

Nate moaned loudly, inhaling it back in. He couldn’t believe himself. Nate’s body yearned more. His mind did not.

“Good boy. Smell that Dalton inside of you.” Mr. Dalton praised him.

Nate could feel his erected cock rubbed by Mr. Dalton. Nate could feel his precum slowly oozing out by the touches of Mr. Dalton.

“Do you want it?” Mr. Dalton asked.

“Yes.” Nate groaned uncontrollably.

“I could make you a dapper boy Nathaniel. Would you like that?”

“I… don’t know sir.” Nate whimpered. Nate was never called a Nathaniel before. He didn’t know what to think of it coming from Mr. Dalton.

The loafer in front of Nate was taken back again, revealing Mr. Dalton wide grin. Mr. Dalton was pleased at the revelation: the fact that Mr. Dalton could have Nate dancing under his two fingers with the smell of his own loafer.

“Stand up son.” Mr. Dalton ordered.

Nate huffed a bit and then stood up in par with Mr. Dalton. Nate could feel under his trouser his fully erected hardened cock.

Mr. Dalton pointed to the table where they just had tea, “hands on it, bend over.”

Nate hesitated a bit but the stern look on Mr. Dalton made him bend to the table. Mr. Dalton commended authority. He didn’t know what to do except to do what Mr. Dalton wanted. He was never scared of Mr. Dalton but now, he could fear running through him. What would happen if Nate disobeyed him? The thought shuddered him.

Nate bent over on the table.

“Today’s a very special day for you Nate.” Mr. Dalton said as Nate could feel his buttocks being rubbed.

“Spread your legs.” Mr. Dalton said with authority.

Nate spread his legs wide letting Mr. Dalton see the view.

“Umpf.” Nate winced as he found Mr. Dalton’s hand coming from under and up to his bulge.

“I want you to be honest with me Nate.”

“Mmmf.” Nate moaned.

“You want to be a dapper gentleman don’t you? To fulfill a lifestyle like me.” Mr. Dalton asked.

Nate felt unable to respond. It was an outrageous idea. Such a thought Nate will never commit.

“Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it. Trust me, you do.” Mr. Dalton said as he massaged Nate’s cock slowly.

“Argh.” Nate moaned silently.

“Don’t you like it? To wear a proper man’s outfit. The proper shoes. It’s nothing compared to the clothes you were wearing earlier.”

Nate winced, “I… sir.” Nate didn’t want to respond to that statement. He couldn’t find himself accepting such a concept.

Nate groaned as he felt Mr. Dalton hand unzipped Nate’s fly. Mr. Dalton’s hand reached in and massaged Nate’s cock under the white brief. More specifically, Mr. Dalton's hand was on a small wet spot on the white briefs.

“You’re pumping, my boy.” Mr. Dalton grinned.

“Ooah.” Nate slowly groaned louder as Mr. Dalton found the right spots.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Mr. Dalton continued, “in fact, mine pumped a bit in the exact ones you’re wearing.”

Nate shuddered and felt more excited. His body but not his mind. Something about being in the same brief that Mr. Dalton wore and precummed made his body warm. Nate wanted to leave. Nate needed to go. He didn’t want any of this but he could feel his body betraying him. It wanted more. It wanted more of Mr. Dalton.

“Fuck.” Nate swore again in his head.

“I know you’re struggling a bit.” Mr. Dalton said, “Nate, let me show you, help you. You don’t have to do anything at all.”

“OOooah!” Nate moaned out loud as he felt Mr. Dalton hand swept under the white brief and held onto Nate’s cock.

“Fuck!” Nate swore out loud as Mr. Dalton rubbed.

“MMMMM!” Nate whimpered loudly as he felt Mr. Dalton behind him. Mr. Dalton’s trousers were touching his buttocks. Nate could feel Mr. Dalton erect manhood under the trousers.

“It would be fitting for you to have your rite of passage in the suit. Let me give you your rite of passage Nate. Transcend you into a proper man that you’re meant to be.” Mr. Dalton whispered.

“Would you like that?” Mr. Dalton asked as he continued rubbing Nate’s cock.

“Oawh!” Nate grunted out loud. Nate couldn’t help himself.

“No.” Nate wanted to say, “I don’t want your rite of passage.”

Mr. Dalton continued with his hands.

Every touch of Mr. Dalton made Nate lose his sanity. Nate could feel his own body slowly whisper into Nate’s mind, convincing himself of the madness.

“It feels so good.” Nate moaned out loud. Slowly and slowly, Nate could feel his body and mind in sync.

“No.” Nate wanted to convince himself once more, Nate didn’t want it. Did he?

“Yes.” Nate moaned out loud, his voice succumbed to the invoked desire. The desire to have Mr. Dalton grew and grew.

“Good boy.” Mr. Dalton said out loud with glee.

Nate’s body felt increasingly hot. Each stroke Mr. Dalton had over him fitted a missing piece inside of Nate.

Nate moaned and gasped. Sweat rushed in and out as Mr. Dalton elegantly rubbed Nate’s cock. Nate could feel himself building and building.

“I want you to change your mindset Nate.” Mr. Dalton said, “I want you to wear what is only proper. I want you to enjoy wearing it. I want you to think properly. Let me help you. Tell me Nate.”

“Yes sir.” Nate whimpered uncontrollably.

“I want you to dress like a proper man once this is over. You’re not a boy anymore.” Mr. Dalton said once more.

“I…” Nate wanted to protest. The request was insane. Nate couldn’t believe that he would succumb to Mr. Dalton’s words.

Mr. Dalton just smiled as he continued to rock Nate’s cock.

“Take one of your loafers off.” Mr. Dalton ordered Nate.

Nate slipped out of his brown loafer from his right feet. The edging momentarily stopped as Mr. Dalton bent down to pick up the brown loafer.

With one of Mr. Dalton's hands, he held the loafer under Nate’s cock. With the other, he placed it back to where he had it and slowly built momentum again.

“Ooooah!!!” Nate moaned louder and louder as Mr. Dalton continued his rhythm.

“I’m going to make you cum Nate.” Mr. Dalton stated.

“You’re going to cum right in there, in your shiny brown loafer.” Mr. Dalton smiled.

“Oah!” Nare moaned loudly as Mr. Dalton continued to stroke him off. Nate found himself wanting it more and more. Streams of white cream slowly peak out of Nate’s cock and drip into his brown loafer. Nate's eyes were focused on the site breathing heavily: from Mr. Dalton hands on Nate’s own cock, to the slowly dripped cream into the polished shiny brown loafer that Mr. Dalton made him wear, to Mr. Dalton own loafer in view that Nate had smelled.

“Yes.” Nate whimpered. His body was enjoying it. His mind was enjoying it. He was enjoying it.

“It’s coming.” Nate groaned out loud as he could feel the ecstasy slowly growing, “you’re going to make me cum Mr. Dalton.”

Mr. Dalton yanked it on and off as Nate moaned in full ecstasy, “this is your rite of passage Nate.”

“Argh!” Nate yelled in ecstasy as he shot his load that landed in the brown loafer.

“Good boy!” Mr. Nate shouted out loud.

“OOOAH!” Nate shouted out loudly letting out his river of white cream cum dripped into the brown loafer. Nate found himself humping into Mr. Dalton’s hand. He found himself thinking of Mr. Dalton. He found himself thinking about the suit he was in. The fact that his hair was combed like Mr. Dalton. Then his thought wandered to the touches of Mr. Dalton’s moustache. Nate’s body couldn’t help it out but released an overwhelming sensation to such thoughts.

“Fuck! Oh! Mr. Dalton! Oagh!!” Nate shouted out loud as he felt a force he had never felt before. Nate’s arms pressed against the table hard for support as he felt his whole body rocking forward and back.

“Atta boy!” Mr. Dalton continued stroking Nate’s cock.

“OOOAH!” Nate moaned one last time as he felt the last of it dripped outward.

Then slowly and pleasantly as the feeling dies down, Nate finds himself basked in a weird state.

Nate had just allowed Mr. Dalton to jack him off.

Nate shook his head and took a breath to recompose himself as to what had happened. Nate was no longer controlled by such lust. Nate could only stare at the aftermath. A mixture of feelings overwhelmed Nate. It was nothing like he felt before but more importantly, Nate found himself ashamed of the fact that he enjoy the vision Mr. Dalton had painted.

But the ecstasy was too short lived. A newfound emotions arose back within Nate of the reality: betrayal, deception, and Mr. Dalton’s unwanted forced ideology.

Mr. Dalton bent down behind Nate and held the stained brown loafer in front of Nate.

“Now, put your feet back into the loafer.” Mr. Dalton said.

Nate didn’t know why he did what Mr. Dalton said. Nate just followed his orders again and slid his feet slowly back into his brown loafer. Nate could feel his feet squish into the warmth of the cream. Nate silently moaned as he could feel it on his brown socks. It felt good.

“The suit is yours.” Mr. Dalton said after a delay.

“What?” Nate silently pants trying to understand what Mr. Dalton had just told him.

“It is my gift to you. You’ve earned it for your rite of passage.” Mr. Dalton congratulated Nate.

Nate couldn’t comprehend what Mr. Dalton had told him. Did Nate just hear that Mr. Dalton was giving the suit away. Nate couldn’t tell if he was pleased or was shocked.

“I bet you’d like that.” Mr. Dalton grinned, allowing Nate to take a rest.

“Mr. Dalton -“

“Nate, I gave you the rite of passage because I know you won’t disappoint me. I want you to be a part of my household and let me be your mentor, or your father figure.” Mr. Dalton said, “take the outfit home and enjoy it.”

Mr. Dalton paused, “however, if you want more, if you feel my proposal speaks truth in you, wear the same outfit and meet me here.”

Mr. Dalton's proposal rang through Nate’s mind.

“Mr. Dalton, this is crazy.” Nate panted heavily, “I can’t just do that.” Nate felt himself right. There was no way Nate could forsake and become a different person. To let Mr. Dalton become his mentor? Or to be in fact a father figure. Nate couldn’t find the conclusion favorable.

“Don’t disappoint me young man.” Mr. Dalton commented.

“Mr. Dalton -“

“Shh.”

Nate went silent in frustration. Nate just nodded at him. He wanted to leave and this was the opportunity that Mr. Dalton had given him. While Nate did enjoy the moment spent with Mr. Dalton, Nate knew that he wasn’t going to come back. Nate knew he didn’t want to be associated with Mr. Dalton ever again.

Nate managed to stand up and stabilized himself. He couldn’t bring himself to look into Mr. Dalton’s eye.

“He’s crazy. This is crazy and stupid.” Nate thought to himself. Nate couldn’t believe that he found himself in such lust after what Mr. Dalton had done.

First thing he was going to do was get out of the suit that Mr. Dalton gave him. He looked around and saw none of his clothes in sight. Nate clenched his teeth.

Nate quickly left Mr. Dalton’s home in his new suit and shoes. Except, while the outrageous idea of Mr. Dalton lingers in Nate’s thoughts, all he could’ve thought was the experience that happened. Nate didn’t deny that it felt good. Oddly, after that whole experience, he found himself… even more fond of Mr. Dalton. To put it in words, Mr. Dalton was…

Nate had no words to describe Mr. Dalton.