Cleaning Dishes Chapter 3
Jamie's viewpoint:
Another year, another Halloween party that my roommate forced me to attend, despite my objections. I could've sworn I said no, but apparently, that doesn't matter.
I'm dressed in the same sexy costume I wore last year. I check out my reflection - my gym efforts have paid off, with my pecs and shoulders standing out in my tight black muscle shirt, while my cobbled midriff remains exposed. The previously snug black cargo pants now hang loyally, showing off the pathway to my crotch.
While avoiding becoming a pale, computer-loving zombie , I've kept my dark brown hair styled back. I'm far from a spy, but who cares? I could pass for one. The reality is that I'm not a fan of Halloween or parties.
"JAMIE!" Adam yells from the other side of the apartment. "We've got to hurry if we're not going to be late!"
I listen to his music blasting and the clattering of vodka bottles in the kitchen. He doesn't spend much on drinks; instead, he smuggles in hidden flasks of vodka. He may save on drinks, but his loud music seems to be going against that. I'm all for saving money, but with previous complaints hovering above our heads, he might garner a fine, cutting into his vaunted vodka funds.
I venture into the kitchen and turn off his music, preparing for his angry response. This isn't the first time we've had this talk.
"Adam," I start. "I've said this before. You can't turn the music up that loud. The office won't allow it, and we risk another complaint."
He stops his vodka pouring and mumbles, "That bitch can suck my dick. Although, I'd let you, dressed like that."
He could try flirting, but I'm not his type. He's cute with his tight ass, but I can't be swayed by his personality. I don't even know why I'm his roommate, to be honest. I had to do something after he ditched my previous roommate with no notice and left behind a mess.
"If you want my room's tranquility, you should be more considerate," I suggest. "You're going to be fined if it continues. I'll be paying for that since it's not my music that's causing the ruckus."
A glint of red flashes across his cheeks. His red hair reminiscent of a gay greaser gives him an even greater contrast to his reaction. He's being defensive, putting down my concerns about the volume levels.
"Look, you're trying to make me feel like a nuisance in my own home," he rambles. "Of course, I don't think I'm better than anyone, but why do I feel like I'm being seen as a nuisance?"
"I'm not trying to make you feel bad, " I correct. "But I want to coexist peacefully, without causing problems fro others."
He stares at me, livid. "Look here! I pay for this place. I deserve to enjoy my own home. I want to listen to loud music, even if sometimes it's too loud. Why should I get guilt-tripped by someone who thinks they're better than everyone?"
"I never said that," I clarify. "I'm stressing the importance of consideration for others. Is it really that hard to comprehend?"
Now, this fight wasn't planned, yet it happened. I'm close to snapping. I've been holding back my annoyance for months. Finally, I let it go.
This has been an argument-filled night; for years I've welcomed them. Whether it's over his loud music or any other issue, my roommate's attitude seemed unyielding against my common sense.
"It's my own nose! This," I said, incredulous and annoyed, "from the guy who thinks the only way to live is sitting on his ass in front of a computer. I haven't seen you bring anyone home lately. I guess you're content with jerking off to some messed up Reddit porn, playing your stupid games, and sleeping." If that's what he considers life, I don't want it. I've got only one chance at this, and I'm going to make the most of it. So tonight, you can sit down and watch whatever you want, and I'm going to get a real guy—someone who knows how to live and how to have some serious fun with me."
Adam retreats to the kitchen to grab his flask and stomp out like a petulant child, flipping me off as he leaves. It's not how I wanted this night to turn out.
Sighing, I head back to my bedroom and toss myself on the bed. Might as well go to this party to show Adam that I can party it up.
Just as I'm about to lock my door, I run into Mrs. Johnson. If only she were bringing me good news, but tonight hasn't been kind to me. The look on her face said it all; I was in for another measly fine.
"Evening, Mrs. Johnson," I said, trying to sound cordial.
"What time is it?" she asked.
Not a lucky night so far. For someone so tiny and frail, this woman was not someone to trifle with.
I check my watch and find it's only nine.
"Nine, ma'am," I said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yes," she snapped. "You and your sissy roommate can be quiet. I've had enough of the noise you call music. And now, you're shouting? Have you young people no decency?"
I'd rather deal with Adam than this old hag.
"Mrs. Johnson," I started, but she cut me off.
"If I hear anything more from you, I'll skip the office and call the police."
Threatening me with the cops for something that wasn't my fault and when I tried to stop the problem—talk about a waste of time for all involved. I tune her out and wait for her to finish ranting.
"Mrs. Johnson," I began, getting her attention. "First, let's both accept that quiet hours begin at ten. Threatening me with the police when it's clear no rule was broken is a waste of everyone's time. Second, the sound you heard was me telling Adam he needed to think of others and to turn down his music. I'm not here to deal with you tonight. I'm going to a party and suggest you try doing the same."
I spin on my heel and leave. Never let the old biddies get the last word.
"Well, I'll never!"
I turn around and say, "It's clear."
Dealing with Adam tested my patience, and now because of him, I'm dealing with a cranky old woman. Frustrated, I make my way down to the first floor, hoping to avoid such unpleasantness.
Kids shouted "trick or treat" as they trotted past houses wearing an assortment of costumes and carrying bags of candy. Careful not to send some overexcited kids tumbling, I made it out of the neighborhood.
The stroll to the club took around fifteen minutes. With each passing minute, I grew grumpier. I don't want to stay home and lose, but what do Adam's thoughts matter? But then I thought about him and his drunken shenanigans. The anticipation of being crammed with a crowd of rowdy people made my blood boil.
I see Adam near the front of the line. He was downing more from his flask and creating conflict with the bouncer. It's wrong to let someone tipsy into the club. His friends, who are admittedly much better than him, are attempting to calm him down. There was even a little satisfaction in knowing he was having a crappy night.
This joy was short-lived as a touch from someone behind me and a soaking sensation in my clothes left me livid. The frustration of maybe having to go home and change on top of an already crap day made me blow a gasket.
"What the hell!?" I yelled. "What else is going to happen tonight!"?
I glance around to observe people gazing at me and the individual who tripped over me on the floor. Exhausted, I extend a hand to assist him in rising. He grabs my hand and observes the shattered bottle on the ground. Knowing that the year etched on the remaining label will result in a significantly costly blunder, we make eye contact, realizing my shirt is insignificant in comparison to his predicament.
"Apologies," he muttered. "I wasn't focused on where I was headed."
To prevent escalating the situation, I emitted a long sigh.
"Relax," I encouraged. "Additionally, I doubt yelling at me will enhance the situation."
Worried that he'd catch trouble, the man tensed when he spotted my attire.
"We have to get you out of those clothes!" he exclaimed. "Follow me."
Despite my intention to comply, I remained in place.
"It's fine," I tried to console him. "I'd probably just head home anyway."
"No, you fail to comprehend." he rebutted. "Your boss won't allow me to let you depart covered in debris because of his employees' actions. He'd like you to clean yourself up and move on, clothed."
Parts of me were persuaded, yet another part considered the possibility that he desired an ally to validate his explanation for the broken, possibly pricey bottle's mishap. In the event that I could aid him, perhaps karma would be lenient with me for once.
"Very well," I accepted. "Let's visit your boss. We're unable to remove this bottle, though."
"Fret not." he informed me. "I'll send someone to clean this mess up."
Luckily, we were near a door that resembled the staff entrance. An employee was approaching from the doorway, fairly enraged.
"Matty," he began, "Where were you?"
"Apologies, sir," the now identified Matty apologized. "I collided into a patron and broke a flask of the boss' scotch. The patron is covered in it. I was on my way to fetch a patron to deliver this to the boss for a shower, a replacement set of garments."
"Verily," I remarked, trying to discourage wrath. "It was a misstep."
"Evidently," the new worker, whose name tag read Martin, responded slowly.
"Regardless, Matty, you're to clean this up, apologize to the boss, and clarify this incident. I'll accompany the patron to the boss, enabling them to freshen up and relocate wearing new attire. We cannot permit him to smell of scotch or perspire with stickiness, nor can we tolerate the indignity from recurring."
The sentiment appeared to have frightened Matty, who quickly began sweeping up many of the glass pieces. Martin led me away, leaving Matty to conclude his task.
The room I previously thought was a staff entrance led us further into what seemed to be a plush setting. Music's thunderous bass emanated throughout the hallways and indicated the venue's ambiance. It was no wonder Adam frequently played his music at a high volume - one would be incapable of discerning words after being here once.
Martin ushered me into an elevator, where the booming beat rendered it difficult to even think. When we emerged from the elevator, we discovered a lavish chamber distant from the deafening rhythm. I capitalized on this opportunity to advocate for Matty.
"You might've been a bit rough on him. It was just an accident."
"I know," Martin answered. "But he has a past concerning mishandling and spilling objects. The boss retains him due to his appeal. At this moment, if you could kindly wait, I'll enter the boss' office."
I attempted to deny assistance, but Martin had vanished. I observed detailed furniture, works of art, and gold craftsmanship scattered around the space and leading into a corridor. Unquestionably, the boss was wealthy. Concerns of Matty's debt to the boss arose; the paycheck I earn wouldn't be enough to reimburse him for the shattered bottle's cost. A naked man in his middle-aged years or late 30s approached me. His closely cropped facial hair started to reveal signs of greying, yet his tan skin suggested Mediterranean roots. His endearing smile exposed teeth, and his jawline strengthened, presenting a healthy disposition one sought for a hefty sum.
https://darkdoomspawn.deviantart.com/art/Vigorous-Man-In-Fear-562892099
Amid the stickiness of my clothes, the scandalous spectacle happening just feet away, and the enigmatic grin of the man looming over me, I'd prefer to be at home, doing what Adam claimed I would do.
"Welcome to the entertainment room," he says with a deep voice. "My name is Stephan."
I reach out, taking his extended hand, not wanting to be deemed impolite.
"Nice to meet you, sir...I mean, Stephan," I respond. "I think this is all a miscommunication. Martin said I would receive clothes, but I live more than close enough to go home and freshen up. I don't want to soil your Halloween celebration."
I attempt to turn, but the strong hand, which kept me captive a few moments earlier, obstructs my exit.
"Nonsense," he says lazily. "My establishment is renowned as the top in the city, and I refuse for you to leave doused in alcohol from a clumsy worker. You'll shift along with me, and I won't tolerate any opposition."
With an iron grip, he leads me down the corridor, away from the orgy occurring in the entertainment room. The room we traverse to is gorgeously displayed, yet oozes affluence. The mattress in the center dwarfs most king-sized mattresses, easily fitting five people. The couches and cushions littered around the room betray the opulence within the entryway. This room, it seems, was intended for more intimate experiences. Admittedly, Stephan's touches of elegance truly impress me.
"It truly is a captivating room, Stephan," I compliment.
While the room is inviting, the finery around me points to high class. It is the computer in the office next door that captures my attention. Seamlessly outfitted, it leaps above my own.
"Thanks," he responds. "I only allow select employees and some guests in here. The gentlemen you saw surrounding the orgy you passed were beholden to me. They fulfill their role and are correspondingly rewarded. Most boys only need one year to sustain themselves for the next ten. Occasionally, they continue longer, but I dictate they evolve their position after two years. As seen by my recommendation letters to successful employees who leave."
My curiosity perks upon the casual manner of recruitment for such a position.
"But they're nothing but prostitutes, aren't they?" I question.
If it bothered him, it didn't show.
"Yes," he confirms. "All my employees are escorts. They recognise the job expectations. They're grown men and women with autonomy, not captives. They can leave if they wish, and I won't impede their liberation. Many receive letters of reference after their fulfillment."
The more I mull over the situation, the fewer reasons I can find to critique. The situation I witnessed sent the message that no one was distressed, yet I haven’t probed deeper.
"What's to say about diseases?" I query. "Taking on that many sexual partners cannot be advantageous to their health."
Swiftly, he replied.
"Money grants me access to the finest medical advancements possible. Simply countersaid, the men who service here carry no risk, no matter their fluctuating number of sexual partners."
A degree of incredulity kicks in, yet his solemn voice coefficients my mistrust. So, as I peer at the orgy in the hall, I seek out a chance to verify the claim for myself, despite the boredom nearby.
"I'd love to prove its validity and happily take of your proffers," I respond.
The spreading grin troubles me, but I subdue reservation.
"Follow me", he commands, moving towards a room.
Much like the bedroom we'd just passed, Stephan's bathroom exudes simplicity and comfort, yet is resplendent. To the right, a large bathtub houses multitudes. A spacious shower sits proudly in the corner. The shower itself is expansive, deluging any person fortunate enough to use it instantaneously.
Seeing me examining our next location, Stephan laughs.
"This is my favorite room in the club...apart from the bedroom we vacated. I occupy it often, I'm ashamed to admit. Come, let's get you in the shower."
He begins to disrobe while gesturing for me to do the same. I was not preparing for co-bathing, yet the unmistakable sound of a lock signifies my lack of choice. No matter how long my stay here, I will return to my humble apartment.
Stephan presents a well-kept appearance. His chiseled face just hints at the rough exterior beneath his tailored blazer and silky shirt. Beneath those layers, his torso is a work of art, with defined pecs bulging like shelves. Muscles ripple down from them, leading to a ripped six-pack. His chest features a trail of hair that extends to his crotch, a detail he owns without hesitation.
He boasts the largest cock I've ever witnessed: long, thick, and veiny. It's evident that Stephan relishes the idea of fucking. While I'm not a bottom, if I were confronted with him, I'd know who'd be taking a cock.
"I suppose we've finished our examination," he inquires, guiding the way to the shower.
I follow, shutting the door behind me. I peek through the gap, hoping to view someone removing our garments. Stephan's are meticulously folded. Mine are dumped carelessly into a trash bag.
"Fear not." Stephan assures me. "We're quite similar in build, so I'll have something for you to wear once we're done."
The water roars to life, showering me from all sides. I've never experienced such a unique shower encounter, judging by the grin on my face. Stephan chuckles.
"As entertaining as it would be to remain here all night, we need to clean you up."
He seizes a blue bottle from a shelf and starts pouring liquid over my back and midsection. He wraps his arms around my torso, pushing his muscular chest against me. The throbbing cock pressing against my buttocks distracts me from the tingles rippling throughout my body. It slides up and down, massaging my spine, and he continues to slather soap over every inch of me.
Hands roam up and down my body, paying particular attention to my swelling package. My heart pounds in anticipation as Stephan flows lather across my thighs. He kneads my buttocks while inserting a finger into my willing anus. I'm not a virgin, but I'm panting like one in heat.
Standing, he grabs more soap and covers my hair and face with it. His strong hands, which turned me into a panting mess, knead my scalp and face, creating waves of tingles across my body. I rub the soap through my hair.
We move toward the ground, and I notice Stephan and I can now share a kiss without straining. His tongue invades my mouth as we grind our ever-growing cocks against each other. He rubs his free hand against my erection.
The scuffle for dominance ensues, as if we're fighting to conquer one another. Finally, we stop and crawl on the floor. His tongue renews its attack, while his other hand massages my expanding cock. Sparks of arousal ignite through me. I fight to retain control over my hands, which yearn to stroke his cock.
He directs himself to my massive cock and washes it with soap. The lather's tantalizing tingles intensify as he strokes his hands up and down my legs before deftly manipulating my buttocks and melting his finger into my eager hole. I'm not panting like a virgin, but there's some justice in the comparison.
Stephan urges us to face each other, allowing us to maintain eye contact. My cock throbs as he teases me without touching me. We lock lips, my tongue dancing in Stephan's mouth, while his hand glides over my hard-on. Eventually, neither of us can contain ourselves further.
Cum explodes from both of us, trickling between us down the shower floor. Our cocks remain erect, unwavering. I look down in awe as my cock expands like a bitch-breaker. My choice of words has changed. My arms and legs lengthen and expand, leaving me in awe as I grow from a six-foot-tall man to a hulking titan.
Finally, I glance at Stephan, who smirks at me congratulatorily. "There, Paul. Now you understand why you were chosen for this."
As he spoke, each word sank deeper into my mind. It felt like a truth I didn't want to acknowledge. The thought of another man surrendering to me, a man who would have me in his mouth, preparing me for his own penetration, and a man making his ass my cum depository caused my erect cock to release semen.
"Halt," I choked out. "I don't desire to ponder this."
He laughed.
"So, do you wish to become the submissive?" he inquired. "Do you wish to penetrate a man?"
The notion was revolting to me. Mere thoughts of surrendering made me want to resist.
"No." I declared, realising the truth.
I'm here to be revered. I'm here to demonstrate to these bitches what they truly are. I glance at Matty's eyes, which are filled with adoration and lust. Like I'm the one in charge and they're trained to serve, they're here to make everything more beautiful. They're here to comply.
The restraints are released, and a cocoa-hued chap goes down on his knees before me.
He starts to suck my cock and worship me, setting a rhythm to show me he'd be there as long as I wanted. Soon, another chap provides me with a glass of scotch, and Stephan raises a toast.
"To my new connection and recruitment provider," he said, raising his glass. I reciprocate.
"Recruitment provider?" I inquired.
"That's true." He said. "I have an abundance of boys craving to please, and I was being honest when I said they could leave at any time. However, as you can see, I am quite selective."
These lads are in great condition, not too flabby, but not overly muscular. They avoided trying to appear like real men.
"Your responsibility is to find lads to replace those leaving and train them with this," he said, demonstrating a pink vial. "I used the blue one on you and me to intensify the masculinity and mental changes. The pink one is to enhance the femininity."
I thought back to the shower when Stephan applied the blue gel to me. The tingling sensations, along with the surge in power. My erect penis volks into the cocoa-hued chap's throat. The guy beneath me groans as my penis lodges in his throat.
"I grasp," I said. "You require me to penetrate the males, convert them, and then fuck them. Once that's complete, you'll receive them for the last touch ups."
"Essentially, yes," he responded nonchalantly. "You find them, change them, and fuck them. When you're through, you'll offer them to me for the closing steps. This vial is what keeps them healthy, and the very same blue vial is what has changed you. It brings about changes that everyone finds enjoyable. In actuality, we may still make adjustments – you only must tell me."
"I believe I'm content with the present state," I said. "But I must ask, why me?"
"I spotted you in line. You were on your own, you appeared attractive, and you didn't act like others in line. You portrayed self-possession. Unlike some individuals. We removed a group from the line for attempting to conceal alcohol. I sent Matty here to entice you to me," Stephan said. "One of my recruiters left recently, and I required another."
"Very straightforward, you say," I sneered. "What if I'm not homosexual?"
"If you weren't, you wouldn't care who you had sex with afterwards, whether it be man or woman."
"It appears that we're not giving them a choice," I stated, thrusting my dick further into the cocoa-hued chap's throat. "We change them, then sexually assault them. What if they don't want to be like this? Why would they wish to leave?"
"The modifications I make allow them to have independence. They could remain or depart; I merely supply incentives to keep them."
"When can I begin then?"
"As fast as you are able." Stephan said after taking a sip.
"If I have to quit my current employment," I said. "My colleagues rely on me for a project. Nevertheless, I can begin on the weekend."
"That's fine," Stephan replied with a grunt. "We won't run out of lads."
"Let's seal this arrangement by making these lads squirt semen from simply being fucked," he grinned. "James, shall we fuck these lads?"
"Sounds excellent, boss." I answered and drew the cocoa-hued chap from his knees, slowly thrusting my penis into his waiting ass.The cocoa-hued chap moaned as my penis filled him up. His thin midsection began to expand a bit as the head of my cock became visible.
Read also:
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- Neighborhood Observation: Prologue
- A Surprise for One's Birthday
- Dillon's Harem: Chapter Nine in Summary
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