The mirror was Iain Brady’s dearest companion whenever his husband wasn’t home. As he didn’t work and wanted for nothing, he had certain responsibilities around the house, certain duties that he had to take care of on a day to day basis. He was faithful in fulfilling his half of the bargain, of course, but every free moment he had, he spent in front of the mirror.

Iain ran his hands down the front of his body. He would never get tired of his fingers gliding over his smooth, sensitive, supple skin. Rubbing them over the crevices of his cobbled abs was one of the pleasures of his days.

If someone had told Iain a few years ago that his days would be spent cleaning a wonderful apartment for a wonderful man and vainly admiring himself in the mirror, he would have laughed. At the time, in such an economy, Iain had had little opportunity to indulge in self-improvement. He’d been a mess, chocked full of sugar, caffeine, and unhealthy carbs, stressed to hell and back with a head stuffed with worries and panic about bills and rent and grocery money.

Iain didn’t remember much of those old days now, but he remembered just enough to be thankful that he didn’t have to suffer as he once had. Just to make ends meet he’d had to work two equally exhausting jobs, driving both his brain and body to exhaustion. Now he could scarcely comprehend how he’d even managed to soldier through.

For all the despair that the loss of both his jobs after a particularly bad day had caused him, Iain looked back and remembered the tragedy fondly as the best thing that could have ever happened to him. Sure,he’d had to bounce between friends’ places for a good two weeks before living out of his car for another week, but it had eventually gotten him somewhere great. If not for the fever he’d come down with, making him miss three days of work in a row, he would have never found the advert that would change his life.

Iain giggled vapidly as he stuck his hand down the front of his tight briefs. It was the only thing he ever wore around the apartment, if he wore anything at all. Remembering his past made him feel a little bit sad in the back of his head, but mostly it just made him horny because it meant reliving the happiest days of his life.

Iain grabbed his package. His cock, if it could even be called that, strained against its pretty little cage, a symbol of his husband’s ownership over him. He let out a little moan, making slutty faces at the mirror as if it would make his husband come home faster from work.

Sliding his other hand down the back of his briefs, Iain gently fingered his hole while he reminisced about the advert that changed his destiny forever.

Even though he was living out of a car, Iain refused to acknowledge that he had been beaten down by life. He refused to take the misery lying down. He made do. Public libraries were a godsend, letting him use their internet connection to continue his job hunt.

As luck would have it, Iain eventually came across a job posting that seemed promising. It wasn’t exactly in the field he’d studied, but he had applicable skills and it was better than nothing. And he’d heard of the company before. Hierarch Industries. People were wary of it as its presence was disruptive to the market, but hardly anyone disagreed that it was doing very well for itself.

Iain sent in his application, and as if a guardian angel was looking down on him from above, received a prompt response asking him to come in and have a chat with the recruiter. Spending the last of his savings on looking as decent as he could for the interview, Iain strolled into the London headquarters of Hierarch Industries and presented himself to the hiring manager.

Iain didn’t really remember the questions that he’d been asked anymore. He hardly remembered anything, these days. It was just so much easier to not think and let his husband do the thinking for him. The only things he remembered for sure were the things he was told to remember. He did remember thinking, though, that the questions seemed strangely intimate.

Whatever doubts Iain had were quickly derailed when the hiring manager informed him that he would be hired. When he asked when he would start, the hiring manager told him he could start as soon as possible on one condition: that he see one of the onsite specialists for a health evaluation.

The request was strange and rather non-standard, but Iain was just so excited and relieved to finally have a decent job offer that he went as soon as the hiring manager released him. As he walked into the clinic, he expected something along the lines of a regular checkup, but the specialist sat him down instead and told him about a special program in Hierarch Industries.

Iain was intrigued but skeptical of the idea of entering the program, considering some of the language that was used, but once the specialist said that rent-free housing would be provided, Iain jumped on the opportunity. All he needed to do was drink a pale blue solution.

Iain chewed on his lower lip. He went down to all fours and arched his back, pushing the waistband of his briefs down to expose his ass. He worked his fingers into his hole, sawing them in and out as slick trickled out of him in a constant stream.

The solution was salty-sweet and it tingled on the way down. When it came into Iain stomach, it seemed to spread a numb warmth around his body. He couldn’t help but shamelessly moan in front of the specialist, his hole twitching and feeling strangely empty.

Iain felt like he was going to go insane if he didn’t take care of the itch deep inside him. Just then, the door opened and a tall man, a large man, a naked man, the most beautiful man that Iain had ever seen, entered the room and stopped his heart.

One breath was all it took, and Iain was instantly addicted to the faint smell of persimmons that hung around the man. The man picked him up, princess-style, and carried him out the door. Every breath filled Iain’s lungs with the intoxicating scent. It made his cock hard and his mind foggy. He would never think clearly again.

Iain moaned, rolling his hips as he fucked his ass backward onto his fingers. His chiseled stomach flexed and clenched and relaxed. His toes curled from the pleasure. His cocklet strained in its cage and leaked onto the bed beneath him.

The man carried Iain to a room and laid him down on a bed. He pressed his lips to Iain’s. Rapture exploded through Iain’s body, turning his thoughts to mush. "I know you must be tired of all the pesky little thoughts and worries crammed into that pretty head of yours," said the man as he stroked the side of Iain’s face. "Don’t you worry, boi, we’ll take care of all of that soon enough."

Iain shouted, his hole clamping around his fingers as rolling waves of pleasure crashed through his body. His insides fluttered and spasmed, but it was a dry orgasm. Not even the slick dribbling out of his hole thickened in the slightest.

"Aww," said a gruff voice from the doorway. Iain moaned as another wave of pleasure rolled through his body at the sound of his husband’s voice. "Are your fingers not enough for you, boi?" Iain shook his head and giggled vapidly.

"Don’t you worry," said Iain’s husband. Iain’s back arched as a rough hand pulled his fingers away from his hole, and a hot, wet tongue replaced them. "Daddy’s here now. And daddy will make sure you’re stuffed like the good little himbo you are."