Toy With Me pt. 2

James continues to deny the urges that have awakened inside him and vainly continues to try and convince Erik they’d be really good at picking up girls together.

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Erik gave James a few more minutes to stew in the thick musk of his jockstrap before unbuckling the gag and removing the cup from James’ face.

"Wait…" James mumbled weakly, his cock straining in his pants. He almost didn’t want to breathe, knowing the fresh air would replace the scent that had filled his nose and lungs. "Please…"

Erik smirked. "Oh?" He stopped for a moment, holding the gag in front of James’ face. "You want more? You want to have a man’s dirty jock shoved back in your face?"

James whined. When Erik put it that way… No. No. He didn’t want a man’s dirty jockstrap in his face. No matter how good it smelled. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t.

"N-no…" he said, biting his lower lip. "I-I’m good."

Erik chuckled. "You sure?" he said, waving the cup in front of James. "I can put it back if you want."

James shook his head. No. No. "I’m good," he said, his voice definitely steadier than he was feeling. He only hoped Erik would take the fucking thing away from him already before the mouth-watering scent made him change his mind.

He was lucky he had the discipline to hold back. He never would have thought that learning how to resist tempting food and booze to maintain his body would come in handy like this.

If anyone would have told him that it would take all of his willpower to not ask for a dirty, musky jockstrap to be shoved in his face, he would have laughed. And yet, here he was, struggling mightily to hold on to his identity.

Erik smirked as he set the cup down next to the row of small brown bottles arrayed on the table. "Feel like giving yourself to me yet?" he said as he picked up one of the bottles and uncapped it.

James gulped. Part of him wanted to. But he could never admit that. Hell, he didn’t even want to acknowledge it, but Erik just smelled so damn good he didn’t think he could get enough of it.

"N-no way, man," he said. "Y-you should go find someone else to be your bitchboy."

Erik considered James for a moment. "Right. Let’s get you out of those clothes first," he said, walking around to the back of the table and rummaging in the drawer.

A pair of sharp scissors gleamed as Erik held them up to the light. "And I never said anything about making you my bitchboy. But it’s good that’s where your mind went. That’s a good sign. Means it’s working."

James blanched. It wasn’t working. It couldn’t be. "N-no way, man. I’m a top. I-I mean…" God. He didn’t even know where that had come from. "I mean I’m straight!"

Erik smirked. "For now," he said, making his way over to James. He checked the straps to make sure they were tight—not that they were needed since James still couldn’t move a muscle—and slipped the scissors under James’ sleeve.

"Look, man," James pleaded as he heard the scissors shear through the fabric of his button-up shirt. "Are you sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer?" he said.

Erik quirked an eyebrow as he made short work of the rest of the sleeve. He threaded the scissors under the straps to make sure he got everything and James couldn’t help but shiver at the sensation of the cold steel on his skin.

"What offer?" Erik said.

"Y-you said it yourself, man. I’m the kind of guy that girls throw themselves at," said James, watching the scissors as they cut through the collar of his shirt. "I-If you really want to get your dick wet I could probably get a girl for you."

Erik laughed. "First of all, that’s incredibly misogynistic. Women aren’t chattel. You can’t pick them up and trade them off to save your own hide. It doesn’t work that way."

"W-well that’s not what I meant—"

James clammed up when Erik placed his index finger on his lips. "Second of all, I don’t want a woman. I want you."

"Aw, come on, man," said James, twisting his head to the side to get Erik’s finger off his mouth. "I’m sure your fat cock would look so good pumping in and out of a wet pussy. It feels so good. I promise. I know from experience!"

Erik chuckled as he moved on to the other sleeve. After a minute or so he was done, and all he had to do was pull the fabric out of the leather straps, leaving James shirtless in his chair.

"Experience, huh?" said Erik. "Oh, I bet you have lots of that."

James nodded. "Yeah, man," he said. "I-I can teach you!" He had a fleshlight at the dorm. It was see-through, too, so he could watch Erik’s hefty dick spreading the rubber apart and give pointers on his technique.

For educational purposes, of course. Not because he had ulterior motives or anything. He definitely didn’t want to watch Erik’s cock plowing a tight, wet hole or anything.

"Mhm," said Erik, cutting away at James’ pants now that he was done with the shirt.

James perked up. "Does that mean you’ll do it?" he said. "Oh, fuck, man… I bet I can get you the most gorgeous babe…"

He trailed off as he felt something oddly acidic in his belly. It made his stomach turn. He wasn’t sure what it is but it was powerful. Heartburn, maybe.

It felt oddly reminiscent of jealousy but that couldn’t be it. There was no way in hell he’d be jealous of a the girl getting to sleep with Erik.

If anything, he would be jealous of Erik. Because he was going to make sure to find the most mind-blowing 10. Any chick less than drop-dead gorgeous just wouldn’t be enough for Erik. He was just too hot.

"Oh, man. Fuck. I bet it’d be hot watching that tight body of yours grind against a girl. Fuck. You’d let me watch, right?" said James as Erik moved on to the other pants leg.

Erik laughed. "You fucking dumbass," he said. "I told you, I’m not interested in your offer. The only pussy I’m interested in is yours. And you’re more than welcome to watch me splitting that pussy open however much you like."

James would have squirmed if he had any control over his body. Things he’d never felt before—things he’d never thought himself capable of feeling before—were manifesting. The worst was the sensation of his butthole twitching at the thought.

"C-c’mon man," James breathed. Erik was so close Fuck. He shivered as he felt the cold metal of the scissors pass just shy of his cock.

He felt like he was losing his mind. Erik smelled so good and despite himself he couldn’t help but lean in a bit for a better sniff.

God. That musk. It was… It was something else. "Please, man. I don’t want to be a faggot…" he whined as Erik promptly relieved him of his pants.

James was left with nothing more than his jockstrap. It was a plain white cotton one and the pouch was straining to contain his raging arousal.

"Nice," said Erik, the corners of his mouth curling in a small smirk as he traced the tip of his fingernail along the top of James’ cock.

James sucked in a sharp breath, trying and failing to suppress a moan as his cock throbbed. "Please…" he whined. "Please, man. Don’t turn me into a faggot. I’ll do anything you want. I promise."

"Yeah?" said Erik.

James nodded. "Yeah, man. Anything you want. Money. Chicks. Fuck. You sure you don’t want me to get you a girl? You’d look so good on top of one!"

Erik laughed. He palmed James’ cock through the pouch of his jockstrap and said, "Even spreading those cheeks and letting me slide my fat piece inside your tight jock pussy?"

James groaned. Yes, was the word stuck in his throat but he forced it back down. He wasn’t a faggot. He was straight. He liked girls. It didn’t matter how good Erik smelled or how goddamn hot he was.

"N-not that," he whimpered. "A-anything but that."

Erik chuckled. "That’s too bad. For you, anyway. I’m the kind of guy that gets what he wants." He got up, leaving James’ jock alone.

He grabbed himself and idly stroked his limp cock as he ran his hands over James’ bare skin. "You’re pretty hairy," said Erik.

James grinned. It was odd. He felt almost proud that Erik had noticed. "Y-yeah, man," he said. "You like it?"

Erik chuckled but he ignored the question. "You proud of this pelt, James?" he said. "Does it make you feel manly?"

James nodded, biting back a moan as Erik flicked at his nipple. "H-hell yeah," he said. "I-I’m the hairiest guy on the team, bro. Man’s man. T-that’s why I can’t be a faggot!"

Erik’s lips pulled into a thin smile. "That’s good," he said. He went over to the table with the brown bottles, grabbed the one he’d uncapped, and brought it over to James.

He placed his thumb over the open neck of the bottle and showed James the label. "Smooth Cream," it said.

"W-what is that?" said James. Erik wasn’t going to make him drink something foul, right? Right? God. He hoped not. Why did such a hot guy have to be so fucking wrong in the head?

Erik smirked. "Just a little something to help you along," he said. "I like you. But I think you could use a few improvements."

James frowned. None of that made any sense. But Erik didn’t give him much of a chance to ask more questions.

Erik shoved the small brown bottle up James’ left nostril. "Take a deep breath," he said, as he pinched James’ nose shut around the bottle.

"What?! Fuck, man. Get that thing out of my nose!" James complained, breathing shallowly through his mouth.

Erik glared at James. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. And trust me, you won’t enjoy the hard way."

It was the first time James had seen Erik look genuinely angry. It was an oddly terrifying thing. "O-okay, fine," he said. "Fine…"

He could already feel the scent tickling his nose. It was… weird. Unlike anything he’d ever smelled before. Acrid in a sense. Definitely intense.

There were hints of vanilla there, too. Probably something to do with the "cream" on the label, though he couldn’t be sure. And he wasn’t sure if he was just imagining it but he could just about pick up on an undertone of musk as well, and it just made the whole thing smell even better.

He breathed out through his mouth, took a second to prepare, and then took a deep breath as commanded.

"Hooo… Fuck!" he exclaimed as the astringent scent of the bottle surged up his nostrils and into his lungs. The thick, heady aroma seemed to shoot right into his brain, filling his skull with a pleasant fog that smothered his thoughts and made his mind go blank.

"Hold it," said Erik, pulling the bottle out of James’ nose and pinching his nostrils shut.

James acted purely on instinct. He did as he was told. He felt like electricity was buzzing right under his skin. He felt like his mind was melting.

The five seconds it took Erik to release his nose and give him the command to breathe out felt like an eternity and James still felt slightly buzzed even as fresh air replaced the scent that had consumed him.

"Did you like that?" said Erik.

James panted. He wanted more. Needed more. He nodded."Yeah," he said. "W-what was that?"

Erik chuckled. "Poppers," he said. "Now pay close attention to your body for this next hit. Ready?"

James closed his eyes and nodded. "Ready," he said.

"Breathe deep," said Erik.

James did just that. Again, the scent wiped out his thoughts. He moaned out loud, unable to care how much he sounded like a cheap whore in that moment.

Every inch of his skin seemed to tingle with pleasure. His whole body was flushed with arousal. His cock throbbed, straining against the confines of his jockstrap as his hole twitched and trembled between his ass cheeks.

Even the slightest breath of air over his skin was enough to set off a tingling that spread through his entire body. It was like he’d transcended to another state of being. For all of five seconds.

As soon as Erik let him breathe out, the sensations gradually began to fade.

"Hah… Fuck…" James moaned. His cock was twitching like crazy and he was leaking like a fucking faucet. There was a sizable wet spot already at the end of his dick. Not much more of this and the pouch of his jockstrap would be soaked.

Erik smirked. He reached down, grabbing James’ cock through the fabric of his underwear. He gave it a quick squeeze, eliciting a low moan from the big jock. "Enjoying this, huh?" he said.

"H-holy shit…" James muttered. "Is this what it feels like to be on drugs?"

Erik laughed. It wasn’t a sardonic kind of laugh but a raw, genuine one. He even wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "Poppers are a drug, dumbass," he said.

"F-fuck…" James moaned.

"Want to stop?" said Erik.

"Y-yeah…" said James, though half-heartedly.

Erik chuckled. "Of course." He held the bottle to James’ nose, alternating back to the left nostril. "Ready for another hit, jockboy?"

"S-shit. Yeah…" James couldn’t even muster the willpower to mount more than a token resistance. The last hit was still buzzing away in his head, drowning out the more sensible voices that would have helped him.

Erik grinned. "This time, I want you to think of what you said earlier. Of how good I’d look with a bitch spread out and writhing under me."

The next hit struck James like a bolt of lightning. He moaned through gritted teeth, pleasure like electricity coursing through his veins.

In his mind he pictured it. Erik’s tight body, grinding on top of a bitch. A smooth, creamy body. Soft to the touch. Silky. Writhing and squirming as Erik’s fat cock split him open.

He didn’t know at what point the bitch in his head stopped being a nameless, faceless nobody and instead turned into him but he couldn’t stop himself.

He breathed out but Erik was there for another hit. The fog in his head redoubled. His thoughts strayed. His mind scattered.

Only one image dominated his imagination: his hot muscular body, completely stripped of hair, his creamy skin glistening with sweat. He was spread out under Erik’s smaller frame, his knees wide apart, his ass in the air, getting pounded into mush by Erik’s thick battering ram.

James was panting and sweating by the time the effects of the second hit slowly faded. He was looking forward to something of a reprieve from the intense sensations but Erik was there to give him another.

The tingling he felt under his skin intensified. He could feel it on his upper lip, around his jaw, on his arms and legs and on his back. The worst parts were on his chest, his armpits, and his crotch.

It was maddening. It all tingled like crazy. It all itched like hell. He moaned. "Please…" he begged. "Please, bro… Help me out. So fucking itchy…"

Luckily for him, the itching quickly subsided once the effects of the hit faded away. He sagged against the straps, breathing shallowly. Drool trickled out of the corner of his mouth as his mind slowly clawed its way back to awareness.

"There we go," said Erik. "Much better."

James didn’t know what Erik was talking about until he looked down and nearly had a heart-attack. All the body hair he’d just said he was proud of was gone.

Well, it wasn’t exactly gone, gone, so much as no longer attached to his body. His armpits were smooth. His chest was bare. The sizable bush that peeked out of the top of his jockstrap was gone, reduced to a pile of wiry black hairs between his legs.

He stared blankly at his now-hairless body. He felt emasculated. He hadn’t realized how much the body hair had contributed to his sense of masculinity but now that it was gone…

God. James almost wanted to cry. He looked more like a fuck-boy now than a man. His cheeks burned with indignation and humiliation and yet, somehow, his cock didn’t get even one bit softer. If anything, it was even harder.

"Fuck," he said under his breath. "Fuck! Why are you doing this to me, man?!" he demanded.

He strained against the straps tying him to the chair and realized that he’d regained control of his body. To some extent, anyway. "I thought we had a good thing going! You’re not going to get away with this, you know?!’

Spittle flew from James’ lips as he raged impotently. No matter how hard he tried to pull against the straps, they held firmly. And he might as well have been trying to move Mount Everest with his bare hands with how the chair itself refused to budge.

"As soon as I get out of this I’m going to fuck you up, man!" he said. "No one’s going to make a fucking faggot out of me, you hear?"

He fully intended to do it, too. He just hoped he’d be able to take Erik down without having to do too much damage to his gorgeous face… Or his hot body, for that matter.

Maybe James could get away with being a bit more gentle. A chokehold would probably work. He was easily twice Erik’s size. It would be such a shame to ruin such a pretty face even if the guy did deserve it.

Yeah. That was it. Wrestling moves. He’d say he would beat Erik up. That way, Erik wouldn’t expect it when he tackled him to the ground. And then, he’d pin him there.

Of course, he’d have to use his whole body weight to keep Erik down. Just to be sure. And if their bodies ended up pressed tightly together on the floor, that was fine. He wouldn’t mind. He was kind of curious how it would feel to have his skin flush against Erik’s skin, anyway.

Perfect. He had a plan. And just in time, too, since Erik came back with a blow drier.

Erik flicked the blow drier on to the highest setting and waved it over James a few times to blow most of the hairs still on him off his body. He went in for a closer pass to get rid of the stubborn ones.

He tugged on the waistband of James’ jock to take care of the pubes stuck in the pouch. When he did so, he released James’ hard-on, which sprang up and smacked against James’ stomach.

Erik laughed. "Looks to me like you’re really enjoying getting turned into a faggot," he said, tracing his index finger along the underside of James’ dick as he finished up and brushed away what few hairs remained.

"I swear to God, Erik," James growled. "When I get out of here… You better be ready for a fucking pounding!"

"Oh my!" said Erik, face contorted in a mocking caricature of surprise. "Here I thought you were straight and yet you’re already thinking of pounding me?"

"T-that’s not what I meant!" James yelled in frustration, fuming impotently as he stewed in his leather bindings. No matter what he said, Erik seemed completely unflappable.

He wasn’t used to it. Usually his considerable stature made threats of physical violence more impactful, not less. Erik didn’t seem to give a shit, though.

If anything, Erik was more amused than concerned. "Too bad the only one doing any pounding tonight is me."

"Like hell you’re getting anywhere near my ass," said James.

"Oh I’ll get near your ass alright," said Erik. He walked over to the table with the bottles of poppers and selected the next one in line after the "Smooth Cream" one.

"In fact…" Erik smirked as he popped the cap off the poppers and approached James with it. "I’ll do more than get near it. I’ll get intimately familiar with it. By the end of the night, I’ll know every little nook and cranny of that tight jock pussy of yours, and every way I can use it to make you scream."

James closed his eyes and shivered. Erik’s words called his mind back to the scene he’d imagined, of himself spread out under Erik, getting his asshole cored out by the guy’s fat hog. Fuck.

It shouldn’t have been hot but James’ cock clearly thought otherwise. He didn’t think he’d ever been harder in his life.

"Stop." James leaned back as far as his bindings would let him. "Don’t come any closer!" It wasn’t very far.

He lunged forward. His teeth clicked together as his bite missed Erik’s hand by an inch.

"Getting aggressive now, are we?" said Erik. He didn’t seem the slightest bit afraid. He was smirking, instead, as if James was acting exactly as he’d expected. "Should I show you what the ‘hard way’ looks like?"

A cold sweat trickled down James’ back. Something about the way Erik had said the words brought out a primal sort of fear in him.

Erik replaced the bottle of poppers on the table and reached into a drawer to retrieve something. He showed it to James as he set it on the table. It was a rubber gas mask, complete with the filter bulb in the front.

"That’s it?" said James. He’d expected worse but a gas mask wasn’t too bad.

He regretted his bravado near instantly as Erik smiled and turned the mask around. His eyes widened as he saw the triad of tubes that extended from the filter bulb. Two were thinner and longer, while the third was thicker and not quite as long.

"These will go up your nose," said Erik, flicking the ends of the narrower tubes with his index finger. "And this will go down your throat. Still want to be uncooperative?"

James gulped audibly. He definitely didn’t want any part of that. "N-no," he muttered, suitably cowed.

Erik chuckled. "I thought so," he said as he picked up where he left off.

The sound of Erik’s leather shoes striking the polished floor of the lab seemed to resound with an odd sense of finality as he approached James. In the dim light, the label of the bottle in his hands was just about discernible. "Short and sweet," it said.

Reluctantly, James did as he was told when Erik told him to take a breath. The bottle was right under his nose and he could feel the fumes tingling on his skin.

A low moan spilled from his lips the moment he did. The scent shot up his olfactory nerve straight into his brain. He felt like fireworks were going off in his skull, flooding his head with intense pleasure.

The scent was different from the first. There was still that acrid, pungent quality to it, but it was also sort of sweet. It was delicate, almost. Soft, even.

As the effects of the hit slowly spread through his body, warming him from the inside, the soft sweetness in the front of the scent gradually gave way to the heady undertone of Erik’s musk. It was that part of the scent that truly made James’ cock throb.

He didn’t even know why. It just smelled so good. It was like crack, except in addition to getting him high, it got him horny as fuck.

He tried to fight it, he really did. But when Erik plied him with a second hit, it became all but impossible.

"Not gay…" he mumbled, shaking his head as a peculiar heat began to build in the pit of his stomach. "I’m not gay…" he repeated, as if saying so would change the fact that he had a raging erection just from the smell of another man.

"I do like it when they struggle," said Erik, forcing James into a third hit of the poppers before the second had even had a chance to fade away.

The pleasure rolled over James like a tidal wave. It crashed against his mind, scattering his thoughts like dust in the wind.

The heat in his stomach climbed up his throat and blossomed in his chest. From there it began to spread, soaking into his flesh, seeping into his bones.

The fourth hit had him sweating and groaning. What little control he had left over his body was spent writhing in the leather straps holding him down.

The pleasure was too much to process. His cock ached between his legs. And with the heat beginning to spread, creeping over his shoulders and down his arms, he felt like he was on the verge of sensory overload.

"Not gay," he whispered. A token act of defiance against the inevitable. "Not gay. Not gay. Not gay. Pussy. Tits. Girls. Not gay. Fuck. Not gay! Please! I’m not gay!"

He repeated the words as if they were some defensive mantra. He tried to call to mind images of girls he’d used to sleep with. Their soft, curvy bodies. Their big tits. Their sweet pussies. It didn’t work.

Every time he tried, his mind would just turn to Erik instead. Erik’s handsome face. Erik’s pretty eyes. Erik’s beautiful smile.

It didn’t end there. As the heat spread to his legs and crept up his neck, his thoughts about Erik turned more and more vulgar. "Not gay…" he told himself, as he practically drooled over the sight of Erik’s fat cock dangling right in front of him.

He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. "Not gay. Not gay." But Erik grabbed him by the cheeks and forced him to face forward for the fifth hit.

James’ eyes widened, his pupils blown out. His jaw hung slack, drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth as his mind went blank.

The heat reached his face. His cheeks and ears felt like they were about to burst into flame at the slightest provocation.

He felt like he was melting from the inside. And he could feel his mind breaking. He was fraying. "Not gay…" he mumbled, even as he felt the walls he’d built around his mind slowly crumbling down around him.

"Fuck. Fuck…" he groaned as sweat dripped off his body. He was drenched.

All of a sudden, he felt a great pressure squeezing down on him. It bore down on his flesh from all sides, as if every muscle was tensing and cramping all at the same time.

Erik gave him a sixth hit in the middle of it, just as he was gasping for breath. The sensation intensified and redoubled, wiping his mind blank, rendering him incapable of focusing on anything but the invisible force that was squeezing down on him from everywhere at once.

James gasped for breath. "Erik… Please!" he moaned, pulling as hard as he could against the leather straps as the pressure built and built and built.

"Please! Make it stop!" he begged.

How ridiculous it must have seemed. A big guy like him, pleading, begging. It wasn’t even painful, just uncomfortably intense.

He just felt like he was going to break if it kept up. He could already feel the cracks, the sparks flying as things in his head short-circuited under the sensation of being crushed all over his body all at once.

"Erik…" he whined. He didn’t even know what he was begging for anymore. He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything other than his body seemingly collapsing in on itself.

And then, it became a bit too much. "Please…" he managed, weakly, as the edges of his vision turned black. Shortly thereafter, he slipped into unconsciousness, falling limp against the chair.

James didn’t know how much time had passed when he came to. His whole body felt oddly light, his head pounding still from the pressure of earlier.

He pushed himself upright, having slumped down the chair at some point during his unconsciousness. He looked around, blinking in the lights that had, once again, been dimmed.

As the grogginess slowly faded, he realized one salient fact: the leather straps holding him down were loose. Not only that, he was still in control of his body. Even better, all the sluggishness he’d felt before was gone.

This is it, James thought to himself. It was his chance to escape.

Casting a quick look around, he confirmed that Erik was nowhere to be seen. Heart pounding in his chest, he slipped his arms out of the leather straps. It was easy now that they were loose and he had himself free before long.

So much adrenaline was pumping in his veins he didn’t notice what was wrong until he stood up. The excitement he felt curdled into cold terror in an instant.

His sight-line was all wrong. The ground was too close. The tables were too tall. Of course, there was no way the room had suddenly gotten bigger while he was asleep, which left only one conclusion: he’d gotten smaller.

He looked down and screamed. "AHH!" he shouted, stumbling over his own feet and only just catching himself on the bolted-down chair as he fell back.

His body didn’t just feel lighter. It was lighter. He couldn’t even compute just how much mass he’d lost, somehow. His beautiful body-builder physique had been compressed down into something more like a swimmer would get—or a runner.

The large chest muscles, thick thighs, and swollen biceps he used to be so proud of were gone. His abs were still there, but barely, and they were more firm than hard.

Now that he’d shrunk so much, the jockstrap, which had been sized for a substantially larger man, was barely hanging off his hips. His cock and balls had flopped out of the loose front pouch.

At least his cock hadn’t gotten any smaller. He still had the fat hog he was used to. If anything, it looked even bigger. Indeed, on his smaller, slimmer frame, the thing looked obscenely outsized hanging off him.

He spotted a scale nearby, like the ones found in Doctor’s offices. He staggered toward it, needing to know the extent of the damage.

He judged that he’d lost well over a hundred pounds and the scale proved him right. What he wanted to know most of all, however, was how much he’d shrunk.

He used to stand at a respectable 6’8", enough to tower over most of the people in his day-to-day life. No longer, though.

As he stared blankly at the 5’2" displayed on the height gauge on the scale, something inside him broke. He release the gauge, which slammed back into its holder with a loud clang.

He turned to the side and sat down, rubbing his arms and trembling in the suddenly-cold room. A few minutes later, the door opened to admit Erik, who walked in with a small wood-paneled box that he set down on a nearby table.

"James?" Erik called out.

James would have expected that Erik would be more concerned or angry to find that he wasn’t in his chair anymore but the only thing he could pick up was curiosity. He sighed, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers. "Over here," he said.

"There you are. I was wondering where you’d gone off to. How do you like your new self?" said Erik, a small smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth as he walked over to stand in front of James.

James looked up at Erik and found himself at a loss for words. Erik was substantially taller than him, now, and while Erik wasn’t particularly big, he still had a strong, tough physique.

Not that he had the energy, but he was sure he’d get beaten down with ease if he tried to be violent now. So he said nothing. He just sighed. Because there was no point to saying anything anymore.

It hadn’t helped him before and it sure as hell wasn’t likely to help him now.

Erik smiled down at James. It was a genuinely warm smile, one that made James’ heart skip a beat. "Don’t worry, baby," he said. "We’ll make sure you learn to love your new body before long."

IMPORTANT NOTE: This story was written as a paid commission. If you are interested in commissioning your own story from me, please see the [Commissions] page for more information!

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