The Warlock (Patreon)

This one is a tinkered version of Pup Halvor’s excellent Work a Mile story. I wanted to spend more time on everything, trying to describe in more details. I thought the description of "head swimming" was interesting and wanted to describe cum obsession in both literal terms and as a means for dumbing down.

Photo from Googleball on flickr.

Though given the themes of the story I was considering just going with cum.

There is always the question on when to stop writing. When are you no longer progressing the story, but just rambling on like the end of Lord of the Rings. I did write a coda to this story that I didn't publish. My thinking is that he is in the service of the warlock for a number of years, after which, probably for some magic-technical reason, he is released with his old memories back, but no  memory of what happened since. Still in the worker body and possibly still dumb.

You’ve been walking for a while when you realize you have been walking for a while. Still wearing work boots and trousers. Only a T-shirt on though. Is it the same one? You don’t remember even having seen what colour it had. In fact, you don’t remember much at all. Your brain is going really slow, like you really tired. You don’t even know where you are. It’s late, you see a few people and cars, but mostly you are surrounded by closed shops are residential buildings.

You look into the window of a closed furniture shop, and abruptly halts. Illuminated by street light you see your reflection. Well, it isn’t your reflection. Where you should be is a well seasoned construction worker. He looks strong, fit even, but worn out. You touch your face, the reflection touches his. You can’t avoid notice how the bicep bulge as you do.

How can you go to work tomorrow looking like this? Why did your first thought go to work? This is full stop horrible!

You stumble on, unsure if you are even going in the right direction. You only make it two stores down. You stare at the tabloid. The date is as expected, but the year is 7 years off.

Original Story

You got a notification from that kinky dating app you used occasionally. From someone new, “worklad”. Opening the app for the first time in a while to see whatever the message was you sighed to yourself as it was the usual “hi, how are you?” basic conversation which usually got you nowhere. Deciding to go along with it you replied, after all it was something to occupy your mind while tuning slowly in and out of meetings back to back.

The guy at least had a profile picture, and wasn’t immediately pushy with meeting up, even though that’s what he wanted. Trying to decide on a time while being discrete answering messages was hard enough. You agreed to meet him as soon a he had finished work at 5pm. Giving you his location to meet, it wasn’t too far off from your normal way home anyway. It was still a little bit of a bus journey away, but still, nothing majorly out of the way.

The day passed slowly, time slipping. You realised at quarter to five you needed to make a run for the bus. Everything had ran over, and still the day’s work wasn’t even finished, or anywhere close to being finished. Rushing, trying to clear your mind and think about the guy, you managed to flag the bus down at the last possible second. Boarding, out of breathe, showing how unfit you were, you scanned your ticket and took a seat. Texting the guy saying you might be a few minutes late. Hopefully you won’t screw things up too much.

The guy sent you a selfie as he got out of work, still in all of his workwear. “Ready for you” was the caption. Damn he was what you wanted. His hi-vis bright enough to be spotted a mile off, you just realised it was coming up to your stop on the bus so got up to leave. It was the earlier stop to your normal one and you had got a little sidetracked. The guy was waiting at the bus stop for you, and put his arm over your shoulder and took you with him.

He pretty much had control over what you were doing from now on. Slowly walking with him, wherever he felt like taking you. You walked towards a portakabin. You hear a fussing of keys as he pulls out one from his pocket and unlocking the door to the small room. You were shoved into the complete black of the room before he turned the light on.

The light illuminated the room, and reflected a bunch of hi vis back at you. Feeling a hand on your arse you felt the guy’s emotion suddenly change. You hear a grunt of appreciation at the feeling of your arse in your jeans. You turn around to face him, smug grin in his face, he has you now, in his den.

“Let’s get this shit off you,” he sneers looking at the clothes your wearing, clearly disapproving. Before you have time to properly react, still in a slight daze in pure lust over the guy, you feel your shirt being pulled, almost ripped away from your body. You feel a slight cringe feeling at least one of the buttons ping off somewhere in the room, knowing the shirt would be pretty much entirely ruined.

His lips meet yours, one of his hands keeping you locked in his view, with the other feeling up your topless body. Almost entirely lost in his eyes, he pulls away, looking deep into them, seeing how blank and empty your eyes had already become and loves what he’s doing. Next you feel a tug as your belt is snapped loose, and your jeans pulled down low with his hands groping your ass as he slides down your boxers as well.

Then you feel weightless as he lifts you up and almost drops you on the only desk in the room, and with his eyes commands you to stay put in the desk. You comply with his demand, even without a spoken word you know what his commands are. Your jeans are tugged away, along with your work shoes. Almost with a disgust he tosses them to a corner of the room. It didn’t matter which, you assumed it was at least in the direction of a bin.

Next you feel a blast of orange in your face, and then the smell of fresh sweat with a slight dampness, and then the face of the guy approving of the choice of clothing he’s put on you. Some orange hi-vis top was now on your office worker body.

He turns away, and picks up a jockstrap and tosses it you. You’ve never really worn one, but you decide to pick it up and put it on, even though you don’t really know if it was clean or anything. As soon as you’d done that a pair of muddy orange hi vis trousers had been thrown at your bare feet. You liked where this was going at least.

Finally was a pair of sweaty thick “white” socks. You think white, but they probably were once. Not now, and not even if you washed them several times. Without thinking much more, they were on your feet and so were the large steel toe capped boots, again which were already well worn in and with plenty of mud.

You had stood up and kicked your feet properly into the boots in order to make sure they fit and were laced properly on your feet. You never wore this kind of boot before so you were a little nervous as to if they were fitting properly and if you had tied them up enough.

“Now let’s give you what you came ‘ere for” he says before turning you to face the wall, pushes you over the table you were sat on, then presses his erection through his hi vis against your butt. You know what was coming, and he pulls down both pairs and lubes himself up before pushing against you.

Not before pulling your erect and leaking cock free from the jock and putting a condom over your penis. You wonder what he’s up to but you don’t have long before you are overcome by pleasure pushing against you.

He fucks you. Hard.

You’re loving every moment of it.

When he comes inside of you, you feel what could be gallons of cum filling you up. Pushing you so far that you cum yourself, filling the condom that was holding on to your dick just. It felt heavy, like as thought it was full, and as though it was close to falling off.

Your head was swimming. Literally. You couldn’t even think at all.

He pulls out and you feel something else, larger enter, and then pull in and plug. You realise he’s plugged you with probably the biggest plug you’ve ever taken.

You get pulled up, and in your head swimming state, this doesn’t help anything. He pulls off the condom, smiles at it before walking off. You hear a sound of a bin lid opening and closing.

He returns with a marker pen, kneels down and writes on the jockstrap. You can’t tell what, and your mind is going so slow you can’t even begin to think what.

When he’s finished, he directs you towards a dirty mirror you hadn’t seen in the corner of the room. You look up and down and see two guys in hi vis. Both empty in the eyes, both fairly rough. One looks as though their top is straining a little from being filled with something. One has his trousers down, showing his jock. You slowly read, “Mike’s Apprentice”.

Mike’s Apprentice.

Yeah, Mike’s your boss right? He’s the one who got you this job.

He just grins at you. He knows you aren’t very smart.