DISCLAIMER: This fictional account is written for a friend who likes his “storytelling” a bit on the rough side.
He watched from behind a gauzy curtain as his prey pulled up in a non-descript vehicle … a hatchback that had seen many years of hard driving. The individual driving was more boy than man, possessing a bulky frame that needed a bit more sunshine as well as definition. But the man had spied the boy working at a local grocery and knew that he had to have him. The boy represented a hunger … a need that started in his groin and spread outward in waves of quivering desire.
The first few encounters with his target were easy to manipulate. The man shopped regularly until he learned that the boy usually worked mornings. Then he made sure to seek the boy out with questions and prepared small talk. And he made sure to sexually charge the conversations, like one time he asked if the boy had any experience wi
th one brand of lubricant … another time he winked when buying a cucumber and saying “I’m just going to cook with it.” During these brief assignations, the man assessed the boy carefully … about 5’10”, a student at the local fine arts college, and apparently single. And each and every time they met, the man felt the boys linger a bit on his 45-year-old beefy frame and penetrating hazel eyes. And today he seized the young bull by the horns. The man located the boy … Jason … restocking produce. The boy looked alert and fetching, a light sheen of perspiration dusting his smooth forehead as he replaced aging tomatoes, carrots, and fruit with fresh foodstuffs.
“Hello, Jason, my young stud,” the man said as he lightly touched the young employee’s shoulder as he navigated his full cart to a stop.
“What’s up, Mr. Pratt? You’re earlier than usual today.” The man smiled a wolfish grin, inwardly happy that this young man knew his typical shopping schedule.
“What’s the problem, sir?”
Mr. Pratt felt the jaws of his plan close like a delicate Venus flytrap. “Oh, dude,” he started with his most overwrought expression in place, “I just got a call on my cell and my sister needs me right now … but I have all these groceries in my cart and no time to check out.”
Jason’s helpful smile beamed brightly. “I can get you to the front of the checkout in no time. We can just …”
Mr. Pratt shook his head. “No, it is an emergency … I have to leave now … but I also need these groceries. Do you think if I gave you some money, you could check them out when you finish your shift and bring them by my place.”
Jason hesitated just a second before his good heart took over again. “Well, I am off in just another hour …”
“Oh, son … you would be so helping me out. Here’s plenty of cash and a card with my address. It’s only about 10 minutes from here. I can even pay you for your time I that helps …”
And like he expected, Jason’s flash of indignity covered any traces of the boy ever wondering why he had money and his address at the ready like he did. “Mr. Pratt, I could never take money from such a good customer.”
He shouldn’t have gone off script, but the man felt emboldened. “Just a good customer?” And his hazel eyes bore into the younger man like industrial lasers.
“Nahhhh,” Jason teased. “AND as a pretty cool guy too!”
Mr. Pratt smiled and then hurried to his car. At home he checked that his supplies were ready and began the anxious wait for Jason’s arrival. At about 10:15 a.m., the dilapidated vehicle pulled into his short driveway. The day was calm and nearly all of Mr. Pratt’s neighbors were away at their jobs.
The man watched the boy unload and stack two boxes of groceries from his car, his large forearms bristling with blondish hairs and thin blue veins. Every movement was a bit awkward, but the man’s cock swelled with what would be his in a few moments.
He greeted the boy in boxers and a tight t-shirt that hugged his beefy pecs and literally presented his thick armpits for sniffing. The man’s thick cock was clearly outlined by the tight satiny fabric. Jason was startled by Mr. Pratt’s appearance, but he pasted on a smile and entered into the residence. “Where do you want these, Mr. Pratt?”
“Kitchen table,” the man indicated, “right through there.” Jason followed the man’s 
gesture; once the boy’s back was turned Mr. Pratt slid the deadbolt closed.
Jason re-entered the living area, his cheeks slightly flushed. He took stock of Mr. Pratt’s high-end furnishings as well as some very provocative black-and-white photographs of nude men hanging from three of the four walls. A trickle of sweat having nothing to do with the heavy burden of groceries traveled down Jason’s spine.
“Nice place, Mr. Pratt … looks very comfortable.”
“Thank you, Jason,” the man replied from his position in a beautiful tufted chair. Before him was a pitcher of lemonade and two crisp-looking $10 bills. “Now I’m going to pay you for the trouble I caused you.”
Jason was tempted by the money, but he really had just wanted to help out this kind man. “No way, sir! Your house was just a tiny bit out of my way and …”
“Wally.”
“Huh?” The boy looked genuinely confused.
“My name is Wallace but my friends call me Wally.”
“Well, Wally,” the boy said a little stiffly,” it was no trouble.”
Wallace Pratt looked around his living room a bit absentmindedly for just a second or two. Then he indicated the nearby loveseat to the boy. “Can I at least offer you a class of lemonade before you get back on the road?”
“Sure,” Jason said as he took the proffered seat. The lemonade was tart with visible mint leaves but very refreshing. The man immediately started asking Jason about his taste in books and movies and one lemonade turned to two drinks which led to a third. About halfway through the third glass, Jason failed to stifle a yawn. His eyes felt a bit glassy and he felt warm. I definitely need a nap, he thought as his host continued to pepper him with questions. The strange but not unpleasant feeling continued to grow and Jason suggested that he should be going.
“I need to get home, Wally.” He fished his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “Or maybe I should call my Mom to come pick me up.”
In a blur of motion, Wallace Pratt leaned forward and snatched Jason’s cell from him. He deposited the phone in the drawer of a side table and turned back to the boy with a smug look on his face. “Oh, my boy,” the man said. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. The drugs in your lemonade would make driving a very bad idea,”
“Drrrrruuugsss,” said Jason, his voice slurring slightly. He set the drink down as the muscles in his arms began to tremble.
“Oh, nothing dangerous … some strong sedatives mixed with a few recreationals I had from a party or two. I tested them on a few unsuspecting fellas last week.”
Jason’s vision blurred and then steadied and then blurred again. “Don’t worry about it son. I didn’t mess with those boys. I saved it all for you.” And with that, Jason’s world grew dark.
As the boy fought his way back toward the light, his senses went back on line. He sensed slivers of daylight but filtered through heavy shades. The air was very cool and stung his skin in a strange way. And he smelled odd scents, including something flowery mixed with old leather.
Jason opened his eyes and beheld a truly strange sight. He was lying on his back but he was suspended in some type of hammock or sling contraption. To either side his arms stretched above and out of sight. Instinctively he trie
d to lower his limbs but they were restrained. Jason lifted his head to look down the length of his body to discover that his legs were likewise secured into lined leather cuffs. He tried struggling but his entire form just swayed from the chains that supported him and suspended his bulky frame from the ceiling of the room.
“Awake, I see,” came a voice from his left. Mr. Pratt stood in an open doorway but it was a very different Mr. Pratt. The man looked the same but he had stripped down into nothing but a dirty, tattered jock strap. Through several holes Jason could glimpse tufts of dark pubic hair and the contours of two enormous balls. The man was more solidly built then Jason imagined. He had good sized pecs with rings of hair around medium-sized pierced nipples. Abundant body hair trailed along his thighs and stomach, disappearing into the pouch of his jock. Overall, the man was buff and burly. Jason’s heartbeat raced as he continued to struggle in vain.
“What the fuck have you done, you asshole? Why have you tied me up?”
Mr. Pratt’s smile now looked feral and Jason noticed that the man was carrying a large bowl. “I’ve restrained you, son … for your own good. I need to finish preparing the contrast.”
“What the fuck is a contrast?” Jason bellowed. “What kind of sick fuck are you anyway?”
Jason was still trying to make sense of his surroundings as Mr. Pratt placed the bowl on a nearly table and sat himself in a wheeled office chair. He rolled closer, his eyes scanning Jason’s body … his naked body!!
“What the fuck!!” the boy exclaimed, noticing for the first time that all his clothing had been removed and that his chest, stomach, arms, and pits had been shaved smooth. He inhaled deeply and was rewarded with the smell of fear mixed with sweat and menthol. The smell of his own ripeness made the boy’s nuts ache slightly.
“As you can see, Jason,” the man explained, “I am a darker, more mature, hairy man. I enjoy my conquests being the opposite. I was smitten with you the very first time I laid eyes on you.” As he talked, Mr. Pratt opened a fresh pack of disposable razors. Deftly, he squirted some shaving foam from a plastic tube into his hands. He worked it into a frothy lather. Then, looking directly into the boy’s eyes, he applied a healthy coating of white foam to Jason’s groin and upper thighs.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” the boy moaned, unable to stop the sound he made as his body felt such extreme pleasure.
“So you like this … I guessed as much.” The man smeared some crème on Jason’s thickening cock.
“You don’t know anything about me, you pervert,” the boy said as he spat each word. “I’m scared and confused. But if you let me go right now, I won’t tell anyone. Just stay away from me and the store and I won’t give you any trouble. I promise.”
Mr. Pratt laughed from deep in his throat. “Jason, I do want promises from you … but soon you’ll be promising to return to me every day for more of my teachings.”
