Date: Mon, 2 May 2016 18:13:16 +0000 (UTC) From: Abra Cadabra Subject: innocent repentance part 3 Felix has received quite a lot of punishment that wasn't even meant for him. For the first time, though, things are looking up. [Note that Felix is suposed to be fifteen. I messed up in the first sentesce of the first part by forgetting to mention it's third grade of high school.] If you can spare a buck, consider helping to keep nifty running. ~~~CHAPTER THREE~~~ Naked, sweating, cuffed and collared. Felix made it to the filling station with his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. His throat was so dry he wouldn't have been able to speak. And of course it was still sore from being fucked a little earlier. Now back in the light, he saw why the metal strips didn't dig painfully into his flesh. They had neon pink padding that flashed out at their sides. Felix didn't have the mind to care. How was he going to get something to drink? Wait... that tractor... it was the one from before. The man must be inside the station. That was even more reason to stay outside. Not that anyone would give him a free water bottle the way he looked. Impatient, the boy walked around the place. The tractor was open. There was a sixpack of beer, certainly bought from the station. Felix looked around to see if any cameras were aimed at him. There were none. Could he be found out? Of course the primal urge not to die of thirst outweighed all concerns. Felix grabbed a can, opened it and downed the bitter liquid in just a few gulps. It was gross, but in his condition it was the best thing he could imagine. The boy had never drunken beer before. One can wasn't enough. He opened another. Then a third. Finally his thirst was quenched for the moment. If he would have been behind a wheel he would have been charged with driving under the influence, he knew that much. He wasn't likely to find a car he could use, but it was a good reference for how drunk he had to be now. Felix wondered how long it would take for the effect to set in. He was still hungry and totally exhausted. From the corner of his eyes he saw movement. The empty beer cans were turning into black goo. Not stealing stuff applied to more than just clothes. Felix ran again as fast as the weights on his body allowed. Now there were three creatures. Just as he left the station it began to drizzle. He looked back for a second and saw the creature still under the lights, not moving out from under the roof. Was the rain enough to stop it? Where the black things water shy? That was great news. If they didn't move while it rained, he could go back home directly. He crossed the road and made his way in a straight line to the creek. This time he was going to use the bridge. The beer was sloshing around in his insides, his vision degraded and his steps became less secure. Nonetheless he made it back into the little forest after a long time. He couldn't say how much time had passed because the moon was still covered by clouds. Finally he reached the bridge. The rain had increased and his hot sweating skin was constantly getting cooled by wind. Just before he stepped onto the construction across the creek he felt the itch again. Rain had washed away the cum in his hairs, now those hairs followed, running down his head. Felix reached up and felt for any remaining hair. He had a broad Mohawk. The rest of his head was smooth. Nothing covered the Fuck You on his forehead anymore. Then he realized that what little body hair he had underwent the same quick removal. Now he looked even more perverted. Nobody would think the nakedness and erection were not his fault. He had to hurry before this got worse. Walking along the creek, he waited for an opportunity to see wht tattoo he had gotten. As the clouds gave way for a moment he saw the writing on his left arm spelling out "EVIL BASTARD". Seriously, what had James done? The first black thing waited for him on the other side of the bridge. It didn't move because of the rain but it might have lashed out if he got close. He couldn't cross. Deflated, Felix got off the bridge, walked along the creek until he found a narrow spot. He threw the shoes onto the other side and stepped in. It was even colder than before. And with the darkness and rain it was even more dangerous. At least the temperature combated his drunkenness and he got a good mouthful of water to get rid of the puke-beer taste. The weights on his body made it impossible to swim reliably. He had to wade along the icy water for a minute to find a place sufficiently shallow for him to walk without sinking. Felix couldn't say for how long he had to walk through chest high water near freezing point but eventually he found a way across. On the other side he waited shivering for the internal heat to dry him. At least the supernatural `gift' would make sure he didn't die. After a little walk he found his shoes again, slipped in and continued his way home. Very soon the itch set in again. He really regretted ever spilling the goo on him. Actually he regretted everything about this day. He hoped James had worked out a full solution in the meantime. Felix stumbled. Something wouldn't let him take a step. He looked down and in the near darkness of night he found a rope connecting his ankle cuffs. It was about a shoulder width long, letting him barely take steps. That was inconvenient. At least it wasn't a permanent, cosmetic change like the Mohawk. Somehow he felt a bit of gratitude. As the rain came to an end, he made it out of the forest and found his street again. The key to the front door was under the flower pot. He let himself in and saw his father's suitcase on the stairs. His parents were home. He didn't want to wake them. First of all he didn't want them to see him in his current condition, secondly there was likely nothing they could do. Felix walked through the downstairs corridor quietly and into the kitchen. He had to eat something right now or drop dead. The only thing in the fridge that required no preparation were yoghurts. Mother always stocked up on yoghurts. He wolfed down several of them until he felt full. Then he drank some water. Luckily the yoghurts were meant for all family members and eating them didn't count as stealing. Oh, right. What tattoo had the last tickle given him? The fridge's light let him see his reflection in the kitchen window. There was "SLAVE" written down his spine. Huge letters from his neck to his tailbone. Of course. Felix groaned. What else did this unknown person consider necessary for him to look like a slave? `On the bright side, that might mean it was the last such mark and he was done getting surprises. On the counter was his dad's phone, charging during the night. Felix knew the code and unlocked it. He called James. "Dad? What's up?" "It's me, bro. Listen, I made it home. Our parents are asleep. Where do I need to go? I want this to be over." "Well, you have to get to a sage living couple blocks down. Corner of Baker Street and Tanner Road." "And he can help me?" "Probably. I called him and he said he knew what to do if you showed up. It takes a certain ritual and the curse is broken. My girlfriend says that checks out." "Who is that girlfriend even?" James hesitated. "The daughter of the crazy witch that cursed you. That witch doesn't like me dating the chick." "I'm going through this because you couldn't keep it in your pants?!" Felix whispered loudly. "Sorry, bro. Now, be on your way. That sage won't stay up waiting for you forever." "No, I want an explanation and an apology, you fucking-" "Bye." James hung up. After quietly raging for a minute, Felix walked upstairs – extra quietly because his parents slept right under his room – and looked through his closet. He could wear things he already owned. That should make it a lot easier to get around. With his ankles tied to each other he had no way of putting on pants. He pulled out his jockstrap and put it on by sliding it over his head and down his slender, sweaty torso. The jock strap covered his dick but did nothing to hide his erection. It would have to do. Next he was going to work on the pants situation. Obviously he could just cut one apart, put it on and tucker it back together. Who would know the difference in the darkness of night? Felix went down to get scissors. There was a new black thing. It had been created from his dad's phone. Even though the boy had only borrowed it, that still counted as taking what wasn't his. And it had stopped raining so he really had to hurry to get away. With his ankles tied he was barely faster than the creeping black monsters. The boy walked out the front door and closed it to delay the creature. He had taken the key inside with him, which meant he was now locked out until his parents woke up. Felix hobbled along the road. The street corner James had mentioned... Where was it? Baker Street – that one was nearby. A commercial street. There would be people even at this time. Where was Tanner Road? His brain was slow after the exhausting event and three beers, but eventually it dawned on him. He had to walk through half the town. James had exaggerated how close the place was. He had to get there anyway. Felix began his march. Now that the rain had stopped his sweating took over again. He walked briskly. There was almost nobody in the streets but he did see a few people in the distance. Because it was a small town, the likelihood of anyone knowing him was high. Felix did his best to avoid drawing attention by stepping into side alleys and waiting until the people had passed by. He felt pretty lucky to see very few people. The absence of the usual bar-goers and loiterers was almost suspicious. About halfway down the Baker Street he felt the itch again. His hands were pulled back and the wrist cuffs snapped together through rings that hadn't been there before. They weren't even shoulder wide apart like his ankles, no, they were directly connected. He was a lot more restrained now. He was so surprised that he forgot to keep his guard up. A car driving by hollered at him and he got nasty looks from the driver who noticed his attire, but nothing terrible happened. After that evening, Felix considered that a success. In a shop window he saw – with some twisting – what tattoo had appeared. There was one letter on each of his fingers. Eight letters together spelling out "DUMB FUCK". Should he consider himself lucky that his thumbs were still unmarred? He made it to the corner eventually. Unable to use his tied hands, he rang the bell with his shoulder and waited. The door opened and the sage greeted him with a smile. It was the tractor guy. The teen swallowed hard.