Date: Sun, 11 Dec 2011 09:12:04 +0000
From: heypatrick@leathermail.com
Subject: Transformation, Part 1

Date:
From: Heypatrick@Leathermail.com

Transformation
Copyright 2012 by Heypatrick@Leathermail.com
All Rights Reserved

WARNING! If you've gotten to this point you've already figured out that
these are sexual stories, and that in this part of Nifty are stories about
sex between men. You've already been warned that you should be 18 years of
age or older, and should be living in a place where reading or possessing
such material is not illegal. You may or may not be smart enough to realize
the importance of safe sex but it is of the utmost importance.

	This story, in nine acts, is not fictional though I have taken some
liberties with names and a bit of liberty with the erotic material, though
not substantially changing what indeed did occur. Lets say its about 60% is
actually true and the rest is to various, lesser degrees. This material is
copyrighted and should not be re-posted or published in any manner without
permission from the author. Feel free to tell others about it if you enjoy
it, and any comments, good or bad, are welcome: HeyPatrick@Leathermail.com
	"Transformation" seems like such a lofty title for this tale but if
you've ever believed that you found a similar place in life after years
struggling to find out what it all means, then perhaps you can better
understand my choice of titles. Of course, transformation doesn't always
guarantee the perfect life, or take place like you expected, but it is
significant.

	And as I begin let me thank "TBaron" for "Snake Pit", here on Nifty
Archive- Authoritarian, which prompted me to recall and relate my own
"slave motel" experience.

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PART ONE: Haircut, Drapes, Chains, Diapers and Burgers

	The Nifty story "Snake Pit" reminded me of the few days I spent in
Oklahoma City at the Habana Inn, back before it was called a "resort." In
1995, when I was 39, I entered a Master/slave relationship with a guy from
Lubbock, Texas. I was living in Ohio at the time, and when he came to
collect me we drove down to Lubbock via Oklahoma City. He had planned for
us to stay at Habana for four nights but was vague about our plans, as
master's have the right to be, and I was certainly puzzled. Why Oklahoma
City, for god's sake? I wouldn't have called it a gay Mecca.
	What I didn't know is that I would always remember the visit; it
was where my transformation into a slave was to take place.

	I wasn't out at that point, and though I'd have a good bit of
experience I was still pretty naive about the ways of gay sex. I didn't
know anything about the Habana, but I don't recall it being a "resort", as
is their claim now. Back then it was more of a low-end, though clean,
former Howard Johnson's or Holiday Inn, catering to gay men.
	What I was to learn was new to me: Gay men openly cruising around
for anonymous sex? I was amazed, and pretty excited about it once I figured
it out. I'd grown up fairly sheltered, and even after I realized I was gay
I was a slow bloomer. But I was glad to learn there actually were ways out
of self-imposed hells.

	Our room was on the ground floor, opening out to the parking lot in
the back of the motel. That first afternoon my Master took me outside to
the parking lot and tied me to a chair from our room, and cut off my hair
with clippers. I was thinning on top but while we were corresponding over
the previous nine months he'd told me no more haircuts, that I was to let
it grow out, preparing me for the moment, I guess, when, at his command, it
would pretty much all come off. I was bare-chested and in cut-off shorts,
my hands and elbows were tied to the arms of the chair. He was standing
behind me using the battery operated clippers, a beard trimmer,
actually. As my locks were falling off cars were cruising through the
parking lot looking for some kind of action, and I guess we qualified as
some action because before too long one, then two, then three guys were
gathered around, encouraging my Master.
	Once the clippers had taken things down to the scalp, except for a
small patch at the back, just above my neck, forming what was to eventually
be a pigtail, like a sumo wrestler, Master stopped, and headed over to the
room saying, "Keep an eye on him, guys." And they quickly did.
	One guy, brown hair, close cropped, 40s, nice body, straddled the
chair and played with my tits and rubbed his denim covered crotch in my
face. Another guy, in his 50s, maybe, reached under him and groped my hard
crotch, hard, perhaps because of the cock ring I was wearing, or perhaps
because of what was happening to me on my first night as a slave. Master
came back carrying the plastic ice bucket from our room filled with warm
water. He had shaving cream and a razor.

	He asked if anyone wanted to shave down the stubble and the guys
took turns doing so as Master watched and directed. When it was done he had
them do my chest and my back as I leaned forward as far as I could. He then
untied me and sent me inside to shower the hair off, "Use cold water, and
stay in the shower until I get there. Don't dry off." As I was walking the
few yards over to our room I heard him invite the guys in to watch him
shave my crotch, "õ€Œ`nd then he can thank you properly for your
help." That was an opportunity they apparently didn't want to pass up.
	I was standing in the shower with the water running over me when
Master came in and turned off the water. The three guys were crowded around
the doorway. Master turned me towards them and lathered up my crotch with a
bar of soap. "Soap is the best thing for shaving crotches", Master said,
"and on slaves you just use soap all over. Don't waste shaving cream on a
slave." He quickly swiped around my cock shaft. Then he pulled tight on my
ball sack, "Hold tight to the sack while pulling it down, keeping it as
flat as possible makes it easy to shave. Keep the blade going on a flat
plane, letting go and holding the cock and sack at a different angles. It
keeps it from nicking the skin so readily." He finished up the stray hairs
on my cock and balls and had me turn around so he could lather up and shave
my butt and my ass crack.
	He turned the shower back on, cold water only, and told me to rinse
off and come out. He tossed a towel onto the floor for me to use to dry
myself. I glanced in the mirror and ran my hand over the shaved areas as I
was drying myself. Smooth head, smooth chest, smooth back and ass, and
smooth crotch and crack. I was beginning to feel like a slave.

	When I came out of the bathroom the drapes had been drawn shut but
the outside door was still open. The three guys were sitting around the
room, two in the chairs by the window, and one on the bed. Master had me
kneel in front of the first one, who was sitting in the chair brought back
in from outside. Before ordering me to suck his cock to thank him for his
help, Master locked a short chain around my neck. He then told me to thank
the man properly.
	The man who had straddled me outside, unzipped and pulled out his
cock and told me to "Kiss it first," which I did, and then took it into my
mouth. He was hard, horny, and hot to trot, and he came pretty fast in my
mouth. I was experiencing for the first time being used arbitrarily for
others' pleasure at my Master's whim and I was feeling right at home. He
stood up, zipped up and thanked my Master. Master handed him the two keys
from the lock to my collar and asked him to throw them away once he left
the room. He looked down at them in his hand, grinned, looked over at me,
still kneeling with my head down, and said "Sure thing." He lingered a bit,
but as is often the case with guys, once his load was gone so was his
interest.
	Master had me move over to the next guy, who was sitting on the
bed. Master reached and took my right wrist, and locked a smaller, shorter
chain onto my right wrist, and another one around my right ankle, and told
me to thank him. The 50 year old wanted me to me to suck him, as well, and
after a few minutes of rough, jamming strokes, he came on my face.
	"Can he lick my cum off his face," he asked?
	My Master said "Sure," and I got my tongue moving over as much of
my face as I could reach, and then used my fingers to get the rest as he
watched, grinning.
	The third was sitting in the chair next to the door. He came down
my throat after grabbing the back of my head, sticking his very stiff but
short cock into my throat, holding it, but still causing me to gag. I
wasn't very good at deep throating a cock yet, but that would
change. Master gave each of them a set of the keys from the lock on my
wrist and ankle, asked them, as well, to throw them away once they'd
left. Wow. I guess I really was a slave.
	They both stood up to leave, and a guy who was walking by the door
while I was sucking had stopped to watch. He asked Master if he could be
next. Master said no, but to come back tomorrow and he'd get a turn. The
guy said he was local but would stop by on his lunch hour. Master said
"Wait just a moment, and had me kneel beside the foot of the bed on the
side where the window was. He took another, longer chain and pulled it
through a gap in the footboard of the bed, and then pulled it around the
chain on my ankle, and locked the two ends together.
	He handed the guy the keys saying, "An incentive; bring the keys
back with you at lunch time and I'll keep him chained up here waiting for
you." The guy took the keys, looked at me (clearly chained up slaves aren't
too common around these parts), and left, and I knelt there wondering if
he'd really come back or would I become a permanent fixture in the
room. Talk about amenities! The Habana Gay Motel, each room equipped with a
chained up slave. There'd never be any room at the inn!

	Master opened the drapes thinking that my position on the floor was
out of sight enough to not be too public, and he sat down to read. I
crawled over between his legs and nuzzled his crotch and we were quiet for
a while. Then I began to get the urge to piss and I glanced down at the
chain and then over towards the bathroom to judge the distance. The chain
was pretty long but I wasn't sure. I told Master I had to piss and he said
later, that he would need to before long and I could take care of his and
then go on my own. So I went back to nuzzling his crotch until he was ready
for me.
	After a bit he reached down and unbuttoned his fly and pulled out
his cock and I took it into my mouth and held it until his piss started to
flow. The taste of his piss put me in heaven and I was oblivious to
anything else. As the flowed slowed, though, I realized Master was talking
and looked up to see, I guess, the manager of the motel in the doorway. He
was fingering his own fly but was telling Master that this wasn't
acceptable. I thought he meant my face being in Master's crotch or drinking
Master's piss, but he meant my being naked with the drapes open. Apparently
having the door open wasn't a problem, but the open drapes were.
	Master stood up and closed the drapes and the manager came inside
the room, still fingering his fly, and asked Master, "May I?" Master said
go ahead, and I found myself kneeling in front of the manager as he, too,
pissed down my throat. His piss was tasty as well. Clearly I was a piss
slave.
	As he was pissing he told Master, "Its okay to have the door open
and have your boy naked, but with the drapes open too much light gets in
and people driving through the parking lot can see into the rooms,
especially as it gets dark. He, or it, if that's how you refer to him, he
can be wearing a jock strap or underwear or, hell, even a diaper, if that's
your thing, but with the drapes open he has to have something on his
crotch. He can even be outside so long as he's wearing something to cover
his front and a little something on the crack. At night you can both be
naked and the drapes be open, so long as the lights inside the room stay
off. With the lights off no one can see in. Hell, you can have a naked orgy
in here at night, just no lights. Otherwise your genitals have to be
covered or the drapes closed."

	By this time he'd finished pissing but made no move to pull out. I
started to squirm, needing to relieve myself but Master told me to keep
sucking until he was done. So I stayed put, sucking away until the manager
shot his load down my throat and pulled out. "Thank you, Sir, I told him."
	Master told me to go to the bathroom to piss as the manager thanked
him and cautioned him again about the drapes and turned to leave.
	"Looks like his chain is a bit too short," he said as he glanced at
me before walking out the door. It was true, the chain locked to my ankle
wasn't long enough to reach the toilet, even if I draped it over the bed. I
turned and looked at Master.
	"Aw, fuck," Master swore. "And the damned son of a bitch with the
keys won't be back until tomorrow."

	After a bit Master got his keys and headed out the door telling me
to hold my piss and kneel down, that he'd be back. "I'll get dinner as
well."
	"But, but..." He didn't hear me, though, he was already opening the
door of the Jeep. He could have given me something to piss into... I heard
him drive off, the drapes closed but the door standing wide open, me naked
as a chained jaybird and still having to piss badly.

	I sat there squirming, hoping Master would be back soon. Every so
often someone would saunter on by the door, some would stick their head in
a look, but I was focused on finding a way to relieve myself so I guess
they didn't feel invited. As I glanced around the room I noticed the ice
bucket on the counter outside the bathroom door. "Can I reach it" I
wondered? I got up to move over towards it, stretching the chain across the
bed again. But then I thought, "He said to hold my piss. Would he be mad if
he came back and found I'd used the ice bucket to piss in?"  But that idea
died as well since I couldn't reach the sink, either, it was about a foot
and a half out of my reach. I waited longer, and it was getting very
difficult to hold back. I looked around for something to extend my reach to
the ice bucket, and saw I could reach the closet area. Maybe a hanger, but
the hangers were the kind that stayed attached to the rod so there was no
help there.
	Master's suitcase? Should I open it to see what I could find in
there? Maybe a paddle or flogger would let me knock it towards me...

	"Well, it looks like this room has a guard dog. No wonder they felt
safe enough to leave the door open."
	I turned at the voice and froze: two cops were standing in the
doorway. One was a big black guy wearing a uniform. Great! Master was gone,
I was naked and chained up, I had to piss like there was no tomorrow, and
now the cops show up! I started to panic, which didn't help with my
desperate need to piss.
	No, wait, they were security guards, not the police. Relief flooded
through me, which, again, almost caused me to lose control of my
bladder. It was getting excruciating, but I certainly wasn't going to piss
all over the floor with two strangers watching!
	The guard walked over and grabbed my head and held it against his
uniformed crotch. "So, you're guarding the room, hey boy? Good boy," and he
patted me on the head and scratched behind my ears like he would a dog,
even as he kept my face buried in his crotch. Oh, god, I thought, PLEASE
don't let me piss on his shoes!

	"Is there a problem, officer?" Master was back and came into the
room carrying a burger joint bag , a drink and another, larger bag.
	"No, not at all. I'm hotel security and this is my boss. I've told
him what a wild place this is and he never believed me so I told him to
come by and I'd show him what I meant. We saw the door was left open and
came to be sure things were okay in here. But you have a guard dog so
everything's fine." He patted me on the head again and let my head go. "He
seems a bit desperate, though." I moved over closer to Master.
	"Yeah", Master said, "he has a bad case of full bladder syndrome
but the chain isn't long enough for him to reach the toilet. I had to go
get him something to solve the problem." He reached in and pulled out a
package of disposable adult diapers and put them on the bed.

	Diapers! I thought he went after a bolt cutter or something. I
didn't sign on to wear diapers, and even if I would be, he didn't need to
show them to the whole world!
	"Oh, so you're going to diaper him up," the guard's boss
said. That'll take care of the problem. I guess he'll be a baby then
instead of a guard dog." He laughed, at the look on my face as it
reddened. "Or maybe he's a baby guard dog." I was sitting there fuming, but
my cock was hard as a rock at the humiliation.

	"Lay down on the floor, slave." I gave Master a dirty look but
obeyed. He opened the diapers and took one out and looked over how it went
on. "The manager gave me the idea. And this way we can even sit outside on
the bench," referring to the bench outside our door. He pulled the diaper
apart and put it under me and pulled it between my legs. "I just hope he
doesn't fill it up too fast. Ah, hell! How does this go...?"
	"Allow me," the guard said. "I have a kid at home so I have some
practice. And I'll show you how to prevent it from filling up so fast and
getting drippy." Master moved aside and the guard took over. He expertly
secured the diaper around me using the tape tabs, fitting it snugly, and
then reached in his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. He opened it, and
leaned down, and cut long slashes along the underside of the diaper with
the point, from front to back. He ran his hand over the diaper and stopped
to squeeze my crotch.
	"Now its just gonna leak everywhere...", Master started to say, but
then stopped as the guard reached for three more diapers. He put each one
on me, each time slashing the bottom of the diaper, except for the last
one. "See, layering it allows him to piss all he wants and it'll seep
through as each layer fills. Now the diaper will hold a whole lot of piss
before it starts to leak. Then you can either change it or add another
layer." He paused, "Too bad you didn't buy any baby powder. He's gonna have
a bad case of diaper rash by morning."

	So I'm laying there, red faced with a bulky wad of diaper on my ass
while this guy tugs and straightens it out, patting my rump ever so
affectionately and says I'm going to have diaper rash. Diaper rash! And I
thought I'd experienced humiliation before! It was certainly difficult at
that moment to maintain a slave-like attitude! But my cock was still as
hard as a rock!
	"Okay, slave, stand up and piss. While you are wearing the diapers
you can piss whenever you want to, without asking permission. Its a liberty
you won't get to have very often so enjoy it!"

	Master turned to the two guys. "Thanks for the help. I didn't want
to be emptying his piss pot ice bucket all night so I got the diapers, but
I wasn't looking forward to changing his diaper over and over. Do you want
to use him before you go?"
	"Oh, thanks," the guard said, "but I'm on duty right now and you
won't want me to wake you up when I get off. Maybe I'll stop in before my
shift starts tomorrow, if that's okay." He turned to look at his boss, as
if to say, "But you can." "Uh, no," his boss stammered out.

	I was still standing there, squirming, but unwilling to piss into
the diaper in front of a crowd.
	"Well go ahead, slave, I thought you had to piss real bad? We're
going to stand here and watch to make sure the diaper doesn't leak."
	I hung my head, squirming again, but clearly not willing to piss.
	"Oh, hell, come here and I'll help get you started." Master
unzipped as I shuffled over to him. He pulled out his cock and tugged at
the top of my diaper, stuck his dick in, and started to piss. "Gentlemen,
care to make a contribution?", he said to the guard and his boss. But
before they had a chance to consider the possibility, the warmth of my
Master's piss seeping around my crotch caused my dam to burst and I let
loose with a sigh. "Ah, good; finally," Master said as he pulled out. "Now
kneel down and take the rest of it properly." I kneeled between his legs
and suckled his cock, swallowing his piss even as it was still streaming
out my own cock into my diaper. But at least I wasn't feeling so
desperate. The guard left with his boss saying, "See? I told you this place
was wild." And it gets even more so on Saturday nights.

	Master stopped the flow of his piss, prematurely I thought. "Let's
save the rest, boy. You'll need something to drink after you eat your
burgers.
	"And just so you know, you'll be drinking a lot of piss while we're
here. My piss, your piss or anyone else who needs a place to piss. After
all, a slave's throat is really nothing more than a urinal.  No vending
machine drinks need to be wasted on you." Master opened the drapes, "since
now you are properly clothed for public viewing" and told me to follow him
outside. I moved to do so but stopped. The damn diaper was so thick it
caused me to waddle. I must look like a fool. With another sigh I waddled
out to where we sat down to eat, him on the bench and me kneeling at his
feet on the concrete sidewalk, still diapered, and the chain from my ankle
leading back into the room, pulled tight, guys occasionally strolling by to
look at the sights. I guess now I was one of the sights.

	Master pulled two wrapped burgers out of the bag and handed them to
me. They were cold, and the bun stuck to the meat, and it seemed to be the
ones they would have pulled from the bin after sitting there too long and
getting dried out. As if reading my mind, Master said he told the girl at
the fast food place he needed a couple of old burgers from the trash if
they had any --or my dog. They didn't charge me for them; you're going to
be cheap to feed." Master set his drink down, drips of condensation rolling
down the sides of the cup, and took his burger from the bag, a large,
juicy, deluxe cheeseburger with lettuce and tomato. Clearly his wasn't left
over.
	He took his fries out and began eating, every so often reaching
down to feed me one, and having me lick the juices or grease his
fingers. Sitting there eating tasteless hamburgers (at least there was
ketchup on them), in a soggy diaper, waiting for the next guy to come along
and use me made me a bit mellow. I sighed. Thus far my slavery had been
pretty humiliating for me, but somehow having everyone know I was a slave,
a lesser being, felt good. I was feeling as though I'd found my place. And
I took another bite of my dried up burger, determined to enjoy my new
status in spite of the menu.

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