Date: Thu, 11 Feb 2021 05:11:09 -0500 From: tawind yu Subject: Strange Minds (A Saga of Older Male Taming): An Ordinary Man Strange Minds (A Saga of Older Male Taming) 10 Authoritarian/ Scifi/ Fantasy/ Chapter Title: An Ordinary Man 10 Strange Minds (A Saga of Older Male Taming) If you enjoy Nifty, please, consider donating at donate.nifty.org/donate.html All characters involved in the story are of legal age. This work is the sole property of the author and may not be reprinted or reused without his written permission. All comment and advice are welcome, email at taitanium1988@gmail.com If you would like to be put into an email list to get a draft and give me feedback before I submit it, please let me know in your email. All Rights Reserved © 2020, Ty Su Please be advised that the following text contains explicit information Please notify the court clerk that you DO NOT wish to read the evidence entry. ******************************************************************************** ************************************************ May 31, 2021. Monday I had a headache today, and I took a day off. I don't know why, but it seems as long as I am with my dad, I can be myself again--as long as I can use him sexually in some way. The rest of the time. I am just a zombie- a zombie obsessed with the man I once called father. Now as I am writing it, I still can't believe how sadistic I have been with him. I remember one day we were walking on a snow plane; I must have been 8 or 9, and he was holding my hands, putting in his pocket and telling me about the different parts of the mountain we were standing on, what kind of tree and what kind of bird we would spot. He smelled nice, clean with a hint of aftershave. I stored these memories in the back of my head, so the ones about bookkeeping, tire changing and endless working in a shop we opened 15 years ago could stack there and paint me a father in my mind who I know and love before our abduction. Something has gone completely off-rail, no, someone is doing this to me. I knew it, as soon as I got in contact with that person on Reddit, I felt like a different person. It's crazy, I know; I feel like my brain has been picked, altered, and calibrated to function for one purpose, to release my sadistic tendency on a toy, which is something I thought I had eradicated a long time ago after I met my wife. And now, an emptiness, no, a hunger crept into my stomach, alighted my nervous system and, through my spinal cord, found my brain, whispering, intimidating and terrifying me to change into a beast of insatiable craving--I want to spend time with my dad like we used to, but I also would enjoy turning him into that toy. 2 days ago, I went to my dad's house. He was over the counter, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. His girlfriend got sick and didn't want to risk getting Covid, so he enjoyed an uneventful afternoon to himself. He saw me, acting as if everything was normal, and offered me some breakfast and coffee. We talked like we always had been; as if I had never slapped across his face for saying he wanted to pee or inserted hands into his pants, gagged him afterward; nor had I never punished him for not able to cum the fourth time in the endurance of 3 hours with his hands and feet tied behind his back, drooling all over his Persian carpet, being silenced by a beaming-red-ball-gag and thrusting his hip on a nice piece of a black dildo that attaches to the floor; or have I never tied and taped him into a ball and left him in the TV room floor with a vibrating dildo inserted into his gaping hole, watching a three-hour movie on his side, while he made a puddle of cum pool by the couch. I have edged him countless times in the past few days, sometimes I lost sense of my own wrist. His nipples have been pulled, crushed, and bitten numerous times so that they look like two voluptuous cherries. I arrived last Friday evening and made him strip his clothes; his wrists were carefully coiled with ropes after ropes to pull them tightly behind his back, a few loops drawn between his legs, encircling his balls. I clipped those nipples with clothespins-- He was quiet and docile as I constructed his predicament, only winced when he felt the full pressure of the clothespin, most of the time, he was just watching things being done to him in awe. And then, I left him on the couch, His dick was hard-- inviting-- so I hunched down, put my lips around his gland, and started sucking on it; no I don't want him to look at me as I am gobbing my head up and down, feeling his balls in my hand, inhaling his scent. Therefore I blindfolded him with a mask I hid in my back pocket. That was the moment I forgot the father-son thing-- I only wanted to taste him and had him feed me with his cum; I hugged him when he cum and left him there, jittering in his uncomfortable position from the organism. Now, looking at us, I felt like I have completely awakened; there was not an ounce of me wanting to change what we have; such as put him through the exciting events again, run my hand through his shirt, and touch his nipples, extending my fingers to his hairy ballsack, pulling it down until he groans; nor I want to exhale his pleasure, stuff his mouth, not for the purpose to silence him, but only to hear his muffled cry behind a piece of his own sock, of course, the rogue ones that he has been wearing since yesterday, then, he would be left on his couch again; My belt would come off, wield high and mighty in the air, struck on his board chest, leaving a fresh-made red mark under his patchy gray chest hair. No, I don't feel like doing that at all, at least not now. He looked at me and passed me a piece of bread. This is infuriating; he is being nice to me-- he is not supposed to be nice to me-- he supposed to be dull, dump and unintelligent, and be regarded as an animal, an object, or even an unfinished piece of art, situated in a painting room stolidly with one of its inchoate corners. My brain spun so fast as the side of the toast touched my hand; I could see him again under those lights, having his hands behind his back, and his balls were hanging low; almost touching the cold marble floor. "No one can know please, no one can know please." He really just meant his girlfriend. "Who am I going to tell dad?" "Are you gonna treat me like... like those guys?" "I don't know," I really didn't know. "I saw what they did to you and I think," I peeked at his dick, revered at its hardness. "Maybe you liked it to be treated that way" "Am I sick, Harris? you should send me to the doctor," he looked like he was having a panic attack. "You should... should send me to hospital. I am sick, I am a pervert, but I was not... not before they took us... they did that to us... Harris. We are sick... " He shouldn't talk like that. After I finished wrapping his face with a coil of electrical tape that I have scourged from the garage，he finally relaxed; I don't think he likes his own nasty underwear being stuffed into his mouth；I smelled it before I plumbing into his throat. **Gee. Are those tears*--should I care? I mean... I only wanted him to know that it is not okay to talk like that anymore-- I should be the one holding absolute power over him. I lowered him down-- he was still sobbing, so I ripped his basketball short open, marveling at those hairy cheeks and its nice roundness peek. I inserted one finger into between--not into him-- just to feel the hotness, but he moaned-- or cried-- I honestly don't care. I looked him straight in the eyes when I swirled around that hole--He flinched. All those panic and begging was just a show-- he knew what he was doing-- it seems like his hole welcomed my visit. I took my finger out and put it under his nose; I wanted him to smell himself, watch him wince before I parted those meaty, delicious cheeks, and lower myself to taste it. I insert the tip of my tongue to the deep end of the gap-- incite a pleasure gruttle from him--funny-- and I decided to move it around and reach my hand to the bits between his thigh, circling his ball with my thumb and index finger, rock them back and forth as I feel his heavy dick slapping his lower belly. He was in a frenzy when I started burying my face into those parted cheeks, licking, savoring, worshiping; ** The sacred staple just fell* That's how I felt-- I desecrated him with my tongue by strolling it up and down, getting every inch of the contracting hole wet and sloppy, and most importantly-- turning him into a slut-- look at him--gasping air from his gagged mouth, trying to say something but uncontrollably stick up his ass, begging for the next round of the pleasure. The couches we were on were stained by the leaking from his glans. And That tree chunk of a dick of his, just hanging there smashing his belly as my grip on his ball tightened. I turned him over, braced him to my arms as if he is a baby-- no, more of a pet dog-- I want to look at him straight in the eyes, He tried to look away but I rewarded him with a slap on the face-- he tried to close his legs so I would lose access to his most vulnerable bits-- I couldn't allow it. A few ropes later, I tied his ankle to his thigh and pulled the knee apart by tethering it around the couch. He now looks like a twisted frog that welcomes any assault I could unleash on him. I looked into his eyes and didn't see what I wanted to see, instead pleasuring and guilt were gushing from his face--- those eyes radiate the coyness of slutness; I hate those feelings from him. It just too human, too real, and too close to what we were-- but we are not what we were anymore-- we are better, a predator and a pry, the rainfall, and people who rush to a shelter, the dark universe and a hopeless stargazer who knew those beaming light at night are just visions-- he or she or they would never reach the source, even after exhausting all the time in their lives. And that is the relationship we have, no, that is the relationship we are supposed to have. I sucked on my finger, getting it wet before ramming into his anus--sure, I did it with force-- he cried again, yelped, screamed into his gag-- the pain has raised upon his face and consumed him right in front of my eyes--but I am glad. Those feelings I saw in his eyes are gone; no guilt-- haha, at this moment, it is just too trivial-- no pleasure, the pleasure was meticulously created for the weak-- and it is nothing like what I am looking right now, which is straight-up ecstatic-- something we call fear-- I saw fear in those eyes, and it made me rock-hard. "Would you like to fuck him?" That is not my voice, but it rang in my ear and clear like the late fall day sky, crawling into my mind as it echoed at the back of my head. But I didn't look back-- no-- why should I?; Should you?; When you have your dad's dick in your hand, with his hands tied behind him, panting lasciviously, you would block anything that is not as exciting as what you are experiencing-- even if it is the voice to remind you how sinister and deprive you have been. I straightened his upper body so he now straddles over me, with both of his legs tied to his thigh separately, and only able to support himself with knees. Every move he made bought an intense discomfort on his body; I can see on his face as the sweat streamed down his cheeks and fell on my T-shirt--The smell too; the most masculine smell, mixed with the cheap detergent and a wisp of soap attacked my nostril. He is getting ripe and I am entranced. So I answered... "I would." I would, and I am going to. My shorts have been lowered and my dick bounced out, pulsating and frequenting with my heartbeats. The gruffiness of his chest hair derailed my attention; I sense a longing, a longing has been graced by the most familiar feeling, as if I am going home to a place I have never been; so I braced him, profoundly, deep into my circled arm, slowly tightening my linking arm and bring every fiber of him into the interior of my body-- a desperate gasp escaped him-- I sense his rapid breath and heartbeat on my skin. "It's okay daddy" My dick has already impaled him, and he missed the chance to experience it-- awwww too sad-- so here goes the thrust on my hip, slowly speeding up -- the obliviousness he wears is laughable-- I laughed, and I also heightened the ramming; he felt it, or why would he cry and begging his muffled mouth-- His skin is turning hotter by the seconds--and so does mine. The sound of our breathing was chaotic, I couldn't tell who is more excited, but one thing is for sure-- he is getting close, I sense that-- he got turned on so much that the constitution within him is on the verge of collapsing. "No" Who the fuck are you? "No" I didn't give a shit--I am gonna cum, fuck, his hole is too sweet, I can feel his heartbeat on my glan as I bury it deep inside of him. "No... " I am gonna cum, and my dad has lost all the support of his upper body; he closed his eyes surrendered himself to the pleasure. A crack broke out-- tree branches grew out of the itchiness on my back-- thousand flower buds encased us into its web. My dad watched the growing tree on my back with horror. The flowers are actually talking "No" They said "We will wish you a good fortune " The flower branches shuddered-- like children repeating lines written by an over-dramatic writer. The voice said "And we wish you a good fortune," What does that even mean.... I heard the sound of coins-- thousands of coins, the flower petals falling from the tree branches, turned into golden coins. " Gave him to us " Bring him to us " Preserve him" " Hand him over to us" " Then enjoy all the fortune" I heard this time, I was answering to this voice in my head, thinking I have gone insane, the tree I bear on my back dropping golds like raindrops in a storm; thousands and thousands of coins rolling down like. I watched the coins, stunned; We have never seen anything like it. Then a strong muscular arm reached over my back and picked one of the coins, put in the center of my palm. "Take it, and there is more, for the rest of your life. Just give him to us. Let us have him" "What's gonna happen to him?" The voice is real and I am going to talk to it. "Well," I can hear the suppressed giggle, " a long-overdue retirement vacation... " I don't believe a word, but when I looked over to my dad; he was watching me-- there was a transaction going on and he doesn't have a say in it because he is the product, or he just being stunned by my body, which now has morphed into a half-human and half-tree monster. "Let's hear his opinion," I reached over, got a hold of his dick, and started to squeeze the base of the shaft, at the same time I stopped all the motion inside his anus. Although he could only make unintelligent sounds, I felt his dick has come down flaccid. "So tell me, dad, " I draw away my hand from his dick. "Do you want to go back to being your old self, the one you think who you were, the one you have been telling yourself and me all these years, an ordinary guy that bears an ordinary life. " His chest was raising and receding reaping, making his chest hair spreading out and contracting into a furry flower-- the fucking took a toll on his energy-- he looked like he is tired and wasted-- also, his dick stayed flaccid and heavily position itself on top of my stomach. Slowly, I watched his body relax more and more as if a string of strength had been pulled out of his core and restored his consciousness--He was thinking--I can see in his eyes-- He is human again. The ethic or moral or the danger or everything that has happened to him so far started to agitate him-- he panicked--and his shoulders are moving away from me. I could tell he was moments away from screaming and panicking in the rope trap. That was the last sign. "Or dad" I raised myself closer to his undulating chest. " we can have you tied up like this, and there is a place we can go, there, they will keep you like this and..." His eyes are refocused on mine; I saw a light, alight but converted by the darkness in his pupil--he is trying to tell me something as his mouth is still gagged. "A world of wonder could happen to you except the one will ask you to be the ordinary you, " I feel his dick squirting on my stomach. "And bear an ordinary life." The light in his eyes, now, is blazing through the doubt, the shame, and the uncertainty of everything; reached me. I grabbed his hardening dick; all the branches were trembling and swaying, the golden coins kept dropping on the floor. I heard someone singing, or maybe laughing, or maybe it is just in our head. The tree branches disappeared on my back, the golden coins left on the floor are not; We are almost buried in a tsunami of golds-- and I know why they did this-- they know I don't need the money--they have full control over us, and they want us to know, they can make us do anything and anything that will be justified in our mind, even for selling my own father off like a cattle. 2 hours later, I loaded him up in my truck, all roped up, with a piece of dirty sock stuff into his mouth, tapped up like a ball, and put him with some of the gold I gathered on the floor. I looked into his eyes and saw the light one last time; I guess it was fear, shame, or the uncertainty of saying goodbye to his old life-- as an ordinary man-- forever; but I rather think those are the awning of his future, maybe I am wrong, but who cares, there is a long drive ahead of us. ******************************************************************************** ************************************************ Miller has very few vices in his life; alcohol and drugs are the very epidemic in Doxen--People who he grew up with died, most of them became the shame of the family. Sure there were tears of the moms and aunts-- but to the public they love to tell a different story; Jimmy didn't die in the back of his car with his wife when they overdose on OxyContin, the local paper rectify all the hearsay by suggesting a rare symptom of a heart condition; George, too, he didn't just lie in the parking lot when a single mom ran him over by accident after he did meth with his uncle, no, pastor Joseph said he was told by the family that it was aneurysm; Johnny was laughing when he crushed a couple of pills and dissolve in the gin he found in his mom' cabinet--his sister 3 hours later had to call not only their parents but Johnny's best friend David's--they were buried in the same cemetery and Miller was there in their funeral, he was there in all their funerals. He had been offered before and He tried once; a co-worker put a pill on the tip of his tongue, they kissed, and they stayed in his Ram truck for a long afternoon. No one knows about it but it was something he just blocked in his mind and hoped he would never remember until today. He secretly hopes he is on drugs now, in that ram truck, with a buddy who he had been working for 7 years and kissed him on the mouth and not pushing him away as it happened-- It felt good-- the blood squirting out of his chest--the horror in his eye twisted his face terrified the person walking towards him. Miller looked at the person and he at him-- no one can ever get used to looking at their own face-- the thought ran through Miller's mind as his breath slipping away--sure one can see yourself in the mirror every day, knowing the eyes, the nose, and only surprised when we noticed the length of the hair and beard are out of control-- but today is not one of those days--he looked real to Miller, they are the same person but now he is dying and the other Miller is confused and shocked and looking for an answer. Miller tried to think of one but his vision is getting blurring and slowly swallowed by the darkness. He felt his dick had been pulled up and so did his body. A beam of light blinded him when he saw some lotus flower surround him. "Slap" a sharp pain on his face surprised him, he woke up; Baihu now standing in a glowing paddle, a stone plate floating by him with incense in the middle. Miller noticed a cow had joined the running on the stone palate. "I told you," Baidu smirked at Miller "you need to hide well." "But how," "Your human proud yourself of your wit, use your wit" He lifted his arm and flick his finger to Miller's direction. Miller felt a punch in his chest, dropped back to the floor, and then realized he was back to the house once again. This time, with all the stimulation, continued on both ends, he did not waste a second, ran to the back, and discovered the sound he heard earlier was behind a door. He budged in and quickly hid behind it. The door in the living room squeaked again; he heard footsteps, tapping their way to him, feeling cornered, Miller found a wrench on a rack next to him. As soon as the door opened, he wielded it down. **Thumb* The figure fell to the floor; a person who looked exactly like Miller is now lying unconsciously on the floor. Feeling a sudden pain in his genitals, Miller realized Baihu tried to signal him to move. He is now looking at the crate, the size of a half adult man, in the center of the disorganized grudge--a thumping, almost like a heartbeat, steadily drumming out of the crate and somehow attracting Miller to walk up closer. Sizing the crate, Miller noticed it is as tall as his shoulder, a little shy of the height of a refrigerator, pitch black, and it has glyph all over, with a strange hollow in the middle of the front side. Miller pulled the crate top but couldn't make it barge, he guessed there had to be a password. "Now What do I do?" Miller asked the plain air in front of him and hoped Baihu could give him further instruction, but nothing happened. "Baihu" he shouted. "We don't have much time" Baihu's voice appeared at the back of Miller's ear. " Put your dick in the hole" "You are joking!!!" Miller was shocked by what he just heard. "The crate need to sense your Yangyuan to open, put your dick in the hole" "This is bullshit" Against all his thought to give up and run away, Miller kneels on the floor, and hold up his hard long shaft, aiming at the hole on the side of the crate, sticking it in. First, nothing happened, and then suddenly and slowly, Miller felt his dick is being rapidly and masterfully manipulated and fondled. **Goodness, does he want me to cum inside the crate* The urge to cum mounted on him; all the torture (Maybe "torture " is not the right word, especially as he is enjoying every second of it) somehow altered his inhibition-- he was a prude-- women, including his wife, all surprised how shy and reserved a hunk like Miller could be on the bed; he would fuck like he is on a trip of pilgrimage, having his eyes locked to the person in his brace--reverence merged on his lashed eyes-- then he would moan for a cuddling and a deep kiss--nothing excited him more; a golden Trever of a man they said. And now, he is in this world, a world of torment and pleasure, to be puppeteered in the fingers of an ancient Chinese god, every movement he made bears a troves of pain, stimulation and merciless teasing--nothing is under his control, or nothing belongs to him anymore; nor his body, his physical being, his freedom to cum, his fate, his mind--surprisingly calmed him; he didn't know he doesn't want to be in control- the derailing from everything is actually exciting and full of liberation, yes liberated-**I should be!*-- a thought in his head-- may be what had happened was the reality, or a frenzy dream, or, he just loses it, screw loose, deluded or hallucinated--anyway,he enjoyed the taunting and the diminishing, it made him blushed-- all these feelings are unknown and terrified to him; kneeling in front of a crate and being milked certainly didn't help; he revisited the sight of Baihu in his head-- the muscular body towering in those rays of light, gushing flows of power, rendering him to follow every word he said no matter how reluctant he is-- he felt his balls are contracting, the need to cum is ever so close. The bomb went off-- the explosion broke out into hell, "I forgot the bomb," in a blink of an eye, the flame blasted the door open and swallowed the man on the floor and Miller. The familiar feeling of frenzy attacked him again, he lost consciousness before disintegrating into ashes. Again, he woke up in the same place， and Baihu, with the same indifferent convenience, staring at him. " Listen, man," Miller complained to Baihu. "I went to the crate and did what you asked me. The bomb went out too fast and I don't have time to ... to...get to open the crate," Baihu scratched the back of his head, frustrated. "Not to mention..." "Mention what" the stolid face replied "You know, you have been playing with my dick. I'm worried I'd shot my load before I reached the crate" "I guess you'll need to hold it," Baihu said in a monotone, "Or we are going to be stuck here forever." Miller couldn't phantom the amount of the adjective he could use on the dismissive and impertinent god, and the vicious will all went in vain as Baihu flicked his finger at Miller-- a storm of eye-blinding flash wrapped around Miller's body-- before he realized, he already stood at the same house he had tried to reach the garage for a few times. **I gotta talk to the other me!!! and what a genius idea* he lamented in his mind (the Miller in this timeline; the one who completely has no idea what kind of fate he is going to step into) and somehow to make him tag along-- and together, they will get out of this looping hell without a scratch on their back, except an empty ball sack and a trauma resulted from being edged merciless by an ancient god. Therefore, instead of going to the garage and putting his dick into the crate, he stayed in the living room and waited for the other Miller, the other Miller to budge in like he had done multiple times. The stroking on his dick had increased its pace-- Baidu telepathically brought him to the edge and expertly impeded him from cum again. Also, there was the pain; his nipples are swollen and continually being rubbed by an invisible force, stroking, crushing, and pinching; the motion made him wince and flinch as he awkwardly stood in a stranger's house. "Why" Miller yelled and hoped Baihu could show some mercy. The door opened, a towering man walked in. Miller watched the towering man; they looked exactly the same except one of them is fully clothed and the other one not wearing anything and with a rigging hard dick that pulsates, dripping a stream of translucent liquid onto the floor. "Who are you?" the other Miller asked. "Hey, man listen... " Before Miller finished his sentence, he felt his body, as if being attracted by a magnet, drawn towards the other Miller, and the same thing happened to the other Miller. The moment they clashed, their body tangled together and pulled into a thin thread--the thinking of the line eventually faded into nothing. Before Miller got his head around what had happened, he skimmed Baihu's side, who was giving him the same stern face. "What had just happened?" Miller yelled at Bihu as he took a mouthful air and tried to keep himself from passing out. "Nothing, I forgot to tell you that you are not supposed to see yourself in the future, that one is on me" Baihu looked at Miller, still not a stir on his white tiger face; it is hard to read anything from that face-- Miller started wondering if Baihu is doing these to torture him, the things he told him about his body is not true-- he might be just a toy thing for his sick pleasure. "Well, safety training for time-traveling should've taken place beforehand don't you think? " "You can't blame me, you humans are too small and restrained by the physical rules, as opposed to us gods who made them, " he sounds awfully genuine for accidentally getting him killed many times " I guess you have met yourself from the other timeline" "You kidding" Miller looked to the side and spotted the Gimp. "You said we cannot meet but the first time he saw me, this did happen," Miller walked over towards the gimp "the only thing I can think of is that ... he did not see my face." Miller said to Baihu "I guess I have to find something to cover my face up" Miller took off the gimp's hood-mask.... "Anthony Ricchi !!!"