Please consider donating to this amazing place we all enjoy so much: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Any questions please ask! I love emails: JamieTi684@gmail.com
Greg played with the steel chain, his thick arms flexing as he did so. He didn't know where the talisman came from originally. Probably passed down from generations ago. All he knew was that it controlled whoever wore it. Well, he would control whoever wore it.
But the truth was, he had never needed to use it. Greg was and always had been Top Dog. Alpha Male, king of his domain. He was the original All-American jock; captain of the football and wrestling teams, married his cheerleader girlfriend and fathering 2 great sons. Inheriting a small but successful landscaping business meant he always lived in comfort. He never had to work hard in money or relationships, so he had time to devote to his interests. He had won bodybuilding championships in his 20's, and now in his later 30's had shifted to powerlifting, where once again he found success and happiness. Early on when he got tired of his wife's ever-increasing demands, he divorced her, and the layer being a family friend meant that he had everything he wanted handed to him while she was handed her marching papers.
No, he had never wanted to use the talisman.
Until now.
"Hey there Greg! How's the weather up there?" Tim was the new renter in the annex to his 5 bedroom house - and the new subject of Greg attention.
"Heh, it's raining up here, half-pint! You're gonna get wet in 20 minutes or so!"
Tim laughed. Greg stood almost a foot taller than the 5'7'' student, and was double the weight. He was an easy going guy, but Greg knew how much he intimidated the much smaller Tim.
"So Tim - I have this little trinket here, I want you to try it on for me. Just wanna to see how it looks."
"Uh, ok. Go for it."
As Greg put the talisman around his neck, he could tell that Tim didn't really like it. It was a green stone in a chunky steel-grey chain, not something a preppy student like Tim would wear. He stood back and looked at him.
"You know what? I think it looks pretty good on you. Why don't you go ahead and keep it. I want you to wear it from now on."
Greg almost stopped breathing - it was make or break. Would he obey the order?
"Wow, you sure? Thanks Greg, that's really nice of you!"
Greg breathed a sigh of relief. The trap had been laid, the young man was his now. All he had to do was give an order and Tim would obey it, not even knowing why.
"Don't mind me Tim, just doing some laundry! Did you get Scott's text? He said he told you that ours was on the blink." Greg had walked down the stairs that connected to Tim's section of the house. A laundry room linked the main house with both Tim's annex and a garage.
"Yeah, that's no problem at all Greg! There's detergent and softener in the cupboard right there if you need it."
"Heh, you use laundry softener? Hell I knew you were gay, but I didn't think you that much of a fag, ha ha!"
"Hey now, clothes last longer if you use it, and it makes them dry faster. And the smell isn't too bad. I mean, Scott's room smells like a jockstrap that's been worn for a week..."
"Well sounds like you're the expert Tim! You don't mind doing this load for me then, do you?"
"Yeah, sure, no problem..."
Greg smiled, and clapped Tim on the shoulder. It could have just been politeness, but he ordered Tim to do the laundry and he obeyed.
"Atta boy! Hey, after you got those clothes a washin', come upstairs. We'll open a couple of brewski's and watch the game..."
Greg lounged in the leather sofa, waiting for his (hopefully) new houseboy to do his dirty laundry and come join him. There was something about the young guy, Greg couldn't stop thinking about him. He thought about how he both felt nurturing and protective of Tim and yet wanted to dominate him at the same time. He hadn't felt this way in years, it was like a hunter had woken up inside him.
He couldn't rule out Tim 'obeying' wasn't just politeness. He'd been throwing in a lot of Can You's and Could You's. A test was in order. He needed to give Tim a direct command he couldn't ignore, or be written off as just normal behavior.
He had placed some junk on the other seats in the spacious living room. Tim would have to sit with Greg in the three-seater, with Greg in the middle.
Tim poked his head round the corner. "Hey Greg, just wanted you to know your laundry is on, so 2 hours and I'll hang it out to dry."
Greg grinned a little. If he was hanging out the clothes, he'd be handling his underwear. The thought of that, along with Tim doing chores on command, was turning him on. He snapped back to reality when he realised Tim was just hanging in the hallway, unsure of what to do next.
"Well don't just stand there, grab us both a cold one and come on in boy, no need to be shy! Penn state vs Colorado, should be fun!"
As Tim went next door to the beer fridge, Greg went over his game plan. Lots of physical contact during a rowdy game of football would get Tim used to being touched by him. Tim came back in with 2 beers and Greg gestured to the seat beside him.
"And hey, I don't want you to feel unwelcome just cos you rent a room next door. You're always welcome to wander in and say hey. We don't lock our doors here or nothin', so don't be a stranger."
"That's really nice of you Greg. I'm so happy I'm here, you're a great guy."
Greg beamed. He was glad the kid was taking a liking to him. His brash personality meant that he was sometimes hard to get along with, but Tim was taking it all in his stride.
"I hope you don't take offence to me saying Fag earlier... It's just friendly joshin', gays like you are AOK in my book."
"Heh, that's ok Greg. It's just us guys here, you can say what you like around me. It's just a word, and anyway I've been called far worse."
Greg smiled and clapped Tim on the shoulder. "Atta boy! I'm glad you've fit in here so well. Truth be told, I always thought one of Scott or James' jock friends would rent the place out. I didn't know why they picked some pencil-neck geek to move in to the annex, no offence, but I'm sure glad they did. How did you even get to know Scott?"
"Well, I know Scott cos he was my personal trainer. I got a free session when I joined the gym. I was gonna pass on it but then I saw Scott, and I thought if any personal trainer knew what they were doing it was him. He's just 21 but all those bodybuilding awards he's won. "
"That's right kid! Scott takes after his old man." Greg beamed a smile while flexing his bicep in Tim's face. "Yup, takes a lotta work to get bi's like this."
Tim's eyes widened. "Wow, they're huge! You must be able to lift a ton!"
Greg smirked, always in the mood for a little ego-boost. "Well you know kid, you train enough and you'll be big too! I hope you're still weightlifting with Scott. Maybe we'll all train together, we got a sweet gym here in the main house. I'll show you later on after the game."
"I'd like that a lot Greg, that's really cool of you."
"No problem little man! I'm glad you're here. With my 2 sons spending more and more time away I'm glad I have a mascot here to keep me company, ha ha."
Tim smiled up at Greg. Little did he know how much time he'd be spending with his landlord.
Greg wore his white underarmour t-shirt and shorts for the gym session with his new friend. It was chosen specifically - both items clung to his body, accentuating every muscle. The striations of his bowling-ball sized shoulders could almost be seen. With the right underwear worn, barely anything was left to the imagination. Yes, little Tim was going to get quite the eyeful, he thought.
He led Tim through the large house towards the home gym. Tim was wearing a black t-shirt and shorts, they were baggier than Greg would have liked. He made a mental note to go through the attic for his son's old clothing, maybe he could find some tighter wifebeaters before he conditioned the boy to wear less in general.
"My biggest failure of being a father is raising two curlbros. All they wanted to train is arms. Not gonna make the same mistake with you."
"Well Greg, in fairness to them their arms are massive."
"True, but I want you to have a proper foundation. Compound lifts, that's what I'm talking about! You'll get strong quicker than you know it!"
Greg clamped a meaty paw onto Tim's shoulder and guided him over to the power rack.
"So this here what I'm about to show you is the squat, king of lifts. You'll be doing this with me a lot from now on."
He grabbed an empty barbell and put it on the rack, then ducking under it, putting it square on his back below his neck..
"Now. Feet shoulder-width apart, 30 degree spread. Don't point your toes forward. Look down during the movement, don't look up on your descent."
Greg squatted down. "See how I'm pushing my knees out? See how I'm going low enough that my legs are parallel to the floor? Now as I rise up, I'm still looking down."
He re-racked the bar. "Your turn sport! Just squat down without the bar for now." As Tim stepped into the cage, Greg got down on one knee and put his hands between Tim's thighs and pushed out. "Your legs gotta be further apart! Shoulder width". Greg then poked his index finger onto Tim's tailbone. Feel that point there? Imagine there's a string attached there, that pulls up. That's the motion you want from a squat. Squat down for me now."
As he lowered himself to the floor, Greg cupped Tim's ass with his meaty paws. "Now lift up with your ass, that's it. That's it, good work. Now we'll try with the bar."
As they went through the motions, Greg kept up the physical contact. While he sensed initial resistance, he could see Tim getting more and more used to it.
"Heh, hope you're ok with me touching you like this - I'm a hands-on guy!"
After 30 minutes of instruction, Tim was getting visibly tired. The last thing Greg had him doing was the bench press, and he was having difficulty.
"C'mon Tim! The bar only weighs 20 kilos! You can't even bench an empty bar?"
Tim's face looked hurt. Greg realised he fucked up - he wanted to help Tim lift, not make him sad or scare him away.
"Ah, forget what I said Tim. You're on the start of a great journey, we all started somewhere! We've lifted a lot today, why don't we grab a protein shake and relax for a bit? Follow me."
As they strolled into the living room, Greg peeled off the underarmor t-shirt and shorts, both damp with sweat. He threw them on the ground near where Tim had sat, and flexed and stretched out his muscles.
"Ah, that's better. Free and loose, know what I mean?"
Tim was silent. Maybe he didn't consider Greg being in nothing but his tight underwear strange - after all, he and his sons were shirtless most of the time anyway. Time to kick things up a notch, Greg thought. As he sat down he leaned back, hiking his right leg over the arm of the couch, and putting his left leg up on the ottoman, scratching his crotch which was now on full display. No more sidestepping, the time had come.
"Hey son, sniff my feet and tell me how they smell."
This was it. No way this could be considered a serious request. A grown man in his 30's in only his underwear, drenched in sweat from a hard workout, asking a younger guy to sniff his feet. Would he obey the direct order? Or laugh it off as a joke? Greg watched him. Tim's eyes grew wide. Slowly he stood up. Greg smiled with glee as the bug-eyed student leaned down to his feet and gave them a cursory sniff.
"W-well I mean, they're feet. They smell ok." He was completely confused as to why he had obeyed the command. The powerlifter needed to know for sure, .
"It's perfectly normal to sniff my feet, right Tim? Actually, nothing that I say or tell you to do is weird or freaky. Ain't that right?"
Tim's face relaxed. "Huh. Yeah, I guess that's true."
Greg grinned with excitement. This was it. He almost thought it wouldn't work, but it had. The talisman's power was real. Tim was his new plaything and would obey any command. The possibilities were endless.
"Sniff my pits too, not sure if I need a shower." Tim just looked at his armpits and casually leaned in to take a sniff.
"C'mon Tim, not a weak little sniff like that, take a deep breath, really get in there!" Greg put his meaty paw on the back of Tim's head and pushed him right into his sweaty pit. Tim's muffled protest got an loud laugh from the sweaty powerlifter. Grabbing Tim in a headlock, Greg gave him a playful noogie. As he let Tim escape from the hold, he could see he was smiling too. "Ha, nothin' wrong with a little horseplay, eh sport?"
Tim grinned. "Well your pits aren't too bad, but maybe you should have that shower."
Greg thought about how far he should take this session. He could just order him to like the smell. Hell, he could order the young student to lick his pits clean. But that was probably enough for today. He wanted to savour the hunt, luring Tim slowly into his trap. He could wait a little longer before claiming his prize.
But no harm in a little fun while doing so.
"But Tim, you like my smelly pits. You like Scott and James too, you love the manly stink of a sweaty armpit. Do you really want me to have a shower?"
"Er - no, probably not. You smell fine really. Could probably go for a while without a shower!"
Greg grinned. Perfect. Bet the fag won't use fabric softener on our clothes neither, he thought. He patted the chair beside him. "C'mere young Tim, let's just relax after our workout and watch a little tv." Tim obeyed and hopped on the large couch beside his landlord. Greg hoped he'd be distracted by his smell, not to mention the package that was still on display. He draped his left arm over Tim's head, and groped himself with the right, playing it off like he was just adjusting his ample manhood. He grinned when he saw Tim blush slightly.
This was going to be fun.