Standard disclaimer: You should not be reading this is you are underage or it is illegal for you to do so in your community. You should not read this story if you are offended by stories with gay and sexual themes. If this kind of stuff gets you all morally indignant and hot and bothered, beat it and spare yourself (and me) the headache. Otherwise, carry on.

The Purple Boots

by

purplebootsgywr

copyright 2001

ED & SEAN

“You gotta be kidding me, right?”

Sean looked at his friend with a wry smile, having anticipated this response. “Nope. Put ‘em on, Ed.”

Ed was a longtime friend of Sean’s. He was 26, but with a baby face that made him look closer to 16. He was one of the most easygoing and helpful people Sean had ever had the pleasure to know, much less have the privilege to count among his friends. It had gotten to the point that Sean could nearly always get the easygoing “Edster” to go along with anything Sean suggested. Nearly.

It looked like this time was going to take a little extra persuasion.

Ed stood there, shaking his head slowly, looking not at Sean but at what Sean had given him to wear. Ed held in his hands two flawlessly crafted, handmade rubber boots. Both were meticulously fashioned to fit Ed perfectly. Both were entirely made of a very soft and supple rubber, inside and out, with a thick layering on the sole--and insole--to provide a particularly fine feeling of comfort for the wearer. Both boots were 17” tall. They would rise to just below Ed’s knee, and would hug his leg at both the trimmed ankle and the calf, adding to the sensation that the boot did not “fit” so much as massage the feet and legs of the wearer with every step.

And one other thing. The boots were a deep, bright, brilliant shade of purple.

“I’m supposed to wear big purple boots, huh?”, Ed continued to shake his head, incredulous. But his face was breaking into that beautiful broad smile that had melted many a lady’s heart. If he did that goofy tongue thing of his, Sean would know he had him. “You’re sure about this?”

Sean leaned forward and rested his arms on the camera. “Positive.”

Sean was just two years Ed’s senior, but had an expression to his eyes and a sophisticated manner that indicated a maturity beyond his years. Sean worked in footwear, but liked to refer to himself as “an old-world cobbler”. He actually knew how to craft shoes and boots by hand and design each pair to the specifications of each wearer for support and comfort. His work was expensive, but well worth the cost. He also dealt in brand name products which he sold at discount prices, but his heart was the heart of a shoemaker, he often remarked. In fact, many of his best materials and patterns came from a friend overseas with similar interests. Sean’s profession was one of the heart, as he not only loved the work, but found his trade was a wonderful way to supply his fetish for rubber knee boots.

Sean was gay, Ed was straight. Both knew it, both were cool with it. And Sean would sometimes call upon Ed, who was a regular in the local Civic Theater productions and something of a ham, to model Sean’s latest creations for advertising flyers and promotional posters to hang around the shop. Of course, there was no way Sean believed that he was going to start cranking out bright purple knee boots, but he had wanted to craft something like them for a while now, and he wanted to see his babyfaced friend wearing them.

“Go ahead, yank ‘em on.”, Sean chided. “You’re gonna look great.” Sean crouched slightly behind the camera, looking at Ed through the lens, adjusting the focus and checking the light meter. He could see his pal continue to shake his head, his smile never wavering. Ed tilted the purple boots a little so that they caught the photo lights and their shafts shined brightly for a moment. The gleam of the slick purple rubber somehow appealed to Ed, and he snorted a quick, truncated laugh, sticking out his tongue partway, between his teeth.

Sean smiled behind the camera. Houston, we have liftoff. Inside the frame of the viewfinder, Sean saw Ed kick off his sandals. “That’s the spirit”, he remarked in encouragement.

“Yeah, you know if you whipped up a pair a’ clown shoes, I’d probably end up wearing those, too.”, Ed conceded.

“Well, you know that whenever you do that tongue-thing of yours, I know you’re a goner.”

Ed stopped halfway in the process of pulling on the first boot. “What ‘tongue thing’?”

Sean kept right on fussing with his camera, speaking more to it than to his friend. “Whenever something really amuses you”, he explained, “you start to laugh and stick out you’re tongue, but you close your teeth at the same time. Looks like you’re either going to bite your tongue off, or you’re fighting to stick your tongue out past a clenched jaw. It’s a dead giveaway, man. Been doin’ it for years.”

Ed was tickled by that, and he laughed while unconsciously sticking his tongue out past his teeth again as he finished pulling on the boots.

Sean looked up from his camera. “Ready whenever you--” , he began, but his sentence stopped midway.

Before him stood his friend Ed, looking down as his brand new, shining purple rubber boots. Ed’s arms were held out at his sides, his body bent a bit at the waist, his eyes glued to the smooth and brilliant rubber. He just stood there for a moment, not moving, not taking his eyes off the boots on his feet.

“Ed ol’ buddy, you okay?”, Sean asked.

Ed didn’t straighten up, but he did speak. “W-whoooa. These f-feel greeeeaat.” Ed was not known to stutter. Sean raised one eyebrow in concern.

“Ed, you sure you’re ok--”

Now Ed was moving. He was pacing around the shop, stopping here and there at random to rock back and forth on his heels. Then he’d walk some more, and stop to do an about-face, spinning on the balls of his feet. As he marched right up to the camera, he suddenly dropped down onto his haunches and hovered there, supporting himself on his toes. He then dropped his heels to the floor, and swayed back and forth by his ankles. Slowly, never losing the sway of his body, Ed rose back to his full height.

He spoke, to no one or to himself. “Ohhh, these feel inCREDible. I-I don’t think I’ve ever worn a pair of shoes--or boots--that felt this good on me. I’ve never worn ANYthing that felt this good on me!”

Ed then swiveled back the other way on one foot, and with every couple steps thrust out one leg with his heel on the floor, his booted toes pointing up. He then did a couple quick line dance steps and spun around rapidly as if he were in a musical number.

Now it was Sean’s turn to shake his head. “Guess you like ‘em”, he muttered under his breath. Then, looking back at Ed, “Geez. Theater types.”

Ed was now standing stock still again, and was looking down at the boots as he wiggled his toes. With each wiggle, you could see the soft rubber surface of the purple boots rise a bit. Ed giggled with every movement. He actually giggled.

Sean couldn’t have been happier. He had anticipated some resistance to the purple boots, but never dreamed they would go over as such a hit once Ed had them on. Now Ed was actually starting to skip around the room in them. Skipping. Honest to God.

Sean waved his arm in a dismissive gesture. “Okay, enough already”, he announced. “C’mon, let’s get this over with. I have an appointment this afternoon and I don’t want to keep you too late, anyway.”

Ed was suddenly all business. He stopped his playful prancing around and strode over to the camera in an almost military fashion. His shoulders were back, his spine straight, his eyes focused. “Yessir”, he said flatly. He stood before Sean’s camera almost at attention, and spoke in a serious tone, asking, “What do you want me to do first?”

Sean was a bit taken aback at Ed’s rapid behavioral turnaround, but then dismissed it as his actor’s peculiarities. “That’s more like it.”, Sean observed. “Let’s get down to business.”

“I await your commands, sir.”, Ed replied in a clipped, yet convincing tone.

Sean paused a moment. Was Ed just being silly, or was there something else in the way he’d said that? Ed stood, still at attention, eyes forward and sharply focused, his body straight, his feet together. His expression was controlled, unreadable. And his manner seemed...well, sincere.

“Ah, what the hell”, thought Sean. “He did play the part of a Marine captain in the winter show. Maybe he’s still into that.”

The photo shoot could not have gone better. Ed followed Sean’s directions to the letter, and knew exactly when to ad lib and add his own flair to provide the best picture. Ed could flash his dazzling smile on command, bringing his entire face to life and almost twinkling his incredible blue eyes. Then, after each pose, he would return to his all-business attitude. Never stern or impatient, but clearly at the ready to receive his next set of instructions with alertness and controlled anticipation. One minute, Ed was walking, sitting, even dancing, smiling brightly and looking thrilled to be there. After the click of the shutter and the word from Sean, he snapped back to his near-military persona. It was almost eerie.

They were done in half the time Sean had allowed for, even after taking more than twice the photos he had expected, due to Ed’s remarkable cooperation and contributions.

“Ed, that was perfect, just perfect!”, Sean crowed. “That was exactly what I was looking for, man. I really appreciate it. Good job.”

Ed was back to standing at attention, but this time his mouth curved into a slight smile at Sean’s praise. “I’m glad you’re pleased.”, he answered, unable to keep an obvious pride from his voice.

“Really pleased.”, Sean said back. He looked to his friend, still standing there at attention in his beautiful purple boots, as if he were awaiting further instructions.

“Ed, it’s cool. We’re done here. Go do your softball game or whatever it was you had planned this afternoon.”

Ed didn’t budge. “If you’re sure that you have what you need from me, sir.”

Okay, enough was enough. Sean felt that this was getting creepy. “Alright already”, he said. “You are officially discharged, soldier. Kick off your boots, you’re free to go.”

Ed looked down longingly at his feet. Then, softly, he asked, “D-do I have to--?”

Sean was a bit touched by the sincerity in Ed’s voice. He wasn’t that good of an actor. He really, really loved those boots. “Well, no”, Sean said. “You don’t HAVE to. Like with all the stuff you model for me, I made those to your specs. They’re yours if you want them.”

Ed looked back down at his new boots, his face aglow with delight. “Oh, thank-you! I do. I do want them. They’re great. These are the most--they’re just--”, he stammered. Then looking back up at Sean, “Thank-you. Thank-you very much.” His military manner was gone, and his smile shone as bright as a kid’s on Christmas morning.

Sean smiled almost as broadly as he wound up the film from the last roll and dropped it into its small black canister for processing. “I’ve never seen you so cooperative”, he observed. Then, jokingly, “Good thing I didn’t ask you to suck my cock.”

Sean turned around to find Ed was standing right beside him. He had crossed the room in a heartbeat. His eyes locked with Sean’s.

“Do you want me to?”

Sean’s mouth hung open partway. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The two of them occasionally shared gay-straight banter in fun, but this was nothing like that. Ed’s military manner had returned. He stood tall, with a sharp focus in his eyes that was almost disconcerting.

“Wh-what did you say?”, asked Sean, knowing full well what his friend had said, but choosing not to believe it. “Do I want you to what?”

“Do you want me to suck your cock?”, Ed said matter-of-factly.

Any other time, Sean would have laughed and shot back a witty retort, but his was different. Ed was serious. Very serious. And as he gave his response, there was something in his eyes. An eagerness. An eagerness to please.

“Ed, quit clowning around, man, you’re freaking me out.”

Ed took one step back. “I’m sorry. But please, sir, if you want me to, I’d be happy to accommodate you.”

Sir? Was he still punctuating each sentence with ‘sir’?? “Ed,” Sean began slowly, putting the film down on a nearby cart, “what the hell are you saying? You’re straight.”

“But you’re not”, Ed responded, taking a step back toward his friend. Ed’s expression remained earnest. He rested one hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Have you ever thought of having me suck you off? Is it something you’ve wanted? Something I can give you?”

Sean put his palm flat against Ed’s chest to hold him off. “Jesus, Ed, cut it out! I never said I fantasized about you and me! I know you’re not like that--”

Ed’s free hand grasped Sean’s wrist, holding his palm snugly to his chest. Sean tried to pull away, but Ed was too strong. “It doesn’t have to be a fantasy”, Ed assured him. His tone was soothing, his voice so intent and caring. “You made me these wonderful boots. If there’s anything I can do to repay you--well, no, I could never do that--but to thank you, to express my gratitude. Sir, please, I would be so glad to serve--”

Sean was on the verge of a spaz attack. “Ed! I just took like four rolls of you in the boots for ads an’ stuff! We’re good! We’re cool! Call it square! Just ease off here, you’re scaring the hell outta me!!”

Ed did ease back half a step, removing his hand from Sean’s shoulder, but then taking Sean’s hand in it. Gently, he said, “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I--I thought you thought I was good-looking.”

“Ed, I do! Honestly!” Sean couldn’t believe this. It was like he was back with every junior high and high school date he’d ever had, trying to console the girls about their self-image after they figured out he didn’t want to get into their pants.

Sean looked at Ed. Really looked at him. One thing Ed was not was a little girl. He was most definitely a man. At 5’11”, he was about an inch and a half taller than Sean. Ed’s love of just about any sport kept him outside a lot and kept him very fit. His skin was perfectly tanned, and his brown hair had been bleached to a soft gold by the sun. His youthful faced was framed by two ears that were slightly oversized, adding to the illusion that he was younger than he truly was. Good God, yes, Sean thought he was good-looking. He thought he was gorgeous.

“I do think you’re good-looking, bud.”, Sean said in a softer tone. Was his best friend having some kind of breakdown or something? “And you are. You’re, well--dude, you’re hot.”

Ed took Sean’s other hand and placed that palm against his chest as well, holding both hands there tightly. “And you’ve never thought of the two of us--together?”, Ed asked meekly.

Sean rolled his eyes. This was getting ridiculous. “Well, of course! As, like a daydream. But for Christ’s sake, I at least imagined that it started with a little kiss! I nev--”

Sean was cut off as Ed kissed him. Deeply. Sean’s body stiffened, his protests muffled to a meager “Mmff!”. Ed cradled his friend’s head in his hands, kissing him passionately. Soon, Sean’s eyes closed involuntarily and he gave in to the feeling. Boy, had he dreamed of this. But of course, that’s all it was. A dream. Except that now, it wasn’t.

Sean knew something was horribly, horribly wrong with his best friend, but at the moment he was deep in the territory of “I shall think about it tomorrow”. He wrapped his arms around Ed, as Ed ran his fingers through Sean’s hair. Sean felt Ed’s hands trace loving lines down his spine, and then grasp his rear. The sensations sent Sean deeper into the ecstasy of the kiss.

After several minutes, the duo separated. Ed brushed aside a bit of Sean’s hair with his fingers. “How was that? Was that okay?”, he asked.

Sean could only manage an “Mm-hmm.”

Ed rested his forehead against Sean’s, and locked eyes with him. “May I suck your cock now, please?”, he requested with the greatest innocence.

Sean’s head swayed a bit and it was hard for him to focus. “Sure, why not. Knock yourself out.”

Ed was instantly down on one knee, unzipping Sean’s jeans. “Thank-you, sir”, he was saying.

# # # # #

Sean was in ecstasy. His head lolled around on his shoulders like it was about to fall off. His mouth hung open and his eyelids fluttered. Sean swiveled just a bit in his chair and leaned back against the counter, his arms spread out at his sides, gripping the edge of the glass countertop.

Ed continued to work his mouth over Sean’s erect penis. His lips drew tighter then slackened a bit as he slowly, agonizingly, raised and lowered his head up and down on Sean’s shaft, taking in deeply and then partly releasing his mouthful. Ed’s moist lips hugged the penis tightly as he slowly pulled upward again, his tongue riding its underside, then wrapping around the shaft as he reached the top. Once there, Ed drew in deeply, strongly, as if he were trying slurp up the last bits of a thick milkshake through a straw. When he was satisfied that he’d drawn out all the remaining cum from his friend’s dick, he withdrew completely, then kissed the head of the penis when he was done.

Ed ran his fingertips along one side of the shaft, causing one final upward tensing before it began to sag with the fading erection. Ed lowered himself down to sit on the floor beside Sean’s chair, and gently stroked Sean’s chest up and down beneath his open shirtfront. Looking up at his enraptured friend, he asked, “Was that good?”

Sean let out a kind of gurgle. “Ohhhhh, man, yeeaahhh. And then some.”

Ed smiled broadly, getting back up to his knees. “You want me to go again?”

Sean gripped Ed’s shoulders, keeping him back. “No. No thanks, buddy. Seven times is more than enough.”

Ed sat back down, a bit disappointed. “Well, okay. If you’re sure.”

Sean glanced at Ed as he zipped up. Ed sat on the hardwood floor with his back against the sales counter, a look of extreme bliss on his face. His wide grin could only be described as dopey. “Ed”, Sean asked, “You aren’t suddenly coming out, are you?”

Ed looked puzzled. “Huh? No, why?”

“So you’re still straight? I mean, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been into girls.”

“Hell, yeah!”, he said with conviction. “Got a hot date coming up Saturday with Rebecca, too.” His dopey grin returned.

“But, Ed”, Sean went on, “what with all we’ve been doing for the last, I don’t know how long--” he waved a finger over his pants zipper to indicate their sexual activity, “--and you kissed me. Fuck shit, did you kiss me. Why did you--?”

Ed looked up at him again with a look of astonishment at the question. “Well, because you asked me to.”

Sean just stared at him.

Ed flopped back against the counter, and pulled one knee up so that he could caress one of his purple boots. He smiled again, and giggled softly as his fingers ran across the rubber. What the hell was it about those boots??

Sean sat up. “Ed, you should go now.”

Ed’s eyes widened. “But I get to keep the boots, right?”

“Yes, yes”, Sean said, still flustered at his once strong-willed pal’s complete submission and sudden dependence on his new footwear.

Ed jumped lithely to his feet, and began to saunter out the door. Sean grabbed up his friend’s sandals and hollered after him. “Don’t forget these!”

Ed stopped in the doorway. “Keep ‘em. I am never taking these off if I can help it.” He kicked up one foot and made an overly dramatic exit from the shop.

Sean stood, shaking his head and wondering what the hell he had just done to his best friend. Then, as a sudden afterthought, he said loudly, “Oh, Ed--?”

There was a moment’s silence, then Sean could hear the rapid padding of rubber soles running across the sidewalk outside. Ed skidded to a stop in the doorway, breathing a little hard. He had run back immediately at the sound of his master’s voice. “Yeah? Did you need me again?”

“Could you come back tomorrow morning, buddy? Like an hour before I open? That okay with you?”

“Of course!”, Ed said enthusiastically. “I’ll be here. Tomorrow, an hour before you open. Is that all you need?”

“That’s all.”

“’Cause, if you’ve changed your mind about having me suck you off again--” He started to walk back into the shop.

“No!”, Sean blurted out. “No, we’re good. It’s fine. Just come back tomorrow morning.” A pause. Then, “And please don’t mention our...activities here today to anyone, alright? See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!”, Ed said, tossing off a quick salute, and galloping down the street.

ED AGAIN, THE NEXT DAY

Ed was right on time the following morning. At precisely one hour before opening, he stood outside the shop’s front entrance, rapping his knuckles on the glass. “Sean! I’m here!”

Sean let his friend in, and Ed almost bounded through the door. He hopped around the room like a kid who’d finally arrived at Grandma’s house. And of course, he did his hopping from within his tall purple rubber boots.

“Couldn’t wait to get back into those, I see”, Sean observed.

Ed looked back with dancing eyes. “Oh, I never took ‘em off!”

“What, you slept in ‘em?”

“Well, yeah!”

Sean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had spent the previous evening preparing a series of tests for both Ed and his purple boots. Clearly, there was something about these new boots that were controlling his friend’s mind. Now was the time to find out to just what extent the control went. Sean had compiled a list made up of classic hypnosis/mind control conventions, as well as certain things he knew about his best friend. If the commands could be followed in direct contrast to Ed’s own nature...well, that was something Sean had to see to believe.

“Ed ol’ buddy, do me a favor and stand over here”, Sean indicated the middle of the shop floor as he pulled down the shade on the door to block the view of passersby. Ed gladly marched over to the center of the room and stood there, awaiting further orders.

“Okay, Ed”, Sean started, glancing over his list. “Strip, please.”

Ed looked at his friend with wide eyes and gulped. “Strip? You mean, take my clothes off?”

“That’s the standard definition of ‘strip’ as I understand it, yes”, Sean retorted. “Take your clothes off. ALL your clothes off. Underwear too.” Sean knew that despite Ed’s mild exhibitionist tendencies when on the civic theater stage, he was also modest in any number of ways. Public nudity was one of them. Ed always wore a warm-up suit over his gym clothes when he went to work out, so he could simply peel off an upper layer before hitting the weights without unduly exposing himself. Then he could easily throw them back on over his sweaty shorts and T-shirt before driving back home to shower. Even in local theater, Ed had gotten a reputation as a quick-change artist between scenes since he was so uncomfortable changing costumes in some of the shared dressing rooms. If he could toss aside his clothes here and now without any reason for it, that would mean something indeed.

Ed looked slowly down at himself, and Sean wondered if he was envisioning himself nude in front of his best friend. Sean was just about to jot down a note on his pad about the negative result of this test when Ed said, “You mean, the boots, too?”

Sean stopped, his pen hovering over the paper. He thought for a second. “No, I guess you can leave the boots on. But nothing else.” He’d have to keep the boots on anyway, since it was their effect that was being tested.

“Oh, that’s okay then!”, came Ed’s cheerful rejoinder, and he quickly shucked off his shirt and after some fitful tugging, managed to pull his pants off over his boots. Another quick fling and there went his briefs, capping off the pile in the corner. Ed stood there tall and proud, buck naked but for his boots, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, grinning broadly.

“Holy shit”, thought Sean. Once he knew he could keep the boots on, everything else went in a heartbeat. No questions about why his friend suddenly wanted him exposed, or what possible purpose it could serve. Just a concern about keeping his precious boots. Sean tried to maintain his focus as he made a mark in the positive column next to the first test. He looked back up at Ed’s smiling face, and found that keeping focus was not gong to be easy. Ed’s trim, tanned, and toned body spoke volumes of many hours spent outside playing softball, basketball, street hockey, kayaking, rock climbing, rollerblading, and who knows what else the Edster loved to do.

“Um, uhh”, Sean stammered. Ed continued to rock back and forth, his smile only getting wider. He casually clapped the palm of one hand over the fist of the other. Ed looked like he was about to burst out laughing at any second. “What?”, Sean demanded. “What’s so damn funny?”

Ed just kept right on smiling. “Nothing. You just asked me to do something, and I got to do it.” He flashed that dazzling smile. “Isn’t that awesome??” Then the tongue thing again.

Sean quickly drew scribble marks through the next three tests. He looked at that incredible, lithe naked body of his pal’s and wondered how much control he...and the boots...had over it. “Ed? Umm--” he started. “Could, um, could you get an erection now, please?”

Ed beamed. “Oh, absolutely!” And pwang! Ed’s penis shot up and stood at attention instantly.

“FUCK!!”, Sean shouted in surprise.

Ed began to approach him, still hard as a rock. “Oh. You wanna?”

“Christ, no!!” Sean jumped back three feet. “Just get back to the center of the room!”

Ed backed up slowly (still erect), his expression looking crestfallen. “Oh, okay. Sorry.” Then, lowering his head like a scolded child, he said softly, “Just say when you’re ready. Y’know, if you do want to.”

Sean dashed into the backroom and grabbed a black rubber jockstrap. He tossed it over to Ed, telling him, “Put that on, buddy. Quick.”

Ed snatched the strap out of the air and said, “Sure. Not a problem.”

Sean looked at his test sheet and started tearing out pages, muttering to himself. “Who cares about this one, that one doesn’t really matter anymore, shit if that one isn’t irrelevant now...” he then looked back up at Ed, who was struggling with his rubber jockstrap. He was trying to get the firm little rubber pouch over the top of his large, fully-erect dick, but having no luck. Sean bit his lower lip, then said something he knew would work, even as he dreaded verifying it. “Ed”, he said, “go limp.”

Ed’s penis immediately fell limp, allowing him to easily snap the jockstrap over the top of it. “Thanks, sir, that did the trick.”

Sean began to pace. So, as long as Ed had on those boots, Sean had control over Ed’s inhibitions as well as his physical body. What about his mindset in general? Sean had helped Ed practice for enough shows to know where he fell short as an actor. One of the emotions Ed could not convey convincingly was anger--most likely because he was such a nice guy by nature. Another was forgetfulness. Sean recalled the time Ed was cast as the single most unconvincing amnesiac ever to trod the boards. Ed’s recollection was so sharp, he couldn’t even feign memory loss. So Sean decided to try out a classic.

“Ed, listen carefully.” Ed craned his neck forward, head tilted slightly to listen intently. “You’ve forgotten your name. It’s gone. Poof. You don’t have a name anymore. Even if you do, you’ve forgotten it. You absolutely cannot think of a name for yourself if your life depended on it. Got that?”

“Got it, sir.”

“You cannot remember your name.”

“I cannot remember my name.”, he repeated dutifully.

Then, to cover all his bases, Sean added, “What’s more, you will now also forget that I gave you that last order. Understand?”

“It’s forgotten, sir.”

Sean let out another deep breath. “What I’d really like you to do next is walk over to the far end of the room, then walk over to me and cheerfully introduce yourself. Can you do that for me?”

“You got it, sir”, Ed replied, then set out across the room to do just that. He marched back again, head held high and showing no sign of embarrassment over being attired solely in a rubber jock and tall purple boots, extended his hand to Sean and said, “Good morning, sir! Pleased to meet you! I’m--”

And he froze. His eyes went wide, his mouth wen slack, and a look or horror came across his face. Ed was a pretty okay actor. But he was nowhere near this good. His name was gone. And he only just realized it. He began to stammer. “I’m--I’m--oh, my God. I’m--” He looked at Sean, terribly worried.

“You’re what?”, Sean prompted.

“No, I’m not saying that I’m--”, Ed attempted to explain. “My name, it’s just that--I can’t believe this, I’ve forgotten my name. I can’t remember my name! I’m trying, but--Jesus Christ, it’s gone!” Ed turned away from Sean, his fingers rubbing his temples. The fact that he would turn away after Sean had told him to address him was proof enough of his sincerity, but Ed never, ever, took the Lord’s name in vain. Huge, monster no-no for him. That he had unconsciously done so here indicated he’d had a powerful shock.

Ed stopped wandering away from Sean and froze where he stood. His voice was almost a whisper. “What if I never had a name? Did I? Oh God, what if I never did? That must be why I can’t even remember it--I don’t even HAVE a name!” He was starting to breathe harder, so Sean stepped in.

“Would you like me to give you one?”

Ed was back at his side in an instant. “Oh, would you? Can you do that?” He began shaking Sean’s hand enthusiastically. “Thank-you, sir! Thank-you.”

Sean looked at the ceiling and said a silent prayer that this wasn’t going to put him in the devil’s deep fryer filled with Wesson oil. Then, to Ed, he told him with authority, “Your name is slave. No last name, no middle name. Just slave. Small “s”. That’s who you are.”

A great relief seemed to wash over Ed. “Of course! I’m slave! God, thank-you, sir!” He then dashed across the room at top speed, turned to face Sean, and marched back toward him again with gusto. Sean wondered what the hell he was doing. Ed then extended his hand upon reaching Sean, and announced in a loud voice, “Good morning, sir! A pleasure to meet you, sir! I’m slave!” Astounded, Sean took slave’s hand and shook it. He was following his last order which he couldn’t complete before. That’s what he was doing. When Sean let go of slave’s hand, two more pages of test went into the trash can untried.

Only a quarter of an hour later, slave (formerly Ed the straight guy) was wearing a black rubber slave collar that Sean would deny was his should any of his friends happen across it in the backroom. Sean had reached his final test. He held an eight-inch rubber dildo out for the purple-booted slave to see. Slave-Ed had been slightly bent over, coating his posterior with Vaseline. Sean shuddered that he was even contemplating what he was about to do next. But he went ahead, anyway. “Ed”, he began, then noticed that Ed just kept right on applying more layers of Vaseline to his bum. Then, realizing his mistake, Sean said, “Slave.”

Ed stood up at attention. “Sir!”

Sean held out the dildo. “You know what this is for, slave?”

Ed nodded vigorously. “Yessir, it’s for shoving up your ass.” His tone was that of a little kid giving a correct response to a question in Science class.

Sean told him, “Bend over, slave. I’m going to use it on you.”

Ed did as bidden without hesitation. He bent right over and grabbed the ankles of his boots. Sean slowly walked behind him and held the dildo up to his hole. Sean’s hands were shaking. Ed was ready and willing to receive the dildo. He was not only willing, he was happy to. Sean got within about an inch of Ed’s behind and stopped. He stood there for close to a minute, with the sex toy hovering there.

“I’m ready whenever you are, sir”, the adorable slave said.

Sean let his arm drop. “No, that’s it. Testing over. You pass--or maybe fail--with flying colors. Good Christ.” Sean started to pace, not knowing quite what to do next.

“Sir?”, Slave-Ed asked, “is everything okay?”

“No, its not”, Sean answered. “I can’t do this! You’re straight.”

“Do you want me to be gay?”

Sean felt the blood drain down to his feet. “No. Most assuredly, and definitely no.” Sean walked with purpose past his friend, absently throwing aside the dildo, which Ed caught. “Be right back.” Sean went to the store’s washroom and grabbed a towel to clean off all the Vaseline Ed had coated himself with. When he came back in, Ed was bent over, trying out the dildo on himself, and moaning softly.

“What the hell are you doing?!”, Sean shouted.

Ed stood up suddenly, the dildo still protruding from his behind. “I-I’m sorry, sir! I thought you wanted me to use it! You--you threw it to me, so I just--I--was I doing it wrong, sir?”

“It was just peachy”, sneered Sean, as he went around Ed’s backside and reached for the dildo to yank it out, then stopped inches from it. He leaned over Ed’s shoulder, saying, “You do it.”

“Yes, sir!”, Ed responded, and began to pump the dildo in and out again, faster this time.

“No, no!”, Sean screamed. “Take it out, take it out!”

“Oh”, Ed replied. Slowly, he withdrew the dildo from his behind, his free hand slowly pumping his dick in the process beneath the rubber jock.

“Jesus, slave, stop that!”, Sean chided. But it was too late, since Ed ejaculated into his hand at the moment his master shouted. With a heavy and contented sigh, Ed released his grip on himself.

“Sorry, sir. I was already starting to--sorry.” He stood up straight again, and began to lick the semen from his hand, swallowing each slurp with relish.

“Okay, knock it off, you”, Sean said as he wiped the jism off Ed’s hand with the towel. Then he slapped the towel firmly into his friend’s hand. “Clean off your rear end.” Ed proceeded to do so. Sean looked at Ed and said with authority. “Listen very carefully to me. You are not gay, you are straight. Your name is Ed and you are my best friend. You do not like sucking cock, nor do you get pleasure from cramming dildos up your asscrack. You with me so far?”

Ed said, “Yes, sir”, still toweling off.

“When you’re all cleaned up, you will lose the collar and the jockstrap and put your clothes back on. You will forget completely all that we have done here this morning and all that we did yesterday after I was done photographing you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Ed had finished toweling off the lubricant jelly and held the moist towel, a little confused about what to do with it.

“I’ll take that”, said Sean, and he did. “After you’re dressed, you will leave here and go about your day as normal. You came here this morning because I told you yesterday that I was sure I would have the photos of you developed by now, but I was mistaken, they weren’t ready. But we got to talking for about an hour and that’s all we’ve been doing here. Talking. Got it?”

“Just talking, sir”, Ed said. “Nothing more.”

“What’s your name, then?”

“Ed.”

“Gay or straight?”

“Straight. I don’t enjoy sucking--”

“Fine! That’ll do. Whenever anyone asks you that question, you just say “straight”, alright?”

“Alright, sir.”

In another moment, Ed was dressed and ready to go. Sean saw him to the door. “Oh, and there is one more thing, Ed ol’ buddy.”

Ed looked back with interest. “Sir?”

“Take off the boots right now.”

“Sir!! NO! Please, you can’t!!”, Ed looked like he was on the verge of crying.

“Ed, if you leave those boots on, it will make me very, very unhappy. And then you will have to live with the consequences and guilt of having made me feel sad. And you don’t want that at all, do you? You’ll take off the boots--” Ed started to whimper. “--just FOR NOW. And you’ll put on your sandals. As soon as you have on your sandals, all you will remember of the boots was that you wore them for one of my photo shoots. You will have no emotional response or attachment to them whatsoever. If you think anything about them, it will simply be of how ridiculous they looked when you first saw them. Are we clear?”

Ed sniffled and a tear rolled down from his moistening eyes. “S-sir, yes, sir. A-all clear.” He hesitantly pulled off his precious purple rubber boots and slipped easily into the sandals Sean had handed back to him. Sean quickly held the boots behind his back and watched as Ed swayed for a moment, dazed, there in the doorway. Then Ed seemed to perk up suddenly, as if he had heard his name called from a distance.

“Ed? You there?”

Ed looked back to his pal, saying, “Yeah. Zoned out for a second there. Hey, I did come over here before getting my first cup of coffee, after all.”

Sean felt a great weight lift from him. “I’m really sorry, buddy...”, he began, “...about the wasted trip over here, I mean.”

Ed waved it off. “Da nada. Call me when you do have the prints. I’m curious to see how they turn out, even if you did have me done up in ridiculous purple boots like some geek.”

Sean smiled. “Yeah, you’re a good sport.”

Ed laughed. “Well, you know you owe me. Don’t think I’m not keeping score.” He did the tongue thing, and after slapping Sean playfully on the shoulder, he started to leave. He pause a spilt-second, noticing the moisture in his eyes. Ed dabbed at the corner of one eye, and looked at the tear on his fingertip. “Hnh”, he said. “Allergies.” And he was on his way.

Sean slowly closed the door to his shop and leaned against it, the purple boots dangling limply from his left hand. He blew out a long breath of air, then whispered to no one, “Jesus.”

THE GUY IN THE ELEVATOR

Sean closed his shop and spent the rest of the day working at mundane tasks in attempt to either collect his thoughts about or just plain forget about the situation with the purple boots. It wasn’t working. He ran errands, went for groceries, paid utility bills, anything he could think of to keep moving. He’d just finished paying his auto insurance a month early when he stepped onto the elevator in his insurance rep’s building. There was only one person inside the elevator. A man. Gorgeous. 6’2”. Dark, wavy hair, cleft chin, amazing green eyes. In fine, fine shape. He was dressed entirely in white. Very trim, crisp white coveralls with a fitted waist, opened at the collar to reveal a black T-shirt. Matching cap. Pantlegs tucked into tall white rubber knee boots. Sean paused when the doors open and actually gawked for a moment before he could collect himself.

“Going down?”

Sean almost said, “Babe, if you want to, right here and now would be fine with me.” But he managed the considerably less glib “Huh?”

The demigod in the lift said, “This one’s going down. Did you want up?”

“No, no”, Sean said, stepping on board. “Going down. Just thinking about business. Sorry.”

“I know how that goes. One?”, the man asked, a finger hovering over the ground floor button. Sean nodded his agreement. The doors closed and elevator began its descent.

Sean glanced down at the man’s white rubber knee boots and recognized them instantly. They were a pair that he had created. He then leaned forward a little to make out the red and black logo on the man’s cap. The man turned and eyed Sean suspiciously, wondering why this guy was leaning over and checking him out.

“Problem?”, he asked curtly.

Sean snapped his fingers. “Dieterman’s Dairy! You’re with the dairy farmers’ group, aren’t you? I was trying to make out the name on your cap.”

The man seemed relieved, then tilted his head forward slightly to indicate the cap. “Yup. That’s us. Wondered what you were doin--”

“Excellent boots”, Sean said, cutting him off. “Custom job, right? The Cobbler Shop?”

“Yeah, that’s right. You’ve got a good eye. Cobbler’s made all the boots for our whole team. Most comfortable boots I’ve ever worn, tell you the truth.”

Sean nodded. “Thanks. That’s what I do. I mean, I work at Cobbler’s. I think I made those.” Sean always worded things about his shop that way, to make it sound like his business was larger than a one-man operation.

“Oh”, the dairy guy said. “Well, nice work, then.”

Sean remembered the job. He had handcrafted more than two dozen white boots for that job. And this hunk was one of the recipient’s of his efforts. The farmer began looking through various papers in a manila file folder he had with him, pouring over some kind of report or financial statement--which would explain what a dairy farmer was doing in a financial building. Sean tried to stare at the illuminated floor numbers above the door as the elevator went further down.

Keeping his face forward, he looked peripherally at those fine white boots. The boots he had made. In fact, he made them in the exact manner in which he had made the purple boots for Ed. The only difference he could think of just then was the color. That was the only difference. Otherwise...the same deal. Handcrafted, soft, supple, shining rubber boots. The elevator wasn’t stopping for any other passengers, it seemed. In less than a minute or so, they’d be at the lobby. Sean crossed his fingers and took a chance.

“So, you really like those boots of yours, huh?”, he asked the dairy guy.

He only glance back at Sean for a second. “Yup. Sure do.” Then went back to his folder.

“They’re really comfortable? Great support for your feet, kinda like being massaged as you walk, maybe?”

The dairy guy kept staring intently at his paperwork, but he had obviously stopped reading. He spoke to the folder, saying, “Yeeaah, I guess so.”

“And you say you really love those boots, huh?”, Sean pressed.

The dairy guy turned to face him. “Look, do you have a point here? You wanna say something?”

“Actually, I’d like to suggest something.” And so Sean suggested something to the gorgeous dairy farmer in the shining white rubber boots.

And he never knew what hit him.

THE GUMMI GANG

Sean sat in his swivel chair behind the counter of his closed shop, nursing his jaw where the dairy guy had hauled off and slugged him. Evidently farmers could kick serious ass when they wanted to. Sean flipped through one of his catalogs, under his listings for rubber knee boots. Page after page of samples flipped through his fingers, each with a closeup of the boots by themselves beside a photo of the clients who now wore them.

Each design was slightly different than the last, all predicated to whatever task they were meant to perform. Another set of white boots were used by a janitorial service. A group of butchers stood clustered before a sparkling clean meat counter in brick red boots. A lawncare specialist and his workers knelt before an immaculate landscape in green wellies. A small unit of volunteer firefighters for a small community posed proudly beside their truck in bright yellow boots. Another entry showed a team of former sailors who now spend their days maintaining and leading tours on a decommissioned World War II submarine stood at attention on he dock beside their vessel in crisp blue naval uniforms and trim baby blue boots. (It sounds strange, I know, but on these guys it looked slick.)

Sean liked to refer to the satisfied customers on these pages as “The Gummi Guys”, using the German term for rubber to label the occupants of this catalog section. How many of the Gummis had a connection to their colored boots the way Ed instantly had with his? How many could be controlled? The question tugged at Sean’s brain, but the ache in his jaw told him that the idea of approaching each of these guys with invitations to blow him was not a wise way of finding out. Sean of course always made extra pairs of the rubber boots for himself with each job, so he had extra pairs on hand to test out. But he was damned if he was going to call Ed back and put him through anything else.

It was time to call Chad and Craig.

CHAD & CRAIG

Chad and Craig were a gay couple Sean had known for some time. Chad was the dominant one of the pair, with blond hair and a prettyboy face. He dressed himself in a way that was once referred to as “preppy”. He was 27, but like Ed, he looked considerably younger. When he smiled, he had the look of an angel, but he also had the mischievous tendencies of a devil. In the last year or so, he had gotten heavily into the role-play of “man & boy” with Craig, who went along with it for the most part.

Craig was a year younger than Chad, but his angular features and knowing eyes made him look two years his senior. He had center-parted muddy brown hair and was without question the submissive one. Underneath the demonstrative role-play, though, the two really did love each other. They had been together for eight years and were often thought of as one person. You didn’t say one name without following it with the other’s.

Chad stood in the baby blue sailor’s boots, with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot. “How many more of these goddamn things are we going to try on, Sean? I mean, Jesus.”

“Not many more”, he assured him. “Walk over here and turn around a second.”

Chad just glared at him. “No. Not until you tell me what this bullshit is all about.”

Well, that response ruled out the baby blue boots as mind control wear pretty effectively. Craig was sampling a pair of canary red rubber boots a few feet behind Chad. “These feel pretty good”, he commented.

Chad turned to him, “Um hello! Did I ask for your input?”, he said in a voice laced with sarcasm.

Craig lowered his head. “Sorry, sir.”

Sean rolled his eyes. How the hell Craig put up with him, he’d never know. Chad spoke up again. “Sean, you wanna tell us why we’ve been trying on, like, every pair of rubber boots you’ve ever made, or do I just take my boy and walk out now?”

“Okay”, Sean conceded. “But you’re not going to believe it, fellas.” So Sean told them. He told them about the purple boots, about Ed, about Ed’s rather extensive testing, and about the unfortunate incident in the elevator with the good-looking dairy guy. Both Chad and Craig stood with mouths agape when Sean was done talking.

“You cannot be serious”, Chad said.

Sean made an “X” across his chest with his index finger and held up his right hand in the Boy Scout’s salute.

Craig wrinkled his brow. “I don’t suppose it occurred to you to just ask the guy in the elevator to do a quick soft shoe or something.” Chad was so intrigued by the idea of this unheard of means of taking complete control over someone that he didn’t even chastise Craig for speaking without permission.

“So, what are we trying on all these other boots for, Sean?”, Chad demanded. “It sounds like it’s the purple ones that we need to try out.”

“Just covering all my bases, I guess”, Sean explained.

“Do you have any of the purples we can try?”, Chad inquired.

“As a matter of fact...”, Sean said, reaching behind the curtain that led to his backroom. He pulled out two pair of new purple boots and tossed them over to the boys. “I made more than one pair when I put together the pair for Ed. It was a special batch in that I’d never done boots in this color before, so I made sure to make extra--”

Chad wasn’t listening. He was too busy yanking on his pair of purple boots over his white socks. He looked over at Craig, who was just looking at the shining purple rubber footwear at his feet. “Well, go on, Craig, put ‘em on!”, Chad ordered.

“Yessir”, Craig said back, and tentatively pulled off the red boots and with some trepidation stepped his bare feet into the purple ones. As soon as Craig had pulled don the purple boots, he let out an involuntary sigh of pleasure. “oooohhhh, wwoooow...”

Chad turned around to face him. “What?” Craig just grinned and swayed a bit, taking a couple small steps forward, tottering there, and then steadying himself. He started to giggle a bit. Chad was frustrated by this. “What? What is it? What are you feeling?!”

Craig stepped forward like he was drunk, placed his hands on Chad’s shoulders and said, “Ohh, sirrr. Aren’t these great??” And he started to giggle again. His face was flushed and he leaned against his boyfriend and rested his head on his shoulder, patting him on the back as he flexed his toes inside his boots. He snorted with barely contained laughter.

Chad turned back toward Sean, pissed. He seemed oblivious to his lover dangling off of him, as he said, “So what’s up with this shit? What, it only works on subs, then? I have to be a bottom boy in order to appreciate this?”

Sean rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Chad, you still have your socks on?”

“Yeah, so? I always wear socks. Always.” He sounded defensive, but Sean wasn’t concerned about Chad’s own personal foot fetishes right then.

“Take ‘em off.”, Sean ordered. Chad said nothing, but looked at Sean curiously. Sean added, “I think it may have something to do with the feel of the rubber against bare skin. And Craig wasn’t wearing any socks. Take yours off.”

Chad had an expression that conveyed the feeling that Sean was onto something, but he didn’t move right away. After a moment, he peeled Craig off of him, pulled off the boots, then his socks, and slipped the purple boots back on. He inhaled so deeply that the air pressure in the room nearly changed.

“Uuuuuhhhhhhh....”, and then in a squeaky out-of-breath voice, “...holy shit, Sean...these arrrrree... fanTAStic...!” The usually abrasive Chad looked like he was made out of melting butter. He shrugged his shoulders and let his mouth drop open, slowly taking a few careful steps in a small circle, clearly experiencing some type of euphoric sensation with each footfall.

Chad turned to face his giggling loverboy, and began to lift a pointing finger at Craig. Even though Chad was delirious with joy himself, it was obvious he wanted to command his personal sub on top of it all. But Sean elected to cut in. He had seen Chad control Craig enough times that he knew that such a display would be no test of the purple boots for these two. He had something different in mind.

“Hold it right there, fellas”, Sean said. And they did. Right there. In the exact poses they stood, with Chad beginning to point a commanding finger, and with Craig slightly bent in laughter, they froze in place like a picture caught in freeze frame. The boots were definitely working just fine.

“Chad, Craig, turn around and face me.” Both did as bidden, turning to face Sean and standing straight with their arms at their sides. Their expressions had gone pretty much blank. “We’re gonna do a little role switching, gentlemen”, Sean informed them. “Craig, what is your relationship to Chad here?”, Sean asked, already knowing the answer.

“Chad’s my boyfriend and my lover”, Craig said flatly. “He’s my Sir, and he’s in charge of me. Whatever he says goes.”

“Not today he’s not”, said Sean. “Craig, as of this moment, you are now the dominant one of this couple. You are the one in charge. You give the commands, you are He Who Must Be Obeyed. Would you like that?”

Craig smiled. “Yes, sir.”

Sean turned to Chad, whose look was still blank, but was starting to register a hint of fear behind his expressionless eyes. “Chad, you are now the submissive one. You will obey without question or hesitation anything that Craig tells you to do. You will follow your orders with relish and gratitude.” Chad’s jaw seemed to tighten for a split-second, then it went slack, leaving his lips parted slightly. “You understand, Chad?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and from now on”, Sean said, “you will only address Craig as ‘Sir’, ‘Master’, or ‘Master Craig’.” Sean turned to Craig. “Craig, what name do you want to give your boy Chad?”

Craig smiled wider. “Blond Bottom Boy.”

Sean snorted a quick laugh. “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you, pal?”

Craig kept smiling. “Oohhhhh, yeah.”

“Chad, you heard the man.”

Chad spoke with conviction, saying, “My name is Blond Bottom Boy. Yes, sir. Thank-you, sir.”

Sean waved his arms in a grand gesture and said, “Have at it, boys.” And they just stood there. Doing nothing. Craig kept smiling, Chad kept staring. Sean scratched his temple. He supposed with both of them in the purple boots, someone else had to give the kick-off command. Okay, he could do that. Sean went over to Craig and began to whisper suggestions in his ear. Craig began to laugh a bit louder and Sean stepped back to enjoy the show.

Craig turned toward Chad, who was still looking straight ahead as before. Craig started to speak, then looked back to Sean with a giddy expression, wondering whether or not to continue.

“Go on”, Sean encouraged him, waving his hand.

Craig spoke in what he hoped was a commanding voice. “O-okay, Bottom B-boy, turn and face me.” Sean stifled a chuckle. Craig clearly needed some work in the domineering department. Despite the stutter, Chad turned as bidden. Craig’s confidence seemed to increase a bit with Chad’s response. So he continued, “I’m going to kiss you now. Full, long, and deep. As I do, you will kiss back--and more, you’ll surrender completely to my kiss. You’ll feel me draw out every last bit of willpower you possess with my kiss. And I pull away from you, I will have taken your willpower with me. You will be utterly subservient to me.”

Bottom Boy nodded, “Yes sir, Master Craig”, he said dully.

Craig grabbed Chad by the head and kissed him passionately, his tongue plumbing the depths of his boy’s mouth. Chad simply complied at first, not resisting, but not contributing, either. But as Craig’s kiss continued, Chad was caught up in it. Next, he was relishing it as much as his Master, and giving as good as he got. Then his body grew limp, his contribution to the embrace weaker. As Craig pulled away, Chad’s body had all the strength of a wet rag. He fell to his knees before his new Master, clinging to his legs.

Craig was standing considerably taller than before as he looked down at his slave. “Bottom Boy?”

Without lifting his head, eyes still on his Master’s purple boots, Blond Bottom Boy said softly, “Please, Master. Take me, I am yours.”

Craig’s face lit up. “Cool. Let’s have some fun.”

# # # # #

Sean was leaning back in his swivel chair with his feet up on the counter, tossing a small rubber ball up in the air. Up. And down. Up. And down. Not for the first time in the last two hours, he glanced with tired eyes at the couple at the far end of the counter engaged in hedonistic playtime. Sean caught the ball as it fell again, and this time lobbed it off the head of Craig, who only just noticed the impact.

“You done yet?”, Sean asked.

Craig looked back at him with the dopiest expression of bliss Sean had ever seen. “Jusst a feeww more timmes, Sawn”, he slurred out. Sean pushed himself up in his chair and looked down at the figure of Chad kneeling on the floor. He was still servicing his Master’s cock with all the greediness of a nursing piglet. He slurped, licked, and sucked like a champion. Both the area around his mouth and Craig’s waist were bone dry. Due to the recently christened Bottom Boy’s proficient tongue and ravenous appetite, not a single drop was spilled.

“You have got to at least be sore by now, Craig. Give it a rest, for God’s sake”, Sean demanded.

“Oh-oh-ohhh-kayy”, Craig conceded. Placing a hand on his boy’s head, he eased him off his penis. “Th-that’ll do, Bottom Boy. You can stop now.”

Bottom Boy Chad looked up at Craig with hurt in his eyes. “Master, do I have to?” He punctuated his question by quickly licking his lips.

“Oh, brother.”, moaned Sean. “Look, I think we’ve proven our point about the boots, so why don’t we just--”

Craig held up a quick finger, halting Sean’s words before they became a direct order he couldn’t ignore. Sean rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Craig tenderly held Chad’s chin. “You must stop because I have something else planned for you, Bottom Boy. It’s time for you to live up to your namesake.”

Chad’s eyes lit up with sheer joy. “Oh, Master! May I??”

Sean propped his elbows up on the countertop and raked his fingers through his hair. “Is this gonna take long?”

“You may wanna go out and grab an early lunch”, Craig warned him.

Sean didn’t hesitate. As he departed the shop, he hollered a command over his shoulder, “Neither of you, master or slave, is to leave this shop until I return.” He got two “yes, sir”s in reply as he departed the shop, flipping the Out To Lunch sign as he went.

# # # # #

Sean returned nearly forty minutes later, crumpling a napkin between his hands and still reveling in the lingering flavor of his pastrami on rye. He assumed he’d find his purple-booted sex fiends passed out on the cot in the backroom, exhausted by their bout of excess. He was wrong.

Craig and Chad were atop the shop’s counter, feverishly grinding away. Craig was astride his slaveboy and was pumping for all he was worth. Chad was taking it, well, not like a man, but a lot like a meek and subservient schoolboy. Both of them were stark naked except for their purple boots.

Craig was pretty far gone into his role as dominator. “Take it, boy! That’s it, slave! Tell your Master who you are!”

Chad shouted out his replies with as much conviction as he could muster, given the punishment he was taking. “I’m Blond Bottom Boy, Master! I’m your Bottom Boy! Give it to me, sir! Fuck me deeper, harder! I’m yours to do with as you will! Please, Master, use me!”

Sean tossed his napkin into the waste basket. “Okay, enough’s enough. I wanted a test of the purple boots on established and engrained personalities. I did not want to find you riding your boyfriend and whooping like the Marlboro Man!” Sean marched over to the screwing duo on the countertop.

Craig was nearly out of breath, but he tried to gasp out, “Just...a little...little more...more time...”

“No”, Sean said flatly. “You’re both done. Freeze.” And they did. Both of them stopped in mid-grind. “Both of you, massive ejaculations. Shoot absolutely everything you’ve got in you when I say ‘now’.” Both their eyes widened in anticipation. After another beat, Sean ordered, “NOW.”

Chad and Craig let out heaving moans as they fired out every last bit of cum they had left. Craig fired right into his Bottom Boy and Chad hosed down the counter. After a few remaining bucks and spasms, Chad’s head hit the counter and Craig collapsed on top of him. Sean walked over and looked at the snoozing couple still attached at Chad’s rectum. He looked at the oozing puddle of semen slowly spreading across his countertop beneath Chad. “Hnh”, he grunted. “Didn’t think he’d have that much left in him.”

Sean moved around to the far end of the counter and decided to finish his test with the suggestions he had wanted to give nearly three hours ago. “Gentlemen. You can still hear me. You will remain sound asleep but you will understand and follow every word I say. Craig, dismount Chad.” Bracing his arms on the counter as if doing a push-up, Craig dislodged himself from his lover’s behind. “Now both of you”, Sean continued, “get down off the counter and have a seat on the floor.” Like obedient zombies, their eyes still closed, the boys did just that. “The two of you will remember everything you experienced here today. The sensations, the experiences, everything. As you sit here asleep, I will remove your boots. You will not want them back, you will not ask for them back. When you awaken after the boots leave your feet, you will both be exactly as you were when you arrived at my shop this morning. Your personalities, your names, all will be just as it was before--altered ONLY as they would be in response to the memories of what you’ve done today. Nod if you understand.” Two nods. Sean reached down and pulled off first one pair of boots, then two. He tossed the boots into the backroom, then approached the nude sleeping boyfriends.

“Guys? You awake yet?”

Chad and Craig slowly blinked their eyes open. Chad straightened himself up a bit, resting his shoulder blades against the side of the counter. Craig hunched down, a look of anxiety coming into his eyes. The two looked at each other.

“Chad--?”, Craig started. “Are you mad?” He pointed at Sean. “H-he made me do it.”

Chad grabbed Craig by both sides of the head and planted his lips on Craig’s forehead. “Mmm-WAH! Baby, you were awesome! That was incredible. GodDAMN, we have got to switch roles more often. Fuck me, but variety is the spice of life, man!”

Sean tossed their clothes at them. “Get dressed, assholes.”

As Chad yanked on his trousers, he asked, “Dude, what the hell is IN those boots? Are they coated with some kind of drug? Is it some kind of accupressure thing in the way they fit or what? How do they work??”

“Well”, Sean admitted, “I get most all the materials I use for the rubber boots from a pal overseas named Liam. This time, he included a detailed processing formula in order for me to get the right color of purple I wanted for these boots.”

“So you did add a drug then?”, asked Chad.

“No, there’s nothing really different in these boots than in any other colored rubber boots I’ve made. Nothing except the dye color...and one other...special ingredient Liam insisted I use. I thought it was a gag, but...”

“What kind of special ingredient?”, asked Craig.

LIAM

Liam’s could tell by the distinct ring he had programmed into his private phone lines that it was Sean calling. Liam nonchalantly lifted the receiver from its cradle and tucked it under his chin as he inspected his nails. “Sean DARling, however are the purple boots working out for you, dear boy?”

“Liam, you sneaky bastard”, came Sean’s voice over the phone. “What the hell have you gotten me into this time?”

“I take it from your comments”, Liam said, undaunted, “that you took my advice for once in adding the Special Ingredient. Works wonders, doesn’t it?”

“Lookit”, Sean said, “I really don’t know why I did it this time. Maybe it was a flight of fancy or morbid curiosity, or--”

“Or perhaps you were horny the day you mixed the dye, dear?”

“That’s beside the point, Liam! Why didn’t you warn me this was going to be the result of your little special ingredient?”

“Because then you never would have done it, my boy! I swear, you can be so tediously moral sometimes, it’s a wonder you ever get laid. Speaking of which, did you get serviced by that absolutely adorable Edward fellow you always get to model for your catalogs? Does he give as good as he looks?”

Sean’s voice was getting an edge to it. “Better, actually. Not that he’ll ever remember any of it.”

“Ooohh, well!”, Liam cooed. “Trying memory alteration already. We are catching on quick, aren’t we, my boy? Bravo, my Sean, bravo indeed.”

Sean took a deep breath to collect himself. Then, “Does it always work this way when you add the ingredient, Liam? The boot wearer falls under your complete control?”

“No, no, my lad. Each dye is different. The purple gives you a most obedient and loving slave. But, oh, my stars, you should see what the baby blue does. And the yellow--!” He made a clucking sound with his tongue.

“Sonofabitch.” Sean was shaking his head, astounded. “It IS a chemical process, then, isn’t it? These exotic dye blends you supply me with don’t just provide more brilliant colors; they release a particular compound once bonded with the rubber that can alter brain chemistry on contact with skin!”

“Clever boy”, hummed Liam.

“And to activate it, all I need do when mixing the color dye is--”

“That’s right, my lad. Simply toss in a very freshly-used condom to be blended in with the rubber. The best things in life are so often the most basic.”

EARL

Chad and Craig practically burst into the shoe shop. "Sean! Yo, Sean! You in, man??"

Sean staggered out into the main shop from behind the backroom’s curtain partition, limping slightly.

"Yeahhh, I’m here. Wassup?"

The guys noted Sean’s awkward movements and the way his right hand was bracing the top of his

leg as he walked. "What happened to you?", Chad asked.

Sean eased himself into the chair behind the counter. "I’ve been..uhh... mixing up some purple dye.

Plenty more." Sean started to cross his legs, then with a gasp, thought better of it.

Chad grinned. "Getting all those special ingredients mixed in, huh?" Sean only nodded, rubbing his

forehead with his fingertips.

"I was afraid you got beat up again", Craig said. Chad shot him a quick look, clearly upset that

Craig had spoken without his permission, but it passed in an instant. He smiled at his buddy, whose

naturally anxious expression was replaced by a smile as well. Chad took a step back and took

Craig’s hand in his.

"So what can I do for you fellas?", Sean asked.

"Ah, no, my friend", Chad said. "It is what WE can do for you." Chad let go of Craig’s hand and

went to the door, signaling someone to join them. Sean looked questioningly at Craig, who simply

returned the look with one that indicated all would be made clear.

Into the shop trudged a brutish monster of 6’4". He had buzzcut hair, a square jaw, and shoulders

broad enough to be in different time zones. He had the arms of a gorilla and glaring eyes that

indicated an I.Q. equal to his shoe size. The man was built, as they say in the army vernacular, like a

brick shithouse. He had a face that could be called handsome, to put it mildly, but it was marred

with a hrash enough scowl to make it unappealing.

Sean leaned forward slightly in his chair, momentarily forgetting about the dull ache in his

overworked crotch. Discreetly pointing to the massive intruder, he silently mouthed to Craig, "What

the fuck--?"

Chad stood beside the gargantuan interloper and announced in a cheerful tone, "Sean, permit me to

introduce Earl."

Sean stared with wide eyes, then said, "Charmed."

Earl spat out his words like a man accustomed to chewing gravel. "You the guy’s gonna make me

new work boots that ain’t gonna fuck up my bunyuns?"

Sean rose slowly, extending his hand as if he were offering a stained glass ornament to a

rhinoceros. "Um, I could do that for you, yeah..."

Earl shook Sean’s hand with disdain. Then, looked him up and down, remarking, "You ain’t another

one of those fuckin’ fags, are you? Got one of ‘em on the site now, makin’ us work with him like it

was normal or some shit. You a fairyboy?"

Sean aimed a level gaze at Chad. "Chad, could I have a word with you a moment?" Chad nodded

as if all were proceeding smoothly. Taking Chad by the elbow and guiding him to the backroom,

Sean said to Craig under his breath, "Divert the good gentleman with light banter, there’s a good

man."

Behind the curtain, Sean got right in Chad’s face. Pointing an angry finger at the next room, he

demanded, "What the fuck is THAT, and what is it doing in my shop?!"

"He’s great, isn’t he? I swear to God, if you were to look up the word "redneck" in the dictionary,

this guy’s picture would be next to the listing!" Chad was almost giddy.

Sean wasn’t. "And you brought him here BECAUSE--??"

"Field test. I can’t wait to see what we can do with this guy once we get him in the purple boots!

Man, it’s gonna be sweeeet!!" He started rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Sean answered quickly. "We’ve already had a field test. First Ed, then you and Craig. I made you

believe Mr. Most-Likely-To-Submit was your Master, fer Christ’s sake."

Chad wouldn’t be deterred. "Yes, we’ve had a field test, but only with willing subjects! What about

resistant subjects?? Won’t that be the acid test?"

"But Ed never intended to be made to do what he did", Sean protested. "He’s straight. He would

never under normal circumstances--"

"What? Never put on purple rubber boots and dance around? Ed’s your best friend! He’ll do damn

near anything you ask him, within reason. Getting him into the boots was no problem, Sean. Plus,

how could he be your best friend knowing your gay if he was opposed to the idea people like us

even exist?" He turned back to the curtain, pulling it open a crack with two fingers. "But THIS

guy..."

Sean looked as the towering redneck stood over the timid Craig, regaling him with recounts of his

footsie misfortunes. "Tried ev’er damn shoe out there. Timberland, Caterpillar, all the damn same.

Rip the fuck outta my feet and bunyuns bleedin’ like stuck pigs, Christ, one time had to work nine

hours up to my ankles in blood and pus, foot all swollen so couldn’t even take the goddamn boot off

if I wanted to, shit-fer-brains foreman won’t let me off early, muther-fucker."

Sean looked at Craig, his tongue firmly set into his cheek. "So what’s his shoe size?

# # # # #

Earl stood there holding the purple rubber boot between two fingers, as if it were a turd. "What the

hell is this shit?"

Sean maintained his poise, pretending not to notice the redneck’s obvious contempt. "A preliminary

stage, nothing more, sir." Sean noted Earl’s animosity lessened just a tad when addressed as ‘sir’.

"You see, wearing these at the outset helps me to get an idea for what part of your foot is being

most aggravated, what part needs the greatest support, and the like."

"I kin tell you where the damn bunyun is. I kin point to it."

"Of course you can, sir.", Sean continued. "But your description would not be enough to help me

make the proper mold to precisely massage and protect your bunion. Nor would it help me to

design and craft a work boot made specifically and especially for you and you alone."

"This cheap shit rubbery thing ain’t nothin’ like the kind of boot I need to wear anyway. Don’t see

how this can tell you shit--" He was about to toss the boot away with a dismissive grunt.

"Of course it’s not", Sean went on. "But the soft rubber material helps me to properly capture the

exact shape and contour of your feet. Only after I have the mold perfected do I begin to apply the

far sturdier materials you’ll need for a decent work boot for the type of demanding work you’re

called upon to do each day."

Earl wasn’t exactly sure what all that meant, but he could follow just enough to sense his ego was

being massaged. And the fruity shoe guy did keep calling him ‘sir’.

"This gonna be expensive? ‘Cause I ain’t paying a lot for--"

Sean cut him off. "This will be the first time I’ve designed a work boot with this kind of demand for

precision of a near medical order."

Chad leaned close to Craig, whispering, "Pile it on any deeper, and he’s gonna need some knee boots

himself."

Sean concluded, "If the boots are not everything you expected--and needed--you don’t have to pay

me anything. If they do provide what you’re looking for, we can discuss a price you feel is

appropriate."

Earl scrunched his brow. "Huh?"

"Fair. You pay me what’s fair. If you want ‘em."

"Alright", Earl conceded. Earl knew that either way, he’d win. If the boots didn’t work, he’d pound

the shit out of the faggot shoemaker. If they did, he’d say they didn’t, walk off with the boots, and

probably still beat the queer’s ass. All in all, not a bad deal all around, he figured.

# # # # #

Earl stood in the largest pair of purple boots Sean had made. Earl’s socks were stuffed inside his

shoes in the corner. He had been told he needed to have his socks off in order to get a proper mold

of his feet. Whatever. But this...feeling...on his feet, that was making its way up his legs and making

him feel really nice all over was not what he had expected.

"These purple things", Earl observed, "actually feel pretty good." He just stood there, with a pleasant

expression as if someone was steadily massaging his feet.

"Why don’t you walk around in them?", Sean suggested.

Earl did. As he walked up and down the shop, he let out little grunts and moans of pleasure. He was

truly loving those boots. Chad and Craig were leaning against each other, trying to contain their

laughter for what they knew was coming. When Earl turned back and walked toward them again, he

was almost smiling. Almost.

Sean knew he could fix that. "Earl, hold it right there." Earl froze in mid-step. "Give me a big smile,

would you?" Earl’s tense expression relaxed and a genuine, warm smile came onto his face. He

actually looked pretty appealing when he did that. Chad and Craig were about to bust a gut, and

braced one another for support.

"Earl, before we tend to anything as vital as those dreaded bunions of yours", Sean said, "we need

to determine a few other things, okay? You up for that?"

"Sure", Earl answered, slowly.

"To better test these boots on you, let’s see you skip around the room, Earl."

Earl was a bit confused. "What, like a little girl or something?"

"Exactly. Like a little girl." Earl didn’t need to be asked twice. Instantly, he was skipping about the

room, hands flopping about at his sides, head held high with a dopey grin on his face. He looked like

he could do that all day.

"He needs a field of tulips under him", Craig remarked.

In the next fifteen minutes, Earl skipped, waltzed, tiptoed, hip-hopped, and pirouetted up and down

the shop. He went down on all fours and barked like a dog, then squatted on his haunches and

bucked like a chicken. Chad and Craig were loving every minute of it.

"Where did you get this guy?", Sean asked.

"Lives on the same street Craig used to", Chad offered. "Gave him a hard time a lot since he suspected we’re gay. Practically all he talks about is his lousy job, gay-bashing, and his damn bunions." Then, as an afterthought, he asked, "You remember the big deal down at Dimensions on Fountain Street last summer?"

Sean recalled the news reports of how three young men were attacked and badly beaten when leaving the popular men’s alternative nightclub. He nodded to Chad, indicating his recollection.

Chad pointed to their squatting subject, clucking about the room. "He brags that he was involved in

that. He and a gang of his buddies."

"Is that right?" Sean’s face darkened. "Fellas, stand up good and straight. And unzip." Chad and

Craig exchanged worried looks which Sean caught. "Trust me." Then, to Earl, "You can stop being

a chicken, Earl. But come on over to these gentlemen on your knees now. And wet your lips while

your at it."

# # # # #

Fifteen minutes later, Chad and Craig were leaning back against the counter groaning with pleasure as the burly Earl gave them both the best head he was able. Which, as it turned out, was not bad at all.

Chad looked over at Sean as Earl dislodged himself from Chad’s dick. “Dude, that was amazing! Who knew a knuckle-dragger could give such good head?”

“Yeah, well, that was just the matinee”, said Sean. “The gala performance starts now.” The duo zipped up and watched intently for what was to come next. “Earl, stand up if you would please”, Sean said. Earl did, and stood before Sean at attention. “Earl, you mentioned there’s a gay gentleman who works at your job site now?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“From now on, Earl, you are that man’s protector. Anyone gives that man the slightest grief, the smallest insult, the tiniest harassment, and you are on them like a ton of bricks. You got me, Earl?”

“Anyone fucks with my man Peter, I kick their ass.”

“That’s my boy, Earl”, said Sean.

Chad looked heavenward. “Peter, no less.”

Sean silenced him with a wave. “What’s more, Earl, you will be unable to tolerate any hatred of gays of any kind, in any form, anywhere or anytime.”

“Homophobia”, suggested Craig.

“He probably doesn’t know what that means”, muttered Chad.

“Sshh!”, hissed Sean. “Earl, any derogatory word about gays will actually make you physically ill. The words fag, queer, or any other such insult will churn your guts with nausea. You must confront--and STOP--anyone who utters these words. Do you understand?”

“Sure do, sir”, slurred Earl.

“You now and forevermore feel a compulsion to stand up for and protect anyone in the gay community, Earl.”

“Hey”, asked Craig, “you gonna make him gay, Sean?”

Sean looked disgusted at the suggestion. “What? And have someone like him polluting the populace? I may be a mind-control boot fetish pervert, but I got my pride.”

Chad waved a hand at Sean. “Oh, hey, I got a good one. Earl, buddy, when you leave here, go and get a tattoo across your backside that says ‘Please Insert Dick Here’ with a big red arrow pointing to your asscrack!”

Earl just stood there, silent.

“Earl?”, Sean asked, “didn’t you hear Chad just now?”

“Yessir, I did, sir.”

“Are you going to do what he said, Earl?”

“Nossir, I’m not.”

The trio exchanged worried looks. Was the boot magic wearing off on this thick-headed hick? “Why aren’t you going to it, Earl?”

“Cuz it weren’t you what asked me to do it, sir”, came the reply.

Again, the three friends exchanged glances. Sean gestured to Craig. “Craig, tell Earl to do something.”

“Earl, come over here and...do a handstand”, Craig ordered.

And Earl just stood there.

“Shit, Sean”, Chad said. “It only works when you tell him to do something. The boots won’t work unless the guy that made ‘em gives the actual commands. Well, that sucks. So much for my big idea of selling these things at jacked-up prices. That’ll hardly work if you’re the only one they work for.”

“Unless I prepare a cassette recording with orders and stuff on it”, considered Sean. “I did get you to obey Craig, after all.”

“But a tape for every customer, and every conceivable occasion? Is that even possible?”, Chad pressed.

Sean began to pace. “Maybe a series of tapes then, I dunno.”

“Maybe it isn’t just who makes the boots. Maybe it’s the sperm”, said Craig. The other two gave him concerned looks. “No, think about it”, he said. “Sean, it was your used condom that you threw into the dye mix batch, right? So maybe that’s where the control comes from. Whoever’s seed is in the mix will have control over the person wearing the boots made from that batch.”

Chad shrugged. “Makes sense.”

Sean nodded. “Yeah, it does. You guys willing to volunteer a sample for final product testing to make sure we’re right about this?”

Chad made a dismissive noise. “Like you have to ask.”

Sean turned back to Earl. “Earl, do the handstand thing like Craig told you to.”

“Yessir.” And off he went. He had good balance, for his large a build.

As Earl handwalked his way toward the door, Sean added more suggestions. “Earl, take the boots home with you. Put them in the back of your closet and forget about them--don’t even notice them--until you’re told otherwise. Whenever I call you and give you the signal ‘Purple Earl’, you will return here and follow my commands to the letter. Do you understand?”

“Yessir, I understand”, Earl answered, still swaying in his handstand by the door.

“Earl, stand up normally”, Sean told him, and he did. “Go on home and forget everything you experienced after trying on the purple boots. You recall only that I took measurements for some modified work boots for you and that I said I’d get back to you. Oh, and one more thing before you go, Earl. Are you married?”

“Nossir.”

“Then get the tattoo.”

CUSTOMERS

Sean had just completed work on the first pair of purple boots made with a used condom contributed by Chad. Whoever wore these, Sean knew, would be beyond his control, but be at the mercy of Chad. Sean had his reservations, but his burning curiosity about adjusting the formula overrode any hesitation. Liam had been less than forthcoming at best. “Trial and error, my dear boy”, was all that he had said when Sean telephoned him again, and now Liam was strangely unavailable for calls. Trial and error indeed. Sean hoped it involved less errors than he suspected it would.

Chad came into the shop with a friend in tow. He was of slight build, with slicked-back black hair and horn-rimmed glasses. He looked like a stereotypical computer nerd. Chad told his friend to wait by the counter and then walked back to Sean by the backroom. Chad pointed to the boots in Sean’s hands. “These mine?”

“Sure are.”, said Sean. Then, nodding towards the nerd. “And this is--?”

“Elliot”, Chad said. “He’s young, impressionable, and he has a crush on me.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“Really”, Sean said, unconvinced.

“And he’s really into purple”, Chad winked. Sean looked at Elliot. He was wearing a purple plaid shirt unbuttoned over a lavender tee with a pair of purple sneakers protruding from beneath the cuffs of his rumpled jeans.

“Oh, that I believe”, Sean said.

In no time, Elliot had pulled on the size 7 rubber boots and was under their spell. Seeing Elliot revealed to Sean why Chad had ordered his first pair of boots in a size three and half smaller than Craig’s, too. In less than five minutes, Chad had reduced poor Elliot to a yapping puppy, then made him believe he was glued to the floor and his ams affixed to his body via an invisible straightjacket, and for the coup de grace had Elliot whip out his cock and jack off in front of both of them, fire into his hand, and gulp down the cum, loudly licking his lips with the last swallow.

Sean finally smacked Chad in the arm to get him to let Elliot go, which to his credit, he did. Elliot stood there, panting, his glasses riding down on the edge of his nose. His upper lip and his forehead were moist with perspiration. It was obvious he was unaccustomed to any exertion beyond moving a computer mouse. Elliot stared down at the boots on his feet like they were strange artifacts from outer space. Then he slowly raised his head, looked Sean right in the eye and said, “How much?”

Chad and Sean shared a glance. Chad gave the thumbs-up. Sean smiled. They were in business.

# # # # #

Word of the mind-controlling purple boots spread like wildfire. Sean started by seeing walk-ins but soon had to switch to appointments-only. He wanted the chance to meet each buyer, to speak with them in person. He wanted to be certain the boots weren’t going to wind up in the hands of someone out to do deliberate damage (physical or otherwise) or to seek some kind of revenge. He didn’t want something that can be applied to trigger so much joy used for hateful purposes.

Two weeks in, Sean looked up to see his mid-morning appointment arrive. This was someone who had called previously, eager to acquire a pair of the purple boots. His voice on the phone was gruff, his tone demanding, his wording terse. Sean had an inkling what this guy would look like. He was right.

Into the shop strode a figure straight out of Easyrider magazine. He was head-to-toe in leather, complete with Marlon Brando cycling cap and open-fingered leather gloves. Sturdy, polished chains dangled from his shoulders and draped around his torso. Other, smaller chains that looked no less formidable for their size, were wound tightly around his wrists, legs, and ankles. His beard was cut close to his face and appeared immaculately trimmed, but still seemed to have a coarseness akin to sandpaper. He leaned on his knuckles at the counter and glowered down at Sean.

He made no attempts to hide or sugar-coat why he “had to” have a pair of the purple boots. “They’re for my boy”, he grunted. “Need something to keep the slave in line. Sometimes even after all the training, he gets uppity. Wants to be fed and watered more than once every couple days. Greedy like that.”

Sean listened, never blinking. “Uh-huh.”

“Whines and complains after just thirteen hours nekkid in his restraining cage, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Sometimes”, and he leaned in close, the stink of endless cigarettes thick on his breath and in his beard, “he won’t even finish eatin’ all’a my shit for me.”

“Imagine.”

“I hear these purple bondage shoes of yours can take total control of a boy so he can’t get willful even if he wanted to. So, what can you show me?”

Sean met the man’s eyes with a level gaze. “The door.”

After the leather psychopath was out the door, following much swearing and cursing, Sean made a decision. “It’s definitely time to start screening my clients--with a required waiting period for background checks.”

KEEGAN

Sean heard the bells jingle at his shop’s front door. He’d been up to his eyebrows in orders for the

purple boots, and had been having the time of his life making them. The fact that he always insisted

on an "in-store quality test" didn’t hurt any, either. Satisfied customers got to sample their

newly-acquired merchandise moments after final payment, and Sean got the added pleasure of

seeing his creations put to good use. It made up for his lack of sleep.

Enjoying the performances of the purple-booted subs being put through their paces by their loving

doms (as well as equal partners into play) didn’t do anything to hurt his mood, either.

"Hello? Are you open?"

The timid voice came from the front counter of the shoe shop. Sean hollered out to the voice. "Be

right with you! Won’t be a moment!"

"O-okay", the voice came back, sounding a bit embarrassed for having asked in the first place. "I’ll

wait. Thank-you!"

Must be a future boot wearer here to pick up an order at someone else’s order, thought Sean. He

quickly cleaned up what he was doing and easily set up the materials he’d need to begin again

whenever he’d return. He stepped out into the shop to greet his latest customer. Changing his shop’s business hours to see more scheduled appointment customers rather than casual walk-ins had done

wonders to cut down on the traffic he’d had just a couple weeks ago, but he still made it a point not

to turn anyone away if he could help it.

"And what can I do for you today?", Sean asked, approaching the new patron with extended hand.

The young man seemed pretty nervous. "Well, Mister...Mister...I’m sorry", he apologized, "but I’m

not sure I recall your last name."

"Sean is fine", he said, indicating a chair.

"Craig and Chad recommended you to me", he explained, and proceeded to produce all manner of

files and papers he was carrying with him. Sean quickly concluded he was there for a pair of the

famous boots, and knew how stringent the background check was. Amongst the papers, a packet of

condoms plopped out onto the floor. Special ingredient material.

The boy was mortified. Quickly, he scrambled to pick them up and shuffle them back amongst his

papers, then reconsidered and began to stuff them into his pants pocket. "Gosh, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t

know they’d just--I must’ve forgotten they were loose--" Then, with a quick sigh, he looked down

at the floor, blushing.

Yep. Definitely here for a pair of the boots.

"Sooo", Sean began, "you here for a pair of the purple boots?"

"Yes!", the lad answered. Then, placing one hand over his mouth, he mumbled, "Sorry. Yes, I am."

Sean reached for the boy’s paperwork. "Let’s see what you have here."

What he had there was impressive. Judging from the data in front of him, Sean could see that this

unusual young man was the last person you’d expect to be involved in any kind of fetish sexual play.

His personal references and work history were exemplary. His credits included service as an altar

boy, nursing home aide, and a handful of other laudable duties and pursuits.

Sean looked at the young man, seated with his head still lowered a bit, his hands tightly clenched

together, arms extended between his knees. His toes were pointed slightly toward each other. When

he realized Sean was looking at him and not the paperwork, he lifted his chin just enough to make

eye contact.

There was nothing remarkable about him, physically. He was young. His hair was very dark, either

dark brown or black (hard to tell in this light), and was neatly cut over the ears, but just ever-so

unruly on top with a handful of curls that clearly didn’t want to behave. Dark brown eyes. He had

the face and demeanor of a child who wants nothing more than to please, and obey all the rules. He

was thin, and his reserved body language and bad posture made it easy to underestimate his 5’11" height.

"Tell me--", Sean glanced at one of the forms. "--Keegan." The boy nodded to acknowledge his

name. "How old are you?"

"24."

Keegan looked no older than 16. 17 maybe, but that’d be pushing it. "You realize I can check that",

stated Sean.

"Oh, yessir. Here, let me--" Keegan reached over and flipped through some of the papers Sean was

holding. He brought different college transcripts and work references to the top of the stack. Then

he started pulling documents out of his pockets. A birth certificate, driver’s license, and college

picture I.D. to start.

"Okay, okay, that’s good. I believe you", Sean told him, waving a hand to stop him.

"There’s another here I wanted to show you, sir", Keegan insisted, groping into another pocket in

search of further proof. "Here, sir, here. It’s my--" dislodging the folded document also uprooted

Keegan’s packet of condoms. This time, they flew from his pants pocket to land atop Sean’s stack

of papers. Keegan looked like he wanted to die right then and there.

"Oh, my God. Sir, I am SO sorry, I--I didn’t mean to--oh, please, sir, I’m sorry--" Keegan

grabbed the condoms, trying desperately to decide what he should do with them. He fumbled to put

them back in his pocket, then switched to a different pocket, started to stand to slip them into his

back pocket, but realized he have to return his wallet there with his license. Finally, he clenched

them into his fist, and sat down on top of his hands. He let out a heavy sigh of defeat and stared at

his shoes, his face a warm crimson. His right foot reflexively shuffled on top of his left.

Sean started to say something, but chose to give the poor kid a chance to compose himself. Sean

glanced over the paperwork Keegan had brought to the surface. President’s List in college. 3.9

grade point average. Graduated with honors in Business Management. Work Study for three years

within the college administration. Most Valuable Employee award two years running with his

part-time office job during school. Recent Graduate Achievement award. And that was just the first

page.

"This is quite an impressive resume you’ve got here, Keegan", Sean said, nodding his head with

approval.

"Thank-you, sir. I appreciate that. I--" Keegan dropped his head back down.

"What is it, son?" Sean silently chided himself for slipping and calling someone only a few years his

junior "son".

Keegan looked up. "Sir, it’s just that--you don’t remember me, do you?"

Sean was taken aback. No, he didn’t think he’d ever laid eyes on this boy before. "I, well,

actually--", now it was Sean’s turn to feel nervous. "No, I have to confess, I don’t. Have we met?"

Keegan perked right up. "Oh, yes sir, we have. You spoke to one of my classes at college, on the

importance of customer relations in small business. I’ll never forget it. ‘Always give the client more-"

"-than you take from them’", Sean finished his oft-recited ideology. "You remember that? From

what, two years ago?"

"Three years, sir. Oh, yes, sir. I remember it well. It kind of became my mantra. We spoke for a bit

afterward, you and I. I’ll never forget your talk. You were awesome." Keegan locked eyes with

Sean, and for a moment there was something there. The shy Keegan seemed to burn with an

intensity suddenly that had been absent a moment ago. For a split second, Sean actually thought he

was going to lean forward and kiss him.

Then, Keegan dropped his gaze back to his shuffling feet. "Anyway, sir, I was really impressed by

you. By your talk."

Sean riffled the papers with his thumb. There was more than enough here for the background

check. "You were pretty thorough in providing me what I need, Keegan."

"Well sir, the boots aren’t the only reason I’m here."

"Oh?"

"I thought perhaps I could also apply for a job. You must need the help. What with all the work you have coming in now, for the boots and everything."

"From the looks of things", Sean said, hefting the stack of papers, "you could have your pick of

damn near any job in any firm you’d want. Why come here? The pay won’t be as good."

"Well, sir, actually, it’s because--" Keegan stopped talking, looking very uncomfortable. He

grimaced slightly and started looking at the walls. Sean had seen that look before on other friends.

Sean reached over and very gently touched Keegan’s cheek with one finger, guiding his eyes back

to him. "You’re not out, are you, Keegan?"

Keegan dropped his chin to his chest. His answer was so quiet it was almost a whisper.

"No, sir."

Sean sat back, taking this in. Young Keegan probably had been troubled by that one aspect of his

life for some time now. He clearly had the motivation and skill to succeed in any calling he chose, but

wanted one where he could be true to himself and not fear giving away clues to unsympathetic

associates and colleagues. Sean decided to change the subject.

"Who are the boots for?"

Keegan looked up. "For me, sir."

"Oh. You have someone who wants to have you wear the boots for him?" It seemed odd that a boy this passive would even need mind-controlling boots. A stern look would be enough to get him to do

anything you wanted.

"No, not that. I-I want to give the boots TO someone, sir."

Ah. That made more sense. "Does he know what you have in mind for him, Keegan? This isn’t a

trap of some kind, is it? And he is gay, isn’t he? It’s not a hypnotic ambush, is it?"

Keegan was shocked at the suggestion. "Oh, NO! Nothing like that! No, sir, I would never--! No, I

assure you, it’s not like that. He couldn’t possibly know or even need anything like that!"

Sean raised an eyebrow. "And how can you be so sure?"

"Because I haven’t met him yet."

Ah. Lightbulb. Sean smiled at that. Keegan suddenly had a renewed interest in his shoes. Sean

chose his next words carefully. "So this pair of boots would be for...a boyfriend yet to come, is that

is?"

"Yessir. Someone I could open up to, someone I could be totally honest with, and care about--and

for. And, and someone---that I hope I guess the right shoe size for." He smirked at that despite himself.

Sean smiled at the boy’s innocence as well as his tenacity. He was an interesting package, this

Keegan.

"Keegan, my lad, I think I can accommodate you."

CRAIG & KEEGAN

In very short order, Sean and Keegan found they made a great team. In preparation for his new job, Keegan had studied Sean’s field extensively, and it took Keegan almost no time to master the few things he didn’t know about shoe making. The two spent a lot of time together, working side by side, dealing with general customers, screening purple boots buyers, and spending hours in the backroom mixing up the magic purple dye mix. Keegan never scoffed at any task, no matter how mundane. He was just as enthusiastic about restocking shelves and taking inventory as he was about suggesting new designs for future rubber boots. He was still painfully shy at times. It was all he could do not to cringe when approved boot clients stood by the dye vat jerking off into their condoms to be tossed into the dye mix. But he always stuck around, despite his discomfort.

Sean and Keegan quickly started spending time together outside the shop, going to clubs, seeing movies, and having dinner. Keegan’s earlier hero worship of Sean slowly changed to friendship and Sean started seeing Keegan as an equal rather than as a kid.

Keegan was on hand the day that Craig arrived to pick up his own order for the purple boots. Craig entered the shop with a new confidence the two bootmakers had never seen. His back was straight and a look of strength and self-reliance shone in his eyes. His newly-evolving relationship with Chad seemed to suit him.

Craig smiled at Keegan behind the counter. “Hey. I’m here to pick up a pair of purple boots.”

Keegan flipped through an order pickup book. “Right, Craig. I have you down for 10:30. Right on time. And these...” He paused. “I’m sorry, these are YOUR boots? I mean, they’ve got--”

“My cum and stuff in ‘em, yes.”, Craig offered.

Keegan blushed, looking back down at the order book. “S-sorry. It’s just, I thought you’d be picking up boots for Chad, is all. Y’know, what with your history and all.” Keegan felt his shoulders begin to tighten in embarrassment.

“Oh, those days are over”, Craig assured him.

Keegan looked up, curious. “You two are still--?”

“Together? Or, more than ever. It’s just a partnership now, is all. He’ll pick up his own boots eventually, but we agreed that I get first crack at it for at least a week.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean, that’s great.” Keegan looked at Craig, who smiled back. Craig looked like there was something else he wanted to share, but he didn’t say anything. “Well, I better go get your boots then.”

Keegan went to the backroom curtain and called to Sean. “Craig’s here for his boots!” Keegan looked over at Craig, who was leaning comfortably against the counter, feet crossed at the ankle, playfully drumming his fingers against the glass countertop.

“His boots or Chad’s?”, the call came from back.

“His.”

A pause. Then, “No kidding? I’ll bring ‘em right out.”

Sean came out in a hurry, brandishing a shining pair of the purple rubber boots. The size was Chad’s, the semen was Craig’s. “Here they are, buddy.”, announced Sean. I trust you will find them all you hope for and that they’ll provide you with hours of enjoymen--” He stopped his comedic presentation when he saw that Craig had come alone. “Where’s Chad?”

“Home.”, Craig answered matter-of-factly. He was still smiling.

“Well, I just assumed he’d be with you.”, Sean said. “So, you wanna take ‘em home and test them out there, let me know how they work out?”

“No, I’ll test ‘em here.”, Craig stated.

“On--?” Sean looked around at the shop that was empty of people but for the three of them.

Craig rested a hand on Keegan’s arm and grinned, never looking away from Sean. Keegan looked astonished. “Me??”, Keegan blurted. What, are you serious? I-I’m not even Chad’s shoe size! They won’t fit me.”

Craig glanced down at Keegan’s tennis shoes, that looked maybe half a size smaller than Chad’s. “You’re close enough. They’ll fit.”

Sean stepped in. “Craig, now wait a minute. You have Chad. I’m not gonna just let you--”

Craig frowned at that. “Sean, I’m not going to enslave him. I just want him to try them on to make sure they work okay. I’m leaving here with the boots, not your coworker.” Then, to Keegan, “Unless you really feel that uncomfortable, or embarrassed about it.”

Keegan looked to Sean for some indication of what he should do. Sean said, “If I have the slightest concern, I’ll yank ‘em off you, pal.”

“Agreed”, Craig said. Sean nodded that Keegan could go ahead.

Slowly, Keegan pulled off his tennis shoes. He took a breath, then picked up the purple boots.

“No socks”, Craig reminded him.

“I know.” He removed his socks and very cautiously lowered his feet into the rubber boots. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes as he placed both feet firmly on the floor. His eyes popped open instantly. He started gasping with mouth gaping wide. “Huh! Huhh! Ho-oooh-OOOHHHH!!” He took in sudden, sharp, short breaths, and braced one arm against Craig’s shoulder to steady himself. He was experiencing more pleasure than he’d ever been exposed to before, and he was having trouble handling it.

“Sean, grab the chair”, Craig said, pointing behind the counter. Sean ran over and wheeled it back fast. Craig lowered the gasping Keegan into the seat. “There you go”, Craig said in a soothing voice. “Easy now, easy, sit down, Keeg.” Keegan kept gasping and his shoulders jerked upward. He wasn’t in any pain, but he was in the midst of an overdose of pleasure. Keegan’s feet shuffled against the floor, making things worse as the friction of the boots sparked more bolts of ecstasy that shot through his body. The more he felt, the more his feet scraped the floor, causing more intense sensations.

“It’s too much for him”, Craig said quickly. “We’ve got to get his feet up off the floor.” Craig dashed to Keegan’s side and put his arms around his torso. Craig looked back at Sean, who was standing there with mouth agape, watching his friend spasming. “Help me!”, Craig shouted. His cry snapped Sean out of his daze, and the two of them hefted Keegan to the top of the counter, where they set him on the edge so his booted feet could dangle free.

Keegan’s moans seemed to decrease a little, but not by much. He forcibly closed his mouth, pulling his lips inward, but continued to take in sharp breaths through his nose. His hands gripped the edges of the counter and his head nodded sharply up and down.

“That’s it”, said Sean. “I’m takin’ ‘em off.”

But Keegan held out one palm in a motion to stop Sean’s approach. “’M--’M okaay--”, he gasped. “I-I c-can control this--!”

“Don’t worry about control, Keegan.” This from Craig. “Just let go, let it happen. Feel it.”

Keegan gasped harder than he had yet, doubling over almost completely. “--ohGod,ohGod,ohGod, feeellss soooo g-good--!”, he shuddered. Then, a few more jerking spasms, and Keegan’s eyes moistened as he whispered a cry of, “--noooo...” He squeezed his eyes shut tight and a large wet smear appeared on the crotch of his pants. Way too thick to be piss. He had cum all over himself.

Keegan thrust two fists over his eyes. Tears streamed down from behind his fingers, and he shook with mortification over what he’d just done. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry, I tried to hold it, but it felt so good and I c-couldn’t--” Keegan doubled over, grasping his head with his hands, weeping. “Oh, my God, it still feels so good, ohhhhh, it’s happening again, I can feel it--oh dear God, I shouldn’t be feeling this, I’m a bad person--”

Craig was at his side. “Keegan, listen to me.” On command, Keegan looked up and his back straightened. His sobs had stopped, but the tears kept streaming down his cheeks. No amount of mind control could stop that. “I know you’re still unsure about yourself and what you feel sometimes. I recognized it the first time I met you. Been there, done that. But it’s okay. You’re okay.” Keegan’s sharp intakes of breath began to slow. Sean was tempted to intervene but decided to let Craig speak for now, as he seemed to be getting through to his friend.

“Keegan, you need to let yourself accept who you are. You need to allow yourself to feel good. You’re not bad, you’re not evil, you’re simply you. You want to love someone and be loved back. That’s good, that’s healthy.” Craig stood up straight. “And it’s alright to feel good.”

Keegan’s breathing was returning to normal. He sniffed a couple more times. “Look at me, please”, Craig said. Keegan turned his head to look him in the eye. “Smile, Keegan.” A beautiful smile spread across his face. “I want you--to want to accept who you are, Keegan.”

“I-I do--”, he started.

Craig interrupted him. “And then I want you to go ahead and accept yourself. Let go and just be who you are and know it’s okay.” Keegan kept smiling brightly, but he had sad, tearful eyes. Craig gently touched his shoulder. “Move freely as you want to, Keeg.” Keegan stopped smiling and he wiped the last of his tears from his eyes. Craig leaned in toward the young man. “You ready to have some fun now, Keegan?”

Keegan looked up and managed a meager smile. He looked a lot better. “Sure.”

Craig grinned. “Then laugh.”

Keegan started to laugh. Suddenly, fully. As if he’d just heard the world’s funniest joke. Craig smiled, adding, “Laugh hard, kid. Think of the best laugh you’ve ever had in your life and then double it. Laugh your ass off.” Keegan exploded with laughter. He gripped his sides and fairly fainted from his joyous outbursts. “Feels great, doesn’t it?”, asked Craig. Keegan nodded, unable to speak for the guffaws, and fell backwards on the countertop, laughing into the ceiling, his feet dangling limply off the counter’s edge, kicking slightly. After a minute or two of that, Craig gave Keegan the okay to let his laughter fade out. Keegan gasped for breath a bit, a few tears trickling from the corners of his eyes. This time, tears of joy.

Craig gestured with two fingers for Keegan to sit up partly. Keegan propped himself up on his elbows. “Are you starting to understand that it’s a pretty good thing to feel good?”, Craig asked him.

“I’m gettin’ there”, Keegan confessed.

“That’s good, Keegan.”, Craig said. “Now, relax your body”, he began, then paused, watching as Keegan did as bidden. “And have an orgasm. A big one.”

Keegan gasped again, not as desperately as before, and his entire body tensed. His pelvis thrust and he shot a load bigger than any he ever had in his life. His eyes bulged and he spasmed with pleasure, pumping, pumping, firing a hot stream of his juices all over the inside of his pants.

“Let yourself enjoy it”, Craig urged. “It feels good, and it’s okay to feel good. You know this, Keegan, believe that it’s true and accept it.” Keegan kept pumping and pumping. The wet splotch on his pants spread wider and wider.

“H-how m-much i-is there??”, Keegan gasped.

“As much as you want”, said Craig. “You want to stop?”

“N-n-not yet--Uhh!”, Keegan hissed out in between breaths. He gripped the counter with one hand and Craig’s shoulder with the other. Stream after stream spurted out of Keegan, and he was overcome with erotic sensation. His head fell backwards, and after several more grinding pumps, Keegan gasped out, “...o-okay, that’s enough. Please, gotta take...break..”

Craig said, “Okay, you can stop now.”

Keegan let out a big “Pphheeeeeeww!!” of relief. He took deep, ragged breaths and could not lose the smile pasted on his face. Craig propped his elbow on the counter beside Keegan’s head, his chin resting in his palm.

“Laugh, buddy”, he ordered.

And Keegan did, full and hard. And he loved every minute of it.

# # # # #

Keegan stood before Sean and Craig, his pants dried off for the most part, still in the purple boots. He looked genuinely happy. He swung his arms playfully at his sides. “What’s next, boss?”

Craig said, “Just one more thing I want to try, Keeg.”

Sean placed a hand on Craig’s arm to pause him. “Keegan, you sure you’re up to this?”

Keegan smiled brightly. “Absolutely.”

“Okay then”, Craig said. “Keegan, can you dance at all? I mean, really dance?”

Keegan frowned slightly. “Well, I can’t really do the club dancing thing very well, but I took tap lessons for three years when I was younger.”

“Perfect. Keegan, start tap-dancing.”, Craig ordered.

Keegan began to tap. There was no clicking and clacking of the metal tap shoes, of course, but he was good, no doubt about it. The soft rubber soles of his boots slapped and thudded against the polished hardwood floor. And the rapid contact of the purple boots against the floor further stimulated the pleasure they naturally caused. Keegan whirled, stomped, and jumped around in front of his two-man audience and truly enjoyed putting on a one-man show.

“Keegan”, Craig said, “with every footfall you feel the urge to laugh. A little more each time.” Keegan began to laugh. Louder and fuller, the more he danced, the more he laughed. From the knees down, he was a blur of purple color, from there up he was a comic image dancing happiness. “And one more thing”, Craig amended. “As you dance and laugh, you remain receptive to my commands. If I so much as give you one word, you’ll respond instantly.” Keegan was laughing too hard and moving too fast to speak, but he nodded his head eagerly. “Great, Keegan.” Craig watched the lad dance and laugh faster and louder, then added one word. “Orgasm.” Keegan’s whole midsection bucked, and his laughter was choked off for a second by a sharp intake of breath. Splatch. A new stain appeared on his pants. Keegan squinted his eyes as he resumed his dancing laughter. Craig looked at Sean with arched eyebrows. “Orgasm, Keeg.” Pow. Again, Keegan jerked violently, but this time in the middle of a dance step. He shot a new wad as he was lunging forward, which froze him in mid-stride. Then, a heartbeat later, he sent himself dancing in the opposite direction, his laughter increased. Keegan was given the order for three more orgasms, all of which he thoroughly enjoyed, over the next ten minutes. He kept on dancing and laughing for an addition fifteen.

When Craig was satisfied, he told Keegan to stop and catch his breath, which Keegan did, bent over and bracing himself on his knees. Sean was clapping in appreciation of the performance. Keegan waved the praise away. “I owe it all to my director”, he said, pointing at Craig.

“One last thing”, Craig said. Keegan looked up, ready and willing to obey. “I want a kiss.”, Craig announced. As Keegan strode purposefully forward, Craig jerked a thumb toward Sean. “Not for me. For him.” Keegan quickly changed course and planted a deep and passionate kiss on Sean’s lips. Sean struggled at first, taken totally by surprise, but then gave in as Keegan’s tongue made its way well into Sean’s mouth.

After the two separated, Sean asked Craig, “What the hell was that about?”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Geez, if you haven’t figured it out by now...” Craig then went over to Keegan and took hold of one boot by the ankle. “You don’t need these anymore”, he said, and one at a time easily slipped the purple boots off of Keegan. Craig then slung the boots over his shoulder and made his way to the door, dropping a check--which included a considerable gratuity for the modeling fee-- next to the register. Craig turned in the doorway and held up the purple boots. “These’ll do fine”, he said. “I’ll take ‘em.”

Sean and Keegan still stood with their arms around each other, watching the door long after Craig was gone. Then Keegan looked at his friend and companion, looking a bit uncomfortable. “So”, he began after a long pause, “you wouldn’t happen to have a spare pair of pants around here, would ya?”

# # # # #

Sean and Keegan sat in the backroom of the shop. Keegan had exchanged his soggy and sticky jeans for a pair of tan canvas overalls Sean had hanging up by a work table. Keegan also opted not to put back on his tennis shoes and instead wore a pair of tall brown rubber boots that had been left lying around the work area. Sean wore an easy smile as he watched Keegan sitting on a bench, knees pulled up with his arms around them, rocking gently back and forth. Keegan was still grinning from his first experience with the purple boots, as well as his kiss with Sean. “You know I’m gay?”, he said at last.

“Yeah, I think I caught that.”, Sean said back.

“Well, you know, in case anyone asks. I’m gay. Just to clarify. And I’m pretty sure I’ve got this whole boot fetish thing goin’ on.”

“I had my suspicions.”

“Boy, if there was ever any doubt about the whole semen-in-the-mix-mind-control connection...”, Keegan mused.

“Uh-HUH”, Sean agreed. Then, looking over to a neat line of purple boots he had crafted from his original dye formula, Sean let out a sigh. “Too bad about this first batch, then. I don’t have any great plans for a battalion of mind-controlled horny boot guys.’ Then, smiling, he looked back at Keegan, and said, “You don’t suppose ol’ Earl would be interested in making them required workwear on his job site, would you?”

Keegan rubbed his chin. “You know, Chad said that Earl belongs to a community baseball team.”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “No shit?”

DALTON

Dalton Crofield had been waiting all week for Saturday night. He sat behind the wheel of his pickup truck, slowly grinding an axe handle in his fists. He had been on “stakeout” as he liked to call it, in the shadows of an alley across the street from the Dimensions nightclub parking lot. Dalton knew that the Dimensions was a notorious hangout site for gays. And if there was one thing that Dalton Crofield could not abide, it was gays.

Dalton came from the old school of thought that whatever was different was evil, and was to be destroyed for the Good of Humanity. Dalton longed for the days that were depicted in the prints and sepiatone photos hung throughout his grandparents’ house. The Rockwellian images of small town America with wholesome folks living wholesome lives free from all depravity and immorality.

Dalton dreamt of a clean--or perhaps the better word would be cleansed--country freed of all corruptive influences. No lazy coons, no greedy and manipulative Jews, no job-stealing Asians, and most importantly of all, no faggots. Yes, the queers were the worst of the lot, corrupting our nation by spreading their messages of promiscuity and preversion to our Precious Youth. Their plan was ingenious, he had to admit. They would start by preaching that their subversive lifestyle choice was normal, and after being accepted as normal humans, they would begin their Grand Invasion of our fragile Moral Values. But the plan was not so ingenious that Dalton couldn’t detect it. Dalton knew he was one of a select few with sufficient insight and intelligence to see through all the lies. So the fags had to go first. And Dalton knew he had the valor and fortitude necessary to wipe out their entire population one at a time if need be.

Dalton looked at his dashboard clock. It was 2:00am. The club would start emptying out soon. He’d scouted the club for several weeks with almost military dedication. He could even spot some of the regulars now. And as he anticipated, the first couple had just exited the club and were heading to their car.

To look at them, they appeared normal enough. Just two guys leaving a club. Of course, the fact that neither of them had a girl on their arm in itself was suspect. They didn’t act drunk or drugged, nor did they paw at each other or drop to the ground and engage in the sexual perversion that was their nature. No doubt the restraint they showed was due to long hours of training in Self-Control Programming by their Leaders in preparation for the Grand Invasion. But then, they slipped. There. Right there. Dalton saw it, even from this distance. They held hands. “Normal” my ass, thought Dalton.

Dalton quietly slid out of his truck, axe handle at the ready. He took great care to close the door silently, as the slam of a truck door could provide the signal for flight to his unsuspecting prey. There was a small click as the door latch caught, and Dalton’s head jerked to see the couple still walking toward their vehicle. His presence had not been detected. Well, that was about to change.

Dalton slapped the axe handle against his hand in anticipation. He swiftly crossed the silent night street and padded his way quietly towards the first victims of his very own Project: Save America- Campaign of Strength. The gayboys were only a few dozen yards away now. He picked up his pace.

As Dalton stepped up onto the curb at the far end of the parking lot, his arm involuntarily raised the axe handle, poised to strike. He was about to dash towards the evil gays when he heard the sound of wood on concrete. It was just loud enough for him to hear from where he was, and it stopped him in his tracks. Dalton spun on his heels, axe handle at the ready to bash in the brains of whatever fag had come upon him, or anyone who might attempt to prevent him from doing God’s Work.

Dalton stood there, mouth hanging open. He managed a faint, “Uhh...” sound, then said nothing else. Standing before him was a squad of at least nine men, all of whom were built like linebackers. Each one of them was wielding a baseball bat, and held them like they knew exactly how to use them to brutal effect. The squad of giants all wore identical black T-shirts with a six-colored rainbow flag emblazoned across the chest. Scrawled in a ragged font upon the rainbow was the legend “EARL’S ANGELS”. And each one of these Angels wore knee-high purple rubber boots.

The one in the lead of the group, a man with massive shoulders and buzzcut hair, extended his bat toward Dalton. “Now just what you suppose you’re plannin’ on doin’ with that little axe handle of yorn, boy?”, he demanded in a voice that fell on Dalton’s ears like the first stones of an avalanche. “’Cause if’n you plan to cause some mischief by harming that nice couple, yonder, just minding their own business, well...” and he spat upon the ground, “I’m afraid that’s something me an’ my boys jest cain’t allow.”

Earl took one step forward. “Cuz if you have a problem with them”, he said, gesturing with his bat toward the departing couple, “then you got a problem with us.” Earl slapped his bat angrily into his palm and aimed a level gaze at Dalton. Dalton’s eyes stayed glued to Earl’s, but he heard the clatter of wood as his axe handle fell to the ground from his limp fingers, and felt a warm wetness spread across the front of his pants and trickle down his leg.

SEAN & KEEGAN

Sean and Keegan returned to the shop laughing. It had been several months since word first got out about the special purple boots available exclusively at The Cobbler Shop, and despite the complete lack of advertising of the amazing boots, they had been selling like crazy. Even with Sean’s required extensive background checks before purchase, he now sold enough of the purple boots to keep himself and Keegan busy during the workweek. He also could discontinue the sale of large name brand footwear to supplement his real love of old world shoemaking. He could pick and choose his clients, and put his heart into every job. Profits were up at the tiny shop by more than 400%. But all this is not why the two of them were laughing.

Sean and Keegan had just come from a Pride Rally. The duo were clad, at Keegan’s suggestion--if not insistence--in what he termed “Pride Wear” of his own design. This consisted of purple-dyed painters bib overalls atop a hot pink T-shirt with matching pink Converse high-tops. The bib of the overalls featured a Pride flag patch. Outside the rally their outfits made them stand out, but amongst the crowd there, they fit right in. Especially considering how many purple-booted attendees peppered the proceedings. The exact number was difficult to tally due to all he activity and excitement, even during the portion of the rally designated “These Boots Were Made For Walking--With Pride” most heavily attended by the many satisfied purple boots customers.

Sean was walking on air. He couldn’t remember when he’d had so much fun. Keegan seemed high on the fact that Sean was in such good spirits. As Sean flopped down in his swivel chair and began a slow spin, Keegan asked him, “Favorite part?”

“Oh, without question”, he replied, “when the purple-booted Promise Keeper gave his enthusiastic talk on ‘Helping Our Gay Friends Keep Their Promises, Too’”.

Keegan laughed with him. “For me, it was having Earl’s Angels lead us all in a chorus of ‘Human Family’”.

Sean pointed an index finger at Keegan, agreeing. “Yes, yes, I would have to say that was a true highlight in the proceedings.” He leaned back in his chair, smiling broadly, continuing his slow spin around propelled by one foot.

Keegan leaned forward on the countertop. “You do know that you were the MVP of this rally? Maybe even of the whole gay community in this area. I heard that gay bashings around town are down to like, zero percent. Thanks to Earl’s Angels and a bunch of others, you’ve helped make this city a better place, Sean. I mean it.”

Uncomfortable with his friend’s honest praise, Sean stood up from his chair, saying, “Oh, I don’t know, Keeg. I’d say you made your own vital contributions to our cause. A good portion of those boots were made by you, after all--”

“Yeah, but it was your formula for--”, Keegan started.

But Sean kept on. “--and as far as those of us today who were not in purple boots, I’d say that you and I were the most nattily attired, wouldn’t you say?” He spread his arms wide to indicate his Keegan-made Pride Wear. “Who knew you had abilities and aspirations for creating clothing that extended above the knee?”

Keegan snapped his fingers. “That reminds me! Wait here.” He tore off into the back room as Sean resettled himself into his chair. He stopped spinning in full circles and enjoyed a slight swivel, back and forth. Keegan came up behind him, setting a flat package wrapped in brown paper on the counter. Just as Sean was about to ask what it was, Keegan reached over his shoulders and lay a large giftwrapped present in Sean’s lap.

“What’s this?”, Sean asked.

“It’s for you”, Keegan said. “For being so awesome, for giving me this job, for making the first purple boots, you know. You like the paper?”

The paper was a sparkly purple tissue wrapped around what looked to be an oversized shirt box. But whatever was inside was too heavy to be a shirt. Sean grinned, feeling a little embarrassed. “Keeg, you didn’t have to, buddy.”

Keegan gave Sean’s shoulders a small squeeze. “Go on, open it.”

Sean slowly tore off the paper, letting it drop to the floor. He gently lifted the lid off the large white box to see what was waiting for him inside. And there was a shining, gleaming pair of purple rubber boots. Hand crafted, never worn. Sean stared at them for a minute, not quite sure he was registering correctly what he was seeing. He looked back over his shoulder at his friend. “Keegan, are these your--?”

“Yup. Sure are.”

Sean knew that this was the pair of purple boots that he had made specially for Keegan when he first met him. The pair that Keegan did not know who they would go to. At least, not then. “Keegan, I can’t accept these. These were for the right guy for you--have you given up looking?”

Keegan fidgeted a bit. “I’ve stopped looking”, he said, “but I haven’t given up.”

Then it dawned on Sean. “Me? I’m the one you’ve been looking for?”

“I felt it from the first time I heard you talk at my college. But I had to get to know you, spend time with you, to be sure. Sean, I--”, Keegan lowered his head, blushing--something he hadn’t done in months. “I think I love you.”

Sean looked directly into his friend’s eyes. He could feel it, too. “I love you too, Keegan.” Sean held the boots in his hands, watching the way the slick rubber caught the light. After all the pairs of these he had made, never once had he worn any.

“If you don’t want to, if you don’t feel comfortable, you don’t have to put them on”, assured Keegan.

Sean was already kicking off his high-tops and pulling off his socks. “Are you kidding? I’m flattered.” Sean cuffed the pantlegs of his overalls to mid-calf and yanked on the purple boots before Keegan had the chance to change his mind. Here goes, he thought. The big plunge. Sean put both his booted feet flat upon the floor.

And his whole world changed.

From the knees down, Sean felt alive with an intense tactile sensation of pleasure. It was as if a current of pure joy were running through his ankles, calves, and feet. He was suddenly aware of every molecule of those boots and precisely where they made contact with his skin. The smooth, soft, caressing rubber hugged him like a living thing, holding, supporting, and massaging him with even the faintest movement. Sean wiggled his toes and his entire legs became alive with pleasure. He was suddenly, totally aware of his legs, and of the boots upon them. The intense feeling surrounding his feet and lower legs now radiated upward, encompassing him up to his pelvic region. Sean then stepped forward, causing the boot shaft to rub against the back of his calves and the top of the boot foot to press against his toes. This sent another jolt of intense pleasure up as far as his chest. The glorious sensations swirled around his midsection and beset his groin with a lightning storm of tingling delight. He was brought to an unanticipated state of arousal that exceeded anything he’d ever experienced by a factor of ten. His sturdy overalls tented with the force of his erection. Sean’s breathing was very shallow as he slowly tried to rise to his feet, which sent a final burst of giddy exultation right up to the top of his head. He fell back into his chair, gasping in pleasure. In a way, he felt as if the boots reached up with invisible rubber extensions and embraced his entire body. He had no idea how this feeling occurred. He had no idea what inside these boots could be causing it. He had no idea how simple boots could make him feel the way these had. But one thing he did know. He never wanted to take them off.

Sean stuck his feet out in front of him and prepared to spin his chair around in circles at top speed. He felt so giddy, so alive, so excited. The laughter bubbled up inside him until it could no longer be contained and he laughed out loud. He shrugged his shoulders and threw his head back with more giggle fits, finally composing himself enough to say, “Oohhhhhh, MAN!”

“Sean? Could you look at me please?”

That voice. The moment Sean heard it he was struck by something incredible. A spear of purest rapture right to his heart. The voice belonged to Keegan. Keegan... Sean’s head was awhirl with more pleasure than he thought imaginable. He turned around in his chair to see the most beautiful face he had ever seen in his life. Keegan’s. He had slowly grown to realize that he did indeed love Keegan. His willingness to pull on the boots attested to that. But what he felt looking into his eyes was beyond love. It dwarfed everything he felt about this young man before. Looking at him now and feeling the depths of passion he evoked was like taking a bold step forward into what you thought was a wading pool only to discover it was actually an ocean. Sean was ready and willing to drown in that ocean.

“Keegan”, he whispered reverently. “Sir...”

Keegan bent down to meet Sean eye-to-eye. “Sean, I want you to listen to me. You will give me your full attention now and obey me completely. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir”, Sean said in a voice that seemed to come from far away.

Keegan went on rapidly, but very clearly. He had been practicing this monologue for weeks now and was prepared to see it through. “Don’t speak until I tell you to. My name is Keegan, and I am not your Master. You will never address me as “sir”. I love you and I believe that you love me.”

Sean craned his neck forward a bit, with an urgency expressed in his eyes that indicated he wanted badly to speak his agreement to this, but Keegan held up an admonishing finger to keep him silent.

“I have given you my special purple boots which you made because I wanted you to experience the joy that I know comes with them. But in order for you to keep them, you must do something for me. It may not be easy, but I have every confidence you can do it, Sean. I want you to do this one thing, and then I promise you can keep your purple boots. Are you prepared to do what I tell you? Are you prepared to give me what I want from you?”

Sean nodded his head vigorously.

“That’s excellent, Sean”, Keegan said. “Here’s what I want from you, Sean.” Sean leaned forward with wide eyes. Then Keegan said, “Clarity.”

Sean sat back, obviously confused at this request. What did his beloved Keegan mean by “clarity”? How could he possibly give him that?

Keegan explained. “Inside your head is a thick cloud of rapture and intoxication. It feels great, I know, but it makes you dependant upon me. My seed is in these boots and that’s what’s making you feel connected to me. I want you to feel connected to me, but not at all costs. I want you as my friend and I hope as my lover, but not as my slave. It would destroy everything about you that attracted me to you in the first place.”

Keegan eased Sean back into his chair and swiveled the seat so Sean was facing away from him. “Close your eyes, relax, concentrate, and let the clouds around your mind lift. You are your own person, you control your own life. Let the mists fade away and the wonderful feeling of physical contact stay with the boots. They still electrify your body with pleasure, but that’s all they do. Nothing more.”

Keegan took a few steps back and waited. Sean sat with his head bowed forward a bit, as if he had fallen asleep. Every now and then he twitched, as if he were dreaming. After another few minutes he breathed in sharply, and his head bobbed backwards suddenly. Then, his head gently lowered back down until his chin touched his chest. Keegan heard Sean let out a long, easy breath and then smack his lips as would a man first waking in the morning. Sean reached back with both hands and massaged his neck. Then, softly, he said, “Keeg? Buddy?”

Keegan was at his side in a flash. “Yeah, Sean, I’m here. How are the boots? How are you?”

Sean, who looked like he badly needed a nap, looked down at his feet. “The boots--?”, he said, then paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Feel fantastic, Keeg. God almighty, they still feel so fucking good it defies description. Thanks.” He smiled an easy smile at his friend.

Keegan looked relieved, then suddenly became very serious. “Sean, I want you to suck my cock. Right now.”

Sean grinned. “Geez, maybe later, buddy. I am just so not in the mood right now, ‘kay?”

Keegan leaned close to Sean and tenderly kissed him on the forehead. “Y’know, I really didn’t know if that demand for clarity was going to work or not.”

Sean smiled. “Glad it did. Thanks for the boots, pal. And thanks for giving me my brains back.”

“My pleasure”, said Keegan. “On both counts.”

Sean, still hunched low in his chair, swiveled it around to face the countertop. He pointed at the flat brown parcel lying there. “So, what’s in package number two?”

Keegan handed it to him, opening it with a quick tug of his finger. Sean looked down at some very detailed clothing patterns for what appeared to be full-body coveralls. High collar, cinched waist, reinforced knees, impressive shoulder padding. Keegan leaned down over his shoulder. “Now that we’ve got the whole mind-controlling boot thing down”, he said, “would you consider giving any thought to making an entire purple rubber suit?”

Sean’s eyes bulged and his mind spun at the possibilities. Keegan turned Sean’s head back toward him with one finger. He leaned in and they kissed. Sean reached up to wrap his arms around his love, letting the design patterns fall to the floor. The two young men kissed passionately, pushing against the display shelf behind them. Keegan was charged from professing his love, Sean still felt the strange energy coming from his boots. They each knew their embrace would not end until both of them were fully satisfied. They could well end up entwined upon the countertop, or perhaps in the middle of the floor, or on the cot in the backroom.

They were young and in love. Anything was possible.

ehind

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