College Student in Control

Alex took a deep breath as he stood before the apartment door. The usual rush of apprehension and excitement surged through him as he put the key in the lock and turned the handle. The heavy grocery bags made this a little bit tricky - the shopping list he had been texted a couple hours beforehand had been especially long this time. He managed to swing the door open and step across the threshold without dropping anything however.

The smell hit him first. That indescribable stench that somehow only teenage boys were able to cultivate. Alex surveyed the apartment with dismay as he tried to pinpoint what the key causes of the odor were. Gym socks for sure - those he had certainly smelled often enough to be sure about. Some kind of spoiled food somewhere also - well, that would be a fun scavenger hunt to find. And the rest? Well, Alex guessed would just have to stumble upon it as he went.

Peter was at class still, of course. Would be for the next couple of hours. If he actually went to class, that is - Alex had his suspicions that 'learning' wasn't a big part of Peter's college experience. His parents were paying for his entire education (including his very well appointed two bedroom apartment) and Alex doubted that college was going to be much more than a four year vacation for Peter. That he was likely banking being given some plush job afterwards or the like - Alex didn't really know much about Peter's family (it's not like he could ask) but he got the impression they were a moneyed bunch.

Alex set down the groceries on the marble kitchen island. Before he started putting anything away though he returned to the doorway and began to strip. Alex removed his clothes, as he was always required to do upon entry, revealing a (at Peter's insistence) hairless body freshly shaved that morning. Alex neatly folded his "boy" clothes and put them in the provided box under the coat rack. The box clearly labeled "FAGGOT" in bright pink lettering.

Alex closed the lid, knowing that he would not be allowed to have a choice in his outfit (or really anything at all) for the rest of the weekend. He gave a small sigh as he picked up the ensemble that Peter had laid out for him instead.

The costumes continued to get more and more humiliating but Alex knew better than to argue. He picked up the frilly black panties and pulled them up his smooth girlish legs. Black lace-top stockings followed - Alex was a little annoyed at that choice, if only because Peter had insisted that Alex paint his toes a particularly bright pink this week and now they wouldn't even be visible.

The maid's outfit was increasingly becoming a standard - Peter had put Alex to work in a "domestic" capacity very early on - but this weekend it seems a dainty hat was added to it, as were elbow length white gloves. Alex slipped the dress over his head and tied the apron around his waist before slipping on the accessories. Two-inch heels with ankle straps completed the look.

Alex examined himself in the full length mirror beside the door. The feminine figure looking back had a certain appeal to him - Alex turned a few times, examining the outfit from every angle - but he knew that wasn't the point of this. Peter was as gay as they come and honestly had probably never even looked at a woman. This routine was definitely not about making Alex look more appealing, only more submissive. The feminization that Alex was now routinely required to endure was about control, plain and simple. Not in a hurtful way, just in matter-of-fact emphasis. When Alex had met Peter the first time he hadn't been looking for any of this and had no idea about the dominant streak in Peter's personality. In the months since though Alex had learned exhaustive lessons about his youthful Master's personality and preferences. Each task he was required to perform, each whim he was supposed to serve was about breaking down his last defenses.

Alex gave another pathetic sigh: it would be annoying if he wasn't so damn turned on by it. He turned to go into the kitchen and unload Peter's groceries.

---

Peter and Alex had met five months prior at a little gay bar near campus. Alex went there sometimes instead of the usual LGBTQ spots downtown. Part of that was the company - hot college guys looked better than the middle-age gays that could afford the upscale places - but it was also part comfort level. Alex had always been a little intimidated by the upper-class homosexuals that are so often portrayed in the media. Alex was never fashionable and knew next to nothing about things like fine wine and pop culture. And while he had a fine job at small accounting firm, he never had the kind of frivolous disposable income that seemed to be a requirement in the hottest clubs.

So, Alex occasionally skipped the usual gay scene for a dive bar. Personally he liked places where the beer was cheap, the clientele were young, and he wouldn't be the humblest patron there.

Alex had been sitting at the end of the bar with Bud Light when Peter had walked in with his friends, laughing and joking. Usually a crowd that size meant Alex stayed away - like most singles with confidence issues he steered away from groups and sought out loners. When the bunch found their way to a table however it was Peter that came up to the bar to order. He strode up next to where Alex was sitting and waived down the bartender with the air of someone who was used to getting what he wanted.

Alex sipped from his bottle and tried to discreetly examine the handsome young man ordering jagerbombs. His t-shirt was pulled tight over his muscular frame and he flexed as he pointed at different bottles behind the bartender. His short blonde hair was styled into something boyish, perfectly suiting his young face. Alex wondered idly how he had possibly gotten into the bar, being so obviously underage. The confidence that he exuded must extend to charming bouncers.

A sideways glance caught Alex gawking and he quickly turned his attention elsewhere, pretending to be engrossed in the TV hanging above the bar. Alex thought he might have seen a ghost of a smile when he was spotted but he couldn't be sure. He tried to look absorbed in the broadcast, although all he could think about is the statuesque boy next to him.

He startled when tapped on the shoulder. "I said, you really like that, don't you?"

Alex blinked. The young man was talking to him. Looking at him expectantly, maybe a little exasperated. Alex shook himself slightly. "Sorry, what?"

The young man pointed to the TV that Alex had been supposedly watching. "You're into that, huh?"

Alex stared back at the handsome boy. Glanced back at the TV. Was surprised to discover what was on it. What he had appeared to have been so focused on. The bar had switched over its usual broadcast TV for some late night viewing of Gay porn. This current video featured two men - both wearing all leather - standing with whips over a third. The naked man lay bound between them, a pleading look on his face, as the two dominants took turns abusing his rear. They laughed as they spanked their slave and looked prepared to do more to his ass than whip it.

Alex turned back to the young man still staring at him, trying to process what he must be thinking about the middle-aged guy watching BDSM porn alone at the end of the bar. Opened my mouth to try to say something.

"I, um..." Stopped. Tried to figure out how to finish that sentence.

"Hi, 'um'. I'm Peter." he responded. "You looked like you were really engrossed."

"Uh, that wasn't..." Alex was spared from having to squirm any further by the bartender. He set down the armful of cocktails Peter had ordered and left to open the tab Peter had asked for. Peter gathered up his rounds and nodded his thanks.

"See you later 'um'". He said, walking back to the table.

Alex slunk into his chair. Wanted to die. All of his reasons for coming to this place suddenly backfired on him. Instead of appearing the older, more sophisticated may, he now felt the creepy pervert. The kind of deviant who comes to pray on the unsuspecting youth who don't know better.

Alex could feel his face glow red with embarrassment at the thought of looking old and weird. How long had he been apparently staring at that smut? And why did he find himself still staring at it now?

The leather men had removed their pants and were clearly preparing their victim for the next phase. One took the slave's chin in his hand and guided it towards a sweaty, erect cock. From the other side, his partner was spreading reddened cheeks. No audio could be made out in the noisy bar but Alex could guess the firm but soothing commands being barked at the poor captive. He watched those puppy dog eyes grow wide as penetration began.

"Wow, to think I almost missed the best part!" Alex turned suddenly, shocked and mortified to see Peter standing there again. Watching him watch the filth. The bartender glanced at both of them, apparently finishing mixing the round of shots that Peter had ordered earlier to go with the cocktails.

Alex's heart sunk. This could not have possibly happened twice. Peter stared at him, grinning, while he waited for his drink order. Apparently reveling in catching the old perv enjoying the show once again. Alex glanced back and forth between him, the TV, and the bartender, desperately trying to think of something to say to end this embarrassment.

"I, um..." And then, for lack of anything else to say, said. "I'm Alex."

"Hi, Alex." Peter said, winked. "Nice to meet you."

Peter thanked the bartender for the shots, picked them up to ferry back to the table. Before leaving he threw a head nod over at the TV. "Take notes for me. Maybe when I'm done with these I'll come back and you can catch me up on what I missed."

Alex gulped, stunned. Nodded acquiescence. Said nothing.

---

Back in the apartment, the domestically-attired Alex unpacked the groceries. Peter asserted his dominance in many subtle ways but sending Alex on errands was one of his favorites. Alex knew that it wasn't a financial thing - Peter seemed to never want for money - but just another way to keep his pet occupied.

The adult in Alex (or what little was left of it) scoffed a bit as he unloaded the bags. Most of it was junk food. Peter had sent him a pointed text that morning that he would need snacks for the weekend. Alex moved the chips, chocolate, popcorn, and candy into the cabinets and refrigerator, duly organizing and cleaning as he went.

Added to the junk food were a few actual food items that Alex hoped to make meals out of this weekend. Peter would probably end up ordering pizza each night but Alex didn't have the stomach (or metabolism) of a teenager so bought a few reasonably healthy options as well. There was a good chance they would be met with disgust when brought out but Alex was forever optimistic.

It seemed like he was throwing out two items for every one he stocked. Peter, like most teenage boys, lived on garbage and fast food - remnants of which littered the kitchen. Alex tossed old vegetables (placed there by himself often, as a subtle hint), moldy sandwiches, and spoiled condiments. In their place he put the requested salty and sweet snack foods. Not for the first time, Alex considered the miracle that was Peter's fine physique when all he apparently ate was rubbish.

Finally, Alex also opened the paper bags he had carried in and restocked Peter's all-important alcohol supply. At 19, Peter still couldn't legally buy booze (although he usually made out ok) so one of Alex's key jobs was to fetch his weekly cache. Alex stretched to put the heavy bottles on the top shelves, wobbling a bit in the shoes. Heels were still a newer addition to him and they had gotten steadily higher recently. He put each in its place though and smoothed out his apron to start the next task.

Once the pantry was again stocked, Alex set about cleaning elsewhere. His high heels click-clacked across the hardwood floor as he scooped up socks, underpants, t-shirts, and every other sweat-stained article of clothing in the apartment. Even if he didn't know about Peter's "Gym Rat" lifestyle it would have become apparent as he followed the trail of stinky apparel. Alex was very careful not to let any of it rest for too long against his uniform, lest he smell like a locker room for the rest of the day.

Alex piled all of it into the hamper. Later on, he would sneak down to the building's laundry room to run a load. Usually he went down in his "street clothes" or at least covered but lately Peter had been hinting about taking a more daring approach. Alex shook himself slightly at the thought - maybe this weekend he would try to sneak in his laundry duty while Peter was occupied with something else.

Alex checked around the furniture and under the cushions for any items of clothing he might have missed. He had been a teenage boy himself once, of course, but he never remembered living like this. He pulled one more pair of briefs from behind the TV (seriously, how?!) and put the basket away in the closet for later.

Next came the sweeping and vacuuming. In addition to the usual filth Alex spotted a few broken bottle pieces and bits of glass. Given how unkempt the apartment became in-between his visits Alex suspected that a number of parties were thrown here (although never any where he was invited). Alex scrubbed at some mud that had been tracked into the spare bedroom and frowned at a condom wrapper left under a bed.

Probably the less said about the state of the bathroom, the better. Alex temporarily stripped off his silk gloves to be replaced by the rubber kind as he tackled the stench-ridden shower. Similarly, the toilet required every bit of skill he had acquired in his new role - both to clean its unspeakable grime and to keep from ruining his stockings while on his knees. He scrubbed heroically until the state of thing rose to "tolerable".

He finished the last of the bathroom tasks with a grateful groan and then hurried to restore his appearance to a pristine condition. Apartment now clean, he again stood in front of the full length mirror to straighten his hat, smooth his dress, and inspect his outfit for any traces of imperfection. Fortunately, his experience with Peter meant he had gotten quite good at staying neat while tidying up.

Alex gave his uniform one last adjustment and then, finally satisfied, sat down to obediently wait for his young master to come home.

---

The night at the bar had turned out well enough. Peter had indeed come back after a few rounds with his friends, although he (mercifully) didn't make Alex describe any of the sex scenes he had watched while Peter was gone.

Peter sat and chatted with Alex for a bit - mostly small talk and, even then, Peter mostly asked questions about Alex and revealed little about himself.

Alex told Peter all about himself. At first, he answered questions about his mediocre life - the boring job, the little house, the non-existent love life. Peter sat and listened, drinking his top-shelf liquor, occasionally prodding Alex on. Even though Peter had a tab running he suggested I buy his drinks. Finishing each one and then waiting expectantly for me to order him another. I didn't mind at first but it started to get a little pricey.

Other than that, it was a pleasant evening. As the night went on and I had more to drink I found my answers getting more revealing. I had come to this bar expecting to find shy young men to whom I could mentor (or something like that). Instead, I found myself being led by Peter - answering his questions, ordering his drinks, confessing my secrets.

Peter wasn't unkind as we chatted. He was clearly establishing himself as being in charge, but not in a cruel way. His friends came over a couple of times to see what he was up to. He introduced me and told them we were talking. There was nothing mocking about it - he didn't take the opportunity to share anything I had told him or make fun of me. But it was clear that he was in command of the situation and that was just the way it was going to be. He told his friends each time that he'd be back to the table in a little bit and then we returned to our conversation. At least he didn't make me buy their drinks too. My tab was almost as large as his now.

As it got later the bar got more and more crowded. Instead of a quiet corner, Peter and I were now more or less in the middle of a throng of people. He continued to ask me personal questions regardless. I continued to answer but became more self-conscious about what I was revealing. Peter had redirected the conversation away from casual topics and now was probing on when the last time I had sex, how many times a day I masterbated, and my fantasies.

I found it harder to meet his eyes as I admitted to pleasuring myself frequently. Even with the crowd I felt like it was just the two of us, totally enthralled by him. I spoke to him as though no one could possibly hear us, although many probably did. He became more assertive as night turned into early morning. Assertive, but not necessarily aggressive. I tried to take stock of how much I had drunk.

The conversation reached a lull and we both sat for a bit, sipping our drinks, watching the latest porn tape they were running on the TVs. Peter rested his hand on my thigh, idly, while he lazily looked at a gangbang unfold.

"I have to go to pee." I said, starting to rise.

Peter held his hand firm on my thigh. "In a minute." He said. The models on the TV thrusted and gyrated, apparently holding his attention.

I stopped. What? Did he think I asked him if he need to go? I tried again to get up from my stood. He held me sitting again. I blanched - no, he was keeping me here. Forcing me to wait.

I fiddled with my beer bottle, looked at Peter. He stared up at the TV, apparently unconcerned. I peeled at the label - as soon as I was prevented from relieving myself it took on a sudden desperate need. I could feel my bladder stretch a bit, regretting the last couple of beers I had chugged down. I cleared my throat a bit, hoping he would take the hint. No reaction.

Up on the screen they had gotten to the really hardcore stuff. Men bent over other men to do unspeakable acts as we watched. I wasn't quite sure if Peter's inattention was affected or sincere. Or a little of both.

I bit my lip and thought. Feeling a little trapped. Unsure why I was allowing myself to be controlled but unwilling to break out of it. Surely the attention of this handsome young college boy was worth a little discomfort.

I coughed. Cleared my throat again. "Um, MAY I go pee?"

"...Please?"

Peter removed his hand. Nodded, not taking his eyes off the TV. I stood up to go to the bathroom, having received permission like a child, and felt a hard slap on my ass from Peter.

"Hurry back." He said. Commanded.

---

Alex heard the key in the door lock and stood up immediately. Hastily smoothed out his uniform one last time and hurried over to my required position by the door. He stood next to the coatrack, standing perfectly still and straight, with arms clasped behind my back.

Peter swung the door open and walked inside without so much as a glance at him. He wore his college sweats and carried his gym back, which he tossed at Alex's feet without a word. He strode past his scantily-clad attendant as though he was a piece of furniture and Alex stood there, waiting to be noticed.

Peter went right to the kitchen, leaving a trail of his things behind. Dirty shoes were kicked off in the hallway and a rank smelling sweatshirt was similarly left on the floor. Alex stood there a few minutes longer as Peter routed through the fridge. Then, suspecting no instructions were coming, followed him, picking up his things as he went.

Peter was obviously from money and as Alex cleaned up after him for the second time today, he wondered if Peter had had servants growing up. He seemed to regard their relationship as so natural that Alex imagined he had some experience. Certainly he had the superior attitude.