Reality for Rent

Dan had ended up with the house by accident, left to him by an old spinster aunt who had taken a shine to him when he was a kid. Keeping the house though, had proved to be more of a challenge. Dan didn’t have a phenomenal job by any measure, and even though the house was quite old, when he saw the property tax bill, he didn’t know how he was going to pay it. Luckily, the house was spacious enough that with someone renting out a room, or maybe two renters, he’d be able to make things work financially. He put up a few ads and set aside a weekend to show people around. He’d had a few decent prospects by the time Evan showed up on his doorstep for a tour.

The interview didn’t start particularly well. Dan opened the door and found himself looking at a rather shabbily dressed man, close to his age, putting out a cigarette with his booted foot on the front porch. “Hey, this the house for rent?” the man said.

“I’m only renting one a room, actually.”

“Sure, that’s what I meant. The room.”

Dan let him in, got Evan’s name out of him, and found that his potential housemate didn’t seem particularly interested in conversation, wandering off to go poke around the main floor of the house, while Dan had to chase after him. He was almost behaving like he was casing the joint—looking for stuff to steal, not that Dan had much in the way of anything expensive.

“It’s a nice place, did you buy it?” Evan asked.

“No, it was left to me in the family. The taxes here are wild though, so I need someone to help with those expenses is all.”

“Yeah, a really nice place,” Evan said, not bothering to respond. He opened a door in the kitchen. “Basement too, eh?”

“Yeah.”

“And upstairs?”

“Three bedrooms and two bathrooms.”

“Very nice. A lot of potential in the air around here. You haven’t been living here very long, have you?”

“No, I moved in a month ago, after they settled the estate.”

“It’s pretty much perfect,” Evan said, a little quieter, mostly to himself.

“Well, I’ve had a few other folks interested too, and some more interviews tomorrow, so I’ll call you Monday if I think it’ll be a good fit for us,” Dan said, hoping to get Evan out of his house quickly.

“Oh, I think it’s a great fit,” Evan said, “Do you smoke?”

“What? No. And I don’t want any smokers in the house.”

Evan looked over at him again, with an odd smirk on his face, “And what did you say your name was again? Full name, please.”

“Dan. Dan Jackson.”

“Ever go by other names like that? Nicknames?”

“No, I’ve always been Dan,” he said, becoming a bit flustered at the odd question. “Actually, I have someone else coming by soon to look at the room, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Evan chuckled. “No, I don’t think I’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

Dan was about to insist, when Evan’s eyes changed--glowing a bright, piercing white--before everything around them came apart at the seams. Reality itself seemed to shift under Dan’s feet, but his own feet were shifting too, the walls, everything around him was no longer stable, and after a few moments, he found himself back standing in the kitchen of the house in front of Evan, except he could tell that things were different.

Not that different, really, but enough differences that everything was a bit eerie. For one thing, there was an ashtray that had appeared on the kitchen table, and Evan was suddenly smoking one of his cigarettes without Dan recalling him light it. “Could…could you put that out? I told you, I don’t want anyone smoking in my house,” Dan said, at a loss for any other words for what had just happened.

“Your house? This is my house, Dan,” Evan said, and again, his eyes glowed a bit, but not as strongly. Dan felt it though, the sudden rush of memories into his brain, recalling how he, now, had shown up on the porch half an hour ago, looking for a room to rent…here. He was sure that had been reversed before, but he struggled to recall anything else.

“You…you did something, what just happened?”

“I have a special little power, you could say. A little temperamental, at times, but often very powerful. See, in places and times with potential, I can…cause reality to slip around, land in different places. You, Dan, you’re a rather boring fellow. Lots of opportunity, but not doing anything with it. This house too—full of possibilities. You weren’t using them, so I will.”

“But…but I live here. I…I don’t know where I was before this, I was here…”

“Don’t worry Dan, I’m not going to kick you out. No, you’re going to be too much fun, I think. Still, we’re going to have to loosen you up a bit. First though, let’s see where you’ll be living. You mentioned a basement, didn’t you?” Evan turned and opened the door in the kitchen and descended the steps down into the basement under the house, and Dan followed behind him, still confused by what was happening.

The basement was mostly unfinished, but as Evan’s boot landed on the bare concrete, Dan watched reality ripple outward from him, the basement going from wooden framing and rough concrete to finished walls, lighting, and even a new bathroom off in a corner of the floor plan. It was a plain space, but functional. The sort of place that would be perfect for a tenant. “There, look at that Dan, this isn’t such a bad place to live, now is it? I think you’d be happy here. That is, assuming I’d want someone like you living here, in my house.”

“What…what do you mean?” Dan asked, looking around at the changed basement in shock.

“Well, I don’t know if I’d want someone like you sharing space with me. I just don’t know if we have the same sort of…vibe, if you know what I mean. You don’t even smoke, do you Dan?”

“No—no I don’t smoke.”

Well, see? I smoke all the time. I love smoking. I’d only want someone living here who loved smoking as much as I do.”

Everything felt strange, like the air had substance around him. Dan felt like he was dreaming, everything around him was so unreal. None of this could be happening, and yet, it was, right in front of him.

“They should be a bit more…mature as well. And not boring—I’d hate to live with someone as boring as you, Dan. They’d have to be gay for sure. And kinky! And definitely not afraid to get a little dirty on occasion,” Evan continued. “Here, let me show you what I have in mind.”

Once again, Dan felt reality shift around him, the plain, uninteresting basement apartment shifting around and changing, until it began looking rather lived in—and whoever lived down there looked to be quite the slob. The bed was unmade, the sheets filthy—who knew when they’d last been changed. There were piles of pizza boxes on the little table, a couch had appeared in front of a large TV, currently playing some rather crude looking porn with the volume up. The air was stale, and smelled…like a urinal, like someone had been going around and just pissing on the carpet—and from the stains under his shoes, perhaps, Dan thought, that’s exactly what had been happening. Then there was the smell of smoke too, cigarette smoke, all through the place, ashtrays on every surface, most of them heaped full of butts and ash. “This place is a sty! No one would want to live here.”

“Ah, you might not want to live here, Dan—but what about Danny? This seems like just the sort of place a pig like Danny would enjoy.”

He could feel it again, reality wanting to twist again, but it wasn’t his surroundings this time—Dan could feel it trying to warp…him. “Don’t call me that—that’s not my name,” he said, feeling sick to his stomach, taking a long drag on the cigarette that had appeared in his fingers without even realizing it.

“That’s the only name I’ve ever known you by, Danny, ever since you moved in here,” Evan said with a sneer.

He stumbled for the stairs, but couldn’t find his footing—everything was spinning. He lurched off, desperate to get away from Evan, from the sensations overwhelming him. He found a doorway and went in, finding himself in a filthy bathroom, and in the mirror he saw his face—but it…it wasn’t his face. He looked older, fatter, stubble coating his double chin, head shaved down to nothing, cigarette hanging from his lip.

“Dirty, dirty, Danny,” Evan said, coming up behind him, “Fat fuckin’ skinhead trash, covered in tattoos and piercings, chain smoker, working as a garbage man. Stupid, crude, and horny as all hell.”

The sensation came again, but this time even stronger. He watched his body shift again, growing even fatter, a big gut pushing out from his body, as his clothes shifted from his casual wear to a pair of filthy looking green coveralls, riddled with all manner of stains. He couldn’t see all the tattoos other than the ones on the back of his hands, on his neck, the sides of his bald head, but he knew they were there—all over. He could…remember getting most of them, even. “No—no, this ain’t me, what are ya doin’ to me…” Danny moaned.

“Don’t fight it too hard now—or it can always get worse.”

“This ain’t me! Change me back!”

“Come on Danny, aren’t you thirsty? You get whiny when you’re thirsty. And not that cheap beer you guzzle all the time. I know what you really need,” Evan said, “you fuckin’ piss pig. Total urinal, pissing yourself all the time, sometimes not even realizing you’re doing it cause you’re too drunk. You need some piss, don’t you Danny? Aren’t you thirsty?”

His throat was parched. Danny needed a beer—six beers, really—but first, yeah, he needed a belly full of his landlord’s piss. He got on his knees, not noticing how the crotch and legs of his coveralls were suddenly cold and damp from when he’d pissed himself in the garbage truck earlier—it didn’t matter. Evan hauled out his cock, pointed it at Danny, and let loose a torrent of piss. Some of it made it into Danny’s open mouth, but most of it just soaked his face and chest, not that he really minded.

Dan, on the other hand, was horrified. He tried to wrestle the reins back away from Danny, from this freakish alter ego that Evan had manifested for him, but it wasn’t until the flow had stopped, that Dan was able to get control back, force himself back upright, and say, “This isn’t right. My name’s not Danny, it’s Dan! Change me the fuck back!”

“Now why would I do that?” Evan said, “You’re already a much more interesting tenant. But I suppose I can’t have my basement reeking of piss all the time, now can I? Good thing there’s more than enough potential here for more than one of you.”

Once more, the basement rooms around him began to shift and change. The basement was cleaner now, at least a bit, but the layout had changed significantly. The bed was still there, but pushed all the way into the corner of the room, and most of that basement was now taken up by a collection of weight lifting equipment.

“Hey, what’d ya do with all my stuff!” Danny blurted out, before Dan could keep a hold on him, the grungy skinhead pushing past Evan out of the bathroom and into the larger room.

“Don’t worry Danny, your life is still here too, just…tucked away for the moment. I think that…this is where DJ lives, after all.”

Another new name, and again, Dan felt reality tug at him, twisting and molding him into someone new, into someone named…DJ. Danny was fighting it too, but Dan could feel that first persona being tucked away somewhere safe, while Dan was confronted with the brunt of the transformation.

“DJ likes working out, all the time. Big, tall, muscular bruiser. Looks like a real alpha male, I bet, with all that body hair, that pony tail, and that long, bushy beard. Bet he smells like a man too—a real tough guy like him wouldn’t use soap or anything like that,” Evan said, and Dan could feel reality pushing him into a shape. Tall, muscular, broad shouldered and hairy—and smelly too. “I don’t think DJ smokes cigarettes though—I think he’s a cigar smoker, through and through—the bigger the better.”

Dan looked down at the eight inch, eighty ring cigar in his massive fingers, and didn’t know how he even knew what those measurements meant. He looked around, and saw a sizable humidor had appeared along one wall, and there, by the power rack, was a full body mirror where Dan could see himself, his new self, and fuck, did he look like a real fucking man now! DJ couldn’t resist giving a little flex, watching his muscles bulge as he smiled around his big cigar, while Evan just looked on with a smile.

“That’s it DJ, you feel good, don’t you? Real biker bear I think, working as a bouncer at some dingy roadhouse outside of town. I bet cracking heads makes you feel real powerful, don’t it? Working out down here in your biker leathers, getting all sweaty and musky, smoking those cigars, shooting up steroids--”

Before Evan could finish, Dan, or DJ, had turned around and grabbed him by the throat, sneering down at the rather puny fellow, “I think you made a miscalculation with me,” he said, “I’m gonna beat the fuckin’ shit out of you, man, for what you did to me.”

There was something, a burst of force that came from Evan, that shoved DJ away from him, sending the big brute stumbling back a few paces. “Ah, good try, but I know a few more things about you, DJ. I know that as much as you like playing the big, burly, alpha brute—what turns you on more than anything, the reason you live down here in my basement, is because you crave some small man like me completely humiliating you—dominating you like the little dicked faggot piece of shit you are.”

Everything twisted around again. When Dan could sort things out, he was still standing there in the basement, wearing his chaps and biker vest, but with manacles on his wrists and ankles, as Master required when he was at home, and a choke collar around his neck. Evan grabbed hold of the lead and pulled it tight, DJ gasping for air as the collar pulled tight, falling to his knees in front of Evan, his puny, two inch cock jutting out.

“That’s right, you nasty little perverted piece of shit. You love having someone like me who knows all your dirty secrets. How much you love getting fucked, how much you love pain,” Evan said, running his free hand down DJ’s back, feeling the scars there from their whipping sessions, “sending you off to work each night with your cock locked up and your ass plugged, looking like some tough guy, when you’re nothing but a faggot loser, right?”

DJ’s vision was tunneling, and Evan shoved him down onto his belly, went around behind him, his own cock already out. Dan tried to gain some kind of control, but DJ knew what was coming, needed it, as his Master pulled the thick plug from his hole and slid his own cock into DJ’s ass, fucking him right there on the concrete, good and rough, just how they both liked it. DJ could feel his puny cock straining at the tiny cock cage Master kept him in, had kept him in since they day he’d moved in, never once cumming, putting all of that energy into his workouts instead, becoming even bigger, even tougher, hairier and burlier—which made it even more fun for Evan to top him and beat the shit out of him on a daily basis.

“What do you think, Dan?” Evan said, “Is this better than wallowing in your own piss all day?”

Dan came forward again. He’d almost lost himself there, in DJ’s shame and ecstacy. He tried to crawl away, only for Evan to tighten the choke collar again, taking his breath away, DJ nearly passing out as Evan let out a cry, filling the brute’s hole with a big load of cum.

“Fuck yeah! Fuck, that hole feels amazing,” Evan said.

He pulled free and stood up, leaving DJ a dizzy, sweaty mess on the concrete, and looked around. Dan though, pushed DJ aside, tried to pull the strands of his own reality together, but everything was so frayed. It was like each shift that happened made it harder and harder to remember who he’d been—what he’d been. He forced himself upright, even through the dizziness, and looked at himself in the mirror, matted with sweat, collared and chained, cock locked away, and DJ tried to push through again, tried to tell him how hot it was, how sexy he felt, but Dan held him off as best he could—and charged at Evan, as hard as he could, only for the room to shuffle and shift around him once more.

Now, the basement didn’t look like a spare room at all—no, it had been fully converted into a sex dungeon, complete with a fuckbench, a St. Andrew’s cross, and any number of instruments hung on the walls. Evan had moved as well, sending Dan tumbling to the floor where he’d been moments before. The only evidence that someone might live here was a small cage in a corner, barely large enough for the filthy twin mattress that had been stuffed inside it.

“A good attempt,” Evan said, “but you really should stop resisting so much.”

“Fuck you,” Dan said in DJ’s gruff, cigar smoke wrecked voice, “I’m not some fucking toy for you to fucking play with!”

“Actually, that’s exactly what you are. Well, not exactly. See, I like my toys to be tools as well, right Daniel?”

DJ, and Dan, felt a surge of weakness through their massive body, as Evan said the name. Again, DJ was tucked away somewhere safe inside the folds of reality, while Dan was buffeted with the changes taking hold of his body. DJ’s muscles melted away, replaced with fat—but not the sort of fat that Danny had, who could still work a physical job all day long, and come home with energy to spare. No, this was the fat of someone sedentary. He was shrinking as well, becoming smaller, even as his gut grew larger.

“See, Daniel, sometimes I just need someone who will be a proper house slave, and that’s what I have you for. Someone who will cook for me, clean up after me, do all the thankless tasks around the house that I can think of, and do them happily, because serving me does make you so, so happy, right Daniel?”

Dan felt new thoughts invading his mind, as Daniel began to take root, “Yes Sir, anything, you know I’d do anything for you,” he said, falling to his knees.

“Fuck, you’re pathetic. Ugly too. Always smoking those big tobacco pipes of yours around the house. Just a fat, hairy old pipepig, barely five foot two, waddling around the house in that rubber gear I make you wear all the time, plugged and locked up—but we both know that you’re no sextoy, right Daniel? I’d never waste a load on a pathetic loser like you.”

“O-Of course Sir, I know that,” Daniel said.

“Clean out that ashtray, pig.”

Daniel rushed over to the ashtray on a side table in the dungeon, filled with cigarette and cigar ash, and started devouring it, chewing down all the butts like a good little ash pig, taking breaks to suck on his pipe, while Evan laughed behind him. “What a good little ashtray you are, Daniel, you like that, don’t you?”

Daniel nodded, ash coating his face and beard and rubber catsuit he had on.

“You like that I don’t want to fuck you too, don’t you. You know that’s why I keep Danny and DJ around, after all. Daniel’s just a horny, old cuck. Nothing gets you more excited than knowing I can put you away and use them whenever I want, and you’ll just disappear into a little box the whole time, unless I keep you out to watch. You like watching, right Daniel?”

It was difficult to pull himself away, as Daniel licked the ashtray clean, but Dan managed to reassert control and chuck the ashtray away from him across the dungeon. “No! Fuck no!”

“Oh Dan, you are still here.”

“This isn’t real. None of this can be fucking real! I don’t know how you’re fucking with my head, but I’m not going to let you get away with this. My name is Dan. Dan! I won’t forget it, you can’t make me forget it.”

Evan just chuckled, walked over to where Dan was standing, looming over the short, chubby old man he’d become, grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him until he was facing the mirror on one dungeon wall. There, Dan could see himself, or rather, he could see Daniel, the old man with the long gray beard, face coated with ash, massive pipe still puffing smoke and clutched in his mouth, wearing the tight, constricting rubber Evan always wanted him in. “I’m afraid, that whether or not you want me to get away with this, doesn’t really fucking matter,” he said into Dan’s ear, “I can do whatever I want with you, turn you into whoever I want you to be. You don’t have a reality anymore, who you used to be doesn’t even exist. As far as I’m concerned, there’s only three men who live with me. Danny, my filthy skinhead urinal—”

The reflection shuddered and shifted, and Dan felt Danny rise up from whatever place Evan had put him and push forward. He grew a little taller and lost a bit of weight, but not much. The tattoos reappeared, the beard disappeared, and there he was, Danny, wearing a yellow rubber singlet with the words piss pig on the front, the thirst already rising in his belly.

“DJ, my worthless, musclebound faggot pain pig—”

The reflection shifted again, as Dan grew larger, Danny slipping away and DJ coming forward, wearing a leather harness stretched tight across his muscular body, and his leather chaps, shuddering as he felt his Master grab hold of his muscular ass and give it a firm slap, enough to make his caged cock leak.

“And Daniel, my stupid, pathetic, houseslave ashtray cuck.”

He slipped back again, growing short and fat, the rubber returning, face and beard coated in ash, shuddering at the thought of what his Master might do to Danny or DJ here in the dungeon, where Daniel could know it and watch it, even if it wasn’t happening to him personally—or any of the other men his Master brought down into his dungeon, while Daniel was in the cage, watching—always watching.

“I don’t know anyone named Dan who lives here.”

“I—I lived here. Alone. My name is Dan, I…I…” Dan said, but he found his mouth growing dry. He couldn’t remember. He knew he’d been Dan, but nothing about who Dan was remained. His memories, all of them were gone.

“The more I fragment you, the more I give those other versions of you power and life, the less there is for you, sadly,” Evan said, like he knew what Dan was experiencing. It doesn’t help that this Dan fellow sounds rather boring, a waste of good potential. It’s probably good that he’s gone. I don’t think we’ll miss him.”

“No! No, this isn’t real. I know I was Dan, I know it!”

Evan smiled down at him, leered really. “A stubborn one, I see. Fine—I guess we can see who this Dan character is, eh? Go on then, tell me what you remember. There must be something.”

“I…I remember, there was…a room to rent. A…a basement?”

“That’s something, I suppose,” Evan said, and a moment later, Dan found himself standing in the basement he could remember. Clean, boring, not yet rented out to anyone, not…not yet rented out to him. “But don’t you remember anything else?”

Dan tried, as hard as he could, to remember. He knew there was a truth there, something that he couldn’t quite pin down, but it had to be there, it had to. “I…I can’t remember!”

“Well, let me tell you what I remember,” Evan said, “I do remember someone named Dan, now that you mention it. Came to look at renting the basement a while back. Fellow in his late sixties, had just retired, and needed a place he could afford on his pension and social security.”

“No—no, that’s not right!”

“I’m just telling you what I remember, Dan. But Dan, you’re an old fuck, your head doesn’t work so good anymore. You were never that smart either, never finished high school, can barely read. Grew up in some small town, and never really left your redneck sensibilities behind, even in the city. You love your chewing tobacco, and your cigarettes, and your cigars. Any kind of nicotine you can get, as much as you can. Usually you’re chewing and smoking at the same time. Love whisley too, and greasy fast food. Explains how you got so fucking obese, you fucking pig. Just a big, stinking redneck blob, right Dan?”

Dan looked down at himself, His long white beard stained from decades of smoking and chewing tobacco. He can see the massive wad in his lip, the stains on his teeth. He was massively obese, with huge thick thighs and a massive apron of fat hanging off his body, ham like arms, and no neck to be seen. “I don’t…I don’t remember any of this…” he muttered.

“That’s ok Dan, that’s why I’m here. To help you remember. You remember why you liked the idea of moving in here, right?”

“I…I don’t…”

“Closeted all your life, Dan. Sucking cock at the truck stops and rest areas every night. You love sucking cock—helps that you’re missing most of your teeth at this point. There’s a sex shop down the street, with some gloryholes. That’s where you spend your time, right Dan? When you aren’t here, sucking off your landlord?”

Dan fell to his knees in front of Evan, trying to resist, but his mind was turning to mush. He couldn’t tell truth from lie, reality from fiction, and the bulge in his young landlord’s jeans looked so fucking tasty.

“That was the deal, remember? I’ll cut you a nice price on the rent, but you have to be my personal cumdump in exchange, right? I thought we both agreed that was in both of our interests.”

“Fuck, that does sound about right,” Dan said, not noticing the rural twang that had appeared in his voice, or the cigarette he’d started smoking either, to go with his chewing tobacco. “I do sure love suckin’ dick, after all. I sure as hell remember that!”

“See? The rest will come back to you I’m sure, soon enough,” Evan said, undoing the fly of his jeans and hauling out his cock. “It’s still dirty from DJ’s hole earlier—you don’t mind, do you Dan?”

“Fuck no! I’ll suck any dick, ya know that.”

Dan had never met DJ of course, but he’d heard of him. Danny and Daniel too—Evan’s other renters. He assumed they were always here while Dan was off at the sex shop, sucking as much cock as he could through the gloryholes, but it didn’t really bother him much.

Evan just smiled, and with a little effort, closed the circle on Dan’s reality—cutting it off entirely from the way it had been before. As far as anyone was concerned now, the house had always been Evan’s, and he’d pretty much always lived with Dan, and Danny, and DJ, and Daniel. Dan, for his part, was too focused on sucking his young landlord’s cock—and damn, he sure was good at it, though he had had decades of practice. It didn’t take Evan long to finish, and feed Dan his second load of the evening. “Thanks Dan, I think we both needed that,” Evan said, “Danny, I need to piss.”

The transition was smooth now, moving from Dan’s fat, old rundown body to Danny’s younger, hairless one. He opened his mouth, and took all of Evan’s piss without missing a drop, swallowing it all down while playing with his leaking cock.

When he’d finished, Evan said, “Alright, time for dinner Daniel. Your Master is starving.”

Again, the shift was seamless, and Daniel was waddling up the stairs to the kitchen, eager to make his Master his dinner. Afterwards, Evan thought that he might spend some time with DJ. The bull’s back was coming along nicely, but could still use a few more scars before Evan would be satisfied. In the meantime, he relaxed with a cigar in the den of his new house, more than satisfied that reality had once again brought him everything he needed and wanted—just like always.