A gay adult sex story: A New Age Chapter 3: Redemptions Beginning by Coyote Howard ,
Roland was visited by a mysterious man in a suit, and now can change minds and bodies at his whim.
Please read chapters 1 and 2.A man receives unfathomable power.
Please leave a comment if you rate. Helps me do better.
Copyright 2022, Coyote Howard.
Roland drove up into the east end of town as that’s where Christian, now Kristy, had told him this “Big G” was.
It occurred to him that he had no idea what he was doing. Not really. He’d never done more than a social hit of pot, let alone harder drugs like cocaine or heroin, as Big G was probably dealing. Roland had asked Kristy and she’d offered up Big G as one who did, and he had nothing else to go on.
He was driven forward though by the words of Kayla at his apartment. She’d cut him to his core, her truths pummeling his conscience and threatening to overwhelm him.
Would he feel differently if he hadn’t allowed her to yell at him? Would he be blissfully ignorant?
He shook his head slightly as he drove into town proper. It didn’t matter. He’d done what he’d done.
“You’re a sick fuck Roland,” he said, the self-loathing tone dripping off his voice.
He turned on to 5th St and anxiety gripped him. The realization yet again that he had no idea what he’d do when he got there was creeping in on him, and his fear was presenting itself as he gripped the wheel more tightly.
All that were going through his mind were questions:
5th and Gerald? That’s not very specific.
What if they had guns?
What if they killed him before he could speak?
What if they didn’t have cash?
What would he do with the cash once he had it?
How would he protect himself from all this? There’s bound to be blow back.
The answer came in the form of resolve, as he came up to Leonard Ave and crossed it. He saw a girl on the corner, and while she was dressed in slim fitting jeans and a dingy white halter top, these hung off her body in an unhealthy way. He got a glimpse of her made up face from his seat, and her sunken, hopeless eyes didn’t look alive, they merely looked at the world.
“Fuck it,” Roland said to himself, pulled his 2002 Accord up to the curb and got out.
He walked to her, and it only got worse.
She was white. Had dirty, greasy, sandy blonde hair that was slack and touched her shoulders. She was tan, probably from standing on this corner, or others like it, all summer long. She had on Walmart-cheap, dirty white shoes. And her empty eyes looked at him as he came up to her.
“I order you to do as I say, but still act like yourself. You will not try to alert anyone. You will not try to run away. You will answer all my questions. Understand?”
“Yes master,” she answered meekly.
He blinked, and took a breath.
“Why’d you call me that?” he asked her, putting his hands on his hips.
“Mr. H says that’s what the boys like. And if I don’t he hurts me,” she said, barely looking up at him.
His temper flared.
“Where’s this Mr. H?” Roland asked her.
“He’s in that house over there. It’s where I’m supposed to take the boys when they want to fuck me,” she said, pointing to a house north.
“Take me there,” he said, following her as she immediately started walking.
“Hey boy! What the fuck you think you doin’?” he heard from behind him, making Roland turn.
He saw the girl look back and finally there was an emotion on her face, abject fear.
“I order you to do nothing but as I say,” Roland stated.
The man, latino, stopped in his tracks. He was thin, with dark skin and about five foot seven. He wore a deep blue tank top, tan cargo shorts with Cortez sneakers and over the calf white socks. He had no hat, but his hair was shorn almost in a buzz, with an attempt at a goatee on his face.
His eyes panicked though, and Roland realized, as his body began to convulse, what the problem was.
“You may breathe,” Roland said, yet nothing.
Damn it.
“I order you to do normal things but do what I say,” he said.
The man inhaled a large breath and hunched over. Roland looked around and swore again.
Damn it!
“Hey! Stop!” and the girl stopped, as she was about to step off the curb. He was going to have to get a system.
“What’s your name?” he asked the man.
“Rodrigo Estebar Fernandez,” he said.
“Come with me,” he said, and walked towards the girl.
“What’s your name?” he asked when they got to her.
“Rebecca- something- Symonds master,” she said.
“What do you mean ‘something’?”
“I’m trying to remember my middle name master, but can’t,” she said.
Roland’s temper flared again, this time in his throat, making him want to scream.
“Rebecca, watch out for traffic, but keep going. Rodrigo, go with her to where Mr. H is.”
They looked down the street, a car just passing, and crossed. Roland followed several meters behind them, following them up the sidewalk.
He needed to be specific. He needed to not have to micro-manage. He needed them to still use their brains and think. And in the situation he was walking into, he needed to keep himself and anyone else safe.
They approached a normal looking, two story home and walked up to the door, going right in.
Roland came up and in as he heard Rodrigo start talking.
“Yo, this guy is ordering us around-”
“Shut up!” Roland yelled, slamming the door behind him.
“I order everyone in this house to come down to the living room immediately and put any weapons on this table! I order you to not say anything unless I ask or tell you to. I order you not to do anything besides normal bodily functions unless I tell you to.”
The house was a wreck. Unlike how it appeared from the outside, a normal rundown home, the inside was disgusting. Some of the wall’s studs shown, there were holes in the floor, paint was peeling, and the smell was god-awful.
Several people were coming down the stairs, as a young black woman, in tan shorts only, came from another room, presumably the kitchen.
On one of the couches was a white girl with black hair, whose head had been bobbing in the lap of an overweight, ugly white man in his middle years. Her emmaciated frame immediately stopped and sat up, looking at Roland with those same empty eyes as Rebecca had.
As the men came in, they put all manner of knives and guns on the table betwen the stained and well-used couches. Roland saw several handguns, ARs, and shotguns.
After a few minutes, with no other sound, Roland looked at the room of people. Three men, two of which he’d seen and one had come from upstairs. He was white, probably mid-20s, and looked like he belonged in a frat back at the college. He’d made it with his pants around his ankles and still had his pastel polo on.
The girls though… Rebecca, the black topless girl from the kitchen, the too thin girl, and three others now.
One was under 5 foot, emmaciated as well with unkempt brown hair, and was in a t-shirt only.
The second was a tall white girl with a deep auburn head of hair, but was completely naked, covered in bruises from her face to her feet. Her nipples and what especially were an angry red.
The last was a latina, a hair over 5 foot tall and plump, wearing a ratty black skirt and red, graphic t-shirt.