TOTAL CORRUPTION 2 by Pika

Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as the story describes. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.

Feature Writer: Pika

Feature Title: TOTAL CORRUPTION 2

Published: 21.03.2025

Story Codes: Dark Corruption, Transsexual, Bimbo-Tranformation, Young Ones, Gay, Domination

Characters:

• Mr Xavier Percival (65 years old pervert who controls Stepford and president of XP Corp enjoys corruption)
• Mr Bill Harper (45 years old, married, 2 kids, accountant. Moved to Stepford after being offered a job)
• Mrs Steph Harper (38 years old, married, 2 kids, housewife. Reluctant to move Stepford)
• Allison Harper (15 years old, was rebellious but is making new friends and conforming to Stepford)
• David Harper (11 years old curious and adventurous spirit)
• Coach Tyrone (33 years old Allison’s cheer coach has a big black cock)
• Nina (29 years old trans-bimbo whore and Bill’s manager at XP Corp)

Synopsis: Stepford is a suburban utopia of green pristine lawns, white picket fences, clean streets, good schools, safe neighborhoods. Mr Xavier Percival is the founder of Stepford a mysterious man. Stepford hold dark secret under its sterile veneer.

Total Corruption 2

CHAPTER TWO — THE INVITATION

The week dragged on with the relentless monotony of a broken record, each day a carbon copy of the last, each moment a stark reminder of the decision Bill had made. He felt as though he was living in a surreal nightmare, unable to escape Mr. Percival’s twisted reality. Yet, there was a part of him that was curious, that yearned for the kind of power and control the old man wielded over the town.

The day finally came when Mr. Percival was to pick up David for their first mentoring session. Bill watched from the living room window as the sleek black sedan pulled up in front of their house, the engine purring like a contented cat. His heart was a drum in his chest, the rhythm of fear and excitement melding into an erratic symphony that seemed to echo through the very fabric of the house.

Steph, who had been unusually quiet since their conversation, walked into the room, her eyes questioning. Bill gave her a forced smile, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach that grew with each passing second.

“It’s time,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

David, dressed in his best clothes, looked up at his parents, his eyes wide with excitement and apprehension. He knew that this weekend would be different, that he was being given a special opportunity that none of his friends had ever experienced. He had no idea of the dark secrets that lay behind the gleaming façade of the XP Corporation.

Mr. Percival emerged from the sedan, his impeccable suit gleaming in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the dullness of the Harpers’ street. His eyes scanned the house, and Bill felt a strange compulsion to straighten his tie, to present himself as an equal, despite the power dynamics that were so painfully clear.

The doorbell chimed, the sound echoing through the house like a funeral toll. Bill took a deep breath and opened the door, the cool air from outside a brief respite from the oppressive atmosphere that had settled over the home.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Harper,” Mr. Percival said, his smile as warm as a freshly baked pie, “Is our young scholar ready for an exciting weekend of learning and growth?”

Steph’s grip on the kitchen counter tightened, her knuckles white, as she watched her son nod eagerly.

“Yes, we’re all set,” she said, her voice strained.

Bill stepped aside, allowing Mr Percival to enter, the scent of his cigar trailing after him like a malevolent specter. He took David’s backpack from his trembling hands and slung it over his shoulder, his touch lingering just a moment too long.

“Thank you, my dear,” Mr Percival said, his eyes never leaving Steph’s. “Your son is in excellent hands.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, a promise and a threat wrapped in one velvet-covered package. Mr Percival’s eyes held a glint of something unsettling, something that made Bill’s stomach twist into a knot. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to protest as he watched the old man guide his son towards the car. With a final nod to his wife, David followed Mr Percival out the door, his footsteps echoing on the polished wooden floorboards.

The sedan’s doors closed with a soft thud, and Bill felt a strange sense of emptiness as the car disappeared down the road. He turned to Steph, her eyes filled with a silent plea for reassurance, but all he could offer was a weak smile.

“It’s for the best,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as her.

Mr Pervical and David once inside the sedan, the leather seats enveloped them in a comfort that spoke of wealth and power. The car glided through the pristine streets of Stepford, each house a carbon copy of the next, a testament to the town’s meticulous planning and execution. The air was thick with the scent of freshly mowed grass and the faint hum of lawnmowers, a symphony of suburban bliss.

“So, David,” Mr Percival began, his voice as smooth as the leather seats, “How do you find your new school?”

David fidgeted slightly, his eyes darting to the window.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, “I don’t have that many friends, but I like the parks.”

Mr. Percival’s gaze remained on the road ahead, but his smile grew broader.

“Ah, the parks,” he mused, “Such a vital part of our community.”

He paused, his thumb tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel.

“But tell me, David, don’t you find the other children … lacking in something? Perhaps a certain je ne sais quoi?”

The boy shrugged.

“What does that mean?”

He had picked up a few French phrases from a cartoon he watched, but this one was new to him.

Mr. Percival chuckled, a warm, grandfatherly sound that seemed to fill the car.

“It’s a French expression, David. It means a certain something. You know, that special quality that makes something … more than just okay.”

David nodded, his curiosity piqued. He had never talked to anyone about his feelings like this, especially not an adult.

“I guess,” he said, “It’s just that everyone here is nothing like the kids back home, you know? They’re all so … so perfect.”

Mr Percival nodded, his eyes never leaving the road.

“Perfection is what Stepford strives for,” he said, his voice low and contemplative, “But tell me, David, do you not find that perfection … alluring?”

David shrugged. He didn’t know what stifling meant, but he knew that sometimes, the sameness of everything here made him feel trapped.

“It’s just … I miss the different stuff,” he said finally, “Back in California, there were all sorts of people. Different races, different cultures. Here, everyone’s just … the same.”

Mr Percival’s smile grew wider, his eyes glinting in the rearview mirror.

“Ah, diversity,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain, “Such a quaint concept. But in Stepford, we have all races and many different cuisines just like California.”

“I don’t know all the music, celebrities’ n different events my friends would be doing stuff about,” David mumbled, “It feels like I’m from another planet.”

Mr Percival’s smile grew tight as he nodded, his knuckles whitening slightly on the steering wheel.

“Ah, yes,” he said, his voice carefully modulated to hide his annoyance, “Different indeed. But fear not, young David, for Stepford, is a place where one can find one’s true purpose, where individuality is celebrated, but only when it serves the greater good.”

The car turned down a tree-lined street, the branches forming a canopy that cast dappled shadows on the pristine pavement. The houses grew larger and grander, each one more ostentatious than the last. At the end of the street, a massive gothic mansion loomed, its windows like glaring eyes watching the world pass by. This was the Percival estate, a bastion of wealth and power that stood as a silent testament to the man’s influence over the town.

The sedan pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath its tires like the bones of those who had dared to oppose the town’s founder. The mansion’s front door swung open, and a figure emerged, its form obscured by the shadows of the porch.

Mr Percival turned to David with a smile that was more akin to a shark’s grin than that of a friendly old man.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, gesturing towards the figure, “Allow me to introduce you to my butler Stanley some of my maids, they’ll show you around.”

The figure that emerged from the shadows was indeed a young boy, but there was something peculiar about him. His eyes were vacant, his smile forced, and he moved with a mechanical grace that seemed almost unnatural. He was dressed in a crisp uniform that was far too large for his slight frame as if he had been stuffed into it like a child playing dress-up in his father’s clothes.

“This is Stanley,” Mr Percival said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “He’ll be showing you around the grounds.”

Stanley nodded, his movements stiff, his voice a monotone.

“This way, please,” he said, leading David into the mansion.

The inside of the house was a maze of opulence, with grand staircases and crystal chandeliers that seemed to whisper secrets in the dim light. The walls were lined with portraits of Mr Percival with various townspeople, each one with the same forced smile and vacant stare as Stanley. The air was thick with the scent of polished wood and leather, a scent that seemed to cling to David’s skin as he followed the butler through the halls.

Mr Percival watched them go, his eyes glinting with something that could only be described as hunger.

As they walked, David couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of unease. The house was too quiet, too perfect. It was as if the very walls were listening, absorbing every word and every thought. He tried to shake off the feeling, reminding himself that he was here to learn, to become one of the ‘perfect’ children of Stepford.

“In the library, you will find everything you would, games, books, consoles, and many different things to keep you busy,” Mr Percival said, his eyes glinting with an unspoken promise of more than just entertainment.

David looked around the vast room, his eyes widening with wonder at the sight of so many books and gadgets.

“Wow,” he breathed, “This is like a kid’s dream come true.”

Mr Percival chuckled, a sound that seemed to resonate through the room.

“Indeed, it is,” he said, his hand still resting on the butler’s shoulder, ”You are free to explore the Library to your heart’s content. But remember, young man, all things in moderation.”

“Does it have Pokemon and Star Wars?” David asked.

Mr Percival’s eyes lit up, a spark of genuine interest in his gaze.

“Ah, a young man of discerning taste,” he said, his smile widening, “Indeed, I do. We have all sorts of games and movies about Star Wars and Pokemon — you may never have seen before,” Mr Percival chuckled.

He led David through the labyrinthine halls of the mansion, each room more opulent than the last. They came back to the library was a cavern of knowledge, its shelves groaning with the weight of leather-bound tomes and glossy magazines, the air thick with the scent of dust and ancient paper. The light from the stained glass windows cast a rainbow of colors across the polished hardwood floor, creating a kaleidoscope of light and shadow that danced in the silence.

“You see, David,” Mr Percival said as they entered a vast, dimly lit room, “This is where the real education begins.”

His words hung in the air like a challenge, a promise of secrets to be revealed.

The walls of the library were lined with books that spanned the entire spectrum of human knowledge, from the classics of literature to tomes on the darker arts of seduction and control. In the center of the room, a large mahogany desk stood, flanked by two leather chairs that looked more like thrones than places to sit. On the desk, a single candle flickered, casting eerie shadows across the surface.

Mr Percival moved with the grace of a man accustomed to having his every whim catered to, his eyes never leaving David’s as he spoke.

“You see, David, in Stepford, we don’t just learn about the world as it is. We learn how to shape it into what we want.”

The young boy’s eyes widened with fascination, his curiosity piqued. He had never been in a place so vast, so filled with potential. It was like stepping into a dream, where every book was a gateway to a new adventure, every corner a hidden treasure trove of knowledge.

The tour of the mansion continued, each room more decadent than the last, each detail a testament to the power and wealth of its owner. They passed a gym that was better equipped than any school’s, a room dedicated to the latest in virtual reality technology, and a music studio that could have rivaled the most elite recording spaces in the world.

“But what about the other kids?” David asked, his voice small in the grandeur of his surroundings, “Can they come here too?”

Mr Percival’s smile grew a bit strained at the edges.

“Ah, the other children,” he said, “They have their own … activities. But fear not, my dear boy, you will make friends here. Special friends who will share in your journey to becoming one of us.”

The words sent a shiver down David’s spine, but he couldn’t help but feel a thrill at the prospect of being special, of being chosen.

The tour concluded in a cozy study, the walls lined with shelves of rare and exotic artifacts. A large, plush chair sat before a roaring fireplace, the flames casting a warm glow across the room. On a low table before it, a chessboard awaited, the pieces arranged in a complex pattern that spoke of a game long ago abandoned.

“Do you know how to play?” Mr Percival asked, his voice low and inviting.

David nodded eagerly.

“My dad taught me,” he said, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his father.

“Wonderful,” Mr Percival said, his eyes gleaming, “Chess is the game of kings and pawns, of strategy and sacrifice. It is a game that mirrors life itself, don’t you think?”

He gestured to the chair opposite the fireplace, and David took his seat, his eyes wide with excitement. Mr Percival sat in his chair, his posture commanding yet relaxed, his gaze never leaving the boy.

“Now, let us begin,” he said, his voice a purr that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of David’s bones, “Your education starts here.”

The game began, the pieces moving with a fluid grace that spoke of Mr. Percival’s decades of practice. David watched in awe as the old man’s hands danced over the board, placing pawns and knights with a precision that seemed almost otherworldly.

As they played, Mr Percival spoke of the town, its history and its future. He spoke of the importance of obedience and loyalty, of the need for order in a world that was all too chaotic.

David looked confused as to why Mr Percival kept mentioning all that stuff.

David shifted in his chair, his eyes flitting from the chessboard to the flickering flames in the fireplace. The warmth of the room was beginning to make him drowsy, and he found it difficult to concentrate on the game. The words “obedience” and “loyalty” echoed in his mind, feeling heavier with each repetition.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice small but firm.

“Mr Percival, I’m sorry, but I’m not into chess that much. Can we do something else?”

Mr Percival’s hand paused mid-move, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he chuckled, the sound rumbling through the room like distant thunder.

“Ah, David,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “Always eager for new experiences. That is the spirit of Stepford.”

“Very well,” he said, his eyes gleaming with something that could have been excitement or something darker.

Mr Percival stood up from his chair, his movements fluid despite his age, and walked over to a shelf that was hidden behind a tapestry. He pulled out a small, gleaming remote control and aimed it at a large, flat screen that emerged from the wall opposite the chessboard. The screen flickered to life, revealing a vast collection of movies and games.

“You see, David, we have a bit of everything here,” he said, his voice a velvety purr that seemed to stroke the young boy’s ego, “What would you like to watch?”

David’s eyes lit up at the mention of Pokémon.

“Could we watch that?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“Of course,” Mr Percival said, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He selected a disk and inserted it into a hidden slot in the wall. The screen flickered again, and soon the familiar theme song of Pokémon filled the room.

They sat down in the plush chairs, the fire casting flickering shadows across their faces as they watched the show. Mr Percival’s eyes never left David, studying his reactions, his body language, his every move.

As the show went on, Mr Percival began to speak his words weaving a seductive spell that seemed to wrap around the young boy. He talked of power and control, of how in Stepford, the strong guided the weak, and the wise molded the naive.

“Isn’t it interesting how the Pokemon trainers capture and train Pokemon to their will and desire?”

David nodded, his eyes still glued to the screen, unaware of the insidious nature of the conversation.

Mr Percival leaned in closer, his breath warm against David’s ear.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to capture, collect and train a Pokemon?” his words full of double meaning and hidden intent.

David, lost in the world of the show, nodded absently.

“It’d be so cool,” he murmured, his eyes lighting up with imagination.

“But I would rather be a Pokemon and have cool attacks,” David said, his voice filled with wonder.

Mr Percival’s eyes gleamed with something akin to excitement.

“Ah, the desire to be more than human,” he mused, his gaze lingering on the screen, “A natural yearning, one that Stepford can certainly cater to.”

David felt a peculiar thrill at the words, a sense that he was being offered something special, something that set him apart from his peers. He leaned closer to the screen, his eyes wide as the trainer on the show captured a rare and powerful Pokemon.

As the show played on, Mr Percival began to speak more softly, his words a gentle coaxing that seemed to weave a spell around the young boy.

“Imagine, David,” he said, his breath warm against the boy’s ear, “What it would be like to have that kind of power, to be a Pokemon that everyone admired and feared.”

David’s eyes grew wide with wonder, his imagination running wild with the possibilities.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the television, “It would be amazing.”

Mr Percival’s hand reached out, a single finger tracing a line down the side of David’s cheek, “What Pokemon would you want to be?”

“A Charizard! No, a Pikachu!” David said with excitement.

Mr Percival’s smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with something more than mere amusement.

“Ah, the electric mouse,” he said, his voice low and soothing, “Such a popular choice. But tell me, David, do you ever wish to be something… more than just a Pikachu?”

David looked up at him, his eyes filled with curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

Mr. Percival leaned closer, his hand resting on the arm of David’s chair.

“Imagine if you could be a Pikachu, listening to your trainer’s commands, feeling the excitement of battle and the warmth of victory,” he whispered, his voice a gentle coaxing that seemed to resonate through the young boy’s very soul.

David’s interest peeked as Mr Percival spoke of the town’s secrets.

“You see, David,” he said, his voice a velvet whisper that seemed to caress the young boy’s soul, “Stepford is a place where dreams come true, but only if you know how to play the game.”

The hand on David’s shoulder grew heavier, and he felt a strange warmth spread through his body, a warmth that made him feel both safe and slightly … uncomfortable.

“But before we can talk about those dreams,” Mr Percival continued, “We must first understand the rules.”

David nodded, his curiosity piqued. He had never felt so special before, so chosen.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice a little shaky.

Mr Percival leaned in closer, his breath warm against David’s cheek.

“To become a Pikachu you must obey and listen to your trainer right?

David nodded, his heart racing as Mr Percival’s hand slid from his shoulder to his thigh. The room felt hot, the air thick with something unspoken.

“Now, Pikachu your first command is to go into the wardrobe and a Pikachu onesie in there,” Mr Percival said, his voice still a gentle whisper.

David looked at him questioningly, but the excitement in Mr Percival’s eyes was contagious.

With a mix of trepidation and excitement, David rose from his chair and approached the large mahogany wardrobe that stood in the corner of the study. It was an imposing piece of furniture, its doors thrown open to reveal a cavern of darkness that seemed to swallow the light from the room. He could see the faint outline of the Pikachu onesie hanging within, its yellow fabric beckoning like a siren’s call.

He slipped into the costume, the fabric soft and warm against his skin. It fit him perfectly as if it had been tailored just for him. The hood covered his head, the ears poking out atop it giving him a sense of otherness, a feeling that he was indeed becoming something more than just a boy.

Mr Percival watched him with a smile, his eyes glinting with a hunger that was both thrilling and terrifying. When David emerged from the wardrobe, the old man’s smile grew wider, his eyes never leaving the young boy’s now Pikachu-covered form.

“Very good, very good,” Mr. Percival said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo in the room.”

Mr Percival’s eyes gleamed with something that could only be described as dark amusement as he took in the sight of David dressed in the Pikachu onesie.

“Ah, you see, David,” he said, his voice a smooth purr that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the costume, “In Stepford, we like to indulge in our fantasies. To become truly one with them.”

The warmth of the room seemed to intensify, the shadows dancing across the walls as the flames from the fireplace cast a flickering glow. David felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness, the line between game and reality blurring before his eyes.

“Now,” Mr Percival continued, his tone taking on an air of command that was both thrilling and unsettling, “Since you are my little Pikachu, we must treat you as such.”

He gestured to a corner of the study where a dog bowl filled with a variety of snacks sat on the floor.

“You know, David, in the world of Pokémon, a trainer feeds his Pokémon in a way that reinforces their bond,” he said, his eyes never leaving the boy’s face, “Would you like to experience that?”

David swallowed hard, his heart racing. He had never felt so alive.

“Yeah, I guess. …”

Mr Percival interrupted David.

“No, David! Pikachu can’t talk remember he can only say ‘pika-chu’ right?” Mr Percival said, his smile never wavering, “But don’t worry, I’ll interpret your pika-chu for you.”

He walked over to the dog bowl filled with snacks and gestured for David to come closer. The bowl was filled with a variety of treats that seemed to be a strange mix of human and pokémon food. There were gummy worms, cheese puffs, and what looked like little electric berries.

David approached the bowl hesitantly, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and fear. He knelt, feeling the plush carpet under his knees, and stared at the snacks. Mr Percival watched him with an unblinking gaze, his hand resting on the back of David’s neck in a way that was both reassuring and controlling.

“Now, my little Pikachu,” Mr Percival said, his voice a low purr, “You must show me that you’re a good Pokémon and eat from your bowl.”

The weight of Mr Percival’s hand grew heavier, pushing him closer to the bowl. David leaned down, his nose almost touching the snacks. He took a deep breath, the smell of the treats mingling with the faint scent of the old man’s cologne. He reached out with trembling hands, his thumbs tucked in to mimic the paws of the pokémon he so desperately wanted to be.

He picked up a gummy worm and held it before his mouth. The room was silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the sound of their breathing. With a small nod from Mr Percival, David took a bite, the chewy sweetness of the worm filling his mouth.

Mr Percival’s hand tightened slightly on his neck.

“Good boy,” he murmured.

David felt a strange thrill at the praise, his cheeks burning with a blush that was hidden by the Pikachu hood. He took another bite, the motion feeling oddly natural as he chewed and swallowed. The snacks were surprisingly good, the taste a strange mix of familiar and exotic that seemed to electrify his taste buds.

As he ate, Mr Percival began to speak again, his words a gentle stream of seduction that painted a picture of a world where the lines between reality and fantasy blurred. A world where the weak became strong, where the ordinary became extraordinary.

“You see, David,” he said, his voice a soothing lullaby that seemed to weave around the young boy, “In Stepford, we can make your wildest dreams come true. All you have to do is be a good Pokémon and follow your trainer’s commands.”

The words sent a shiver down David’s spine, a mix of excitement and dread that was oddly intoxicating. He took another bite of the snack, the sweetness of the cheese puffs leaving a trail of cheese dust on his upper lip.

“And if you’re a very good Pokémon,” Mr Percival continued, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to resonate in David’s very soul, “You may find that the power you seek is not just a fantasy, but a reality.”

David looked up, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Really?”

Mr Percival smacked David’s hand.

“No. Pokemons don’t speak English — they say their name!”

“Pika-chu…” David said hesitantly, his voice muffled by the onesie’s hood.

The word felt strange on his tongue, yet oddly fitting for the situation. He lowered his hand, the cheese dust from the snack leaving a fine, powdery residue on the carpet.

Mr Percival chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Very good, David. You’re learning,” he said, his voice still a gentle coax.

The room grew quiet again, the only sound the crackle of the fireplace and the muffled chewing as David finished the snacks. When the bowl was empty, Mr Percival nodded with satisfaction.

“Now, my little Pikachu,” he said, his voice a warm caress, “It’s time for your next lesson.”

He led David over to the large, leather chair behind the mahogany desk. It was the kind of chair that looked like it had seen decades of power plays and boardroom battles, the kind of chair that could swallow a man whole. David felt small and vulnerable as Mr Percival guided him to stand before it, his knees trembling slightly.

“You know,” Mr Percival began, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, “A good Pokémon must also be able to serve his trainer in other ways.”

David looked up at him, his eyes wide and questioning. The hand on his neck was a firm presence, a constant reminder of the power dynamics at play.

“In the world of Pokémon, a Pokémon’s body is a tool to help his trainer,” Mr Percival said, his voice a silky whisper that seemed to slide into David’s very soul, “And as your trainer, I need to ensure that you are fully prepared for whatever battles we may face together. Now my Pikachu … it’s a trainer’s job to groom and brush their Pokemon isn’t it?”

David nodded his head, not quite sure where this was heading, but the excitement in Mr Percival’s voice was infectious. He watched as the old man stood and moved to a drawer, pulling out a soft-bristled brush.

“Let’s start with your fur, shall we?”

Mr Percival began to gently run the brush over the fabric of the Pikachu onesie, starting at David’s back and working his way down to the tail that stuck out from the costume. Each stroke sent a shiver down David’s spine, a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort that he had never felt before. The brush felt like it was caressing his very skin, setting his nerves alight.

“Good boy,” Mr. Percival murmured, his breath warm against David’s neck, “Your fur is so soft, so … inviting.”

David felt his face grow hot, his breath catching in his throat. He knew that it was a game that had gone too far, but he couldn’t find the words to protest. The warmth of Mr Percival’s hand on his shoulder, the gentle stroking of the brush, it all felt so … right.

Mr Percival moved to the front, brushing the fur on David’s chest with the same tender care.

“Such a good pokémon,” he said, his voice a soft purr that seemed to resonate within the very fabric of the costume, ”A trainer must ensure his Pokémon is always in tip-top shape, ready for battle.”

The brush traced a line down the center of David’s chest, pausing at the crotch of the onesie. David felt a strange pressure there, a tightening that made him squirm. Mr Percival’s eyes never left his face, watching his reactions with a hunger that was both thrilling and terrifying.

Mr Percival’s brushing made him feel almost at ease the brush rubbing against his back, David naturally leaned back into Mr Percival as he brushed him.

“Your parents would have never let you pretend to be a Pokemon or let you have that kind of fun?”

David nodded shyly, his voice muffled by the fabric of the Pikachu onesie.

“But Mr Percival, you’re different.”

“Shhh — Pokemon don’t speak English, David. But yes Indeed, I am,” Mr Percival said, his eyes gleaming with something that could only be described as dark amusement, “In Stepford, we believe in the importance of … unconventional education.”

The room grew quiet as Mr Percival set the brush down and moved closer to David. The young boy felt a strange mix of excitement and fear as the man’s hand slid down from his shoulder to his waist, his thumbs brushing against the fabric covering his hip bones. Mr Percival leaned in, his breath a warm caress against David’s cheek.

“Now, my dear Pikachu,” he whispered, “It’s time for you to truly understand what it means to be a part of the Stepford community.”

His words were a seductive promise, a siren’s call that David couldn’t resist. David felt like he was in a relaxed state his body feeling all tingly unaware of the Mr Pervical using the brush to massage him.

Mr Percival’s hand left David’s waist and began to trace the outline of the Pikachu onesie, his fingers dancing over the fabric as if it were the strings of a marionette. David felt a strange thrill as the hand moved closer to the crotch of the costume, the pressure building in a way that was both exciting and unnerving.

“Pika-chu,” David mumbled, his voice muffled by the hood.

The words were all he could manage, his body responding to the sensations in a way that was beyond his control.

Mr Percival’s eyes grew darker, his smile taking on a predatory edge.

“Ah, I see you’re quite responsive,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “A very good trait for a Pokémon to have.”

The hand on David’s neck tightened slightly, guiding his head down so that he was staring at the floor. The fabric of the onesie grew warm and tight around his groin, and he could feel something stirring within him, something that he didn’t quite understand but knew was part of the game.

“A trainer usually gives his Pokemon a nickname right? Why don’t I call you? Pika?” Mr Percival whispered in David’s ear.

The whisper echoed in David’s ear again and again hush tones washed over him, felt like he was in a daze unable to comprehend what was happening.

“Pika … Pika … Pika …”

It repeated in his mind, and before he knew it a hand was reaching for his crotch, Mr Percival’s grip tightened and David felt the zipper of the onesie being pulled down, the cool air brushing against his skin. His heart was racing like a wild Pokémon in the tall grass.

Mr Percival leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling David’s ear.

“Now, Pika, you must show me how much you’ve learned. How much you want to be a part of the Stepford family,” he whispered, his voice a seductive lilt that seemed to coil around David’s thoughts.

The hand on his neck guided him closer to the chair, the leather cool and smooth under his trembling hands. He could feel the old man’s excitement, the anticipation of what was to come. David’s thoughts swirled, a mix of fear and exhilaration.

“Pika-chu,” David said, his voice a gentle coax.

“You must be brave Pokemon for me, for your new life here in Stepford.”

David nodded, his eyes wide and unblinking, the room spinning around him. The hand on his neck was a constant reminder of the power dynamics in play, and he found himself leaning into it, craving the guidance, the control.

Mr Percival’s hand slid down the front of the costume, the fabric parting to reveal his small, trembling body. His eyes never left David’s face, the hunger in them growing as he began to explore the boy’s body. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost tender as if he were handling a delicate piece of china.

“Such a good Pokémon,” Mr Percival murmured, his voice a warm caress that seemed to echo through the room, “Your transformation is going to be so … beautiful.”

David felt a strange pressure building in his chest, a warmth that spread through his body like wildfire. He didn’t know what was happening to him, but he knew he didn’t want it to stop.

Mr Percival’s hand found the boy’s most sensitive area, and David’s breath hitched in his throat.

“You see, Pika,” he whispered, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle, “You’re getting excited down there. It means you like me as your trainer.”

David’s cheeks burned with a blush so intense it could light up the darkened room. He knew he should be scared, but all he felt was a strange sense of belonging. The hand on his neck was a firm reminder of Mr Percival’s power, yet it was also a comfort, a promise of guidance in a world that had always felt so confusing.

Mr Percival leaned down, his breath warm and moist against David’s ear. “Your body is telling me all the secrets you’ve been keeping,” he murmured, his voice a soft purr that seemed to resonate through David’s very bones, ”You’ve always dreamed of being something more, haven’t you? Lean back for me David.”

David’s legs naturally gave way to Mr Percival’s hand touching his crotch. David felt lightheaded unable to resist knowing Mr Percival was squeezing a nerve point on the back of his neck to heighten pleasure. Mr Percival leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving the young boy’s face as his hand began to stroke the fabric of the onesie, tracing the outline of the growing bulge beneath.

“Pika-chu, I can see you’re excited to please your trainer,” he murmured, his voice a sweet poison that coated David’s mind.

The room grew warmer, the fire’s glow casting flickering shadows across the walls as Mr Percival’s hand grew bolder, the fabric of the costume moving aside to reveal David’s skin. The man’s touch was like electricity, setting every nerve ending alight with a strange, exhilarating sensation.

David felt his body responding to Mr Percival’s touch, his mind a swirl of conflicting emotions. He was scared, yes, but also curious, his young mind unable to fully grasp the implications of what was happening.

Mr Percival noticed the boy’s reaction and chuckled, a dark sound that seemed to dance in the air like a shadow.

“Such a good Pikachu,” he crooned, his thumb brushing against the sensitive flesh that lay exposed, “You’re going to make a fine pokémon.”

David’s eyes grew heavy-lidded as the stroking grew more insistent, his body betraying him by leaning into the touch. He felt a strange pressure in his chest, a swelling of something that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

The hand on his neck grew stronger, guiding him down onto his knees before the leather chair. David looked up at Mr. Percival. His eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe.

“Now, Pika,” Mr Percival said, his voice a velvet command, “I want you to let me show you just how much you can learn about serving your trainer.”

David’s heart raced, the thumping a loud drumbeat in his ears as he nodded, his body moving of its own accord. He knew what was expected of him, the images from the show playing out in his mind like a twisted script he had been given.

He leaned in closer, his eyes locked onto his, his breath coming in short, quick gasps. He could see the outline of something large and formidable beneath the fabric of Mr Percival’s pants, a promise of power and transformation that both thrilled and scared him.

Mr Percival’s hand released his neck, moving to unbuckle his belt with a smooth, practiced motion. The sound of the zipper echoed in the quiet room, a symphony of anticipation.

David’s mouth was dry, his heart racing like a rabbit’s as he waited for the moment that would change him forever. He watched as Mr Percival’s hand emerged from the opening of his pants, gripping something long and hard.

The man’s cock was a thing of beauty, a thick, veined length that seemed to pulse with the beat of his heart. It was unlike anything David had ever seen. Mr Percival’s eyes never left David’s face as he guided the young boy’s hand to his erection.

“Go on,” he whispered, his voice a dark coax, “Touch it, Pika. I will touch yours, too.”

David felt a thrill of excitement mixed with fear as his small hand closed around the warm, velvety flesh. It felt so foreign, so powerful, in his grasp. He watched as Mr Percival’s eyes fluttered closed, his expression one of pure pleasure.

“Good boy,” Mr. Percival murmured, his own hand moving to cup David’s cheek, his thumb tracing the line of his jaw, “Such a good, obedient Pokémon.”

David touched it with his finger, as Mr Percival gripped his boy cock firmly in his hand. The sensation was unlike anything he had felt before. The weight of Mr Percival’s hand on his cock was surprisingly comforting, and he found himself leaning into the touch, his body craving more. The warmth of Mr Percival’s palm, the gentle squeeze of his fingers, it all felt so … right.

Mr Percival’s eyes remained closed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he guided David’s hand, showing him how to stroke his cock. The air in the room was thick with tension, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and the wet, rhythmic noises of flesh on flesh.

“Pika-chu,” David moaned.

“I give you permission to speak human language, Pika,” Mr. Percival whispered, his eyes never leaving David’s, “But remember, you are still my Pokémon, and you must obey me.”

David nodded, his voice shaky as he whispered, “Yes, Mr Percival.”

The words felt strange on his tongue, yet oddly liberating. He watched as Mr. Percival’s hand moved from his cheek to his erection, stroking it with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The man’s eyes were hooded, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

“Now,” Mr Percival said, his voice a dark, velvety purr, “How does it feel when I touch you down there, Pika?”

David’s breath hitched in his throat as Mr Percival’s hand stroked him, his thumb circling the sensitive spot at the base of his cock. It was an overwhelming sensation, one that made his body feel like it was on fire, his senses heightened to the point of pain. He didn’t know how to respond, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions that all coalesced into a single, burning need.

“It feels … good, Mr Percival,” David managed to say, his voice trembling with each word.

He felt the man’s hand tighten slightly, a silent demand for more, and he obeyed, his hand moving faster along the thick length of Mr Percival’s cock.

Mr Percival leaned forward jerking David’s cock, as the boy touched his.

“You see, Pika,” he said, his voice thick with desire, “This is what happens when a good Pokémon learns to serve its trainer.”

The room was filled with the scent of leather and cologne, a heady mix that seemed to intoxicate David. He found himself moving closer, his mouth watering at the sight of Mr Percival’s cock, thick and proud before him.

“Now, Pika,” Mr Percival whispered, his eyes gleaming with dark hunger, “This needs to be our little secret your parents wouldn’t understand this special kind of training.”

David nodded, his cheeks flaming with a mix of excitement and fear. He felt like he was living out one of his favorite episodes of Pokémon, where the bond between trainer and Pokémon transcended the boundaries of the show’s wholesome narrative. His mind raced with the thrill of the forbidden, the allure of being Mr Percival’s secret project.

Mr Percival leaned in closer, his hand leaving David’s cheek to stroke the boy’s soft hair, the gentle touch a stark contrast to the iron grip he had on his cock.

“Good boy,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction, “You’re going to be the best Pikachu, in Stepford.”

The hand on David’s cock grew more insistent, his strokes growing faster, harder, as he watched the man before him. The pressure in his chest grew, his breath coming in shallow gasps that matched the rhythm of Mr Percival’s movements.

The room was a swirl of sensation, the heat from the fireplace licking at his skin, the smell of leather and cologne filling his nose. It was all so overwhelming, so intense, that David could feel his vision starting to blur.

“Look at me, Pika,” Mr Percival ordered, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through the boy’s very soul, “Look at me and tell me how much you want this.”

David’s eyes snapped open, meeting Mr. Percival’s gaze.

“I want it,” he whispered, his voice a desperate plea, “I want to be your pokémon.”

Mr Percival’s smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with victory.

“I knew it,” he said, his voice a warm caress, ”You’re going to be perfect.”

The hand on David’s cock grew more insistent, and he felt the beginnings of something he had only ever read about in the books he kept hidden under his bed. His body was betraying him, responding to the old man’s touch in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

He watched as Mr Percival leaned back in the chair, his pants pooling around his ankles, his cock standing tall and proud. The man’s hand moved to his erection, stroking it in the same rhythm that David had been taught.

“Now,” he said, his voice a low growl, “It’s time for your reward Pika-chu. You’ve been such a good boy for your trainer.”

David felt a warm, wet sensation around his boy-cock, and realized that Mr, Percival had bent down, his head now level with David’s crotch. The man’s eyes remained locked with his, the power of his gaze holding the young boy in place as his mouth engulfed the tender flesh. David gasped, his body arching involuntarily as the town’s founder demonstrated his surprising oral talents.

Mr Percival took his time, exploring every inch of David’s cock with a hunger that seemed insatiable. His tongue swirled around the head, teasing the sensitive tip before dipping down to trace the veins along the shaft. David’s hands clutched at the armrests of the chair, his knuckles white as he struggled to remain still, to not betray the intense pleasure that washed over him like a wave.

The fire crackled in the background, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls, the only light in the room coming from the flickering flames. It was a scene of pure depravity, a tableau of power and transformation that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

The old man’s mouth was warm and welcoming, the gentle suction sending shockwaves through David’s body. His hips began to rock slightly, the motion seemingly involuntary as he sought more of the exquisite sensation that was building within him.

Mr Percival chuckled around his mouthful, the vibrations sending a shiver down the boy’s spine. His hand found the back of David’s head, his fingers threading through the soft hair as he held him in place, his mouth never breaking contact with the young cock.

David felt himself spiraling out of control, the world around him fading to nothing but the feeling of the man’s mouth on him, the heat and wetness that was consuming him. His legs trembled, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps that seemed to echo through the room.

The pressure grew, coiling tightly in his belly like a snake ready to strike. He didn’t know what was happening, didn’t understand the sudden rush of pleasure that was threatening to overwhelm him.

Mr Percival’s eyes gleamed with triumph as he felt the boy’s body tighten, his grip on David’s hair tightening slightly.

“That’s it,” he murmured around the cock, his voice a dark, seductive whisper that seemed to resonate through the air, ”Let it go, Pika. Show me how much you’ve learned.”

The dam broke, and David’s body was flooded with sensation, his orgasm ripping through him like a bolt of lightning. He cried out, his hips jerking as he came in the mouth of the town’s founder, the man’s tongue stroking him through the intense release.

Mr Percival pulled away, his face a mask of satisfaction as he wiped a stray drop of cum from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Very good,” he said, his voice a gentle praise that seemed to echo through the room, “Very, very good.”

David collapsed to the floor his mind overcome with a thousand different thoughts, his young body still trembling from the intense orgasm that had just washed over him. The fireplace crackled in the background, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

Mr Percival leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the young boy. He had seen this look before, the look of a soul that had just been reborn into a new understanding of the world.

“You see, Pika,” he said, his voice a gentle purr, “This is just the beginning.”

The room spun around David as he tried to process what had just happened. He had never felt anything so … powerful. So wrong, yet so right. His mind raced with the implications of his new role as Mr Percival’s Pokémon, his body still singing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Mr Percival stood up, his pants still around his ankles, his erection standing tall.

“Now,” he said, his voice firm, “Let’s get some dinner.”

The dining room was a testament to the old-world charm of Stepford, with a long polished wood table that could seat twelve, and heavy velvet curtains that kept the outside world at bay. David felt a strange mix of excitement and dread as he followed Mr Percival into the room. The dinner was a grand affair, a feast of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and a green salad with a mysterious dressing that made everything taste just a bit more … alive. The conversation remained light, Mr Percival speaking of his travels and the history of Stepford, weaving a tale that was part truth, part legend.

Throughout the meal, David couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being studied, Mr Percival’s gaze lingering on him in a way that was both disconcerting and thrilling. The man’s eyes seemed to see through him, to the very core of his being, as if he could read the thoughts that flitted through the boy’s mind like shadows.

After dinner, Mr Percival led David into a dimly lit study, the walls lined with leather-bound books and a faint scent of cigar smoke clinging to the air. In the corner of the room, a large, plush sofa sat before a state-of-the-art television, the kind that could only be found in the most exclusive of households.

“Now,” Mr Percival said, his voice a velvet promise, “The fact you are making such good progress on your lesson you have far exceeded all expectations, Pika. Let’s continue this special training after dinner.”

The meal passed in a blur of rich flavors and Mr Percival’s mesmerizing tales of the town’s origins. The food was exquisite, but David’s thoughts remained entangled with the earlier events, the secret they shared in the dim light of the library. The dining table groaned under the weight of a feast that seemed to have been prepared for royalty, with gleaming silverware and fine china that whispered of wealth and sophistication.

As the dessert plates were cleared away, Mr Percival led David into a study that was a sanctuary of darkness and opulence. The room was a cocoon of velvet shadows, with only the flickering fireplace casting a warm glow on the leather-bound tomes that lined the walls. A heavy scent of sandalwood and something else, something darker and more mysterious, filled the air.

The television, a monolith of modern technology in this den of antiquity, hummed to life at Mr Percival’s command, the screen flickering with the promise of something illicit.

“You see, Pika,” Mr Percival began, his voice a silky purr that seemed to caress the air itself, “Stepford is not just a place. It’s a way of life. And to truly embrace your role as my Pokémon, you must understand all of its facets.”

David’s heart hammered in his chest as Mr Percival slid a USB into the sleek device beneath the television. The screen flickered and then filled with the image of a cartoonish world, the colors vivid and the characters familiar. But there was something … different about the scene playing out before them. The pokémon were more … human-like, with exaggerated forms and expressions that sent a strange thrill through the young boy’s body.

The scene unfolded with a slow, seductive rhythm, the lines between reality and fantasy blurring like the shadows that danced on the walls. A busty, blond trainer with the face of a woman and the body of a man, dressed in a miniskirt and heels, was dominating a young Pokémon, her hand around its throat as she whispered sweet, filthy promises into its ear.

The Pokémon, a Mewtwo with the body of a voluptuous female, writhed and moaned, its eyes glazed with a mix of fear and desire. David felt his cheeks burn with a heat that had nothing to do with the fireplace as Mr Percival’s hand found its way to the back of his neck, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Do you like this, Pika?” Mr Percival asked, his breath warm against David’s ear, “Does it make you feel … excited?”

David nodded, his eyes glued to the screen, his body responding in ways that made him feel both ashamed and alive. He had stumbled upon scenes like this in the darkest corners of the internet but never had he imagined watching such things with the man he was growing to idolize, the man who had taken him under his wing and promised him the world.

The video was a twisted tapestry of power and submission, the Pokémon characters engaging in acts that defied their innocent on-screen personas. The trainer, now revealed to be a transgender woman with a cock that seemed to defy the very essence of the show’s original narrative, took the Mewtwo’s face in her hands, her grip firm yet delicate.

“You’re going to be just like her, Pika,” Mr Percival whispered, his thumb tracing the line of David’s jaw, “A beautiful, obedient creature that brings pleasure to its Master.”

David was so caught up in what was happening on screen he didn’t even notice Mr Percival was jerking him and himself off, their hands moving in synchrony as they watched the trans-trainer on-screen take the Pokémon in every way possible, the sounds of the video filled the study, the moans and the cries of pleasure echoing off the leather-bound books.

Mr Percival’s hand on David’s cock grew more insistent, his grip tightening as the scene unfolded. David felt his body respond, his moans joining the chorus of the video, the heat in his cheeks spreading to the rest of his body. The hand on the back of his neck guided him closer to the screen as if he needed to be closer to the depravity that played out before him.

The video was a masterpiece of perversion, a blend of innocence and darkness that mirrored the very soul of Stepford itself. The trainer’s cock, a stark contrast to the rest of her feminine form, plunged into the Mewtwo’s willing body, the pokémon’s cries of pleasure growing more desperate with each thrust.

“Look at her, Pika,” Mr Percival whispered, his voice a dark caress, “Look how eager she is to please. That’s what you’re going to be like for me.”

David couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen, the images burning themselves into his mind. The trainer’s hand was now on the Mewtwo’s throat, the grip tightening as the pokémon’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy. The scene was a blur of flesh and color, a symphony of desire that seemed to resonate through his very being.

“Do you want to be like her?” Mr Percival’s voice was low, a seductive growl that seemed to resonate in David’s very soul, “Do you want to make me feel good, just like she’s making her pokémon feel good?”

The question hung in the air, thick with the scent of the fireplace and the dark musk of arousal. David nodded, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the images on the screen grew more intense.

“Good,” Mr Percival murmured, his hand still working David’s cock with practiced ease, “Now, let’s take this to the next level.”

With a flick of his wrist, the scene on the screen changed. The trans-trainer was now replaced by a young boy, dressed in a maid’s uniform, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. A man who looked like Mr Percival but with more authority and a more powerful presence, loomed over him, a look of hunger in his eyes. The video played out a scene of the boy, who was eagerly serving the man, his body moving in ways that were both innocent and sensual.

David watched, transfixed, as the boy’s clothes were slowly removed, revealing a body that was both childlike and alluring.

Mr Percival’s hand grew more insistent, his grip on David’s cock tightening with each passing moment. The video’s scene was a masterful blend of innocence and darkness, the boy’s eyes filled with a mix of fear and excitement that sent shivers down David’s spine. The man on screen, a reflection of Mr Percival’s power and control, took the boy in his arms, his strong hands roaming over the soft, unblemished skin.

“You see, Pika,” Mr Percival murmured, his breath warm against David’s ear, “This is what true submission looks like. This is what it means to serve your Master.”

David nodded, his desires spiraling out of control as the scene grew more intense. The man’s cock grew before his eyes, a tower of power that seemed to demand worship. He felt a strange sense of jealousy towards the boy on screen, wishing it was him being taken by Mr Percival.

The man on the screen lifted the boy onto the desk, his cock nudging against the child’s entrance. David felt his own body respond, his cock pulsing in Mr Percival’s hand. He knew what was coming next, and had seen it in his secret fantasies, but the reality was so much more intense than anything he had ever imagined.

Mr Percival’s eyes never left the screen, his expression a mix of hunger and satisfaction as he watched the scene unfold.

“This is your destiny, Pika,” he whispered, “To be a part of this world, to serve me as I see fit.”

The video reached its climax, the boy’s cries of pleasure filling the room as he was claimed by the powerful man. David’s body was a live wire, every nerve ending singing with need.

“Now, Pika,” Mr Percival said, his voice a gentle command, “It’s time for your real training to begin.”

David looked up at the man he had come to adore, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew what was expected of him, and had felt the anticipation building with each passing day.

Mr Percival led him to the plush sofa, the leather cool against David’s fevered skin. The man’s cock, now freed from his pants, stood tall and proud, the head glistening with anticipation.

“You’ve seen what happens to naughty Pokémon who don’t obey,” he said, his voice a dark promise, “Do you want to be like that?”

David swallowed hard, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement.

“No, Mr Percival,” he whispered.

“Good,” the man said, his smile predatory, “Then show me how much you’ve learned.”

David took a deep breath, his hand shaking as he reached out to touch Mr. Percival’s cock. The skin was velvet over steel, warm and pulsing with life. He felt a strange thrill at the idea of pleasing the man who had become his world.

He leaned in, his mouth open, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and dread. Mr Percival’s cock was much larger than he had anticipated, the girth of it making him feel small and insignificant. But he had seen it done in the videos, and had dreamt of this moment. He knew he could do it.

Mr Percival’s hand guided him, showing him how to lick and suck, how to take the cock deep into his throat without gagging. David felt a sense of pride as the man’s eyes closed in pleasure, his moans of satisfaction music to the boy’s ears.

As the moments stretched into an eternity, David felt himself growing more confident, his movements more sure. He was the one in control now, the one bringing pleasure to the town’s most powerful man.

Mr Percival’s hand left his neck, moving to stroke his hair instead.

“Very good,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust, “But now, it’s time for your real test.”

He positioned David so that the boy’s legs were spread wide, his cock brushing against David’s cheek. The heat and smell of the man were intoxicating, a heady perfume that made David’s head swim.

David was still watching the screen of the boy in a maids outfit, Mr Percival lubed up his cock.

“Welcome to Stepford, my little fuck toy”

The words hung in the air like a dark incantation, as if by speaking them, Mr Percival was sealing David’s fate. The room was a cocoon of desire, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood and the faint hint of something more primal. David felt himself being positioned, his legs spread wide apart, the softness of the velvet couch beneath him a stark contrast to the fear and excitement that thrummed through his body.

Mr Percival’s cock, now slick with lubricant, nudged against David’s tight entrance. The boy’s eyes grew wider, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. He had never felt anything like this before, the pressure was both terrifying and thrilling.

“Relax, Pika,” Mr Percival murmured, his voice a soothing balm to the boy’s nerves, “You’re going to make me very happy.”

Slowly, with gentle yet firm pressure, the man began to push inside, the head of his cock parting the boy’s untouched flesh. David whimpered, his body tensing instinctively, but Mr Percival’s hand on the back of his neck held him in place, a silent command to submit.

The pain was a shock, a white-hot brand that seared through him as the man’s cock breached his innocence. But there was also a dark pleasure, a feeling of fullness that was unlike anything he had ever known. The video on the screen played on, the sounds of the boy’s cries mixing with the sounds of his own.

Mr Percival was patient, his movements slow and deliberate as he claimed David inch by inch. The boy’s body was a canvas upon which he painted a masterpiece of corruption, each thrust a stroke that brought him closer to the ultimate revelation of what it meant to be a true citizen of Stepford.

As the man’s cock slid deeper, David felt a strange warmth spread through him, a sense of belonging that was as confusing as it was exhilarating. The walls of the study seemed to close in around them, the flickering light of the fireplace casting long shadows that danced with the images on the screen.

Mr Percival leaned in, his breath hot against David’s ear.

“Do you feel it, Pika? The power of submission?”

David could only nod, his voice lost in a symphony of gasps and moans. The pain was giving way to something else, something that felt almost … right.

The video reached its climax, the boy’s cries of pleasure echoing through the room as he was filled. David watched, his own body responding to the depraved scene before him. He knew it was wrong but it felt good, the taboo nature of it only adding to the allure.

Mr Percival’s cock slid in deeper, and David’s body began to relax, allowing the man to claim him completely. The pain was replaced by a strange mix of pleasure and fear, a heady cocktail that had him squirming beneath the weight of his mentor.

The video ended with the boy, now fully transformed into a bimbo, serving drinks to the other guests, his mind a haze of pleasure and obedience. The screen went dark, and the room was filled with only the sounds of their breathing and the slap of flesh against flesh.

Mr Percival’s hips began to move faster, his cock pistoning in and out of David’s tight body. The boy felt himself getting closer to the edge, the sensation of being used and corrupted pushing him closer to the brink of an orgasm he didn’t quite understand.

“You’re doing so well, Pika,” Mr Percival grunted, his hand reaching around to cup the boy’s chin, “Look at me.”

David’s eyes snapped open, meeting the man’s intense gaze. He could see the hunger there, the desire to possess him fully. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer, sending a jolt of arousal through his body.

“You’re going to be my perfect little slut,” Mr Percival said, his voice low and guttural, “You’re going to crave this, need it like you need air.”

And with those words, David felt something within him break, a dam releasing a flood of need and desire that washed away any lingering doubt or fear. He threw his head back, moaning as the man fucked him with an almost brutal intensity.

The transformation was almost complete, the innocence of his youth stripped away by the relentless thrusts of Mr Percival’s cock. The man’s hands roamed over his body, tweaking his nipples, which had grown sensitive and swollen from the constant stimulation.

Mr Percival and David began to french kiss as the man’s cock slid deeper into David’s tight, inexperienced hole. The taste of the tea and mint mingled with the salty sweetness of Mr Percival’s skin, a flavor that David found oddly intoxicating. His cock was rock-hard, leaking precum onto the velvet fabric of the sofa, a silent testament to his body’s betrayal.

Mr Percival’s hand moved from David’s neck to his chest, caressing the untouched peaks of his nipples. David gasped into the man’s mouth as he felt the tender flesh harden and swell beneath the skilled touch. It was a sensation that was at once foreign and exhilarating, a part of himself that he had never known could bring such pleasure.

The man’s other hand reached down to grasp David’s cock, stroking it with the same rhythm that his cock was setting inside the boy. David’s hips began to buck, his body responding instinctively to the dual assault on his senses.

The room was a cocoon of depravity, the only sound was the slap of flesh and the harsh panting of their mingled breaths. David could feel the man’s cock thickening, could feel the pulse of his impending climax in the grip of Mr Percival’s hand on his cock.

Mr Percival broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Look at me, Pika,” he demanded, “Look into my eyes as I make you come.”

David’s eyes snapped open, locking onto the man’s gaze. The fire in Mr Percival’s eyes was a mirror to the flames that licked at his soul. He didn’t know how it had come to this, didn’t understand the alchemy that had transpired. The hand that had been caressing his chin now moved to cradle the back of his head, holding him in a firm but gentle grip. The other hand slid down his torso, tracing the curves that had begun to emerge as part of his bizarre transformation. It felt like a serpent’s dance, both terrifying and mesmerizing.

As Mr Percival’s hand found its way to his cock, David couldn’t help but arch his back, offering himself up to the man’s touch. He felt a strange sense of relief, as if he had been holding his breath for his entire life and had finally been allowed to exhale. The strokes were firm but not painful, a silent promise of what was to come.

The man’s cock pushed deeper, the friction against his inner walls sending bolts of pleasure through his body. David felt his eyes roll back in his head, his mouth forming a silent “Oh” of understanding.

Mr Percival’s strokes grew more urgent, his breath hot against David’s cheek.

“Look at me,” he whispered, “Look at the man who’s going to make you feel things you never thought possible.”

David’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on the face above him. It was a face of power and control, a face that had haunted his dreams and now, it seemed, was going to define his reality.

“You’re going to come for me,” Mr Percival said, his voice a mix of command and reassurance, “You’re going to come, and you’re going to love it.”

And with that, David felt himself spiraling over the edge, his body convulsing with pleasure as his first orgasm at the hands of a man washed over him. He was dimly aware of Mr Percival’s hand working him, the man’s climax following closely behind.

The world outside the study had ceased to exist. There was only the fireplace’s embrace, the leather beneath him, and the feeling of being filled by his mentor’s cock. The pleasure was unlike anything he had ever felt, a symphony of sensations that seemed to rewire his very soul.

As the waves of ecstasy receded, David felt a coldness creeping in, a realization that something within him had fundamentally changed. He was no longer just a curious boy but a creature of the night, a part of a world that existed in the shadows of Stepford’s gleaming facade.

Mr Percival pulled out, leaving David feeling both emptied and filled at the same time. The man leaned back, his chest heaving with the exertion. He took a moment to compose himself before speaking again.

“You see, Pika,” he said, his voice still thick with satisfaction, “This is what true power feels like.”

He reached down, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief that had been tucked into his suit’s pocket.

“Now that you’ve had a taste, you’ll never be able to go back.”

David’s eyes searched the man’s face, looking for some sign of remorse or regret. But all he found was a smug smile, one that spoke of victory and possession.

“What have you done to me?” he whispered, his voice hoarse with the aftermath of pleasure and pain.

Mr Percival leaned in, his breath warm against David’s ear.

“I’ve given you a gift, my dear,” he murmured, “The gift of understanding your place in the world.” “I was anticipating at least three weeks of grooming, and seduction three months, for your full transformation but we can bring forward that schedule.”

“You were not my quickest fuck, hehe not anyone will beat thirty minutes with young Charlie, but seven and half hours from meeting to penetrations is top ten, your naturally slut … kind of like father like son,” Mr Percival chuckled.

The room was a whirlwind of sensation, the scent of leather and musk mingling with the smoky aroma of the fireplace. David lay there, his body still trembling from the force of his orgasm, trying to process what had just happened. He felt both violated and oddly satisfied, his mind a tumult of conflicting emotions.

Mr Percival stood, straightening his tie and adjusting his trousers.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, his voice a blend of paternal concern and predatory satisfaction, “You wouldn’t want to go back to your room looking like this, would you?”

The man’s words were a cold slap in the face, jolting David out of his daze. He scrambled to his feet, his legs wobbly from the intensity of his first sexual encounter with a man. He looked around for his clothes, his eyes landing on the discarded pile of fabric on the floor. The memory of the video played through his mind, the images of the boy dressed as a maid serving the other guests.

With trembling hands, David began to pull on his clothes, each movement a silent protest against the fate that had been thrust upon him. Mr Percival watched him with an amused smile, his attire impeccable despite the debauchery that had just taken place.

“You’re a natural, Pika,” Mr Percival said, his voice dripping with sincerity. Young Harper felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. Despite the horror of his new reality, there was something comforting about the approval in the old man’s eyes.

David fell asleep in Mr Percival’s many guest bedrooms.

Later that night, Mr Percival picked up the phone in his opulent study, his eyes still gleaming with the satisfaction of his encounter with young David. He dialled a number, the digits ingrained in his memory as if they were the key to a secret treasure chest.

“Hello, Bill’s phone,” Nina answered.

Bill was at the office on all fours taking Nina’s cock.

Mr Percival chuckled, “It’s me sticking the beta on the phone.”

Bill, slightly out of breath, took the phone, his eyes glazed with a mix of pleasure and fear.

“Hello, Mr Percival,” he managed to say, his voice a whisper.

“Ah, Bill, I hope I’m not interrupting,” Mr Percival said, his tone dripping with amusement.

“No, no, not at all,” Bill lied, trying to compose himself.

Mr Percival was having his cock sucked by a teen femboi dressed in a maid’s outfit when he called Bill. The teen had been groomed to become a perfect servant. The boy looked up with glazed eyes as he heard Mr Bill Harper’s voice and smirked. Mr Percival held the phone away from his mouth, whispering to the boy.

“Keep sucking you good little bitch!”

Bill’s heart raced as he heard the muffled sounds of his son’s voice in the background, unsure of what was happening.

“Is … is everything okay, Mr Percival?”

“Everything is fine Bill, just wanted to let you know David is sleeping in the guest bedroom, we made great progress on his development today, soon you won’t even recognize your son.”

The words hit Bill like a ton of bricks. He had allowed Mr Percival to take his son under his wing, but he had not expected such rapid changes. Yet, the excitement in the man’s voice was undeniable, and Bill could not ignore the thrill that coursed through him at the thought of what this might mean for David.

“What did you do to him?” Bill asked, his voice a mix of dread and anticipation.

Mr Percival chuckled, a sound that was both warm and sinister.

“I merely showed him the path to true enlightenment,” he said, ”The path that all good boys of Stepford walk.”

The line went silent, and Bill could hear the soft suckling sounds in the background, the unmistakable noises of someone being pleasured. His mind raced dare not wanting to know the full truth,

“That’s great master I am so thankful …” Nina pounded harder, “Thankful for taking my son under your guidance.”

“Good Bill you just focus on your own personal development and focus on becoming the best family man you can be you don’t worry about David anymore.”

Bill felt a strange mix of relief and fear at Mr. Percival’s words. He knew that he had signed over some part of himself, and now his son, to the man’s whims, but he couldn’t deny the allure of the promise of a perfect life in Stepford. He swallowed hard, trying to push the unsettling images of his son out of his mind.

“Yes, my master,” Bill replied, his voice quivering slightly, the fear and excitement of the unknown intertwining like vines around his soul.

He knew that he had to trust Mr Percival, that the path laid out before him and his family was one that would lead to a life of contentment and success in the perfect utopia of Stepford.

Mr Percival hung up the phone and took a puff of smoke.

“Hmm, good Amber keep sucking how is your family?”

“Good master, mom and dad just got bigger breast implants, Mrs Jones is so jealous hers are no longer the biggest on the street.”

The eager femboi slurping around Mr Percival’s cock said.

“Stepford is perfect,” Mr Percival leaned back to the sound of cock being sucked.

David awoke to a schoolgirl’s uniform on his bed with a note.

It read — “Pika, Pokemon trainers dress up their Pokemon from time to time do they not? Put on the outfit join me for breakfast, From your Master.”

David picked up the uniform and stared at it, his heart racing. The fabric was soft to the touch, and it felt wrong, but at the same time, it brought back the memories of the intense pleasure he had experienced the night before. He couldn’t deny that a part of him craved it, a part of him that was new and strange, a part that Mr Percival had unlocked.

He slipped on the uniform, feeling the tightness of the skirt around his waist, the softness of the blouse against his skin. He looked in the mirror and saw a reflection that was both alien and alluring. The uniform clung to his body in a way that accentuated his newfound feminine curves, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and fascination.

As he made his way downstairs, he heard the sound of laughter and conversation coming from the dining room. It Mr Percival a group of men all in suits and ties, their faces a blur of white collar respectability, each with a young boy dressed similarly to himself sitting on their laps. The room was filled with the sweet scent of pancakes and the bitter aroma of black coffee. As David entered, the room went silent, and all eyes turned to him. He felt a flush of embarrassment spread across his cheeks, but Mr Percival’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.

“Ah, there he is,” he said, his voice a rich purr of satisfaction, “My dear, Pika, come join us.”

David briefly looked at the growing erection in Mr Percival’s pants.

”But Mr Pervical … I mean, Master, there is no chair”

The other boys were moaning and bouncing up and down.

Mr Percival leaned over and whispered, “You will sit on my lap, my dear Pika, as a proper slut should.”

David felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as he approached the table, the fabric of his skirt whispering against his legs. He slid onto Mr Percival’s lap, feeling the hardness beneath him. The other men watched with knowing smiles, their eyes lingering on his exposed legs and the way the skirt hiked up as he settled.

The breakfast conversation was a mix of business and pleasure, the men discussing the day’s agenda at the XP Corporation while also sharing lewd comments about the boys on their laps. David felt like a prize, a trophy to be displayed and used. He didn’t know the other boys, but they all had the same glazed look in their eyes, a silent testament to the experiences they had shared with the powerful men of Stepford.

Mr Percival’s hand rested on David’s thigh, the heat of it burning through the fabric. His other hand fed him bites of pancake, the syrup sticking to his lips, which Mr Percival eagerly licked away. The sensation was both humiliating and oddly intimate, a dance of dominance and submission that made David’s heart race.

“Pika if you would be so kind to undo my zip and you left your skirt hiked up like that it’s a bit distracting,” Mr Percival said with a glint in his eye as he petted the blonde locks of the teen on his lap.

The room filled with the sound of chuckles from the other suited men as David’s cheeks burned red.

Stanley, the head butler, applied some lube to Mr Percival’s cock and whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

“You’re going to be the best little slut in town, Pika” Mr Percival said to David with a twisted smile as he felt the lubricant coating his skin.

His skirt rode up, and Mr Pervical started to fuck him, joining in, on the meeting orgy. The other men’s eyes were glued to the show as Mr Percival’s hand slid up David’s thigh, his thumb stroking the soft flesh of his inner thigh. The breakfast conversation had been a blur of inappropriate jokes and business talk, but David had been unable to focus, his mind reeling from the events of the night before.

Before he knew it David’s femboi pussy was being flooded with his master’s warm cum. The rest of the day was a blur of cock and porn, David was in a constant state of arousal he may even made-out with the other boys, and tasted more cock, it was all too hard to remember.

Later that night, Mr Percival drove David home.

“Remember Pika this weekend is our little secret okay?”

Mr Percival’s eyes met David’s in the rearview mirror, the same gleaming smile that had greeted them when they first arrived in Stepford still plastered on his face. David nodded, the weight of his weekend’s experiences pressing down on him like a lead blanket. He knew he couldn’t tell anyone, not even his parents, about what had happened. It was as if the town had its own rules, a hidden code that only Mr Percival and the other transformed boys knew.

As they pulled into the Harper’s driveway, David saw Bill’s car in the garage, the lights from the house casting a warm glow through the windows. The thought of facing his father after what had happened with Mr Percival made his stomach churn. But Bill was not the only one waiting for him.

“You only call me, Master, when I am alone with you or you’re at my mansion, and vice versa, with Pika. In front of your parents, you are David and I am Mr Percival.”

David nodded, still feeling the stickiness of Mr Percival’s cum between his legs. The car door opened, and the cool night air was a stark contrast to the heated interior of the sedan. He stepped out, his legs shaky. He glanced up to see his mother, Steph, standing in the doorway, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

“David, is everything okay?” she asked, her voice filled with maternal warmth.

He forced a smile, not wanting to betray the dark secret that now bound him to Mr. Percival.

“Yes, Mom,” he said, his voice a little too high-pitched, “I just had a great weekend with Mr Percival, learning about the town and the corporation.”

Steph’s eyes searched his face, and for a moment, David feared she could see the truth. But then she nodded, her expression softening.

“Well, I’m just happy that you’re making friends and fitting in,” she said, her voice tinged with relief.

Mr Percival winked at him before driving away, the tinted windows of the sedan swallowing the darkness of the night. David walked up the path to the house, his heart racing as he wondered what the future held for him in Stepford.

The days that followed were a blur of school, homework, and secret meetings with Mr Percival. The old man had a way of making him feel both cherished and used, a thrilling cocktail of emotions that David couldn’t resist. His schoolwork didn’t matter. His teachers always seem to give him a passing grade. A knowing smile played on their lips when they handed back his papers. It was as if the town had been designed to bend around the will of XP Corporation, and David was now a willing participant in its twisted game.

At night, David would lay in bed, his body aching from the rigorous training sessions with Mr Percival and his associates, his thoughts a tumult of confusion and desire. He found himself craving the touch of the men, their hands molding him into a creature that was both a reflection of their desires and a mockery of the boy he used to be. Yet, every time he looked in the mirror, he saw a face that was still his own, a face that bore the same name he had been given at birth.

xxxxx

Steph grew increasingly concerned about her son’s behavior. He was quieter than usual, often lost in though.. His newfound interest in the XP Corporation and its founder was bordering on obsession, and he spoke of Mr Percival with a reverence that unsettled her. Yet, when she tried to broach the subject with Bill, he dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand, his eyes glazed over with a look she had never seen before.

THE END OF CHAPTER TWO