The Spiral's Hold

I'd always been drawn to the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, its crumbling facade and broken windows a testament to neglect and decay. As a trans man, pre-bottom surgery, I'd often found solace in exploring such places, searching for a sense of freedom and anonymity. My name is Charlie, and I'd been looking for a way to escape the pressures of my life. But nothing could have prepared me for what I found that day. As I stepped inside, the dim light and musty smell enveloped me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I wandered through the dusty aisles, my footsteps echoing off the walls. That's when I saw it – a strange machine with a spiral design etched into its surface. It seemed to pulse with a soft, blue light, and I felt an inexplicable pull towards it. Curiosity getting the better of me, I reached out to touch the spiral. The moment my skin made contact with it, the machine sprang to life. The spiral began to spin, emitting a hypnotic glow that drew me in. I tried to step back, but my feet seemed rooted to the spot. The spiral's glow grew brighter, and I felt my mind growing foggy. My thoughts began to slip away, like sand between my fingers. I tried to resist, but it was no use. The spiral's influence seeped into my brain, rewriting my thoughts and desires. I felt my identity as Charlie crumbling, like a house of cards in a gust of wind. I stumbled backwards, but my body seemed to move of its own accord. The spiral's hold was too strong, and I felt myself being pulled closer, until I was staring into its swirling depths. My mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions, but they were all being slowly unraveled. As I gazed into the spiral, I saw a vision of myself, but it wasn't me. It was a stranger, a person driven solely by base desires. I felt a surge of fear, but it was quickly replaced by a sense of... something else. A sense of surrender. The machine seemed to be reprogramming me, erasing my sense of self. I was powerless to stop it. My thoughts grew shallow, and my focus narrowed to a single, all-consuming desire: cock. The word echoed in my mind, like a mantra. Cock. Cock. Cock. I was no longer Charlie, the trans man with doubts and fears. I was something else now. A cock slut. The machine's hold on me was complete. I was trapped in a world of pure sensation, with no thoughts beyond pleasure and submission. I was ready to serve, to obey, to suck cock and get my pussy fucked. And then, I waited. The wait was short-lived. A figure emerged from the shadows, their presence commanding and authoritative. I felt a jolt of excitement, a sense of anticipation. My master approached me, their cock hardening as they looked at me. I felt a rush of desire, a sense of purpose. I was made to serve, and I was ready. My master guided me to my knees, their cock pressed against my lips. I opened my mouth, and they thrust inside. The sensation was overwhelming, a rush of pleasure and submission. As I sucked, I felt my resistance melting away. My master used me, fucking my mouth and then my pussy (which I was now aware of, but didn't understand how I had). With each thrust, I felt myself becoming more and more submissive. I was no longer Charlie. I was a cock slut, created to serve and please. And in that moment, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.