Posted Mon Nov 2, 2015 | 341 Words | Tagged story chav

You’d look at Dylan and you’d think he’s a right hard lad. Course he is, but he’s got a bit of a talent. You see his sweat can turn any guy into a proper lad, once they get a taste for him.

Mason, as he’s now called, is currently kitted out and is pretty much in love with Dylan’s sweat. Each drop is making him more of a lad. He craves it now, something to hold onto. And it makes him so happy to become a good lad.

You see that something to hold onto, this is the lesser known darker side to Dylan. Dylan walks around the high bridges where he lives, not for the beautiful views over the river or for the traffic which drowns out most things. No, he helps people. Mason was one of those people he helped.

Mason was like the rest of the lads he helped, sad and depressed. Walking around the bridge admiring how high it was. How nice it would be for them to actually do it one time. Dylan could see how much of a bad place Mason was in, nowhere to go.

He stopped Mason and started talking to him. Mason was hesitant at first, they all were. Eventually he dares them, “give my pit a lick mate”. It confuses them, and throws off their trail of thought. He persists saying it’s not the worst thing they could be doing today.

Mason took the bait. Mason expected it to be awful, and hopefully shut the eccentric man up and leave him alone. But it was incredible. It felt strong and powerful. After a second more curious lick, he couldn’t decide what he liked. The third and an addiction was forming.

Dylan promised if he went home with him he would have more of it. Then the routine of making them change out of their clothes, slowly removing anything attached to their old identity. By the end of the evening Mason had been given his name, and soon he would be finished.