No One's Looking (An M/M Horror Short Story)
Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2024 12:05 pm
No One's Looking
I bet by now he's starting to wonder why his cop friends haven't found him yet.
“They gotta be looking for me by now. They gotta be on their way. Any day now someone will let me out of this lunatic's prison.â€
I wonder how long until he gives up hope. How many days, weeks, or months as my prisoner before he finally accepts this life.
Since he woke up he's been in my basement. Muzzled, chained, and locked in the jail cell I’d built.
Image from kinkyspain Tumblr
Sometimes the chains are loose, so he can stand, walk, and lay down. Other times they are tight - pulled taunt so he his forced to kneel, to bend, to bow, to be contorted into whatever position I want him in until I'm ready to let him go.
He knows by now that if he wants to eat, he will not speak when I remove the head harness. In time I will let him speak again; I like when my caged bird sings for me.
In time he will leave the jail cell. I will enjoy him bound in every room of my house. I will restrain him outside, on every acre of land on my remote farm, to every tree on my property. He may sleep in my bed some nights, in the barn on others. He will spend some days relaxing, others doing hard labor for me, and others tortured for my own amusement.
But not yet.
Not until he gives up hope.
He's been a good prisoner - at least after the first day. Probably thinking that if he just obeys and plays nice, he'll survive until his friends and coworkers on the police force will find him. Then they'll lock me up. Justice will be served.
But they won't find him. In fact, they're not even looking for him.
Because Officer Martin isn't missing.
Officer Martin is going about his life. Unaware that an identical copy of himself is currently captive in a vengeful lunatic’s basement.
The free Martin probably thinks nothing of the single piece of hair that fell from his head. Why would he? And captive Martin is probably confused as to why one minute he was sitting at his desk in the precinct, and the next he's chained up in an underground prison.
Oh the wonders of science! The imprint of our thoughts and memories on our own epigenetic code. So advanced now, that a crazy man with a lust for revenge can make a perfect identical copy of the man who wronged him. A clone that shares every memory of its original. Who is essentially, just a version of the original if their life had taken one key divergence - specifically, being kidnapped and imprisoned.
Captive Martin will never know he's a clone. As he spends the rest of his life as my prisoner, he will remember his old life, wonder why no one found him, and mourn his loss of freedom. Fully unaware a luckier version of him gets to spend his days a free man.
Eventually he may understand why I did this.
Years of powerlessness. Years of being subjected to recurring hate-fueled torture. Years of reflecting on how his old life was taken from him. Maybe then he'll remember me.
The young man he planted drugs on all those years ago.
Why did he do that? What could he have possibly gained that was worth ruining a promising young man's life.
Years in jail for a crime I didn't commit. Kicked out of college. Estranged from my friends.
Even when they finally proved my innocence, got the sentence overturned, the damage was done.
You broke me.
And now, it is my great joy to return the favor.
I bet by now he's starting to wonder why his cop friends haven't found him yet.
“They gotta be looking for me by now. They gotta be on their way. Any day now someone will let me out of this lunatic's prison.â€
I wonder how long until he gives up hope. How many days, weeks, or months as my prisoner before he finally accepts this life.
Since he woke up he's been in my basement. Muzzled, chained, and locked in the jail cell I’d built.
Image from kinkyspain Tumblr
Sometimes the chains are loose, so he can stand, walk, and lay down. Other times they are tight - pulled taunt so he his forced to kneel, to bend, to bow, to be contorted into whatever position I want him in until I'm ready to let him go.
He knows by now that if he wants to eat, he will not speak when I remove the head harness. In time I will let him speak again; I like when my caged bird sings for me.
In time he will leave the jail cell. I will enjoy him bound in every room of my house. I will restrain him outside, on every acre of land on my remote farm, to every tree on my property. He may sleep in my bed some nights, in the barn on others. He will spend some days relaxing, others doing hard labor for me, and others tortured for my own amusement.
But not yet.
Not until he gives up hope.
He's been a good prisoner - at least after the first day. Probably thinking that if he just obeys and plays nice, he'll survive until his friends and coworkers on the police force will find him. Then they'll lock me up. Justice will be served.
But they won't find him. In fact, they're not even looking for him.
Because Officer Martin isn't missing.
Officer Martin is going about his life. Unaware that an identical copy of himself is currently captive in a vengeful lunatic’s basement.
The free Martin probably thinks nothing of the single piece of hair that fell from his head. Why would he? And captive Martin is probably confused as to why one minute he was sitting at his desk in the precinct, and the next he's chained up in an underground prison.
Oh the wonders of science! The imprint of our thoughts and memories on our own epigenetic code. So advanced now, that a crazy man with a lust for revenge can make a perfect identical copy of the man who wronged him. A clone that shares every memory of its original. Who is essentially, just a version of the original if their life had taken one key divergence - specifically, being kidnapped and imprisoned.
Captive Martin will never know he's a clone. As he spends the rest of his life as my prisoner, he will remember his old life, wonder why no one found him, and mourn his loss of freedom. Fully unaware a luckier version of him gets to spend his days a free man.
Eventually he may understand why I did this.
Years of powerlessness. Years of being subjected to recurring hate-fueled torture. Years of reflecting on how his old life was taken from him. Maybe then he'll remember me.
The young man he planted drugs on all those years ago.
Why did he do that? What could he have possibly gained that was worth ruining a promising young man's life.
Years in jail for a crime I didn't commit. Kicked out of college. Estranged from my friends.
Even when they finally proved my innocence, got the sentence overturned, the damage was done.
You broke me.
And now, it is my great joy to return the favor.
It was fun to think about