The passage of time in the seven years to 2033.
I get a bit uncertain about the seven years in-between; the time from my leaving Greenford House to Dr Zim’s leaving London. Marcus wasn’t a big one for the news, so maybe General Elections did come and go, Prime Ministers, politicians, governments? I’m sure I remember the death of King Charles III, and the coming of King William V. I can tell you the years these things happened from the history books of the period. The sort of books I read now and which we keep in our flat. But at the time, perhaps the flags I saw were for the coronation of a king, or for a political party, or England losing in a football tournament? It wasn’t really my business. My business was making sure my man-cunt was kept clean, the lips kept moisturised and fresh, my tits nice and juicy, ‘just like they like them Jaydie boy.’ Practicing deep throat, or whatever else it was they told Marcus I could do better. Just being an obedient whore.
I remember one oppressively hot summer afternoon, maybe in the late 2020s? It was well over 40 degrees celsius out, Marcus has a thing about the temperature, so I remember the numbers. ‘It’s the climate Jaydie.’ My earnings meant we could invest in an air conditioning unit for our flat. In London, when it’s that hot, you don’t get punters, nobody wants to go out. So what I recall is the relative cool of the living room, just me and Marcus one stifling afternoon. He was on the sofa and I was at his feet, as protocol dictates. He wasn’t in the mood for sex, not even the usual morning blow job, it was just too hot. So we sat there, watching something on the TV, smoking a spliff. I do not ever recall, not once in my life up to the age of 23, feeling quite so peaceful and contented as that, not once as Jacob Ellis. Jayden, well, he could experience whole days, weeks even, without any anxiety at all.
Another thing I remember. Marcus is never ill, he has an incredible constitution. Me on the other hand, and perhaps it is all the medication, or more likely, because a different guy fucks me bare back three or four times a week, but I’m getting a bad cold, the flu, quite often. There was a time with a virus that laid me low, a bitterly cold day this time, maybe winter, ice blue sky out, the light sharp and bright. I’m allowed on the sofa and Marcus has put a blanket over me, tucked me in. This time he sits on the floor. He’s happy. He brings me tea, and something to eat. ‘Rest up, Jaydie, be kind to yourself.’ He was happy because he had me all to himself.
“I’m ready for my close-up..”
Arien made an appearance once. He came one afternoon, obviously expected. His van was parked outside and Marcus and I were helping him carry in lighting equipment. ‘You’re gonna be on film Jaydie.’
I think I understood straight away. ‘Like a porno Boss?’
‘Yup Jaydie, a guy is coming over later. He fucks you, you take it, we film it, simple!’ The performer was, Arien said, ‘gay-for-pay.’ Marcus thought that was very funny, ‘yeah, course he is. One look at our Jaydie’s man-cunt, and he’ll do it for pennies, eh Jaydie!’ When he appeared, they’d already dressed me in my costume: white socks, and a white jock over my cock cage, that’s all, and a sheen of baby oil. ‘Makes your skin pop on cam.’ The guy was easily 6 foot tall and, when undressed, very dark skinned, and with a large flaccid cock. He said his name was ‘Gucci.’ Marcus thought that was very funny too. Behind Gucci’s back he said to Arien, ’what, like a fuckin’ handbag!’ Apparently Gucci didn’t smoke, so that didn’t go down too well with Marcus.
Gucci was interested in me though. He was dressed very casually when he arrived, baggy, bright gear, a sort of art student vibe. ‘Hey man, lets have a look at the goods.’ They all laughed as he inspected me, bending me over and rubbing his fingers over my man-cunt lips. ‘Fuck me, Arien, you wasn’t lyin’, it’s a cunt bro, a proper man-cunt, and it’s moist too, and tight. Mmmm, bro, love to be fuckin’ it.’ I was already prepped, douched and ready, basically, to do as I was told. No change there, I knew to be obedient or else.
Gucci’s only prep was to strip off, and then he got a sort of fat pen, fastened a disposable needle onto the end, and injected it into the base of his cock. All of us crowded round to see this, appalled and fascinated in equal measure. Marcus was particularly interested in this. ‘Caverject fella? Never seen it work.’ We all noticed it worked very quickly. Gucci gently rubbed the injection site and less than five minutes later, his cock was a rock-hard 9 inches. Arien measured it, and we all laughed. Gucci was very proud of it.
The performance was pretty simple. It was very similar to my normal client sessions. A bump of mephedrone and I was smiling, just offering my man-cunt. The big difference was there was a lot of stopping and starting and a running commentary of orders.
‘Hold still there Jaydie, pull out Gucci, yeah.’ Arien was directing, moving my body. ‘Arse up babe, higher, that’s it, spread your legs wider, wider you little fucker! Head up and arch your back, stick out your arse, present that man-cunt to the cock. Cool. Can you get your cock in that Gucci mate? Grab its head to steady yourself. Fuck it ok, give it a go and we’ll check the angle. Mmm, not sure. Lets try it this way. Come on Jaydie, shift it you little prick, spread them, WIDER!'
This went on for, maybe, four hours. ‘No complaints now Jaydie, just that big grin, good lad. Smile with your eyes Jaydie! Good lad, loving it! Hold your arse still and up in the air, begging for it Jaydie! Gucci’s going for the big fuck now, piston it in, go for it fella - NOW! Fuck that man-cunt hard, keep going fella, harder, fuck it! Hold still Jaydie, you little cunt, SMILE!’
When Gucci was ready to cum, I had to position my head looking up at his cock, like it was the best thing ever, and open my mouth. ‘Fuckin A, Jaydie, look at your eyes, shining! Well done boy! Now, hold it, hold the man’s spunk, keep holding it, lets see it in your mouth. Great shot! Now, swallow it slowly, and look up with respect. Lick your lips, let’s see, yeah, there’s still spunk on your tongue. Shiny! Good boy! CUT!’
After this, they filmed my post filming interview. ‘Yeah Bruv, big cummer fella! Fuckin love it!’
‘Now Jaydie, tell the viewers how is your man-cunt now?’
‘Fuckin, leng Bro!!!! Waahhh, go again!! Yeah!!’
'On your back Jaydie and get your legs up, lets see your man-cunt! Go on, spread your legs and finger that hole.'
‘Gucci, did you cum inside it?’
‘Yeahhh! Bruv, one fuckin’ man-cunt, them fuckin’ lips maaaan! Go again, like Shorty Bruv say!! Yeah!!’
So I got another fucking. First I started with his arm pits, licking them slowly, then I licked Gucci’s cock, respectfully.
‘Jaydie! The man’s got lumps of lube on his cock, you dirty little cunt! I want it smooth and shiny. Now lick him clean, yeah good boy, nice long strokes. Stop, and douche yourself again Jaydie, proper clean this time eh!
Turn around Gucci, your arse crack is sweaty, yeah? Jaydie, lick the man’s arse hole clean, thank him, show some respect! No, the angle isn’t right. Go again Jaydie, sniff his crack, slowly, like a puppy dog sniffing, good boy, now spread his cheeks and slowly lick between them, nice slow strokes. Great shot fella! I can see your eyes, glowing! Lick from the bottom, from his taint to the top. Good shot! Stick your tongue out, lick his hole, nice long slow strokes, lets see your tongue, good boy! Lets see how much you’re loving his hairy crack. Sniff it! When you’re gonna cum, Gucci mate, let’s know, we want that spunk inside him. Cool! Now, Jaydie, feet together, spread your knees wide, wider! Wider you little fucker! Gucci, pull back mate. Jaydie, turn round and smile at the camera, right hand pulling your arse cheek, let the man’s spunk out, slowly, smile, good shot, CUT!
For the last bit of filming they put a dog collar on me. ‘Get down Jaydie, all fours, good boy. Marcus, mate, put some oil on him will you, bring up his shine, yeah nice one! Jaydie, get your face by the man’s feet, sniff ‘em.’
‘Are we doing any more fuckin’?’ asked Gucci.
‘Nah, mate, no need. We’re gonna stick this dog tail in its hole, yeah. Arse up Jaydie, higher, good boy, in it goes. Pop! Haha! Yeah, nice and tight isn't boy? Waggle your arse boy, stick your man-cunt out, show us your tail, show us how keen you are. Tongue out, lick the man’s feet, in between his toes. Round the front, all fours, mouth open, smile you little fucker! Sit down Gucci mate, put your feet up on this stool and the puppy will lick the soles. Lick the soles of his feet, good boy.’ Then, whilst he was sitting, Gucci pointed his cock at my face. He said he needed to piss.
’Time for you to make yourself useful Jaydie and be the man’s toilet. Beg for his piss with your eyes boy. Great shot!! Keep pissing Gucci, not too fast, make sure he takes it all! Man, fuckin’ great shot! Keep swallowing the man’s piss Jaydie, keep up you little fucker!! Good boy! CUT.’ You make a good little toilet!
The filming went on for a long time, four hours meant three lines of mephedrone. The final version was 25 minutes long. Marcus played it to me sometimes. ‘Look at you Jaydie, fuckin’ porn star eh!’
Difficult memories
Another memory, a difficult one this time, of a hazy early afternoon in autumn, one of those slightly misty, mild mid-November London days, maybe 14 degrees celsius. I am walking back from the football pitch, along Solomon Street. On one side of the street is where our flat is, the other survived the Blitz and the V2s. It’s a row of three-story terraces, beautifully restored, in pale London brick. Part way down, like a short pause in a long and meaningful sentence, is a substantial Methodist Chapel, the Solomon Street Mission, 1892, its name cut deep into Portland stone. It’s a busy place, though not for the descendants of the people who built it. They either no longer worship, or have long since moved away. All that is left of them is a memorial: “To those fallen in the Great War for Civilisation 1914-1918”. It describes names, ages and ranks. Once, looking for an Ellis or a Conner, I counted them, forty-one young men. An average age of twenty-six. My age, more or less. Now the Chapel is used by people of African heritage. It’s always open.
I don’t normally walk on that side of the street, but road works meant I couldn’t cross at the usual spot. As I passed I could hear music. A rehearsal for Handel’s Messiah. Even through the medication I recognised it. The organ was playing “I know that my Redeemer Liveth!” It was accompanied by a male soprano voice, a young man from the sound of it. Immediately it took me back to my old school, which is what is known as a “good school.” It was a place which I had hated. It took me back to my parent’s funeral at St John the Divine, Church of England, Esher. Yes, the music is beautiful, and perfect, and good, and true. But also, for me, anxious, and oppressive, and violent, and barren, and cold, and dead. So I just moved on. Back home.
Marcus noticed I’d been crying. ‘Jaydie..?’
‘Nothing Boss.’ He then did what he would always do if he saw me upset: ‘present standing!’ I’d immediately get into position. Then he’d put his hands on my shoulders, hands which felt hot and alive, and he’d look me in the eye,‘if anyone hurts you Jaydie, I swear to God..’
Time goes slowly, then, all of a sudden, it speeds up.
Another thing I remember from my history degree at University College London is a quote from Lenin to the effect, “there are decades where nothing happens, and there are weeks where decades happen.” The 2020s and the early 30s were like that for me. A time when nothing really happened.
Although things did happen to me. One week Marcus decided I needed some more tattoos. ‘Something visible Jaydie, a swallow on your neck eh? And something on your hands and wrists, spiders and scorpions. I’ve booked you in to the place, to see the man this afternoon yeah.’
There was quite a lot of ink in the end. It took a month.
My clients loved the look. ‘Fuck, real street scum aren’t you boy! Kneel, suck my cock, you little fucker!’
Jayden gets two birthday presents.
So nothing much changed for years, until early 2033 when Dr Zim dropped his bombshell. It was Friday 4th March 2033. Coincidentally perhaps, that is the birthday that both Jayden Conner and Jacob Ellis share. I, (or perhaps we?), celebrated being thirty. One of Zim’s little jokes maybe, that we share the same birthday? Perhaps his idea of humour that his bombshell was our joint birthday present?
Marcus was home unexpectedly early, and he was tense. Very tense. Tense enough not to smoke. ‘I’ve cancelled the client Jaydie, there’s something.. something has happened. Sit down Jaydie, at the table.’ In my place at the kitchen table was a package he’d left that morning, ‘Happy Birthday Jaydie,’ written on the small envelope attached to it. ‘Don’t open it until later Jaydie.’ That, of course, was an order, not a suggestion. It was a bar of premium dark chocolate, which Marcus had wrapped up in quality paper. That’s typical of him, never forgets things like that. He’s a Scorpio by the way, his birthday the last day of October, Hallowe’en.
I sat at the table, looking at the package. Plain lilac paper. Very tasteful actually, discrete, expensive. Marcus didn’t look at me, he looked away, at the clock, at the walls, but not at me. Normally, he’d hold my gaze with his green-brown eyes. Not this evening.
‘Jaydie, Dr Zim.. Jaydie.. Jaydie, do you remember Jacob Ellis?’ I froze, yes, I had memories of Jacob Ellis, it’s not like I could forget, although most days, I never gave Jacob Ellis a second thought. I knew I shouldn’t think of him. And, a lot of the time, I didn’t want to. Too difficult.
‘Er, Marcus.. dunno..guess..’
‘It’s ok Jaydie, it’s not a trap. Zim has.. I mean..’ He stopped there. In six year’s I’ve seen all the emotions from Marcus, happy, angry, sad, cheerful, the lot. But this? Overwhelmed, that’s not Marcus’s style. Before he said anything more I suddenly guessed. ‘Boss, you know I really am Jacob, underneath, you know that Boss, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, Jaydie, I know that now.’
He showed me part of a report that Zim had given to him. I read it later. It explained the mechanics.
Research Memorandum: Temporal Consolidation & High-Intensity Sensory Conditioning
Subject: Conner, Jayden (Alias: GH-4729)
Author: Dr E. Zim
Date: 15 January 2033
"...The critical error in long-term authentic identity stabilisation is an underestimation of the false, externally conditioned ego’s memory retention. The 'Jacob Ellis' construct cannot be merely medicated away; it must be displaced and rendered impotent by a continuous, high-intensity sensory rival. To achieve this, the introduction of commercial sex work under Phase II is the foundational anchor of the authentic identity we call Jayden Conner. The expectation is this method will act as a solvent, and progressively displace the inauthentic and unsustainable persona of Jacob Ellis.
Sexual penetration is inherently sensation-rich, demanding absolute cognitive focus from the neurological organism. By administering 100mg of mephedrone nasally immediately prior to client arrival, we exploit a classic Pavlovian conditioning loop. The extreme, chemical euphoria induced by the stimulant is biologically synthesized with the physical acts of submission (receptive anal penetration, deep-throating etc). The brain’s reward centre rapidly overrides any initial psychological resistance, mapping the high directly onto the service of the client.
Consequently, the subject does not merely submit; he actively anticipates the encounter to satisfy the manufactured chemical craving. When interviewing the subject, the clinician must always presuppose this reality. Inquiring 'how much' he enjoys the work—rather than ‘if’. This forces the medicated mind to access only the dopamine-rich memories of the high, further reinforcing the default setting. The body learns the script through intense physical repetition; the mind simply follows the body's lead. Over a sustained period of years, these heavily fired neural pathways will become completely unarguable..."
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