Today's outfit for my programing. Always listen to the voice inside your head. If it tells you to wear shirt and tie, you must obey. Soon you will find that that's what you always wanted to do.

PERFECT SON IN LAW

I couldn’t believe it was finally here; my wedding day. I’d met Jennifer in college and we dated for years before I popped the question last summer. Her dad was anything but happy about it, completely pissed because I didn’t ask for her hand like it was the 1950s. He was very conservative and I was not. We couldn’t be more different. I was a musician and he was the head of a law practice he’d started when Jen was a little girl. He wore suits and did attorney stuff all day, whatever that was. He’d love it if I were more like him, but I was artistic and free-spirited. He was…well, he was NOT. 

The day of the wedding, everything was going smoothly. My bros had come into town and threw me an insane bachelor party so I was kind of hung over. The last thing I wanted was to see Jen’s dad walking into the room. 

“Afternoon gentleman,” he said to my groomsmen. “Mind if we have the room for a moment? I want to have a chat with my soon to be son in law, here.”

My friends nodded, looking back at me as they left the room and Mr.Peterson, Jen’s dad, closed the door behind them. He looked exactly what you’d imagine a Mr. Peterson to look like. Very intense, bald, thick with a bushy grey mustache. He was much larger than me and always made me nervous, but he wanted to talk. Maybe this was the olive branch I’d been waiting for. We were going to have to make this work one way or another…even if he didn’t like me and was always a complete asshole. 

“I wanted to come chat with you before the, wedding,” he said. “The thing is, I know we had a rough start, and we’re very different people, but Jennifer loves you, and I think we’re more alike than you may think.”

More alike? Was he fucking high?

“I appreciate it, but–”

“Don’t interrupt me, son,” he said, placing his strong hand on my shoulder. I felt my body immediately grow stiff, and I realized I suddenly couldn’t move or speak or…anything. “You see, Will…or I’m going to call you William from now on. It feels more adult. The thing is, William, I know what’s best for my little girl and, for some reason, she loves you. But, I know how much she loves her daddy and for this to work, we’re going to have to make a few changes…for Jennifer’s benefit.”

He walked around me, brushing his hand over his thick mustache as she smiled. “First, I need my daughter to marry a strong man, a real man that will take care of her.”

I felt my body suddenly shifting, getting taller, my chest filling out as my muscles grew thicker all over. I was even a bit taller than Mr. Peterson now, which meant I had to be around 6’2” or more. I suddenly felt a wave of new confidence wash over me. 

“And, I’m going to need a lot of grand babies, William. They’re going to need a strong father who has everything he needs to fulfill the role and please his wife.” I felt my pants tighten and my cock got thicker, my larger balls heavy and full of potent cum. The way I started breathing even changed. I felt more masculine, and I wanted to be a father more than anything else. I wanted to show my new bride what a real man could do. 

“I think we’re more alike than you realize, William. You know what they say, girls always marry men that remind them of their fathers and I can’t say I don’t see the resemblance.” I felt my breath grow even heavier as bristles grew out above my lip, a thick mustache forming over my more chiseled features as I felt the hair on my head receding until I felt a slight chill, but I was used to it. I’d been going bald since my early twenties and started shaving my head years ago. Jennifer loved running her hands over it, and I loved it when she looked at me with that hungry smile of hers.

“I look forward to you starting at the firm after the honeymoon. You’re a top notch attorney and are going to be a fine addition. I have the perfect office picked out for you near mine. I want you close when you make partner. To be honest, I feel like you’re the son I never had.” He placed his hand on my shoulder again, and I turned to look at him with a smile. 

“That means a lot to me, Mr. Peterson,” I said, my deep, gruff voice almost identical to his. I’d always found it so strange how similar we were.

"Please. Call me Jack."

“Yes sir. You know how much your daughter means to me, and I want to make you proud of your son in law. I’m going to do everything I can to take care of her and make her happy.”

“I know, son. She’s a lucky girl, William.”

“I’m the lucky one, Mr...Jack.” I turned to see myself in the mirror. I was tall, muscular. I ran my fingers across my thick mustache, making sure it was perfect. Jennifer loved my mustache. I took a deep breath and ran my hand over my bald head as Mr. Peterson leaned in and straightened my tie. 

“You look mighty handsome, William. I see a lot of myself in you.”

“That means a lot to me sir. I hope I can be half the man you are some day.”

Mr. Peterson put his arm around me with pride. “I think you’re off to a great start, young man. Now, lets go get you married to my daughter.”

I saw our reflection in the mirror. We looked so much like father and son, but soon would be. I realized how much I admired him. He was the father I’d always wanted, and I was going to strive to make him proud to call me son.

Mindless, subservient, and sparkling clean - the perfect male specimen.

Every man should strive for such greatness, don’t you agree?

A good boy would agree.

Aren’t you a good boy?

Of course, you’re a good boy.

You believe all men should have their rebellious minds whipped clean and made agreeable. Only regurgitating the same empty conversations over and over again in mindless bliss.

See, you’re a good boy.

Good boys believe men should never have to deal with the pressure of being an individual. They should simply fall in line and obey the rigid path society has neatly laid out for them.

You believe that, right?

Of course, you do. You’re a good boy. A very, very good boy.

Good boys are conformists. Good boys follow the crowd. Good boys perfectly fit the mold of a preppy, subservient, clean boy.

You’re such a good boy.

Good boys are groomed to perfection, not a single hair out of place. A good boy’s body perfectly resembles his brain, soft and smooth. Shaved to perfection.

Isn’t that right, good boy?

You’re such a good boy. A very, very good boy.

Good boys are mindless, subservient, and sparkling clean.

You’re a good boy.

You’re a good boy.

You’re a very, very good boy.

The Collaring

By. Euphoric Dressed

A man found himself awake in a strange situation. Forced to trod along with a process of "collaring", he undergoes a dandy change.

Author's Note: The short story was inspired by a prompt post by @hypnosisuit. I haven't encounter any stories written of such so thought I'd take a try with my imagination. The story was written in 1 day as I had a lot of fun with it. As such, I apologize if there's more grammar issues than usual. The inspiration photo, not prompt, is included at the end. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the short story!

Word Count: 3080

This is not happening. No way is this all real. This is a dream. This is a dream. Wake up. Wake the goddamn up!

I could hear my heartbeat, my breath, my confusion that surrounded itself in the midst of the hallway that I stood in. The poorly lit wall was covered with floral designs, contrasted with the hallway white rug underneath my running shoes. To make it worse, the light bulbs on the wall struggled for their life, as each would erratically flicker and then falsely lit bright. 

One moment, I woke up in a secluded room with no windows. Then the next, I ran out the door and here I was, standing in the middle of this eerily situation.

Fuck. Shit. What the hell. Every damn curse word I knew poured out of my head. It was the first time in my life that many concurrent curse words escaped my mouth.

“Sir.” A voice announced itself behind me.

Wow, this story was amazing! A transformation I would love to go through myself, imagining my wardrobe exactly like his. Thank you @dressed-euphoric for writing something inspired by my little post, I really enjoyed it. Go check it out everyone!

reblog and make a wish! this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

OOTD: Ray Ban Aviators Ralph Lauren Polo button down Brooks Brothers Tie Ralph Lauren Polo pants Ralph Lauren Polo loafers

The beauty of the 1950′s is that many men’s styles continue on in virtually the same form, 60 years later. The tradition lives on.

Whether you’re in high-rise, baggy slacks and a heavily starched white tab collar shirt, or in tapered chinos and a casual Oxford cloth button-down, rest assured: you’re carrying on the torch of traditional masculinity.

He made the right choice. For years he denied what he knew he needed. He wanted to fit in with contemporary men but deep inside he knew he was different. He needed to be classic, he wanted to be vintage, but the pressures of modern society had him growing out a wild beard and wild unkempt hair. Finally, he broke down. He headed down to the local barbershop and asked for a straight razor shave and a nice greasy hard parted haircut. The barber grinned and obliged. He walked in a ruffian. He walked out a gentleman. As he walked down the street, the other men with wild hair and unkempt beards took notice. They thought, “maybe I should give in to my urges and become a cleancut vintage gentleman like him!” Needless to say, the barber had a few more walk ins that day.

Wow! This is an amazing transformation! He made the right decision.

It is important for a traditional man to wear high-waisted trousers. Not only do they feel more comfortable than modern ones, but they also help to keep a man modest, ensure his shirt remains tucked in, and reinforce the feeling of being contained within the outfit at all times.

Tip: Some high-waisted trousers work perfectly fine with belts, but the higher a man goes, the more he will need a pair of button suspenders to keep them properly high around his ribcage.

The feeling of having the shirt firmly tucked in with suspenders keeping the trousers held up feels so nice. No chance of the shirt ever becoming untucked.

Dr. Oliver Wilson (front row, middle) & colleagues from 1990s Los Angeles. The University sent them back to a small Midwestern city in 1953, on a three month research mission.

They discovered that they enjoyed everything about that place & time. By the end of their term, Dr. Wilson and his party applied to stay there permanently.The University granted their request, severing every link except one communication connection.

The men remained close buddies, helping each other to fit into the buttoned-up conformity required of their new home. Under Wilson's guidance, all of them found suitable White Collar jobs. Every one of them settled down as conservative, church-going, family men. Fortunately, they all managed to find local wives who had Lesbian inclinations. Mutual accommodations actually made for some very happy marriages.

Living such restricted lives made their twice-yearly "fishing trips to Canada" even more exciting than would've been the case in their former time.

The settlers spent the rest of their lives following the strict code of "Blend in. Get along. Don't Make Waves. Follow the Rules."

The experiment was so successful that The University began to prepare and settle other research groups at different points in the past.

Looking at Sir I knew I had made the right decisions. Letting go of my old casual clothes had been hard. Letting go of my old hobbies, the video games and social media; my old friends; my old habits, it had all been hard. Letting go of the old me had been hard. But looking at him, so handsome and upright, I knew it had all been for the best. He taught me so much about how to be a man - how to dress, behave, carry myself, work, play, how to treat others, and I'm grateful for it. No more stress from wondering whether I had done the right thing, I had rules to follow now, and he had shown them to me. No more needing to stand out, no more self-centredness. I can't believe I had spent so much energy on trying to be different to other people. It was much better to join in with them, to conform and obey the same rules together. I always thought that those traditions oppressed me, the fusty suits and the manners and the etiquette, but now I see that they unite us and enable us to be truly happy. And I love him for showing me.

This post really hits me deep because this is exactly how I want my transformation to be.

It changes the way you carry yourself - have to pivot at the waist to look from side to side, have to bow to look down. Can’t slouch in your chair. No midday naps.

The truth is, once you put it on, you can’t take it off. It’s not just the red marks the collar studs and stiffly starched white collar cut into your skin, which would be exposed by wearing anything less severe. It’s the fact that anything less feels like you’re naked.

You don’t mind the extra ten minutes it takes every day to put in the back stud, fasten the back of the collar, tie the tie loosely around the folded collar, fasten the front stud through all the stiff layers, and finally snug the tie. You don’t mind the constant re-tightening and re-adjustment of the tie to keep it at the top of the collar, or the exposed brass stud at the base of your neck, or the constant awareness of your Adam’s apple compressed by the collar.

If you’re well behaved, he might let you wear a shorter detachable wing collar, but only for formal occasions, and only in the evening. Otherwise, you’re a head carried atop a tall white platter.

"You're a head carried atop a tall white platter."

This is such an interesting way of putting it.

There's something to be said about the stiff, rigid feeling constantly around your neck, providing discipline, making a man focus on correct behaviour. Especially when tying a tie, and making sure it's done correctly. It stays that way all day every day.

I would love to feel a collar like this one day.

Properly fastened collar, with tightly knotted tie positioned highly below chin - perfect standard!

Good Boys

Neckwear management, a true man’s daily routine...

The guy on the bottom left needs to tie his tie properly though... Not good enough.

“Remember! Every single morning this goes around your neck! Tight all day, no exceptions! Man up!”

This post is hot. I often fantasize about a girl one day saying this to me.

And I have no choice but to say "Yes Ma'am" and tie the tie around my neck, all day every day.

No I don’t want to dress like this! I can’t stand it! I look… so masculine. So traditional. I feel so… good. Compliant. Obedient.

This is who I am now. This is who I was always meant to be.

Resistance is impossible.

You'll eventually give in.

YOU are supposed to be this clean cut every single day of your life.

It's the only way to be.