Lifetime Alterations
Part I
by: webb025@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the
legal age to read this, or are offended by the idea of male-male
sex or mind control, DO NOT read further.
1.
As I drove home, I really, really hoped he wouldn't be there. I
hoped he had decided to get as far away from me as possible. Me,
Lance, his older brother, being forced against my will to work day
after day breaking down, destroying, and replacing his personality,
his lusts, his behaviors, his very essence.
No such luck. When I went upstairs and looked into his room, I could
see him from behind, sitting at his desk naked, blond hair cascading
over his shoulders, his long, muscled back and bulging biceps hunched
over his laptop, staring at the screen, unable to turn away, the water
glass containing the drug solution half-drunk beside him. He didn't
notice my arrival, even when I leaned over his shoulder to see where
he was in the program.
When the program ended, he shut down the machine and turned around to
look at me, and smiled. I hated myself as he looked at me with his big,
trusting, puppy-dog eyes. The new "reformatted" me couldn't help
appreciating the masculine beauty of his sculpted-muscle body, although
it wasn't the type that now turned me on. My brother loved me, he had
always looked up to me as we were growing up, of course he didn't fight
me as, step by step, day by day, I used my new abilities to strip away
his girlfriend, his very heterosexuality, his football and basketball
ability, his proud self, all to be replaced by a simple compulsion to
worship and serve nerds, sexually and in every other way.
And I also hated it because he's a star, at school, among his friends.
While I had been captain of the football team, and also of last year's
basketball team, I was a bit more gruff, more self-contained. I did have
leadership ability, and was well-respected by my teammates, but I also
liked time to myself. I also liked time with Teresa, although at 6'5"
and 220 pounds of muscle, wavy brown hair and nearly nine inches of
dick, I was not lacking female admirers. But Teresa and I went way
back, and nothing was going to break us apart. Until, that is, I first
heard the Voice.
I fought it at first, I really did. Even now, as I helplessly obeyed
the Voice's commands, I had thoughts that all this was way wrong,
that I should stop. But of course I couldn't stop. I had to serve
the Voice as best I could, even while destroying myself and my family,
even while eliminating my future and that of my brother. The Voice was
not some disembodied voice in my head, but a real voice, belonging to
someone at the school. For at least a month, after school I had been
somehow compelled to drive directly to that person's house, strip,
sit down, attach an electrode cap to my head and another covering over
my cock and balls, and start a program on a laptop sitting there. When
the program was over, this guy would enter the room behind me, and I
would hear the Voice. Slowly, relentlessly, the Voice took away almost
everything I was, and replaced it with what it wanted me to be. Over
time, it also taught me how to do the same to others. Then it sent me
to "reformat" my brother.
2.
By now I had already completed the Voice's training. I had quit
basketball at the beginning of the season, without notifying my dad.
(My mom died when I was 2 years old.) So he wasn't suspicious when I
was coming home late evening after evening, he thought I was at
practice. And by the time he learned the truth, it was too late for
him to even care. His own simpler training made him aware of what
was going on, and forced him to cooperate with it, to do what he
could to make it as easy and successful as possible. It took me
about a week to get him that far. Unlike my brother, though, his
subconscious mind fought the training, and even now I could see the
struggle within him when he was forced to run errands for the Voice,
buying equipment, transporting people, setting up the training room.
My dad is a strong guy, was a star athlete in his high school and
college days, and had maintained his powerful build to this day. His
determined will was essential for us growing up without a mother.
And now that will was in someone else's possession (mostly, anyway;
but soon it would be gone completely). He still worked out every
day, and made sure my brother and I did, too, although that was part
of his new "job".
Our workouts had changed completely. They had doubled in length,
but changed in nature. Previously, we focused on strength and speed,
which were what we needed as football and basketball players. Now
that that part of our lives was essentially over, we were spending
most of our time on body-building type exercises, to make ourselves
more physically appealing to our future masters. While less useful
for sports, our single-minded workouts would have made any of the
three of us competitive in a body-building competition. Unlike the
old days, we were constantly posing in front of mirrors to check
our progress. I also knew that having the three of us naked, doing
muscle poses on command, like super-built puppets, was one of the
activities we were practicing to please our gay nerd superiors.
As I began Jason's training session, I unhappily contemplated how
good Jason had been at his sports. Really good. While I wasn't bad
myself, having won a football scholarship to a nearby school, Jason
was certainly in line for a Division I scholarship. Even though he
was only a junior, by the end of the season he was beginning to take
over the team leadership role from me. Now, of course, neither one
of us would be able to play football again. The programming would
see to that.
I spoke at the same droning pace that I knew was used on me, that
I learned from the Voice. Jason stared ahead blankly as he absorbed
my words into his very being. In his mind, I put him on the football
field, with the ball in his possession. I knew from experience the
vividness of what he must be seeing in his head as I was talking.
"You're running down the field... someone from the other team is
running towards you... you are afraid... you are weak... he is
strong. You are helpless... he is powerful. You must run away from
him, even though means running backwards, towards your own goal.
You don't want him to catch you... you don't want him to hurt you...
you must give him the ball, so he won't hurt you..." Looking into
his eyes, I could see the fear I planted in him take root. The
programming was working. A week of programming like this and he
would never successfully play team sports again.
"You are big and awkward... you are clumsy... you are ugly... nerds
are beautiful... nerds are smarter than you... nerds are better
than you... you must please nerds..." over and over again I
repeated the words, and I could see he knew they were true. Over
the weeks of training, the pictures he had seen on the screen,
combined with the positive and negative stimuli applied to his
mind and genitals, made sure his sexual interest were totally
altered. No female would interest him again, but he would get
instantly hard with one glance at any nerd.
Now that he knew of his inferiority, and was more and more
convinced of it, it was time to work on the change to his tastes.
"Nerds make fluids you need to stay healthy... drinking nerd
sperm makes you strong... licking nerd sweat gives you stamina...
swallowing nerd piss satisfies your thirst better than anything
else... nerd ass juice is the most delicious liquid in the
world... you must serve nerds so they will give you their
fluids..." He continued to stare ahead, but he licked his lips,
so I knew the message was getting across. I repeated it over and
over into his open mind.
"Timmy is coming here this weekend... you love Timmy... you want
to make Timmy like you... you want him to feed you his fluids...
you will do anything Timmy says... Timmy is a strong leader... you
are a weak follower... Timmy is always right... you would screw up
completely without Timmy telling you what to do... without Timmy
you are lost... you wish Timmy could be around all the time to
tell you what to do... you would be totally excited to see Timmy
naked... you lust for Timmy's body... your mouth and ass long for
Timmy's cock... you need the strength of his cum in your stomach..."
This time I could tell I was having the desired effect when I saw
Jason's cock, untouched, expand as he continued to stare ahead,
eyes even wider, as if he were seeing Timmy right there. Although
he is a year younger, he is about my height, and has me beat in
the cock department, at least in length if not in thickness.
Timmy and Jason had grown up together as neighbors, and had
known each other since the first grade. At first they were more
or less equals, but as time went by and Jason grew and developed,
their interests diverged. Jason continued to grow in size, while
Timmy stopped at around 5'2". Jason's interest turned to
athletics, while Timmy was more bookish. But they remained
occasional friends, playing video games together, at which they
were fairly evenly matched. And whenever Timmy ran into bully
trouble at the school, Jason would spring to his defense. Timmy
admired Jason and looked up to him, although he could never be
his social equal at school. And Timmy had a secret crush on
Jason, to which he felt he could never admit without endangering
their friendship. But once this training was complete, Jason and
Timmy's relationship would change completely.
"You can help Timmy, show him how you love him... how you look
up to him... beautiful Timmy has a problem... he hasn't been
able to change his socks for a month... he's tried to take them
off, but he can't... he has to wear them day and night... when
he runs... when he sleeps... he can't even wash his feet... he
doesn't know why... he can't talk about it with anyone... he
tries to hide it as much as possible... but it's making a stinky
mess out of his shoes... his sneakers... the carpet in his
room... but you can help him..." Jason leaned forward, although
his facial expression had not changed.
"Your mouth is the key... you can remove his socks with your
mouth... you can suck out all the flavor from the socks... you
can give his feet the cleansing they need with your tongue...
you can help his toe jam problem... and he will be so grateful
he will give you the fluids you desire... if you are lucky he
may even let you keep a pair of his old sneakers that you can
use to jack off with once he is gone, if he allows it..."
Jason's cock, untouched, was twitching. But his programming
told him that only a nerd could grant him permission to cum.
His balls had been churning out cum to pictures of nerds all
week. This weekend's release would seal his fate. In a way,
I was envious -- after all, thanks to my programming, I lusted
to serve beautiful Timmy too!
I knew from the Voice that Timmy was also being worked on,
that instead of being his shy and retiring self, he was
becoming more and more aggressive and sadistic. I also knew
that instead of being grateful to Jason for releasing him from
his putrid socks, Timmy would blame Jason for the whole thing
and insist on severe punishment for him. I was ashamed because
instead of feeling protective toward my innocent brother, I was
secretly hoping that Timmy would order ME to punish Jason while
he watched, so I could impress Timmy with how loyal I could be
by being extra mean to Jason. All this was part of the Voice's
"de-assertiveness" training for Jason, designed to remove any
shred of self-confidence or self-esteem that might remain. He
would then be fully ready for his new life. And I was the one
compelled to destroy and rebuild him as a new super-strong,
weak-willed nerdslave!
3.
Who could have done this to me, and why couldn't I remember
who it was? After all, I spent hours with him after school
every day. One morning I was determined to try to figure it
out. I guessed that since I was being programmed to worship
nerds, the guy doing this must be one himself. As the students
filed in, I watched carefully for any sign of recognition. In
walked a pair of geeks, sophomores I think, talking to each
other. One of them looked up and saw me staring, and smirked.
He tapped his friend on the shoulder and pointed at me, the
friend looked up, also smirked, raised an arm, and --
Suddenly I was having the most INTENSE daydream. It seemed so
real, but of course it couldn't be. I was in the locker room,
lying naked on the bench stretched out on my stomach, my
wrists tied together under one end of the bench, my ankles
tied the same way near the other end. Standing by the bench,
also naked, cocks fully erect, were the two nerds, looking me
over as if surveying their handiwork, or perhaps inspecting a
slab of beef. There was no one else in that section of the
locker room, but I could hear my teammates elsewhere, out of
sight, talking softly and nervously, and I could sense their
fear.
It felt totally real, except there were some clues that this
was just a daydream. For one thing, the nerds' bodies were
preposterous. One was about 5'3", the other 5'5", but the
similarities ended there. The shorter one had long blond hair
that hung in his eyes, as I remembered him, but he also had an
eight-pack that surpassed any of my teammates', incuding the
most fanatical at working out. He also had bulging biceps,
and nicely rounded pecs. If the guy REALLY looked like that,
he would have been an all-state wrestler, or soccer player,
or body-builder, or SOMETHING. And it didn't seem all those
muscles would fit under his clothes as I remembered him.
His buddy, the taller one, had black hair, almost bluish in
the light. Unlike the smaller one, whose cock stood straight
out, this one's dick stood up at a 45 degree angle. He looked
impossibly sinewy; unlike his friend the ultimate wrestler,
this one looked like the ultimate swimmer or runner. But
again, his calf muscles alone would not have fit into HIS
clothes in reality.
But the real giveaway was their cocks. I'm big -- almost nine
inches -- but both of these geeks had me beat by at least an
inch. Bigger around, too, with vicious-looking heads. Those
enormous cocks looked ridiculous on their short, smooth
fifteen-year-old bodies, and couldn't be real. Of course,
with my new training, I was unable to look away, feeling a
sense of adoration to go with my fear. It was a weird
emotional combination.
The last clue that none of this could be real -- it was early
morning, even before the first class. why would my team be in
the locker room? It wasn't even football season anymore! No,
I knew this must be just a bizarre daydream, but much more
vivid than any I had ever had before.
As I stared, the short blond came around to my front,
straddling the bench, and presented his horsecock to my
mouth. At the same time, the taller nerd climbed onto my
back, and I could feel him positioning HIS cock at my
asshole. The geek at my mouth growled in a voice far too
deep and masculine to be really his, "Open up!", and without
a moment's thought, I did. I knew I had no choice. I also
knew that what would follow would be painful -- and it was
at first, as the two geeks simultaneously fed my two
openings with their monster cocks, pumping in and out of my
in a synchronized rhythm. But soon it began to seem more
and more natural, and by the time the two were ready to
feed me their cartoonishly large loads -- the shooting went
on for minute after minute, filling me with more nerdseed
than could possibly have been held in even their exaggeratedly-
large ball sacs -- as soon as my well-worn throat had finished
swallowing the last of the little muscleblond's sperm, and
the dripping warclub of the taller one popped out of my
fully stretched and lubricated ass, I was sorry it was over.
I felt a sense of emptiness at both ends.
Without a word of acknowledgement, or even a backwards glance,
my two conquerors -- still naked and somehow still hard --
walked away from me around the bank of lockers, leaving me
trussed like a turkey to the bench. I was beginning to wonder
what I was going to do, when --
Suddenly, I looked up and I was sitting in English class, the
teacher writing on the board. My watch showed 10:14, and
English is exactly where I was supposed to be at that time,
but I had no recollection of having gone there. I was fully
dressed, and it was as if the daydream never happened,
although I had somehow lost some time out of my memory, and
evidently the dream had been SO vivid that I still felt as
if my throat and asshole had been through some recent intense
stretching. And that taste in my mouth -- no, it couldn't be!
There's no way my team would have been in the locker room in
the previous hour, no way those nerds could have both have
actually had Superman-type builds and ten-plus-inch cocks.
It all had to be imaginary...
4.
The next morning I tried the same approach of watching the
students enter, to see if I could recognize the person who
was taking control of my life. This time, the first candidate
I saw was a freshman nicknamed "Pudge". I only knew his name
from my younger brother, who mentioned that this kid was
trying to become the team's equipment manager. Jason thought
he was after the job because he was gay and liked looking at
football players naked. Jason didn't think this would go over
too well with the team.
Evidently, Pudge got his nickname because in his elementary
school years, he was somewhat on the pudgy side, but by the
time he got to high school, he was rid of the worst of it;
all that remained was a bit of baby fat. The nickname
stuck, however, and his little-kid look, with red hair and
freckles, put him squarely in the category of guys I was
now forcibly attracted to. Just as the other nerds had done
the previous day, HE looked up, grinned, raised his arm,
and --
I was back in dreamland, but this time I was in the third-floor
boys room. Again I was naked, but this time I was kneeling on
the tile floor, backed up against the wall where a urinal
should be, except -- there was no urinal there. I... I was
there in place of the urinal! I wasn't tied or confined in
any way, so I tried to get up -- to no avail. It was as if I
was frozen in place, unable to move. Out of the corner of my
eye, I could see that alongside me, in each of the other five
places there should have been a urinal, was kneeling another
naked football player, frozen in place staring ahead. No one
else was in the boys room, but I had a feeling of anticipation,
and I sensed that my fellow football players were also feeling
the same thing.
The door swung open, and in came Pudge, dressed the same way
he was when I saw him in reality. He looked over the room,
seemingly unsurprised by the scene presented to him at the
wall of human urinals. He seemed to be thinking for a moment.
Then he walked over to me, and for some reason I felt a surge
of pride that he had chosen me. At the same time, I felt a
sense of disappointment sweep over the other human urinals,
although of course none of them could move a muscle.
Standing in front of me, Pudge petted my hair as if greeting
a dog. Then he pulled down his fly, and I found my mouth
opening in preparation for what was to come. Sure enough, he
placed his cock on my tongue -- at least his cock seemed
normal-sized, unlike the ones in my previous daydream -- and
he proceeded to drain his bladder down my throat as I
swallowed. When he was done, he pulled his cock off my tongue,
shook the last few drops onto my face (I couldn't flinch, I
had no control over my face muscles), tousled my hair once
again, zipped up and walked out. The moment the boys room
door swing shut --
I found myself standing at my locker in the hallway, fully
dressed again, no memory of having gone there. My mouth
still had the acrid taste of piss, as if it had all been
real. And on my face, what I thought were drops of sweat
from my ordeal, turned out to be -- no, how could it! WHAT
WAS HAPPENING?
As I stood there, I was knocked out of my reverie by another
guy, a total surfer dude junior named Scott, who bumped into
me, almost intentionally. Actually, it WAS intentional! As I
looked at him in annoyance, he seemed to be casually flexing
his muscles in front of me, and I wondered why exactly he
would do that. He couldn't be the one remaking me; even in
my new reprogrammed state, Scott had far too much muscle to
be attractive to my geek-oriented tastes. I turned on my heel
and took off, Scott staring after me curiously. I really
hoped I wasn't about to go back into daydream mode, I had
had enough for the day. Mercifully, nothing weird happened.
5.
I didn't think any more of the incident with Scott until
late the next morning. I was in the boys room again --
no dream this time, the urinals were on the wall where they
were supposed to be -- and I was sitting on a toilet. I had
come racing in -- my toilet functions seemed to come at
unpredictable intervals these days -- and so the stall door
was still slightly ajar as I sat inside. I heard the boys
room door open, and two guys come in, one saying "it's OK,
there's no one here."
The same guy continued, "I don't understand it. I tried
bumping up against Lance, I've showed him my surf dude
attitude and my muscles, and nothing! I thought you said
he'd HAVE to obey me, worship me!" I recognized the voice:
it was Scott, the surfer from yesterday. Why would he think
I would possibly obey HIM?
And then I heard THE VOICE that made my every body part
tingle. I knew without question that this other person was
the one who was reprogramming me, whose house I was forced
to visit day after day, who was breaking me from sports god
to nerdslave. Here at last was the one person who could answer
all my questions about the drastic changes in my life. But I
couldn't open the door, because here also was someone whose
every word was like a command to my subconscious that could
not be disobeyed. I knew that if he saw me, and happened to
tell me to turn around, eat everything I had already deposited
in the toilet, and then lick the bowl clean, I would immediately
be forced to do it without the slightest hesitation. I stayed
hidden in my stall.
The Voice was saying, "No, dufus, not Lance. I made Lance
worship and serve nerds, not surfer dudes! You want Warren!"
Warren was another of my football and basketball buddies. Tall,
at 6'6", with a set of identical twin brothers a year younger
than him, who were about 6'3". They almost didn't look related
to Warren, though. Where Warren had a head of thick chestnut
hair, a nice coating of fur on his chest, and a forest of pubic
hair, the twins had dirty blond bowl-cut hair, and were mostly
hairless on their ripped chests, arms, and legs. Where Warren
had a football build, the twins were more focused on baseball,
and were built accordingly. The smoothness of their chests made
their impressive abs stand out, and they liked to wear shirts
that showed off their biceps. You almost never saw them without
their baseball caps worn backwards, and with a cocky look on
their faces. And while Warren looked a bit older than his 18
years, the twins' faces made them look younger than their 17.
The Voice continued. "Warren's home is now surfer dude heaven.
Since Warren has the deepest throat there, he's been in
training as surfer dude cocksucker. He has a large dildo he
uses religiously for throat practice, it's as much a part of
his workouts as his weights. He's learned just which throat
muscles to squeeze at just the right time for an amazing
feeling. I settled on the twins' roles based on their incredibly
long tongues. One of them -- I forget whether it's Ted or Fred,
doesn't matter now, does it, they're just a pair of bookend
muscletoys now, I'm not even sure THEY know the difference
anymore when they're in heat -- one of them specializes in
worshiping surfer dude feet with his tongue -- it's amazing
to see the length of his tongue as it plays along your feet
-- and the other uses HIS tongue to probe your pucker for
precious surfer dude ass juice. The twins have mostly
practiced on each other, occasionally on Warren, it's
incredible to watch!"
"Wow!! But how do I set it up? I can't bring them home, my
family is always around."
"Easy, man, just call Warren's house anytime after dinner. His
dad'll answer, and you just say, 'Surf's up!' Once you say the
trigger, he'll do anything you ask -- pick you up, drive you
anywhere, provide liquor, porn videos, anything. If you want him
to, he'll even video you in action controlling his sons, no
problem! And he'll be grateful you came over, because that night
he'll actually be allowed to have sex! That last part was Warren's
idea."
"No kidding?"
"Nope -- I had Warren handle all his family's programming, and
he comes up with some great ideas. Of course, he doesn't have
much choice in the matter."
"Amazing... I can't wait to go over there. I'll try it tonight."
"Sure, dude, tell me how it goes." The two of them walked out
of the boys room, leaving me to wonder.
So I wasn't the only one being programmed. And nerds weren't
the only beneficiaries. So now I really had no clue as to who
might be doing this. How could I find out, and what could I do
about it?
6.
At lunch, I saw Warren at the "jock" table. I knew I couldn't
talk to anyone else about what was happening to me -- whenever
I tried, I ended up biting my tongue hard, and my cock would
get uncontrollably hard, causing many an awkward moment until
I learned to give up trying -- but if Warren was one of my
fellow slaves-in-training, perhaps he could tell me something
more about what was happening, that is if I could somehow break
through my conditioning and talk to him. In any event, it
wouldn't be quite as embarrassing if I failed, since he must be
going through much the same thing. Coming up to him at the
table, I indicated I needed to talk to him privately, and that
it was urgent. We walked together out the back door.
To my surprise, I was able to talk freely with Warren. "What
the hell is HAPPENING to me? And I guess it's happening to you,
too. He has me enslaving and reprogramming my little bro, too,
I'm about to wreck HIS life! I've fought it as much as I can,
but it's no use... What in God's name can we do about it?"
Warren smiled grimly. "So he's got you too? Well, there's
nothing we can do, as far as I can tell. Anyhow, I didn't fight
him all that hard. After all, Debbie dumped me just before he
latched onto me, and I was all depressed and moping around, so
he was almost improving my life in a way. Now I get REAL excited
by a certain kind of guy, much more than I ever was with Debbie,
and I get real motivated to please that kind of guy. And I've
programmed the twins and my dad to help. My only problem is TIME.
You just have your brother and dad to control. I constantly have
to work on the twins and my dad, PLUS I have to program my sister
and mother not to notice what's going on. That's a lot of work!
On top of that, I have to keep up my own workouts, including
deep throat practice.
"Well, gotta go back to lunch. I'm trying an experiment, for,
well, HIM. You saw me sitting next to Trevor at the table?" Trevor
was the senior pitcher on the twins' baseball team, only average
height but with REALLY strong arms and legs, and straw-colored
hair. "Every day I slip some of the drug into his drink, and I
whisper repeated suggestions into his ear, seeing if I can
eventually change his sexual preference without the normal
computer conditioning that goes with it, just planting words,
pictures, and ideas directly into his subconscious."
"Is it working?"
"Too soon to tell, but if you see him in the hall, try to see
whose bodies he's checking out, and let me know." Wow. If people
could be permanently changed, in any location, just using drugged
drinks and implanted suggestions, that would open up a whole new
set of possibilities, I could see that.
7.
That afternoon, as I changed for my workout in the locker room,
I heard strange noises coming from behind the row of lockers behind
me. As I sneaked a peek around the corner, the first thing I saw
was an average-looking dude in a jockstrap -- I mean, cute face,
but ordinary sort of body, not particularly well muscled, but not
small and skinny the way I like it -- staring towards the corner of
the locker room, hands on his hips, a fierce scowl on his face. But
what I saw next REALLY shocked me. Cowering on the floor in the
corner, with a truly frightened look on his face, was Meat. Now,
Meat is another of my football buddies, but physically a breed
apart. There is nothing subtle about Meat; almost 300 pounds of
pure muscle, not much toning or refinement, just undiluted strength.
On the team, he plays center; he's the reason we win so many games,
because he can push other guys over onto their backs with ease. Yet
here he was, squatting in fear against the corner locker, as if he
was about to be crushed.
This average dude was striding over towards him, causing Meat to
press even tighter into the locker, as if trying to disappear.
The average guy was fingering his jockstrap, saying, "I've got
a treat for you, right here. I call it the 'Meat Tenderizer'!"
And with that he pulled off his jockstrap.
Some astonished gasps came out of Meat's mouth. "My... God...
it's... so... big!" he whimpered, staring at the dude's crotch.
But when I looked, all I saw was an average-sized dick, maybe six
inches, maybe less, and on the thin side. But I remembered what I
saw during my own locker room "rape" daydream with the "supergeeks",
and it began to make sense. No doubt Meat was seeing some incredible
foot-long cudgel being waved in front of him like a weapon, and
knowing he was about to be forced to submit to its forcible
insertion. And if that was true, I knew from my own experience that
Meat was about to undergo a process of change involving how he felt
about that cudgel, from fear and pain to lust and need. Within days
he would dream about that cudgel, jerk off to the thought of it, and
live for the next time he could serve it. He would do anything,
however humiliating or painful, to get that hypermasculine thing
stuffed in him again.
The dude grabbed Meat's head and forced it towards his cock. Meat
seemed to be resisting with all his might -- his muscles bulged with
effort, and sweat was running down his head -- but incredibly he was
losing the battle to the guy half his weight. Soon the cock would be
in him, conquering him, enslaving him, forcing him to NEED it inside
him. I was about to step forward to intervene, when --
I was driving home. No, not home, I was driving THERE, to my place
of enslavement and training. It was already getting dark. Why could
I never remember where this place was when I wanted to find it of my
own volition? I arrived, parked in the driveway where I always did,
and noticed a car I hadn't seen there before.
I went inside, and went straight to the ROOM where I knew I was
expected. There, sitting at MY usual spot in front of the computer,
wires leading to the metal cap and to the metal genital covering,
was a student I recognized -- most of the school would recognize
him. His name was Tyler, he was a junior, and just about every girl
in the school was after him. I never saw the attraction myself, and
even now -- especially now -- I didn't get what they saw in him.
About 6'2" tall, he was very attractive, but not in a manly sort of
way, rather I guess in a boy-band kind of way. While he was built
like a swimmer, which he was, with a broad smooth chest and muscled
arms and legs, his face was almost beautiful, with delicate features
and penetrating blue eyes, practically feminine. His blond hair
flopped into his eyes constantly, and he was always brushing it back
with one hand. Sort of like a taller, prettier and more athletic
version of the young Leonardo DiCaprio, I suppose. And as he sat
staring at the screen, I saw another reason the girls might like him.
Poking out from under the metal genital covering was a fairly long
erect cock, nearly the size of mine. But seeing him here, I guessed
that Tyler's cock's days of getting erect around females were over.
Behind me, I heard THE VOICE. I knew I dare not turn around. "Ah,
Lance, you're here already. Good, you can help me with the next stage
of Tyler's reprogramming. He pissed off one of my jock buddies by
stealing his girlfriend, or maybe it wasn't even his fault, maybe
she went to him on her own, but it doesn't really matter now. He
won't be a threat to take anyone's girlfriend again. He's being
changed from horndog primo ladies' man into horny bottom jock sex
toy. At least his hormones don't need adjusting!
"OK, Lance, strip completely naked, make yourself hard, then stand
at attention while I take the equipment off Tyler." I rushed to
obey, while out of the corner of my eye I saw Tyler being freed
from the metal cap and genital cover (but I still couldn't see HIM!).
While I stood at attention, I saw Tyler sitting facing towards me,
staring up and down my body, eyes coming to rest on my cock for a
few seconds each time they scanned up and down. He still seemed
dazed from the "treatment" he had been going through, but was also
clearly fascinated with my body. His penetrating eyes then locked
into mine, and as he gazed at me, I sensed an intense longing going
through him. From behind me, the Voice began its droning instructions,
engraving them into Tyler's helpless, wide-open mind.
"Tyler, this is a jock. Look at his muscles. Show him your muscles,
Lance." I began to flex my arms, my chest, my legs. Man, after all
those body-sculpting workouts I really did look for all the world
as if I were participating in a body-building contest. A real athlete
might not look quite like that, but this subtlety was entirely lost
on the hypnotized Tyler, who was staring at each of my body parts as
I flexed it. His hand started to go for his considerable cock, but the
Voice ordered, "No, Tyler, you may not touch your dick unless the jock
has given you permission. You haven't given him permission, have you,
Lance?" I instantly said "No," I had absolutely no choice but to say
it, although I knew from experience how the waves of uncontrollable
lust that were coursing through the manipulated Tyler were affecting
him at that moment.
The Voice continued. "Jocks are like gods to you... compared to them,
you're not a man at all, you're a delicate little girl... You feel
feminine when you're near a jock, don't you, Tyler? Under the power
of the jock... any jock... you feel your masculinity draining...
weakening... you know it's all just a front anyway... the jock knows
what you REALLY are... a girly toy to be used for his pleasure...
you exist for one purpose only... you exist only for the pleasure of
the jock... you must find ways to please the jock." While Tyler
continued to stare at my body, his blond hair slick with sweat from
his ordeal, he shuddered with pure lust. "Go to him, crawl to him, and
learn his body, so you may learn to please it." As he crawled across
the carpet, his sizable erect cock underwent friction that added to
his excitement, but also to his agony, since he was not allowed to
reach orgasm without permission.
"Start with his feet, Tyler. Look at his large, manly feet. He could
crush you completely with them if he wanted to. Lance, put your right
foot on top of Tyler's cock and balls, and rub them gently." Tyler's
cock was big, but my size 16 foot was bigger. From the look of it, the
rubbing action had the effect of quadrupling both the excitement and
the agony. Tyler's eyes closed, and tears fell from them. "Now show
your power. Increase the pressure slowly on his cock and balls." As
I did this, I could see the shift in Tyler from excitement towards
agony. "Tyler, this pain is GOOD... You LIKE it when a jock
disrespects your cock and balls... it shows they are HIS property,
not yours... you're not really a man, you don't need them anymore...
Thank Lance for crushing you underfoot... and then you may cum."
The words had the desired effect on Tyler. The agony and the ecstasy
seemed to merge, and he managed to squeak, "...Th..thank... you..."
and just as he did that, his cum exploded all over my foot and the
floor, again and again. From the volume of cum and number of shots,
he clearly hadn't been allowed to cum for days, maybe weeks. Now he
would associate being crushed and humiliated under the foot of a jock
with incredible pleasure, maybe the only pleasure he would be allowed.
But the Voice would not let up. "Tyler! You got cum all over the
jock's feet. You are not allowed to soil his godly feet with your
worthless girly cream. Lick it off!" And he raced to do it, cleaning
not only my soles and between my toes, but also the floor in the
vicinity of my feet, in case I might accidentally step in his
offensive goo.
When he had finished, the Voice told him, "Now look at his legs. Feel
and worship the muscles in his lower legs... his calves... the front...
the back..." Delicate, sensual fingers made their way slowly up my
legs, gently squeezing them. Occasionally, his nose would graze part
of my leg as he sensed each part of it, and I thought I saw his tongue
flicker out like a snake's as if to taste and tease the delicate, fine
hair on my legs.
After what seemed like a long time, the Voice went on, "Now look at
that fine jock ass... Look closely!" I could tell Tyler was doing it,
I could feel his breath back there. "That is what a magnificent jock
ass looks like... you worship that ass... you wish you could somehow
fit your whole self in there and be drawn up slowly into it, and
become part of it... you would be proud to serve that ass... to feed
from that ass... to keep it clean for the jock, whatever it took..."
I could feel his breathing getting closer, heavier on my ass...
Without seeing him, I could tell he was hypnotized by my ass. Without
being told, he began to ease his nose between my butt cheeks, and I
could feel a tongue making its way in there, as gradually his virgin
tongue entered my no-longer-virgin ass, still feeling the effects of
having been raped by those -- imaginary? -- geek supercocks. The
Voice continued its droning instructions, slowly, permanently
changing the way Tyler thought about jock asses.
Next, the Voice told Tyler, "Crawl around to the front of the jock.
Look at that eight-pack on him." As Tyler moved into position in
front, he came into unavoidable contact with my huge erect cock,
but he paid no attention, just pushing it to the side and out of
the way. He was not being instructed to pay attention to it at the
moment, so he focused his attention on my abs. With one hand holding
my cock to the side, the other began to explore my abdominals while
the Voice continued its directions. "Your stomach area is weak...
the jock's is strong... yours is flat like a girl's... his is ripped
like a god's..." His delicate face approached my chest, sniffing
gently, and occasionally his tongue flicked against my tummy.
"Now stand... look how short you are compared to the jock..."
Actually, since I'm only about three inches taller, the difference
wasn't that big, but I'm sure that the drugged Tyler saw it
differently. "Look at his pecs... look how powerful they are..."
Tyler stared, fascinated, at my chest. "...they are sensitive...
go cause the jock pleasure, it's your purpose in life... lick his
pecs, suck them, play with them with your tongue..." As Tyler did
that, in his totally motivated and newly skilled manner, my own
excitement began to increase, even though Tyler was not the nerd
type I was turned on by, the type that I was now forced to worship
and obey. But his skill and total dedication to his task of
pleasuring me was definitely getting to me.
The Voice relentlessly continued. "Now study and worship his biceps...
his triceps... his delts..." One by one, I was forced to flex each
muscle, on each side, as Tyler helplessly stared, sniffed, and gently
licked it. "Now go to his armpits... his pits must be ripe with sweat...
it's your special treat... clean them out with your tongue..." Tyler
eagerly got to work licking my pits clean, his eyes closed, an
expression of total pleasure on his face. "...You wish you could just
shrink into his manly armpit hair and live there... the odor is just
so right... the warmth in there feels so comfortable..." The look on
Tyler's face showed him absorbing the feelings that were being
programmed into him.
Suddenly, at the Voice's command, it all ended. "Tyler, stand at
attention." The obeisance he had been paying to my right armpit
stopped abruptly. "Now you have learned how to properly worship a
jock. You know your place whenever a jock commands you to change
into a slave girl for his pleasure. And if you do well NEXT time,
you will be allowed to receive the Cum of Life from his holy cock."
Somehow, Tyler added a disappointed look to his hypno-zonked face.
"Now get dressed and go home." Still covered with sweat and not a
few drops of his own cum, Tyler went to the corner of the room,
silently got dressed, and walked out the door without so much as a
backwards glance.
"I thought that went just fine," the Voice now addressing me. "I'd
better let you get back and continue work on your brother. How's
he coming along?"
I was forced to reply truthfully. "He's actually ahead of schedule.
He's an excellent subject, and he trusts me completely. I'm a little
worried about my dad, though. He seems to be fighting me almost
every step of the way."
"I see. Well, don't worry. I'll come over there later this week.
I have a newer, more powerful compound I use when I need to force
compliance. It's less subtle and there's some discomfort involved,
but I've found it's much more effective."
I tried to stop myself from saying it, I really did. I bit my
tongue, concentrated as hard as I could, but nothing could stop me
from telling him, "I could use some of that compound myself. I'm
not totally past fighting you. Please bring some for me, too."
There was a pause, then "I didn't expect you to say that. That's
great, it means your loyalty and obedience to me is becoming a
more deep-seated and permanent part of you. I only saw the
beginning of that when you helped me with the initial capture of
your teammates." (Wait -- I did that? I had no memory of...) "You
were at your best when you helped me figure out just how much extra
drug I could use on Meat because of his higher weight, without
turning him into a vegetable." (I had a sudden flashback. I was in
Meat's room at his home. His parents thought I was there to study
with him. Despite having ingested the normal dose of the drug, he
was still aware enough to beg me not to force him to take any more
of it, not to erase his personality, eliminate his thoughts of
resistance, not to alter his sexual desires, not to remove his
personal courage and replace it with fear and cowardice in his
very essence. It hurt me to do it with the big guy on his knees in
front of me, crying, but of course I had absolutely no choice in
the matter. I had to hand him the glass, and he was compelled to
drink from it again. His pussification had to be completed, the
Voice had programmed that into me.)
"I also have two projects coming up that you might help me with,
both faculty. You know Mr. Wells, the English teacher?" Mr. Wells
was new to the school, unmarried, in his late twenties, dark hair,
in great shape, a lust object for a number of girls and I'll bet
some boys. "A friend of mine isn't doing too well in his class,
and he thought he might do better if he could regularly visit Mr.
Wells' house and turn him into Rover the Puppy. He could housebreak
and paper train him, reward him for good behavior and punish him
for disobedience. Mr. Wells wouldn't really remember it during the
day, but he WOULD feel an unaccountable sense of respect and
obedience for my friend while in class, especially if my friend
raised a rolled-up newspaper.
"The other one is Mr. Caputo, the basketball coach. Another
friend of mine was cut from the team earlier, and he wants Coach
to become VERY interested in smelly, used jockstraps. He wants Coach
to start sneaking around, sniffing used straps from the laundry
pile, wearing ones previously worn by his star players, putting
them over his face, chewing the flavor out of them, afraid all
the time that he might get caught. And of course my friend will
'catch' him, after making his addiction worse and worse. His players
will start wearing jocks for weeks at a time, you know, like Timmy
and his socks, except the players will think it's they're own idea,
for their coach. They'll do everything in them -- sleep in them,
work out in them, cum into them, piss through them, and finally
they'll present them to Coach, watching him chew on them, wear them,
becoming helpless in their power. The players will learn to control
Coach by rationing his access to their filthy straps. In the end,
Coach will discover that the most sexually gratifying jockstraps
are the ones with my friend's crotch odor on them, and he'll soon
be begging for... well, no need for any more detail. I may just call
on you to start those guys off."
"Will you be needing me to complete Tyler's training?"
"No, I've lined up several other of your jock friends for that. I
want him to get used to serving a wide variety of jocks. It'll be
really interesting to watch him in action with Meat. Can you just
picture that girly face and mop of blond hair buried deep in the
ass of 300 pounds of muscle?"
With that picture indelibly in my mind, I sat up -- in my bed at
home, in total darkness. Had I done my work with Jason this evening?
I couldn't remember...
8.
The next day, I knew better than to watch for nerds at the entrance,
and nothing weird happened in the morning. But my avoidance of
nerdwatching didn't help me the whole day. As I walked towards my
last class, I saw, approaching me from the opposite direction, the
most perfect, skinny, freckle-faced geek I had ever seen at the
school. I'm sure he was a freshman, although he looked to be about
12. And he was obviously looking to intercept me. I was suddenly
afraid, but before I could run, he raised an arm, and --
Back I was in the locker room. Why did so many of my daydreams take
place there? This time, there was no question that this was a dream,
because I was wearing a costume of some sort, while the nerd, his
locker open, was stripping naked. I looked down at myself and saw...
oh no! I was in a superhero costume, hands on hips in a classic
Superman pose, my arm and chest muscles nicely outlined by the
contours of the outfit. The symbol on my chest was an uppercase M
changing down in steps into a lowercase m. Wait, I knew that symbol
-- I was... MorphTeen! How did I know that? I must have read about
MorphTeen in a story somewhere -- or someone must have told me about
him, or programmed the story into me -- I don't know, MorphTeen's not
the kind of superhero you would find in an ordinary comic book! [You
can read about MorphTeen in my fantasy series about the Legion of
Obedient Super Slaves, also starring PowerPuppy, Hypnolad, Fartboy,
Wondernerd, UltraLover, and Znort, the perverted alien who created
them out of ordinary teenagers, but gave them little or no control
over their own humiliating superpowers.]
I stood frozen like a superhero statue watching the nerd strip. With
my new programming, he was my ideal master, thin and almost totally
hairless below his head, with the cutest four-inch soft cock that was
hardening in anticipation of what was to come. When he was completely
naked, he reached onto the bench for -- oh, that's right, it was my
control chip, inside what looked like a wristwatch. He whispered
something into it, and I began shrinking and changing --
As I shrank to the floor, I noticed I was changing in color, to
yellow, almost gold, and also in texture, to something cloth-like.
And finally I lay there on the floor -- a gold-colored jockstrap!
Oddly, I could still see and feel, even though I was no longer in
human form. Then the nerd, who now looked like a giant standing
over me, picked me up and -- started pulling me onto him! I happily
felt the length of his beautiful skinny legs, and felt a wonderful
warmth when I finally reached my position around his groin. The
aroma was dizzying. He put a pair of gym shorts on around me.
Then I heard him whisper something else into my control chip, and
suddenly I could move! I can't exactly explain HOW I did this, but
my lower part began gently massaging his balls, while the upper part
of me sort of tightened around his partly hard cock and started --
squeezing! I expanded and contracted along the length of his cock,
twisting and turning against it, causing it to get fully hard and
grow another inch, while he moaned in pleasure. I was so excited
to be so intimate with his manhood, something I could never do in
my human form! Since he was not all that sexually experienced, it
wasn't long before he was pumping his load into me, and I was --
ABSORBING it, all of it, as if I was made of a super-absorbent type
of cloth. And yet I could feel it entering me, becoming part of me.
It was one of the most exciting and unusual experiences of my life!
(Except of course I knew it wasn't real...)
Finally, still wearing me, he went into his Phys Ed class, and went
through his exercises, games, and so on, adding his sweat to his
cum already inside me. I have never felt as physically close, "as
one" with someone as I did during that period. When it was over,
he went back to his locker, took me off and left me in his locker
while he showered. After all that intimacy, I felt cold and alone,
lying there on the frigid metal locker floor, without his warmth
around me. When he came back and put on his street clothes, he
waited until everyone else had left, then pulled me out onto the
locker room floor, took the control chip out of his pocket, and
whispered something. I felt myself changing shape, becoming rigid,
my hands and legs returning but becoming... something different...
wheels! I was a skateboard! With a top design that looked like a
cartoon version of my face, in garish colors.
He grabbed me off the floor, exited the locker room and then ran
out the school door, put me on the ground, and climbed on top. I
loved the pressure of his sneakers on my back, it felt totally
natural and quite... exciting! After he spoke into the chip again,
I took off down the street in the direction of his home, under my
own power! I knew exactly where to go, and using my own strength,
took him there with no effort on his part. Just as I came to a stop
at a traffic light, I --
Arrived in my car at my home. Just another day in my new life. Now
I had to continue the enslavement of my little brother...
[Should I continue this? Feedback and suggestions appreciated.]