Roommies

by Magister

It was getting to be a painful routine - Bill would stumble in at about 6:30 on a Saturday morning, just as I was thinking about getting up.

Our arrangements were very much like the Odd Couple of the 'nineties. I was conscientious, a hard worker and I suppose fairly conservative, still in the closet to most people I knew. Bill was straight, promiscuous and preferred to do as little work as possible. So how did we end up together?

I had this great apartment, but it was too expensive. Bill turned up in response to my ad for a roommate, and even though I knew I was going to have trouble with him, the sight of the blond hair, blue eyes and firm muscles had my libido making the decision for me.

However, for the past few months, my frustration had been building. There was the sexual tension of having this stud walking around the apartment and knowing I couldn't have him, but there was also the problems of the rent he owed, his habit of treating the place like a pig sty, and his friend Rick (another great looking, dark and muscled, but confirmed, hetero).

I needed to do something, but I just lay there in bed and enjoyed a fantasy that involved Bill sneaking in and blowing me off while I pretended to be asleep. (Come on, I bet you've all spent a Sunday morning in the company of a strong hand and a repressed need.)

Finally, I got out of bed, and headed for the shower. I took my time, dreading the idea of confronting the mess Bill had probably made, and telling him he'd have to move. The hot water revived my spirits somewhat, so I was in a much better mood when I finally stepped out and wrapped a towel around me. I looked in the mirror, and thought I didn't clean up too badly. I wasn't as muscled as Bill or Rick, but considering my job involved me sitting in front of a computer terminal 8 hours a day, I was in pretty good condition. My brown hair looked darker when it was wet, and as much as I wished for a washboard stomach, at least there was no sign of a paunch.

I realised that the apartment was very quiet. Usually Bill made a lot of noise as he stumbled around making himself some coffee and generally abusing the furniture. But everything seemed to be unusually still. I left the bathroom, and cautiously worked my way down the hall. I expected to see Bill passed out on the floor, or lying in a pool of blood having been stabbed by some jealous girlfriend (hey, it happens! I saw it the other night on Fox). Instead, I found him sitting at my work table, staring at the computer screen. This was the last straw! My computer was off limits, as I had a lot of my work files on it, and some of it involved highly confidential patent submissions.

I strode across to have it out with him, but by the time I got halfway there, I noticed that he hadn't moved, and he seemed very relaxed but was sitting upright. If he had fallen asleep, he should have slumped forward. By the time I got to where he sat, I had gone back to looking for a protruding knife handle and pool of blood.

Instead, I found my obnoxious roommate in a trance, staring at the flickering lights of the screen. I did the obvious thing, waving my hand in front of his face and shaking his shoulder, but he seemed completely out of it. I then looked at the computer, to see if I could figure out what happened.

Using my finely honed skills as an armchair detective, I pieced together the following sequence of events. I had brought home a new piece of software to evaluate as part of a patent application. It was a method of subliminal learning using a computer screen, using certain pulses and flickers of colour. I had been tired and hadn't run the program after installing it, and had gone to bed. Bill had come in, and seen that my computer was still on (it's normally password protected) so he decides to have a bit of a snoop. He activates the subliminal bit of the program, without the overriding interface. This produces a deep hypnotic state, but there was no control. No superlearning or positivity training. No affirmations or 'you will awake by the time I count to three'.

Just a handsome, powerful, masculine stud who was in a deep hypnotic trance.

Oh, dear, what was I to do?

******************************

I left Bill entranced by the computer and went to get dressed and contemplate my options. As far as I could see, there were three things I could do:

1. Bring him out of it. This would mean I still had to ask him to leave and have all the hassle of finding someone to take his place. Nah.

2. Use him for the afternoon as a sex toy, lots of fucking and stuff, and then bring him out of it with no memory of it having happened. Hmmm, a possibility. One that my cock voted for enthusiastically.

3. I could take the opportunity to create a room mate that was perfect in every way. It would take longer, and I wasn't sure it would work, but, hey, it might be worth a try. I was sure nobody would miss the old Bill, and there was no family or whatever to object to the 'new and improved' Bill. Anyway, if it didn't work, I could always fall back on the unbridled afternoon of sex bit.

So 3 it was.

I finished dressing and went back to where he still sat, mesmerised by the screen.

"Bill, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Listen, Bill, do you like me?"

"No, not really. You're a bit of a pain. And a pansy."

He was going to pay for that. But first, a little attitude adjustment.

"That's wrong, Bill. You really like me. Actually, you like me more than you've ever liked anyone else."

There was a moment of confusion on his face, but as the lights flickered across his face, he relaxed.

"In fact, you not only like me, but you trust me and respect me. I am the most powerful and wonderful person you have ever met. You would do anything to keep being my friend."

There was no way to tell whether this was having the desired effect, as his face had lapsed into an expressionless mask.

"Bill, do you like me?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"I like you better than anyone else in the world."

"That's right. You really like me. In fact, you moved into this flat just to be near me. You want that more than anything else - to be near me, to see me, to hear my voice."

Bill was slowly integrating this new view of the world. I wondered how deep the subliminals went, or how long they would be effective. Damn, I should have read the program documentation.

"Bill, can you hear me?"

"Yeah."

"I think you should call me 'Sir', because you like me so much. Actually, each time you call me 'Sir', you will like me even more, and look forward to obeying me. Every time you say 'Yes, Sir' to me, you will feel happier and more excited. Try it."

"Yes, Sir." A look of pleasure passed over his features, as the commands took hold.

"Good. You're a good boy, Bill. You want to please me, be with me. You love me deeply. In fact, all your sexual fantasies are about me." This seemed a little more than he could handle. I forgot that he wasn't the world's smartest person, even with the help of the learning program.

"Okay, Bill. I want you to think of your favourite sex fantasy. The one you use the most when you're jerking off. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir." He was pleased to be able to do what I wanted.

"Now, tell me about it. Tell me all the details."

As he related his fantasy, I went to get a cup of coffee. That way, if I choked or laughed, it wouldn't ruin the spell. Basically, his fantasy went something like this:

He was a Sultan in some large palace, and he was watching his harem display themselves for his pleasure. Then he picks one girl, and makes her dance for him. Eventually, she ends up in his bed making passionate and submissive love to him. Real original.

When I came back into the room, I could see the bulge in his pants that told me he really did find the fantasy erotic. Okay. Let's work with what we've got. I sat down next to him and tried to keep it simple.

"Bill?"

"Yes, Sir."

That fantasy is quite good. But you've got it a little back the front. I'm going to help you get it right. Would you like that?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"okay, then. Let's start from the beginning. You're in the big, lavish palace. But you're not the Sultan. You are part of the harem. There are a lot of men around you, all very good looking and muscled. Like a locker room after a football game. Lots of naked men. And you're one of them. Can you see that?"

"Ah, yes, Sir."

"Good. Now, you're part of the harem, and you are all eagerly looking forward to pleasing the Sultan. That's all anyone is talking about. You all want to please the Sultan." Even though he was following the new script, I could see he was losing the bulge in his pants.

"Bill, don't you usually jerk yourself off while thinking about this fantasy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then I want you to get your dick out and rub it. This is your greatest sexual fantasy, and I want you to really enjoy it."

"Yes, Sir." His hands fumbled with his pants, while his eyes remained glued to the computer screen. He finally produced his rod, and he started rubbing it, bringing it back to life.

"That's right. You are turned on by the fantasy. You are a muscled slave boy, waiting for the Sultan to come in and choose you. How does that feel?"

"Good, Sir."

"Tell me what you look like in the fantasy."

"Um, I'm big, like the others. Brown. See-through pants. My skin is smooth. Ahhh.." He was rubbing himself with a bit more vigour. I don't know whether it was out of habit or whether he was finding this new scenario erotic, but I slowed it down a bit.

"In this fantasy, you have been waiting your whole life to be the Sultan's pet, his slave, his love toy." (Okay, so I was running out of words. When was the last time you rewrote an erotic fantasy and spent a Saturday morning fucking with some guy's head? I thought so.)

"Bill, here comes the Sultan, and you're getting more excited. This is what you've been waiting for. Here he comes. And he looks just like me. The Sultan in your fantasy looks like me, doesn't he, Bill."

"Yes, Sir."

"In fact, it is me. You enjoy the idea of being my slave. You have waited all your life for this moment."

"Oooh, yeah, I mean, yes, Sir." He was jerking at his rod a mile a minute.

"Bill, let go of your dick for a minute." He looked disappointed, but let his arm drop to his side.

"Keep your dick hard, though, Bill. You want the Sultan to see how big and strong it is. You want me to see how big it is."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Now, in the fantasy, the Sultan is walking over toward you, and this makes you even more excited. You want more than anything to be chosen by the Sultan - to be chosen by me."

"Oh, yes, Sir. Please choose me, Sir."

"The Sultan is reaching out his hand and stroking your cock." I reached out my own hand and ran my finger along his shaft. "That's right. He's rubbing your cock. This makes you really excited."

The next thing I knew, Bill blew his load. He came all over his chest and chin, dribbling over his legs.

"Oh, no, Bill. You shouldn't have done that. The Sultan is turning away now and picking someone else to be his slave." Bill looked quite heartbroken. He was really getting into this. "That's right Bill. He's disappointed in you. A good slave pleases his master first, not himself. The Sultan would have picked you, but you've let him down. You always please the master first, and then if you do a good job, then he'll let you come. But only if you're a good boy."

Bill was looking sad, and there was a trace of a tear in his eye.

"Well, it was only a fantasy. Do you want to try again?"

"Yes, Sir! PLease Sir!"

I won't bore you with all the details of the next hour, but it went something like this: I was now the most important person in his life. He wanted to do anything to please me and make me happy. I fixed it so he would gladly clean the apartment, do the laundry, make my bed, the usual slave stuff. But I also wiped out any memory he had of liking a girl, let alone sleeping with one. As far as he was concerned, he was a born-again virgin with a crush on his flat mate. I allowed him to remember masturbating, but whenever he thought about it, he would 'remember' fantasies about serving me in demeaning ways, instead of whatever it was he had been thinking about.

I stretched and went to refill my coffee cup. I considered what I had done. Okay, I had taken a 'normal, straight, pain of a guy' and turned him into a subservient and obedient slave. Just another Saturday in the Big City.

**********************************

Bill (now Billy) sat in front of the screen. He was still covered in his own cum. Actually, there was a lot of it. Over the past few hours, he had come about five times, with a few dry orgasms in between. I figured my work was done. Either the subliminals were going to work, or they wouldn't. It was one thing to get him to do what I wanted as a slave, but it would be another thing to see if the commands 'took' when he was awake. There was only one way to see.

I turned off the computer.

"Billy, look at the state of this place. It's like a pigsty!"

"What?! Oh, yes, Sir. I mean, please, Sir..." He was obviously a bit confused and disoriented.

"Billy, I need to go into the office for a while. While I'm gone, I want you to tidy up a little around here. And clean yourself up. You look a mess!"

"Yes, Sir." He looked a littled puzzled, but pleased. He was almost standing at attention.

"Good. I'll be back by five."

"Yes, Sir."

He was still confused, but that was expected. I picked up my briefcase and headed for the door. If this program worked, I wanted to be in on the ground floor. I needed to review the patent submission, and see if there was a way I could squash it. I knew it worked; I just wanted it to work for me.

"Oh, and Billy?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"I think it's about time you had a haircut, don't you? And put on some decent clothes?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good boy. See you at five."

I headed off to the office, drunk on the feeling of power. Maybe we are all meglomaniacs, just waiting for something to happen to bring it to the surface. Or maybe it was just me.

After an afternoon in the office, the proposal for the subliminal program was buried so deep it would never see the light of day. I had called the inventor, explained to him that there was a government conspiracy that would eradicate him if he ever did more research into this area (hey, I was on a roll!) and then wiped out every mention of the patent application.

I was a bit apprehensive on the way home, though. What if the programming hadn't worked. What if the commands had worn off, and Bill remembered everything? He could be waiting for me with some justifiable complaints. Who am I kidding? He'd probably kill me for what I'd done.

I got to the front door of the flat, and took a deep breath before I went in. This is it.

I couldn't believe it. The place was immaculate! It was cleaner than I'd ever seen it. Not only that, there were some wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. I figured that even if the 'cleanliness' bit was the only command that stuck, I'd be happy.

I dropped the briefcase, and walked further into the lounge room.

"Bill, er, I mean, Billy?"

"yes, Sir." The answer came from inside the bedroom. I didn't know what to expect, but I was amazed at what I saw when he came hurrying out. He was dressed in runners, bicycle pants and a tank top several sizes too big. The shoes and shorts revealed that his legs were smooth, and the baggy shirt revealed a shaved chest and armpits as well.

But the biggest shock was the pants. The lycra revealed the outline of his semi-erect cock pressed against his thigh. As he caught sight of me, it filled with desire, and strained against the stretch fabric. I hoped the material was strong enough to hold it back. I had visions of it exploding out of his crotch like the monster in Alien!

He had shaved his face as well, and gotten the haircut I suggested. It was a shaort back and sides, and he'd used gel or something to slick it down. I guess he figured this was the look of a modern day slave.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I wasn't expecting you until five. May I get you a drink?"

"Uh, sure, why not?"

I was amazed at the transformation. He rushed around, getting my drink, taking my coat, putting away my briefcase.

"Please, Sir, I have prepared some food. Would you like to eat now?"

"Okay."

"This way, Sir. Please sit here, Sir."

It was like being in a silver service restaurant. There was a place set for one, and he took to serving me, and standing by while I chewed each bite. He wasn't the world's greatest cook, but give him time. I don't know whether he had eaten earlier, or was going to eat later, but I thought I better not break the spell.

After the meal, he moved me to the couch, and proceeded to massage my shoulders. It felt wonderful. Then he moved to my feet. He removed my shoes and rubbed the soles of my feet. I felt like I was in heaven.

Then he moved further up the leg, and I knew what he was heading for.

"Would you like to please your master, Billy?"

"Oh, yes, Sir. Please Sir."

I pulled my cock from my pants, and the look in his eye was like a kid given every Christmas present he ever wanted. As he moved closer and into position, he strated looking a little worried.

"What's the matter, Billy?"

"Ah, Sir, please, sir. I've never done this before, and I don't want to disappoint you."

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get the knack of it. And I'll let you know how to do it better. Okay?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, sir!"

Billy then began to give the first of many blow jobs. The changes in his personality held, an he became quite a devoted slave. Of course, there was too much work for him to do by himself, so a few weeks later, his friend Rick was introduced to the power of my computer. Oh, it's good to be all-powerful. No wonder God keeps the job to himself..

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