Tag: hypnosis

Method Roleplay (Part 5)

He stumbled out of the bathroom, but felt a strange sense of vertigo–he was in a hall, but not…the hall he should be in. The walls were covered with paint that was chipped and peeling, the carpet covered in stains. There should be a doorway across from him, where the computer had been in Brett’s office, but there wasn’t a door–a bit further down the short hall was one, which led to…the bedroom he and daddy shared together.

No, this had been Brett’s apartment, they weren’t living together yet, right? He opened the door, and saw the messy room covered with clothes, and he could smell them both in there, their musk, their sex…fuck, it was so hot, how much it reeked. It got Evan worked up just like it did Brett, smelling the stale, stinking air. His dad’s cum was still dribbling down the crack of his ass, and he ran one hand up it, getting it good and coated, and started licking it off, grunting and moaning as he rubbed his little cock.

Why…had he come in here again? He’d been looking for a computer, right? But…they didn’t have a computer. They were too poor for that–Daddy just had his smartphone, and that was it–but hadn’t they listened to something together? There had been something, he was sure of it, but it was like the harder he tried to grasp it, the further away it got. He…he should talk to daddy about it. Daddy would remember it right? He had to! Daddy was so smart–he was just a dumbfuck little shithead boy–or at least, that’s what daddy said he was, and daddy was usually right about those sorts of things.

He turned around and walked back towards the main room of their apartment. He could hear the TV on, and smell…smoke. The smell concerned him–was something burning? He found his daddy where he expected him, on the couch, watching sports on TV, a can of beer in one hand and a cigar in the other, but this wasn’t right. This apartment wasn’t right. Brett should be changing back to his old self, but things only seemed to be getting even worse. After all, Evan hadn’t said anything about Brett being a smoker, and now he was sucking down cigar smoke? It was like reality was moving around them, and trapping them in the fantasy they’d created.

“Daddy? I…I know it’s hard, but I think we need to change back now?”

Brett looked over at Evan, a confused look on his face, and belched. “What the fuck are you talking about, boy?”

“Re-remember? We listened to that…thing together? That song, or…or somebody speaking? Maybe it was a book. You remember that right?”

“Boy, ya know yer old man’s memory is pretty shot. Ain’t too bright, ya know.”

“But do ya remember?”

“Boy…” Brett paused, “Boy, I remember a lotta shit, but ain’t none a it makin’ much sense right now. But I’m feelin’ a whole lot better, now that I got a cigar ‘n a couple a beers in my gut, and I’d feel a bit better with my boy next to me eating out my nasty pits, so git over here, sit down with yer daddy,” he said, patting the cushion beside him.

Evan didn’t want to disobey him and get another spanking, so he did as he was told. As soon as he was on the couch, Brett threw an arm around him and pulled him in tight, Evan’s face inches from his sweaty pit, and they reeked of sex. He gave a grunt without really meaning to, and felt a bit of his cares slip away.

“Yeah, that’s my sexy boy, ya make yer daddy real fuckin’ happy, ya know that?”

“No daddy, I’m…this ain’t how I’m supposed tah look–it ain’t how we’re supposed tah look. Ya do remember, I know ya do.”

“I was just bein’ thick boy.”

“No! I was lyin’ before! Ya were right! This ain’t right!”

“People can’t git younger, Evan. I ain’t ever gonna be a kid again–the world don’t work like that. How fuckin’ dumb are ya?”

“But daddy–”

“Boy, shut up–I wanna fuckin’ watch TV ‘n not care about shit until work tomorrow.”

“Ya can’t go tah work lookin’ like that! No one’ll recognize you.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Brett said, looking at Evan like he was crazy, “I been a mechanic there fer years.”

“Ya ain’t a…mechanic…” Evan muttered, but as he did, he saw his daddy’s clothes change in front of his eyes, becoming a set of grease covered coveralls, his hands coated black, and the scent of oil and metal mingled with the other odors of their apartment. “Daddy, ya gotta stop, or ya ain’t gonna be able tah git back if ya keep goin’!”

“Course not, boy–but I got ya with me, so I’m fuckin’ good.”

“No–No, I’m–this ain’t me daddy, I don’t care what ya wanna be, but this ain’t me,” Evan hauled himself off the couch, and started fishing around for clothes to put on. He had to get out of here–maybe get back to his apartment, where he could remember himself better, and change back. “I ain’t gonna fuckin’ live like this. It was just supposed tah be a game! I don’ wanna live like a fuckin’ nasty pig!”

“Boy, watch yer mouth, ‘n sit yer ass back down this instant.”

“I got a job daddy, I got a future, and a life. I ain’t givin’ that up fer some fucked up fantasy.”

“Please. You? Git a fuckin’ job?” Brett said, standing up, “Boy, yer thick as a fuckin’ brick, ‘n fat, ‘n lazy. They even fired ya from the fuckin’ garage, remember?”

“Daddy, I don’t…wanna remember that…” Evan said, but he could. He could remember how his daddy had gotten him work there after he’d dropped out of high school, but he’d just sat around eating and jacking off until their boss had fired him. And now…now he just…

“All yer fuckin’ good for boy, is sittin’ ‘round here, stuffin’ yer face, jackin’ off like a good pigson, and when I git home ya serve yer daddy like a good little porker should. Ain’t that right?”

“Nuh-uh, ain’t…nah daddy…” Evan said, but his words were slow, and even thicker than they had been. He could feel his body growing, his gut sagging and covering his cock completely, the smells of the room growing more intense. “Mean…I gotta…” and with that, his mind broke. He really was too stupid to figure this out–what the fuck had he been thinking? He knew better than that. He was…he was just his daddy’s pig–he was never gonna be more than that. “S-Sorry dad, I know I’s just a dumb pig ‘n stuff.”

“It’s alright boy,” Brett said, put his hand on Evan’s head, and pushed his 400 pound, idiot son to his knees. “Daddy’s got some nice beer piss fer ya, pigboy–‘n then how’s about we order pizza ‘n git ya fed nice ‘n full?”

Evan liked the sound of that a lot, and he gulped down daddy’s piss, grunting and snorting as he did, and by the time he’d been stuffed full, over two hours later, neither of them would have ever believed that the day before they’d been anyone other than the incestuous pigs they were now.

Method Roleplay (Part 4)

By the time Brett was getting ready to cum in his son’s hole, he’d been plowing him for close to half an hour. The hole, which had started out tight, was now plenty sloppy, with Brett’s copious amounts of pre-cum providing ample lube, while the rest ran down between Evan’s fat thighs. Evan wasn’t think about much beyond the simple pleasures of his father’s cock–just snorting and grunting, one hand tugging at his nipples while the other rubbed the head of his short cock poking out of his fat pad. He’d already cum twice, but that hadn’t slowed either of them down–Brett had just reached around, scooped up as much of his boy’s cum as he could, and used it as extra lube, before ramming his dick back into him. His boy, after all, wasn’t really good with self-control–something he’d spent a while reminding Evan off while they’d been fucking. His son could barely keep his hands out of his pants, even when they were out in public. It would have been embarrassing, he supposed, but Brett wasn’t one to feel much shame. If anything, he was fucking proud that his son was as much of a pervert as he was, right? Still, something was bothering him about all of this, but he was so horny that he could ignore it entirely for a while longer, and feel his balls start to swell slightly, getting ready to dump one of his huge loads deep in his son’s guts, which Evan had been begging for. He started fucking harder, Evan snorting and grunting in time with his father’s deep thrusts, and at last he drove in hard and pumped shot after shot of cum into him, gripping his boy’s fatty sides tight, his sweaty, hairy gut pressed to Evan’s slick back.

“I love you boy, daddy loves you so fucking much…” he said softly, leaning over and licking up some of Evan’s sweat.

Evan was only half listening, as he was close to his third shot, and with a shudder, he blew another load all over the front of the counter, and then collapsed onto it, feeling like he’d taken enough of the edge off that he could finally think again. The bathroom mirror had fogged up, and with one hand he wiped it until he could see himself–this…other self. This wasn’t him–it wasn’t Brett behind him. He could…remember listening to something, and even he hadn’t thought it would really work, but it had done something to them, and now…now they had to figure out how to get back.

Brett’s cock was softening, and he slid out, a gush of cum following him as he did, Evan groaning at the sensation of being empty again. “Fuck boy…that…” he stumbled back, legs shaking a bit. “God, why the fuck do I feel so fucking strange?” he muttered to himself.

“Because this isn’t real, Brett–we’re just…I don’t know if we’re imaginin’ this shit or what, but we gotta go back tah who we were before–ya remember right? Ya were young, not that fat, and–”

“Shut up boy, that was just…I was just bein’ thick I thought. That wasn’t real,” Brett said, looking down at himself, hefting his gut, “I mean, I…kind of remember, but…but then how…”

“It ain’t real daddy, we gotta git back,” Evan said, turning around and looking at Brett, hoping he’d be shifting back towards…who he’d been before. Evan couldn’t really remember who they’d been–not well at least–but he could almost tell that the closer they got, the better he’d remember. Still, Brett wasn’t changing–instead, his daddy looked like he was freaking out. “Dad–Brett. It’s gonna be ok, we can fix this.”

“Ya don’t–use my name, son, ya know better.”

“Brett, we aren’t roleplaying anymore, we’re done.”

“Boy, I am the man a this house, ‘n ya do what I fuckin’ say!” Brett roared, shoved Evan around and bent him back over, before giving his ass ten hard smacks, making Evan count them off and thank ‘daddy’ after each one. When he finished, he…he found it hard to believe how turned on he’d gotten, doing that–how turned on he’d gotten by all of this. But hadn’t he hated the idea of this? Hadn’t…someone, at least? He needed to calm down, but the air in the bathroom stank of sex and sweat and he was so fucking tight–he had to loosen up.

Brett left Evan in the bathroom, and his boy tried to recover from the punishment. He’d been a bad boy, he knew better than to use daddy’s name–why had he done that? He felt awful, and yet he also knew that these feelings, this body, all of it was a lie–but he didn’t know how to disentangle himself from it. Still, getting his ass pounded had gotten him hard–like usual. Maybe…maybe a little longer wouldn’t hurt, right? He looked at himself in the mirror and knew he should be disgusted–that the old him would have been disgusted by this. This had never been his fantasy–he’d wanted to be a twink, not some dirty chubby pig like this–and incest had always turned him off, but he could…see daddy’s face in his, and it was making his cock leak again, but he couldn’t afford to get swept any further away from his real life. The file had warned about something like this, hadn’t it? That’s what he needed to do–get to the file, and maybe he’d figure out a way out of this mess.

Method Roleplay (Part 3)

Evan didn’t need to be told twice–he dropped to his knees on the tile of the bathroom floor, and scooted up to his daddy’s cock, still unable to believe that his young roommate from moments before had actually…become this fucking daddy of his dreams. He could smell the powerful musk rolling off him, and it was making his hard cock start to leak–he shoved his face into his daddy’s crotch and took a few deep snorts of the smell, enjoying it.

“Yeah, you like that smell don’t you boy? You want daddy’s scent all over you.”

“Fuck daddy, you know I do.”

“Pretty fuckin’ lucky that a slobby daddy like me found a nasty boy like you, ready to worship my fucking filthy body.”

“Oh…fuck daddy…”

“Perverted fuck–you want daddy to soak you down in his smelly piss? I bet a filthy boy like you would fucking love that.”

In fact, watersports had never really been much of an interest for Evan, but for this man? He…he’d probably do anything he asked him to do, without any doubts. He nodded, and after a could of moments, Brett started pissing, aiming his stream all over Evan’s face and chest–and he nearly came just from that alone. Why had he thought he wouldn’t enjoy this? Of course he fucking enjoyed this! He…he bathed in his daddy’s piss every…every chance he got, didn’t he?

He opened his mouth wide, and Brett directed the stream there, watching his boy gulp it down, stroking his cock, and grinned. “Gonna fill up that gut of yours boy. You want a big gut like daddy, don’t ya?”

Evan nodded without much thought, and kept drinking.

“Yeah, you wanna be just like your daddy, don’t you boy?” Brett said, grabbing Evan by the back of head and pulling him closer to his cock, pushing the head into his mouth as the piss slowed, “Fat, stupid, hairy, lazy, horny all day and night. Just like your daddy.”

Part of Evan was trying to push back–after all, for him, part of the pleasure of older men was the difference between them. Him–old, fat, grungy, and perverse–and him–young, slender, clean, and corruptible. But…had there been more? He had always liked the idea of an older man corrupting him, ruining him, hadn’t he? It seemed like he had, but everything was a bit fuzzy.

“Course, ya ain’t gonna be like your old man in every way, right son? Not with that little boy prick, and that hungry ass of yours. Still, I’ll keep ya plenty satisfied.”

Evan could swear something strange was happening to his cock, while he started sucking on daddy’s cock. It wasn’t growing soft, but it was getting smaller. And his hand kept brushing up against something else–his belly–but he’d been toned, hadn’t he? No–he shouldn’t be worrying about these things, he needed to focus on his daddy, and making him happy, getting him good and horny so he can fuck his boyhole, and make him scream–fuck, that’s what he needed. He’d feel better after a nice ride on daddy’s cock.

“Fuck boy–talkin’ bout it makes me fuckin’ want it. Git up and bend over the counter.”

Evan didn’t need to be told twice–he knew what happened if he ever disobeyed his daddy after all–and it wasn’t like this was an order he’d ever disobey anyway. He hauled himself up–which seemed a bit more difficult that it should have been, and daddy had to give him a hand, but he made it, turned to the counter and leaned over, facing the mirror, and he froze. That–that wasn’t him. That wasn’t his face, with the scraggly beard, overgrown hair and zitty skin. That most certainly wasn’t his body either, behind him, with that big gut hanging off him, his ass much, much wider than he remembered…or…or did he? Something didn’t seem right, but before he could sort it out, Brett, behind him, had slicked up his index and third finger with slobber and shoved them into Evan’s ass, making his boy shudder and groan, pushing back onto his daddy’s fingers.

“Oh fuck, thank you daddy…”

“You’re welcome, son. You know it’s always a pleasure for me, and you want to make me happy, don’t you?”

“Oh…Oh fuck daddy, more…more than anything!”

“Yeah, because you’re a good boy aren’t so? A total slut for your nasty father? My fucking pigboy? That what you wanna be son?”

“Oh fuck daddy, that sounds…fucking hot…”

“Fatten you up even more, open up this hole of yours, cleaning my body and drinking my fucking piss all day long?”

“Dad, get your big fuckin’ dick in my piggy hole, I can’t fuckin’ take it. Ya know I hate it when you tease me!” Evan said, grunting and snorting and shoving back on Brett’s hand, trying to get as much inside him as possible.

Brett was stroking his own cock with his free hand, and didn’t notice was it was growing again, to nearly eleven inches, so thick he couldn’t meet thumb and finger around the shaft–even with his big hands. He let a gob of drool roll off his tongue and land in his palm, which he used to coat the head of his cock–he liked it a bit dry in his boy’s hole–and then started pushing it inside. Evan suppressed a cry of pain, but he’d take it for his dad–he’d do anything for him, after all.

Method Roleplay (Part 2)

“Did it work?”

Brett didn’t want to say that it had, but he certainly had fallen asleep, hadn’t he? And he felt…kind of strange, almost like he wasn’t all here at the moment, or like some little hole had opened up in his head, and something was…coming in, or going out. “I don’t know…do you feel…kind of strange?”

“I feel pretty good, actually,” Evan said, standing up, “Even if there was nothing to it, at least I got a good nap. So, come on–you ready to give it another shot, daddy?”

“You know, I don’t…actually feel that horny right now–how about later tonight?”

“That doesn’t sound like my daddy–my daddy is always fucking horny,” Evan said, got close and started groping Brett’s crotch through the shorts he had on, and to Brett’s surprise, his cock had gone from flaccid to hard in less than a second…or had…hadn’t be been hard the entire time? It was hard to remember, exactly. “Please don’t…call me that Evan. I’m serious, I feel really weird–don’t you?”

“I always feel weird when I’ve been too long without my daddy’s cock in my holes. And why don’t you want me to call you daddy? Whenever your boy calls you daddy, it turns you on, doesn’t it? I can feel your cock throbbing daddy, don’t lie to me.”

“B-Boy, you’re…fuck…” Brett leaned back, just enjoying the sensation of Evan’s hand kneading his cock and balls.

“Yeah daddy, let your boy take good care of you–you just lay back and play with that big furry gut of yours, and those meaty tits while you’re boy gets a taste of thick daddy cock.”

Yeah, fuck, that did sound hot all of a sudden. He leaned back in the computer chair while Evan started hauling open the fly of his shorts, and as he did, he felt his shirt ride up–he pulled it up the rest of the way, rubbing his big gut, coated with hair…but…it felt bigger than usual. He just had a bit of a paunch, but this gut…it was big and round, like a beach ball, and it obscured his vision of his boy sucking him off more than it should. There was more hair than before too, and when he pulled his shirt up, and off, he saw that his nipples were both the size of pencils, jutting out from his fat chest, and he started to breathe a bit quick. “Evan…Evan, this isn’t right, I’m not…I don’t actually look like this!”

Evan pulled away and stood up, blinking at Brett’s bigger gut and tits–and realized the nine inch cock he’s been sucking on was only supposed to be five and a half. He reached out, and rubbed Brett’s furry gut, unable to believe it was really there, but more turned on than he could really imagine. “I…I mean, I guess it worked then, didn’t it?”

“This…I don’t think I can do this, Evan. Change me back!”

“Calm down, it’s just an illusion caused by the hypnosis. It’ll go away. Just calm down.”

“Then how in the hell are we both seeing the same fucking thing! I’m 26, I can’t look like this.”

Evan didn’t have an easy answer for that one, but he didn’t really want to answer it–he was too fucking turned on looking at his boyfriend there, becoming more of the man he’d always wanted him to be–could it go even further? “Daddy…you’re just confused is all. You’re just remembering things wrong. You aren’t 26, you’re turning 50 next month.”

“Shut up boy, I’m fucking serious.”

“You had a bad dream–this is who you are. A big bellied, extremely hairy, big dicked daddy bear. You get confused sometimes–after all, you aren’t that smart. Pretty much all you think about is all the dirty, kinky sex you want to do to your boy, day in, and day out, isn’t that right?”

“Boy, you need tah listen to your fuckin’ daddy.”

“No daddy, listen to me. Go on, look at that big flabby gut covered with silver hair, give this huge cock of yours a nice stroke, feel that thick beard of yours and how much you’re balding. You aren’t 26. You aren’t that young kid you think you remember–you’re my big, dirty, perverted daddy, aren’t you?”

“Boy, ya need tah fuckin’s shut yer fuckin’ mouth!” Brett growled as he hauled his ass out of his chair, shoved past Evan and made his way to the bathroom in his apartment. It couldn’t be true. He was so…so fucking sure, but when he got in there and turned on the light, and say himself in the mirror…there he was. His huge gut hanging out, covered with a thick layer of hair, his half erect and leaking daddy cock hanging out the front of his grungy boxers, thick beard across his face, a month or two overgrown, crawling up his cheeks. Hair a mess and balding badly, more silver than the brown of his youth. What…what in the hell had he been thinking? His boy was right–he wasn’t some young kid! God, he can be fucking thick sometimes…and yet, something was still nagging at him all the same–still, it probably wasn’t important, right?

“Fuck, I can’t…believe it,” Evan said beside him. He’d gotten to the doorway behind Brett, and he still could barely believe his words had really done that to his boyfriend. It didn’t seem real–in fact, the changes he’d just seen were seeming less real by the moment. Words…they couldn’t do this. No, this was just his daddy, of course–the same he’d always been.

“Fuck boy, sorry, daddy was outta his fuckin’ mind, but I’m feelin’ a whole lot better now,” Brett said, leering at Evan–at his boy–stroking his fat cock nice and slow while he did, “Yer horny daddy’s ready tah play–now git the fuck down here ‘n help daddy out.”

Method Roleplay (Part 1)

“Fuck daddy, you get your boy so fucking horny…” Evan said, as he stroked Brett’s cock–he looked up at his boyfriend, but Brett was just looking away, cheeks a bit red.  “Come on, you said you would give it a shot.

“I..it’s just weird, is all, I mean, I’m younger than you, Evan.”

“It’s roleplay, it doesn’t matter how old we actually are.”

“Yeah, but…look, I don’t get this stuff. I just want to fuck. It’s easier, and I don’t feel like I’m trying to tell some story to you the whole time.”

Evan sat back on his heels, and scowled a bit. “You’d like it if you just gave it a chance! You liked those stories I showed you, didn’t you? That’s what you said.”

While Brett had said that, he’d meant more to appease his boyfriend’s fetish, than as an endorsement of his own interest. He’d never really seen the attraction of being with an older guy himself, and honestly, it kind of freaked him out, and made him question their whole relationship. If Evan wanted to be with an older man so much, then why in the world was he with Brett? Sure, Brett did *look* older in some ways–especially with the beard and slight paunch, but he was only 26 to Evan’s 29. The whole thing just…didn’t make any real sense to him, and pretending made him feel silly and very un-sexy.

“Look, come on daddy, your boy just wants to make you feel good is all.”

“Look, Evan, I’m just not that into it, alright? I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work for me,” Brett said, “I…Look, I’ll call you tomorrow, ok? But I’m gonna go.”

Evan tried to stop him, but never tried to apologize, and Brett got his clothes on and left Evan’s apartment, still feeling strange and confused. Why couldn’t he find any normal guys? Everyone seemed to have some weird fetish that they wanted Brett to be completely into–like Jeffery, who he’d dated for a few weeks before he’d started begging Brett to piss on him. He shook his head–compared to that, this was actually pretty fucking normal, he supposed.

Maybe he was overreacting. He’d just…never been that adventurous of a guy in bed–he just liked to fuck. Still, he could do that and just throw a few ‘son this’ and ‘boy that’ in there, right? But why couldn’t Evan just be happy with him as he was? Why did he have to pretend to be someone completely different to give him great sex? He didn’t know what to do, and sleeping on the issue didn’t help resolve anything either. In the end, he called Evan, who finally apologized, and they decided to try and carry on–but after that, things remained a bit awkward. It was clear Evan hadn’t given up on his fantasy, and his insistence only made Brett feel further alienated. He figured they’d call it off soon enough, mutually or otherwise, but instead, Evan pinned him down one night a couple of weeks later with a proposition–hypnosis.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Brett said, after Evan told him about the hypnosis file he’d found on the internet.

“Look, all it does is make you…a bit more open minded, and imaginative.”

“There is no fucking way, this is fucking dumb. Shit like this doesn’t even work!”

Evan gave a growl of frustration, “So what if it doesn’t work? Then it’s not like you’ll have lost anything anyway, right? Why not at least try it?”

“Because this is even stupider than pretending to be your fucking father.”

“Not my father, my daddy. It’s different!”

“Like I fucking care!” Brett shouted, “All I want is some normal fucking sex! That’s what I like! What about what I fucking want? If you want some old fuck, then why the fuck even date me?”

Neither of them said anything, and Brett assumed–hoped really–that he’d said enough to end things between them, but Evan just took a deep breath. “Because I love you Brett. Because this is just sex. I don’t…really want to be with an older guy, I want to be with you, and I just don’t get why this is so…difficult for you.”

Brett wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, but he suddenly felt like an asshole–and that only made him angrier somehow. This wasn’t his fault–the problem wasn’t him, was it?

“Look, all I’m asking is you give it a try. Listen to the file, and try one more time with me, and if still doesn’t work, then fine, I’ll never mention it again. You’re more important to me that a fetish, and I want you to know that.”

Brett sighed–he knew this wasn’t going to work, but why not try and make him happy? He did really like Evan after all, and they had a good thing going. But he wasn’t going to do it alone–no, if this was Evan’s thing, then he should sit through it too. “Fine, I’ll listen to it–with you. Both of us listen to it, so you can see how fucking silly it is, and then I’ll give it another shot, alright?”

“I don’t need to listen to it though.”

Look, the file says it’s generalized–it isn’t about being a daddy, right?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the harm?”

Evan sighed, but agreed to his condition. It took them a bit to set up the computer so they could both listen to it with headphones, but they managed. They started up the file, and a voice started speaking: “Welcome to the open minds, open realities file by MasterCrux. Be warned–this file is intense, if you go too deep into an alternate reality, you might never get back out! You’ve been warned!”

Brett snickered, and Evan socked him in the shoulder as the induction began. Soon enough, both young men were slack jawed and staring at the screen blankly, while the voice droned on, and on, and on, and when they woke, feeling rested an hour later, neither of them could quite remember anything that had been said, but both could sense that something…was different, all the same.

Faggot Therapy (Part 2)

After that session, Lonnie found himself unable to cope with his new knowledge and memories, and within a day, he’d suffered a complete, emotional breakdown. The doctor had ordered him be committed, but suggested it would be better for Lonnie if he stayed and lived with his therapist, until he was back to his usual self. Lonnie didn’t resist–he couldn’t resist. The doctor had done so much for him, after all. He packed a small bag, and moved in with him that evening, staying in a small room up in the attic.

The therapy didn’t cease, however. Lonnie would have moments of clarity, where he would deny what had happened, deny that he was even sick at all. The shock collar was medically necessary, to control his patient. To remind him, at any moment, that he wasn’t really a man, as he was trying to insist. No, Lonnie was just a pathetic faggot. He would be put into a trance for hours, reliving horrible, violent, humiliating memories, the therapist slowly rewriting his patient’s entire life. Now, every man he’d known had used him–his father and uncles, his two brothers, his friends and bullies. Everyone knew he was a faggot, other than him. When he’d gone off to college, Lonnie had put all that away, he’d been pretending for decades that he was a real man–this is what had caused his anxiety, he learned–only by returning to his proper nature, could he feel at peace once more.

His therapist would make him relive his memories, particularly in the shower. It would trigger violent flashbacks, and Lonnie would helplessly get down in front of his therapist and service him in any way the man demanded, like he had all those boys in his school, and much to his surprise…the feelings of terror and anxiety began to fade away. The therapist encouraged his progress and good behavior. Helped him feel more at home in his new identity. Still, the road to recovery was long. It was two years later, when Lonnie was finally released from his therapist’s care–no longer a man, but just a humble faggot.

He made amends the only way a proper faggot could–my servicing as many men as he possibly could. He would cruise bars and bathhouses every night, worshiping cock, begging for it, and the crueler the top, the happier he found himself. Of course, finding work was difficult for him. He’d quit his previous job after his breakdown, but every time he sat down for an interview, especially with another man, he found himself compelled to explain to them exactly what he was, and why. Occasionally, the man interviewing him would use him, but after three months he was still unemployed. It was Dr. Halvers who found a solution for him.

The only job suitable for a faggot as lowly as Lonnie, was as a complete slave. It turned out, the therapist knew of a…rather unconventional auction, held a couple times a year–and he was happy to sponsor him, of course. Lonnie fetched a fair price, and Dr. Halvers collected the fees himself–Lonnie’s treatment hadn’t been cheap after all. Last he’d heard, Lonnie–or Scum, as he’d been renamed, had never been happier. Four hundred pounds, completely hairless, castrated, kept in a cage for twenty hours a day, brought out only for service. The only future a faggot could ever desire.

Faggot Therapy (Part 1)

Lonnie entered the office, feeling rather…uneasy, especially after his last session with the therapist. He’d approached Dr. Halver for help dealing with social anxiety, but nothing the man had been doing seemed to be helping much. Sure, the hypnotherapy was…relaxing, but the things that the doctor wanted to focus on only seemed…well, he didn’t quite know, to be honest. The doctor had him lie down on the chaise, and Lonnie tried to tell him about his reservations, but he barely made it through a sentence before the doctor had him feeling tired and sleepy, pushing the older man into his own memories.

You see, Dr. Halvers was certain that his patient’s anxiety was stemming from traumatic events in his past–memories that Lonnie had hidden away, deep in his mind, for fear of dealing with them, but they were still there, and wrecking havoc on his life. They were getting closer, however, to the truth–the doctor was certain that today they would finally confront what happened to him in the boy’s locker room at school.

In fact, the dear doctor was so certain they would, because he had fabricated the memory himself, and in this session, he was going to force his patient to confront it.

He forced Lonnie to narrate, to describe himself as he’d been in high school. A small, slight boy, hairless, nerdy and socially awkward, with very few friends. That description didn’t sem quite…correct to Lonnie, but he’d found himself doubting more and more of his past experiences, ever since entering Dr. Halver’s care. But it was that afternoon, when he’d been dragged into the locker room by some of the jocks and their older brothers, where they’d…finally shown him that all Lonnie was, really, was a faggot.

A hopeless faggot. A faggot whose only purpose in life was to serve domineering men like them. They’d raped him for hours that day, forcing him to worship every inch of their bodies, violating every hole–and the doctor, for hours, forced Lonnie to describe what had happened to him, insisting on more and more detail, making him repeat entire chunks if he was unsatisfied with Lonnie’s newly recalled humiliation. And not just that day–he forced him to recall how after that first time, he’d…begged for more. Pleaded with those older boys to abuse him further, because they were right. He was just a faggot, nothing more.

At last, late that night, he brought his patient up from hypnosis, and the big bear of a man burst into tears. His therapist was there for him, of course, and told him what a great breakthrough this had been for him. Now that he was being true to himself, now, with Dr. Hasker’s help, he could finally be the man he needed to be. He could finally find his true calling a complete and utter faggot slave.

Hypno Test Subject 

“Look…I just thought you might be interested in it, because you seem like someone hypnosis could really help. A bit more confidence, a little more focus. Maybe even help you with weight loss, of you like it…”

Jerry grimaced at that–sure, he was…fat, but it wasn’t something he liked people mentioning. He looked over at Oliver, his roommate. He’d been working on a project for some strange neuroscience class or something, developing a serum which could induce a powerful hypnotic state. He said it had already been tested in some animals, and was getting ready for human trials, but he was excited to see if it would work, and had asked Jerry if he’d be a willing, and secret, subject.

Jerry eventually agreed, mostly because he wasn’t very good at saying no to anyone, something Oliver was well aware of. His roommate was a wimp, really–chubby, nervous, a bit anti-social…but he was also kind of cute, in a hopeless way. Oliver was no looker himself, with buck teeth and his big glasses–it didn’t help that he was gay on top of that. Jerry rolled up his sleeve and let Oliver inject him with the serum, and a minute or two later, he was feeling…good. Almost like he’d started floating. Oliver was talking to him, but he wasn’t really listening…or maybe he was listening so hard he just couldn’t quite hear anything. Jerry realized he was talking back on occasion too…but mostly, everything just felt…nice, and he barely noticed the hours passing him by.

*~*~*

“Now, tell me what you are,” Oliver asked. The session had gone on for a couple of hours at this point, and he was feeling good about where Jerry was going–with who he was becoming.

“I’m a fat, worthless, faggot pigslave. Your pigslave, sir,” Jerry droned back at him. He was naked at this point, on his knees in front of Oliver. All he had on was a loose collar and leather manacles on his wrists and ankles.

“That’s good. Very good pig,” Oliver said, stroking his own cock in excitement. “What do you want, more than anything, pig?”

“My master’s cum and piss…his sweat…anything you’re willing to give a worthless pig like me, sir.” Jerry’s eyes looked up at Oliver–still not seeing much with any clarity, but he smiled anyway at him.

Oliver ruffled his new pig’s hair–he was going to need a shave tonight, after his first fuck. And then, Jerry wouldn’t be leaving the room for the rest of the semester. Pigs, after all, didn’t go to class. Pigs didn’t think. Pigs just obeyed, and they ate, and they got fatter and stupider for their masters. He’d be lonely for a while, but in a week or two, Oliver would put one or two of his jock bullies under as well. Then he’d have a nice piggy harem. Maybe Jerry would even be top hog, feeding those skinny jocks all day while Oliver was at class. He deserved something, for helping him out like this with his project. He stepped forward, and the pig swallowed down his master’s cock for the first time with a snort, and Oliver knew his days as a virgin were over for good.

“What’s up, professor? You alright?”

Mr. Allen snapped his head back up. He must have spaced out for a second there–he hadn’t really been sleeping well lately. “Sorry James, but I really can’t pass you with your performance this semester.”

“But coach said–”

“I don’t grade according to the athletic department’s requests,” he said, but couldn’t stop himself from yawning. “Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I’m trying out a new CPAP, but it hasn’t really been doing as good a job as my old one…” he shook his head, “I don’t know why I just told you that, sorry.” The professor was a rather chubby guy, and he’d been diagnosed with sleep apnea years earlier. James, a football player, just smiled…like he was in on the joke, and it made him feel a bit uneasy.

“Maybe you just haven’t been using it right,” James said, and stood up in Mr. Allen’s office, dropping his shorts, revealing a rather…musky looking jockstrap beneath. The scent him the professor a second later, and he groaned, feeling an odd lethargy wash over him. James strutted over, rubbing the jock in his professor’s face, watching the old man lick at the mesh, eyes rolling back in pleasure as he tried to stop himself from debasing himself. “Yeah–let’s give you a proper dose tonight–how about we head home early today?”

Unable to resist, Mr. Allen left his work as it stood, threw on his coat, and walked out the door, with his student following behind.

At his house, James led him right to the bedroom, made him strip and lay down, and then tied his hands and feet to the four posts of his bed. Then, as Mr. Allen tried to clear his head, James stripped off his jock, pulled out the cup, and a roll of duct tape from his bag. He wadded up the jock and crammed it into the cup, and then taped the whole thing over his professor’s nose and mouth, watching the fat man bliss out almost immediately, his cock rock hard in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah, that should do it. I’ll make sure your CPAP gets a pheromone boost as well. Don’t worry professor, by morning, you’ll be happy to do anything I tell you to do. Well, anything anyone on the team tells you to do. I’ll have my A, and you’ll have the privilege of smelling my junk whenever I feel like you deserve it.”

Source: gaggedbear

Lost Boy (2 of 2)

“Oh, you look so much better with that beard trimmed down short like that. Much more presentable and cute, boy.”

“Thank you sir! I’m…glad you like it.”

“Now now, what did we talk about? Sir’s what I used to be, but what am I now?”

“Oh–sorry, d-daddy…” Part of Lee fought that word, tried to keep it from getting out from between his teeth and lips, but it got out anyway, and it felt good, saying that. It always felt good doing what daddy said.

Daddy had found his lost boy at the grocery store–he’d been so scared there without his daddy!–and brought him back to the motel room where he was staying, gotten his boy out of those adult clothes he’d been wearing, gotten him cleaned up and into his new boygear–a leather harness and jockstrap, before trimming down his beard nice and short. Now daddy was shearing the hair off his head, and after that, he would shave him bald, so he’d look like a proper, slutty little cub. The whole time, he’d been talking to his boy, and his boy had been paying good attention. Telling him how much he’d missed his daddy, how happy he was to be back with him, and how terrible he felt for running off like that and getting lost for so long.

“You were a very, very bad boy, you know that, right?”

“Yes daddy…I’m…s-sorr–” but he couldn’t quite finish the word.

“It doesn’t sound like you’re very sorry to me. I think daddy’s going to have to punish his naughty boy, for running off like that. Maybe you don’t really deserve to be daddy’s boy after all, if you can’t even apologize for running off.”

“No daddy! Don’t send me away! I want to be a good boy, I do!”

“Well, let’s get this head of yours cleaned up, and then we’ll hit the bed, and see how much of a good boy you can be. Because if you can’t–then we’ll see how you like being daddy’s dirty piggy for a month or two, and try again after that.”