Lost Boy (1 of 2)

Lee had done his best to put that weekend behind him. Hell, he’d done more than that–when he’d slipped through that strange fucker’s grasp, he’d done more than put it behind him, he’d tried to disappear. He hitched a ride out of town with the first trucker who’d take him, ended up fifty miles away from that god awful place, and tried to forget about what had happened to him, tried to forget about the…things that man had made him do. Had made him want to do. Part of that was trying to figure out who he was again–working out harder than he had, growing out a beard, and over the next few years, Lee settled down into the small town he’d drifted into–he had a girlfriend he was thinking about marrying, a steady job. Then, one Tuesday evening at the grocery store after work, there in the freezer aisle by the ice cream, Lee looked up and he saw him.

He froze. He didn’t know what to do–had he seen him? No–he was still walking away from him. Maybe he didn’t recognize him? What was he even doing here? Was he sure it was even the man? He abandoned his cart and headed for the exit, not caring. He didn’t care what kind of life he could build here, if that strange fucker could show up here, then Lee knew he wasn’t safe, not here, and maybe not anywhere, but–

“Lee? That is you, isn’t it?” A hand clapped down on his shoulder, freezing him in place, that…horrifically familiar comfort flowing into him, relaxing every tense muscle in his body, releasing every worry he’d had. Fuck, he’d…missed this. He’d forgotten how good it felt, having him just…touch him, even through his clothes. “Sweetie, I’m so glad I found you! You know, I thought you were just a weekend fling back then, but ever since you slipped off that night, I’ve always wanted to…reconnect with you again.”

The man’s hand drifted down to his bare arm, the comfort and pleasure tripling, now that it was skin on skin. “Please–I…” he tried to get out, but the man pulled his hand and turned Lee towards him, looking him in the eye, and nothing else mattered, but those eyes.

“But…sir. I don’t…what’s all this got tah do with fixin’ a TV?”

“Shut yer dang mouth boy! Ya know better ‘n tah challenge master. If he says this’ll fix the TV, then we’re gonna do it!”

“But sir…”

*SMACK*

“Don’t want no more lip from ya. Now git in that gear–I wanna see my boy’s ass in those chaps in ten seconds ‘r less.”

“But–”

*SMACK*

“Don’t make me bend ya over mah knee ‘n give ya twenty a those–Oh…Master! Were ya…listenin’ tah us? Sorry, mah boy’s bein’ a bit thick tahday, but we’ll git started on that TV a yers in just a sec…now…where did ya want us?”

“The bedroom? But ain’t the TV in the living room?”

“No sir, sorry sir. I won’t question master, I’m sorry. Ya ready boy? Come on!”

“Damn, quite the setup ya got here–what’s the camera for?”

“Yeah, guess it ain’t that important, I’m just a dumb faggot pig anyway, yer right Master. Alright boy, git on the bed with me, like master said–ya want us tah…do, like, the same stuff…we did last time? Cause…mah boy didn’t really, ‘n I…I mean, I’m a faggot, sure, but I guess, I never really wanted tah put mah cock in a dude’s…ya know.”

“Oh? Somethin’ different?”

“Ya wanna see…mah boy…fuck mah hole? No fuckin’ way, nuh-uh, ain’t gonna happen.”

“Nah sir, I think gettin’ mah cock deep in yer ass sounds real nice–maybe if yer busy moaning ya’ll shut the fuck up for a bit! Now git on there, and take yer boy’s cock like a man! Let’s git this damn TV fixed already.”

Source: musclemechanic

TV Repair (1 of 2)

“Dang, that TV a yers is actin’ up again? What is this, the third time this month? Maybe ya outta have some other tech come out ‘n look at it, since Bryce ‘n I haven’t been much help at all.”

“Ya sure? I mean, I appreciate the compliment–me ‘n Bryce have been workin’ out a bit lately, ain’t that right boy?”

“Yes sir.”

“Finally got this one whipped intah shape! Fuck, first time he came here with me, he was a bit a prick, wasn’t he? So much nicer now that he only speaks when spoken too–and so damn polite!”

“A cigar? Well, you know we can’t turn down one a yer cigars. Kinda started craving them a bit, actually. Bryce too. The wife ain’t too happy ‘bout me comin’ home, smellin’ like smoke, but fuck what she wants. What brand are these anyway? Might want tah pick up some fer mahself.”

“Really? Mail order? Dang–aw shoot, ya’d do that fer us? Thanks bud. Thank the nice man, Bryce.”

“Thank you sir, for giving us a supply of cigars.”

“That’s a good boy. Now, how bout we take a look at that TV a yers. Still doin’ the same staicy shit as before, huh? Well, we’ll try and git tah the bottom a this tahday, ‘n hopefully ya won’t have to see either of us again for a while! Go on boy, git down there, on yer knees–that’s it. Make room fer me too…n’…let’s focus….focus on the screen. See if we can…can look deep enough, find out what’s…the matter…

Source: somacho

Hypno Me Please (Part 2)

Well? What do you think? What a difference a year makes, right?

Heh, it took two months of baby steps before I dared take him out for his first test drive–that is, before I made him take the first step down the path I’d been designing for him in my head, a path he would have never agreed to in his life. So what did I make him do? I made him cut his hair. He knew exactly what he was doing, as he went into the bathroom, powered up his razor and shaved off those beautiful locks–I watched on the cam of course, pleased beyond the belief, even if he was sobbing and furious by the end of it. I told him it made him look better, and he told me he’d never chat with me again–as if he could help it.

No, he found himself unable to resist replying to me, and if I sent a hypno file to him, he’d find himself unable to resist opening it up and watching it. He tried to tell me the files weren’t working–but the fact was, he simply hadn’t noticed what they were doing to him. He’d stopped going to the gym a month later, and look at him now–that new gut of his, those flabby arms. I’ve been considering making him gain…but I’ve had other priorities.

See–he’s starting to like it. He won’t admit it easily, but I’m wearing him down, bit by bit. Being forced to do public cam shows for anyone who wants to watch, those new tattoos of his–and the diapers of course. I made him wear them once as punishment, and his reaction was so extreme–he sobbed for hours–that I had to make them part of his wardrobe permanently. Yes, permanently. He knows he has to wear them, but what I don’t quite think he’s noticed is how much control he’s lost over the last few months–but when I make him go a month without them, and he pisses and shits himself at work–well, he’ll be begging to be back in them soon enough.

Still, I have a flight to catch. A little one year anniversary surprise–he gets to meet his master in person for the first time. We’re going to have so much fun for the next week, and for years to come. Oh yeah–years. What can I say? He’s worth the commitment, whether he wants it or not.

Hypno Me Please (Part 1)

It was a public posting, on one of the hypno forums I lurk around, with a simple title, “Hypno Me Please!!!” Now, guys who are looking to be hypnotized are a dime a dozen around the internet–they’re about as common as guys who are actually capable of hypnotizing them are rare! It just so happens, that I’m one of those rare few, but I’m also finicky, and my interests can be…well, let’s just say that I love humiliating people, and we can leave it at that for now. So I follow the thread, out of curiosity. A few guys had sent him chat info, and a few others had asked for pics, and the pics the guy sent…well, let’s just say that, if they were real, I’d found an interesting, potential subject.

Still, I can’t do much beyond throw out a hook (granted, with some very tempting bait) and see if he bites. I send him a link to what I call one of my “hypno files,” and that if it interests him, we can chat more about some direct play.. The link actually leads is an automated hypnosis program of my own design, with two simple objectives–first, a simple suggestion to follow my commands and seek to serve me, and second, a hack in the program turns on the subjects webcam, and films them while they jack off, staring at the file, and sends it directly to me.

What can I say? I loved him. The pics had been real, it turns out, but a bit old–he’d obviously been going to the gym more regularly and started shaving since those pics had been taken…and fuck, all I wanted to do, as soon as I saw him, was ruin him, every bit of him. He cums on himself and wipes it up with a cloth, the file ends and the feed cuts–and I wait. A few minutes later, he messages me back, tells me he loved the file, and wanted to know if I had any more. Did I ever. Still, best to boil them slow. By the time he realizes something is wrong, there won’t be any way for him to escape.

How long has he been under? Not sure at this point, but probably close to three weeks. Picked him up as a baseball game was letting out–he was with a couple of friends, so I had to wait until they split up, so I could get close to him, chat him up a bit, walk with him, guiding him in circles around town for a few hours, sinking him deeper and deeper into himself and under my control until he wasn’t even really there anymore. Just a new toy for me to have some fun with.

Been playing around with him quite a bit, actually, bringing bits of that old him to the surface and sanding them down a bit, tweaking memories here and there, switching a few things around for him. Sure. I’ve fucked him–you gotta try it a couple of times before you commit, you know? And he’s sweet, both his ass and his mouth, but I’m not really looking for sweet–you remember Faggy? Toy I just got rid of? He was sweet. No, something rough this time around. Something I can really sink my fists into.

No, no marks on him yet, that’s true. That’s because punching a fucking doll isn’t much fun, and sure as hell doesn’t turn me on. That’s not to say he hasn’t been having some painful experiences lately, just to open up his mind to the pleasure he’s going to be receiving from me here soon. No, when I wake him up? The first time I hit him? He’s going to be assaulted by so many damn feelings, he won’t know what to do, but if I did my job right, he’ll ask for another one. Because he’ll want more, even if he doesn’t really understand why. Even though, deep down, he just wants it all to stop.

Think of tonight as a trial run–I even got something to celebrate. Since I found him at a baseball game, I know he’s a fan. But I doubt he knows how versatile of a tool it really is. Once his face is good and bloodied with it, then I’ll ram it up his hole, and we can start getting to the real fun, how does that sound? Alright Bruise, on the count of three, you’ll wake up, just like we discussed. Got it? Good. Alright, one…two…three…

We met through a mutual friend, one night, at a poker game. His name was Ed, and we got on pretty well. We were taking a break from the game, out on the porch, smoking–me a cigar, him a cigarette–when he told me he wished he could quit. So I mentioned my hobby, that I was a bit of a hypnotist, and that, if he wanted, I could practice on him, and help him break his habit.

Now, you should know, I’m a sucker for guys like Ed, and I also am a sucker for smokers, so…I may have had no intention of helping him, really. Of course, I can’t just make someone gay, you know, but Ed…well, he was setting off my berdar a bit, and he had a girlfriend but, well, under hypnosis the truth would come out. If it turned out to be hopeless, I’d help, but if I could take advantage of him? Well, for a face like that, I might do a lot of things.

So he came over a week later, and I put him under. Sure enough, he’s bisexual at the very least, though deep in the closet all the same. That won’t last too long, however, and I put my scheme into action. When he wakes up, I tell him that I’ve made it so he’ll be unable to bring himself to buy cigarettes, or borrow them from anyone–the only place he’ll be able to get them is from me– and I’ll control his intake so he’ll be forced to quit. Of course, what I didn’t tell him, was that I’d just made his nicotine addiction quite a bit stronger than it had been…so he’d be coming over a lot, and he’d be willing to do pretty much anything to get a cigarette from me.

We started off easy, and I put him under a few more times, making him comfortable around me, making him trust me, making him enjoy my presence and my touch. It wasn’t long before he was stripping for cigarettes, and after a month, he resorted to his first blowjob in exchange for five. Tonight? Well, as you can see, he got one for a down payment, and he’ll get an entire pack once I fill his ass. Still, I think he’ll be upgrading soon enough–I much prefer my men to smoke cigars, and Ed’s already starting to loosen up and push back, so I don’t think there will be too much resistance from him in the future.

Perfect Girlfriend (Part 1)

“I’m not kidding guys. She’s, like, the perfect girlfriend,” Andy said, talking with his two friends, Sam and Owen in the breakroom. He’d just finished his shift, and was getting ready to go home for the day, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to keep bragging about Kendra, his girlfriend of six months. They’d moved in together last week, and so far, it had, apparently, been bliss. “She’s so fucking horny, you wouldn’t believe it, needs me, like, four times a damn day. How am I supposed to keep up with that?”

Sam and Owen rolled their eyes–they were both tired of hearing about Kendra–it seemed like the only thing Andy was interested in talking about, and it had only gotten worse over the last few months. Andy had used to be a pretty fun guy, hanging out, playing video games, but ever since he’d started dating her, the guys had seen less and less of him, and he’d started changing in odd ways as well. He’d packed on at least 25 pounds, going from a wiry fairly normal 200 to a husky 230, with no sign of stopping–but he did love her cooking, he said, over and over again. All of this, and neither Sam nor Owen had ever even seen her, much less met her. They’d both suspected she was fictional, but even they’d never heard of someone going so far as to “move in” with a fictional girlfriend. Needless to say, neither of them replied to Andy’s news of sexual conquest–it didn’t matter if they said anything or not; he’d keep going regardless.

“Anyway, she said she’s making meatloaf tonight, so I’d better get home quick, right?” Andy laughed at himself, “See you two tomorrow!”

“Yeah, man.”

“Later.”

Andy loved these days when he could get off early, around three. He got in his car and drove home to his apartment, fifteen minutes or so from work, thinking about Kendra. How as soon as he opened the door, she’d be there, ready for him to ravish her, and then she’d cook him dinner. Fuck! This was the damn life, right?

He pulled into his parking spot outside the complex, got out of his car, and couldn’t help but notice his hands were clenched into fists he couldn’t quite get loose, his guts roiling, body shaking slightly. Damn, what was up with him all of a sudden? Probably just hungry, or maybe that sushi he ate for lunch, who knows? He walked up the flight of stairs to his apartment, fingers fumbling with his keys, and he couldn’t quite get it into the lock, like his hand kept missing it somehow. Still, he needed to get in and see Kendra, he was so damn excited! On the third try, the key slipped in and turned. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

“There’s my handsome boyfriend,” Ken said, sitting in the recliner in front of the TV, the same place Ken always was when Andy got home, when he remembered. He grabbed the door handle, trying to twist it, but he already knew he wouldn’t be able to get it open–he could always get in, but he’d never once been able to get out without Ken’s permission.

Ken. Andy had moved into the apartment across from him a year ago, and he’d just assumed his neighbor was an old weirdo, and a bit of a pervert, from the way he kept looking at him when they passed on the stairs. He was dirty, with long hair and a big beard, teeth rotting, clothes reeking with cum and smoke and who knew what else. He…didn’t know when he’d been ensnared, but he’d dated Kendra without knowing her real identity for a month, before Ken revealed himself one night, before raping Andy’s hole. He’s been trapped in this nightmare ever since–outside, he’s dating his beautiful, perfect girlfriend Kendra. Inside, he’s little more than Ken’s mindfucked slave.

“Come on over here son,” Ken said, “Daddy’s been edging for hours, waiting for you to get home.”

Oh fuck yeah, Andy thought, stripping off his work clothes as fast as he could, hurrying to his dad’s side. Fuck, he loved his dad so damn much, he’d do anything for him. He immediately climbed on top of his dad, grinding their bellies together, waiting for Ken to pull his cigar out before giving him a long, wet, sloppy kiss, sucking the smoke from his mouth as he exhaled, before kissing him again, slipping down lower, feeling his dad’s thick, hard cock slipping up and down his crack, catching slightly on his boyhole. God, he wanted daddy inside him, it was the only time he felt alive, serving the cock that made him. Another few tries, and the head slipped in, followed by the rest of his shaft, Daddy holding his son tight, the boy letting him slide in and out, slow, moaning and sighing and whimpering.

“I love you son, do you love me?”

“Oh god daddy, I love you so much!” Andy cried, “Oh fuck daddy, fuck me!”

“Could never fucking help yourself, you know. I remember the first day you came into my room, begging me for my cock like a little whore. Telling me how you’d seen guys fucking on the damn internet, wanted your old dad here to show you what it felt like to have a cock in your ass…”

Andy didn’t remember that, really, but he’d probably just forgotten that. His dad would never make something like that up. It did sound like something he’d say anyway–Daddy was always talking about how much of a nasty, desperate slut his son was.

“Finally getting some meat on those bones, turning into a damn hot fuck.”

“Thanks daddy.”

“But you want to be bigger, I bet–think you’re hot now, just wait till you finally top 300, you fucking pig.”

Andy’s eyes glazed over, mouth going slack, and he gave a great, long snort, bucking his hips faster, grunting in time with Ken’s thrusts, mouth exploring his master’s body, lciking and sucking at his sweat and musk.

“Nasty, disgusting, filthy piggy. Gonna stuff yourself today. Stuff yourself, and you won’t be able to fucking stop, hell no.”

The hunger was back, oh fucking god, he was so hungry! He slurped and licked at his master’s neck before biting down on his shoulder, slobbering, gut kneading itself into knots, master closer to cuming now, closer to cuming deep in his pig’s filthy hole, and then maybe he can eat, maybe it can fucking eat! Drool ran from it’s mouth uncontrollably as Master thrust in time with the pig’s grunts, and then with a groan, he came, holding pig on for a moment longer, before letting him slide off. The pig tried to stand on two feet for a moment, but fell onto hands and knees, where it felt much more natural. Master’s cock was there, and it crawled over, cleaning off the filth from it’s own ass, and as disgusting as it tasted, it was too good for a pig like him, and it ebbed the hunger slightly, having something it it’s mouth to lick and slurp on.

Life Coach (Part 1)

“Look, all I’m doing is providing a service. I’m a lawyer, it’s my job to represent my clients to the best of my abilities. Besides, in my opinion, when it comes to divorce, misandry rules. Do you know how hard it is for a guy to get custody? Kids need their fathers too. All I do is level the playing field,” Shane said and took another sip from his beer, looking over at his new neighbor, trying to judge his reaction. Still, he was used to getting flack for his job from people–but he didn’t want approval, he wanted cash, and cash is what he got, which is why he got to live in this nice neighborhood.

“How does Sandra feel about what you do for a living?” Stewart asked. He was an older gentleman in his late fifties, a bit of a potbelly with a thick, mostly white beard. He’d offered his neighbor over for a beer, since they hadn’t been formally introduced yet, although he was beginning to have second thoughts he even wanted to know him.

“Why would it matter what she thinks? I buy her the jewelry, the handbags, the perfume. She’s happy,” he said with a smirk, “If anything it’s a warning. If she wants out, she’s not going to be getting anything out of me, that’s for sure.”

Definitely didn’t want to know him at all. Evan let the silence between them expand, hoping Shane would take the hint, but he didn’t.

“So, what do you do, Evan?”

The older man stayed silent a moment more, before replying. “Well, it’s a bit hard to explain, really. The closest thing, you might say, is that I’m a life coach.”

Shane let out a laugh, “You? A life coach? Don’t you think you might want to look like, you know, a better role model before that? No offense, but I wouldn’t really think someone who looks like you would have good advice for how to live your life.”

“Well, my clients would disagree–they bought me this lovely house right next to yours, after all.”

“Well, you must be good then.”

“I’m very good at what I do, I think. My services are rather unique, in fact. I’m less a life coach, and more…well, it’s difficult to explain. I can help people who’ve reached a dead end find…a way out, you might say. Most of it works a bit like hypnosis, but–”

“Wait, hypnosis? You have got to be kidding me, that shit’s not real!”

“Oh, well, hypnosis itself is a rather limited tool, but what I do–”

“No, seriously, you’re just a fucking con artist?”

Evan bristled a bit, “You would do well to remember your manners. It’s not nice to insult the host.”

“Look man, I’m sorry, but you can’t really expect me to believe that you can actually hypnotize people, right? I mean, that shit’s for college parties.”

“Well, like I said, it isn’t hypnosis per se, but rather…well, why would I even bother talking to a skeptic like you?” Evan smiled, “Someone like you would have to see it to believe it, right?”

“Heh, I suppose so. Still, I can’t be hypnotized, so you’re out of luck.”

“How do you know? Has anyone tried?”

“Ha! Do you know the kind of willpower it takes to succeed in my line of work? You don’t get to where I am by letting people walk all over you and control you,” Shane said, looking his new neighbor right in the eye. Evan didn’t reply, he just met the gaze, and locked it. After a few seconds Shane started feeling a little uncomfortable, the hairs on his body raising up slightly–he tried to pull his eyes away, tried to blink…but he couldn’t. All he could do was keep staring at Evan’s eyes…sinking in deeper and deeper, like the tension in his body, the energy, was being sucked out of him. The bottle of beer tumbled from his hand to the carpet as he slumped down in the chair, his mind furiously trying to push back, trying to resist, but it was too late. His head just felt so…empty all of a sudden. He was so tired, and yet he couldn’t quite fall asleep.

“Funny how the ones who think they’re in control are the easiest to put under,” Evan said, pushing himself up from his armchair and walking over to where Shane was slumped on the couch. The closer he got, the more intense his gaze became, until it was the only thing Shane could think about, the only thing he could see. He barely noticed Evan unbuttoning his dress shirt, and examining his muscular, gym toned body, opening the fly of his slacks and pulling out his six inch cock from his pants. “It feels good, though, right? Not being in control? Letting people walk all over you, you fucking wimp? Feel how hard you are, how much you’re enjoying this–how humiliated you are. You’ve been taken down by a short, fat old man, and all you can do is get harder in my hand.”

Shane couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on, but…but he did feel good. Is…is this what losing control felt like? Did it really feel this good?

“You know, I don’t really have room in my schedule for another client, but I think I’ll take you on, pro bono. I think you should explore this side of you, don’t you? See what happens when you let go of all that need to control, when you let other people dominate you, take over your life. Is that what you want? Do you want me to control you?”

Shane wanted to say no, he did, but his mouth wasn’t working right. All it could do was…was gasp and moan, his rock hard cock leaking all over Evan’s hand, even as he desperately tried to form the word. Evan kept up the attention, leaning closer, their eyes mere inches from each other when Shane finally exploded, cum splattering all over his suit, and he finally managed to utter a word in the midst of the afterglow, a quiet, barely audible, “Yes.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Evan said, “Now let’s get to work–we have so much to do tonight.”

Shane didn’t really know how to describe what happened next. Evan put his fingers on both his temples in a strange configuration, pressed hard, and it was like electricity fired through his brain and body, and everything went black.

He’s fucking clueless.

It all started after that day in our intro to psych class, the one where our professor discussed hypnosis, and even demonstrated it on one of our classmates–with his permission of course. I was amazed–I had no idea it was so easy to put someone under like that, and I just couldn’t quite shake the idea of…my roommate for some reason.

He was a bit of a pig, kind of a slob, and it had always bothered me. I thought I’d…put him under and just make him clean up after himself a bit better, but once he was under, I just…it seemed like such a good idea to get him to suck my cock for me. I’d always been gay, and I hadn’t exactly had much luck with any of the guys here, and he seemed game enough.

Needless to say, he’d basically my pet pig at this point. I did make him clean up his act a bit, but I’ve been increasing his appetite, and it shows–he’s packed on the Freshman Thirty at this point, and it’ll be fifty by the end of the semester. All I have to do is say a word, and he’s on his knees, eyes shut, begging me for my cum. Yeah, fuck, just seeing him, the fucking mindless slut, it makes me nut every time. I’m gonna start whoring him out, I think–I know a few other guys in my psych class who might enjoy the pigs mouth for some cash, and he loves sucking cock so much, I doubt he’d object.

He’s fucking clueless.

Ever since that lecture in psych, I just knew I had to. My roommate and I, we’d never really connected, you know? I was too dirty, he was a clean freak–I thought that if I hypnotized him, I could get him to loosen up a bit, you know? But once I had him under, I thought–why not get something else out of him too?

I’d always been a bottom, and he wasn’t about to object to getting his cock sucked–and damn did he have a fine cock–the rest of him just wasn’t much to look at you know? Well, we’ve been working on that lately, of course. He’s going to the gym five days a week at this point, working out with a couple of other guys from our psych class, and dame, he’s looking buff all of a sudden, and I think the workouts are making him hornier.

He sure as hell is making me hornier–he hasn’t noticed that he’s stopped showering at this point, and the musk rolling off him when he walks in the room, it’s enough to send me to my knees, tongue out, eager for a load of cum. I’ve been molding his personality a bit, and he’s turned into a nice, brutal top now–fucking my face and my ass long and hard, talking dirty to me. I think I’ll start whoring him out–I know a few other bottoms who’d love a top like this, and he won’t complain about the extra tail, not after another one of our conversations.