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Author’s Note: All characters described are over 18. If you’re going to play in real life make sure things are safe, sane, and consensual. But in this fantasy, just enjoy.

*

George would be the first to admit that he didn’t spend as much time with his son growing up as he probably should have. For most of his formative years, he was in places that he can’t describe doing things that he can’t talk about. Not that he thought that had any impact on my Davey turning out the way he did, George loved him for the man he became and if he loves other men then who was he to judge? Davey inherited his father’s height, standing just over six feet, as well as his brown eyes and hair. George’s chosen career path led him to be well muscled; some might say overly muscled, but what could he say he loved his thick thighs and biceps that threaten to tear through his seemingly endless supply of t-shirts. Davey probably could have added the same amount of muscle to his frame if he wanted, but that didn’t seem to be something that he was remotely interested in. He kept himself long and lean, running and swimming almost exclusively. He hit his growth spurt the summer before his junior year in high school, and it took him some time to fill it out when he shot up almost a foot in one summer. This, along with his more reserved personality, led to him having one or two bullies during the last two years of high school. He managed to keep this from his father for quite some time, but, to Davey’s disappointment, not forever.

Graduation had come and gone, and Davey was helping George out with some lawn work in front of the house while he cleaned out the pool in the back. He heard an extra voice from up front, a deep bass up against his son’s stiff tone. George didn’t often hear him sound like that, he was a pretty easy going man, so he sidled up to the front gate so he could peek around and get some idea of what was happening.

An extremely fit young man, standing a couple inches shorter than Davey, had a hand wrapped around his son’s bicep and was pointing a finger up at him. Obviously coming into the middle of the conversation he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what was happening, but it was fairly easy to discern.

“…said I didn’t want to see you around after graduation faggot – don’t you have somewhere to be that doesn’t make the rest of the world look at your ugly mug?” he growled into Davey’s face, which noticeably tightened at the question.

“Get out of my yard then if you don’t want to see me,” his son almost mumbled, looking smaller than he thought he had ever seen him.

“Why don’t we just make it so that face of yours is harder to see, huh? Can’t make it look any worse, right?” As the boy was saying this, he tugged on Davey’s arm, propelling him into a freshly watered and fertilized bed at the front of the yard, immediately coating him in mud and gunk.

“Much better,” the bully laughed and walked off as Davey sputtered and clawed at the mud covering his face.

This clearly wasn’t the first time they had had an interaction, and George was disappointed in himself for not knowing what was going on as well as in Davey for not trusting him enough to tell him. He grabbed one of the rags that he kept outside to clean his hands and trotted up front, crouching down in front of his son and placing a hand on his back to help push him into sitting up. As he went to hand it to him George realized that his hands were just as dirty as his face, so he leaned forward and gently wiped him off until he could see. He could tell Davey was blushing under the remaining dirt and he didn’t seem to be able to look his father in the eye.

“Who was that, son?” he questioned, as softly as he could manage while brimming with anger.

“Brian Summers,” he mumbled, “we went to high school together. He’s just a jerk.”

“I could tell he was a jerk, kid, but why didn’t you tell me what was going on? This obviously wasn’t a new type of interaction for the little prick,” he asked while handing off the rag for his son to clean his hands as well. The jeans and white t-shirt he was wearing were definitely a lost cause at this point.

“Figured I could just wait him out, he always had friends to back him up. I didn’t want anything to make it worse,” Davey explained, his voice stronger. He had put some thought into this, and overall it wasn’t a bad plan. A bully who gets no reaction generally moves on; but not every kid had George for a father.

“Why don’t you go on inside and finish cleaning up, don’t worry about it. I’ll see what I can,” George started, but felt the need to clarify further when he noticed the panicked look on his son’s face. “I mean what I can do that won’t cause any blowback on you, promise kid.”

“Okay, dad. If you say so,” Davey headed back up the drive, the back of his shirt streaked in mud and shoulders slumped in what George could only call defeat.

He would have done whatever it took to help his son, but George was lucky that bahis firmaları he had some experience that wouldn’t make him break that promise, and might actually work out better for Davey than either of them expected.

***

George could see the house where the party was taking place from where he patiently waited in his truck. He had eyes on Brian for the last few days, and all the jackass seemed to do was drink and talk about how great he was to everyone who would listen. He wasn’t the host of the party going on down the street, but he had been there longer than almost everyone else. George had seen him come outside onto the front porch a couple of times, both time with different young women, but they didn’t seem to have any interest in the over-inebriated muscle boy. He didn’t think this would be Brian’s night, in fact he was sure it wouldn’t be, but he was hoping that the boy would realize this soon so that he could get things started.

He got his wish about twenty minutes later, when Brian stumbled out the front door, alone this time. George quickly and quietly moved down the street, coming up close enough that he could grab his arm to ‘help’ him the next time that he tripped over his own feet.

“Woah there, almost bit it there, you okay kid?” George asked, attempting to reign in his smile at how easy the boy was making this.

“Not…a kid,” Brian mumbled, “is fine…gotta car.”

Now, if George were a true good samaritan he would have called the boy a taxi or perhaps dropped him off at home, but instead he brought the chemical soaked rag out of his back pocket and covered Brian’s nose and mouth. Too drunk to realize that he shouldn’t, Brian gasped in surprise and his eyes started to shutter closed only moments later.

George hefted the arm he held over one shoulder and half dragged, half carried his target back towards his truck, sitting him down on the ground by the back wheel not visible from the street. He grabbed the headphones he bought specifically for this new experiment; they had the highest rating for noise cancelling of any that he had looked at. He fit them over the slumped boys ears and then all but tossed him into the back.

The track that would play in the boy’s ears was a mix of things. There was extremely low music with a soothing and consistent ting. Layed on top of that was George’s voice, deep and even throughout.

“Listen to the sound of my voice…you want to be a good boy.” **ting**

George had done this kind of thing before, but never with this intent.

“Good boys listen…let my voice take you under…listen.” **ting**

The strategies employed had been used to help in conjunction with other tactics, never on their own.

“Listening is blissful…sink deeper into bliss…good boy” **ting**

Everything varied just slightly, and it wouldn’t be enough alone for George to cement his revenge, but it would lay a base in his unconscious brain for him when he took further later.

Davey was asleep as planned when George brought the boy into their basement from the side door. He had cleared it out over the last week, knowing that Davey wouldn’t come down here without a reason as they didn’t use it for much other than storage. George had placed a couch along one wall, a double mattress on the ground behind it, and pushed his tools and a chest filled with some things he might need along the wall.

He dumped Brian on the couch, sat down on the other end, and settled in to wait.

***

The boy woke up slowly and obviously groggy – good. Groggy was easy. George leaned forward with a glass of water in his hand when he brought a hand over his eyes with a moan.

“You feel pretty terrible, huh kid?” George asked quietly.

“Ugggggh….what….where…huh?” Damn, George thought, he must still be drunk. How wasted was this boy?”

“You’re in my house, I showed up just as you passed out drunk on the street,” he told the boy, censure in his voice.

“Don’t feel…” Brian mumbled

“You don’t feel good, I know. Want me to help you feel better?” He offered, holding the water closer to the groaning boy.

“Ughh, sure, yeah,” Brian couldn’t seem to work around the jumble in his brain.

“Alright kid, let’s get you sitting up. Then I’m going to give you this water, and I want you to drink the entire glass,” George told him. The water would help the hangover, but it was also laced with something to make him a little more pliable…and an aphrodisiac.

The boy grunted and groaned but did as George said, slowly downing the water once they maneuvered him into an upright position.

“Very good job, boy,” George murmured, taking up the same tone that the recording prompted the boy to listen to while he was passed out. “Now look at me, can you do that? I’m going to do something else to make you feel better.” Brian’s head lolled, but he managed to lean back against the cushion so that he could lock eyes with the man in front of him. He wasn’t kaçak iddaa sure why, but he knew he wanted to listen to this stranger.

“That’s it, just like that…keep looking at me…listen to my voice…let it soothe you…take a deep breath…let it out slowly…listen….breathe…relax with the sound of my voice,” George encouraged the boy into a hypnotic state over and over, watching his eyes flutter and head drop back further as he relaxed.

“That’s it…you’re relaxed…fall deeper and deeper…into sleep…listen to my voice…deeper…you will fall deeper and deeper with every breath…in…out…in…out,” George continued until the boy was completely limp. George made sure that he was paying attention, that he could still hear, understand, and respond to him in this state. He really only had a couple of things that he wanted to impart on the boy, but he also knew that with those in place it would be easier to drop him back into the sleep if he needed to add on later.

“Nod if you can hear me Brian,” George said, using his name for the first time. The boy nodded slowly.

“Good boy. Listen to my voice, my voice is your whole world, my voice is law, you will find yourself unable to resist my voice. You want to please me, pleasing me brings you pleasure. Good boys bring their Master pleasure, good boys listen to their Master. You are a good boy, Brian. Tell me what you are,” he prompted.

“Gooood…boy.”

“And what do good boys want?”

“Please…Master.”

“And who is your Master?”

“Master…you…pleasure…”

George had him repeat it, cementing it in his psyche. He could be made aware of the changes if ordered, but overall the hypnosis would me that he would channel the most desperate slut he could think of to please his new Master. He told the boy that when he woke up he would feel refreshed and coherent, and to not say anything until his Master directed him to do so. He also installed the trigger phrase “pineapple” to put him back under just in case he needed it.

***

“Feeling better boy?” George asked once he was fully awake. The boy nodded in response, eyes widening when he realized that he couldn’t say anything.

“Now boy, you really should have handled yourself better. And I don’t just mean tonight. All that will become clear in time, but I don’t really feel like explaining it to you, especially when I don’t have to. I will tell you that you are going to be a gift to someone, but will require some training before we get there. I’m sure you have questions,” he paused as Brian nodded his head emphatically, “but I don’t care about those. What I do care about is that you understand the rules. The first rule is that you will never disobey me. The second is that you will never attempt to escape from my possession, this room, or anywhere else I direct you to be. The third is that you will never attempt to call, attract attention, or receive help in any way shape or form. The fourth is that you must ask for permission before you do anything outside of an order during the first part of your training. The last rule is that when I do allow you to speak, you will refer to yourself as boy. That is your name now. Brian is no longer here with us.”

The boy’s eyes got wider with each progressive declaration. He still had no idea who this man was or why he had abducted him, but a picture of what was going to happen next was becoming much more clear.

“Stand up and strip, boy,” George commanded him. Boy desperately fought against it, willing his body not to move, to curse this guy out, to do anything other than stand up. Yet his body didn’t obey him anymore, and he soon found himself standing. Slowly he pulled his shirt over his head, and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down to reveal the bright red jock underneath. He always wore a jock on days that he thought he might score, they pushed his bulge up under his jeans so nicely. He regretted it now, as the man started to laugh.

“Stop.” George ordered. “Take your jeans off but leave the jock on; you already were a little slut, who would have guessed?”

Boy blushed almost the same color as his jock, but did as he was told, standing there with his muscled body on display.

“Good boy.” A shudder ran through him at those words, his cock starting to harden at the idea that his Master was pleased with him. His eyes widened again with that thought…Master?

“I can see your mind racing boy. Don’t worry about anything. Just listen to your Master. Be a good boy and you might even come to enjoy what happens. Or not. That’s not really my priority here. Now answer me truthfully slut boy, have you ever been with a man?”

Boy grimaced, but found himself able to speak to the direct inquiry. “Fuck no, I ain’t no faggot, that shit is disgusting,” he took a breath to continue but Master stopped the slander with a quick command to be quiet.

Master walked around boy in a circle, who couldn’t do anything but stand there. He trailed his kaçak bahis fingers across his back, just above the strap of the jock, testing the sensitivity to his touch that he had instilled in boy’s mind. When goosebumps followed his fingers he knew that he was successful.

“If that’s how you feel, boy, you are going to have some serious adjustments to do during your training. But…I’m glad I get to break in a virgin before I hand you over.” Master stopped in front of boy and gently placed a finger on each of his nipples, which were already standing up with the small amount of stimulation he had received. When he rubbed gently, boy’s eyes rolled back and he couldn’t contain a small moan at the pleasure coursing from his nipples. Master took in the rest of his new project; starting with his thick head of blonde hair, his pale green eyes, and a nose that had clearly been broken at least a couple of times. His lips were full, the upper just slightly more so than the bottom, and his chin was strong. Master pinched the nipples under his fingers as he looked down at the wide chest in front of him. It was starting to heave as the boy’s breathing picked up; it was broad and well muscled, trailing into a decent set of abs and a v of muscle leading down into the blonde hair just peeking out from under the jock strap. Further down, his thick thighs were tensed with the effort it was taking to keep still, his calves had a light dusting of hair just a shade darker than what was on his head, and his toes wiggled at the end of his size eleven feet, displaying his discomfort.

“These aren’t nipples,” he told the boy, pinching them again just to watch his face tense up. He could see the boy’s cock was starting to rise a little more with each second, with each pull on his now very sensitive nips. “Would you like to know what they are?”

“Yes…?” the boy wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but he couldn’t resist answering when he knew the man in front of him wanted him to.

“You should address me with more respect if you want me to answer your questions, slave. Yes, what?” Master coupled this with a sharp pull on the tits in front of him, watching as slut’s knees started to buckle before he caught himself.

“Yes, Master,” he couldn’t resist, the pleasure sliding over his body from his nipples had made his cock rock hard, bouncing in the thin pouch covering him, making him desperate for…something. He knew that if he had any control over himself at this moment he would have grabbed his cock and jacked off just to get it out of his system. But how could he want that…how was this man making him feel any kind of pleasure…he wasn’t a faggot. This was very wrong.

“These are tits,” Master interrupted his confusion with that declaration and a new twist on his…tits? “What are they,” Master prompted.

“Tits?” Boy ended on a moan as Master tugged up on his tits, tightening and forcing him up onto his toes.

“What did I just say, slut?”

“Ahh…Master, they’re tits, Master!” Boy squealed and panted as his tits ached with the abuse. His hands remained by his sides, unable to do anything to stop the pain radiating from his tits, but his cock, starting to stain the fabric of his jock with his leaking precum, disagreed with his discomfort.

“Good boy.”

Boy moaned as another wave of pleasure rose through his body, starting at his toes and warming all the way through him. He swore that if…Master…called him that a few times in a row he could cum just like that.

“Now, slut, I’m going to leave your tight little virgin hole for someone else to break in, but I’m going to train you to give the best blowjob you could ever imagine. Before we move onto that, however, speak freely. You have thirty seconds.”

Boy gasped, coming back to himself suddenly. He wasted some time trying to call out for help, hoping someone was nearby to hear him, before he remembered the directive not to try to escape. “Please, what the fuck are you doing, I won’t tell anyone, let me go you damn faggot,” Brian babbled. It didn’t seem like he could figure out if he wanted to beg to be released or somehow threaten his way out. Yet he shut his mouth immediately when the thirty seconds were up.

“Slut, nice try, but no, I won’t let you go, and you won’t actually do anything about that. You are stuck here,” he leaned close and tightened his grip on the boy’s tits as he whispered in his ear, “you might as well enjoy it, I’m going to have fun turning you into a ‘damn faggot’ as you say.”

The boy whimpered in fear, arousal, and pain. “Get on your knees,” Master barked. Boy complied immediately, moaning when the movement tugged his tits from Master’s grasp.

“Open your mouth. Good boy.” Boy stuck his tongue out in a panting moan that he couldn’t help as the pleasure rocked through him. He thrust his hips, searching for any kind of friction on his tormented cock that might make him cum. Master didn’t miss the motion.

“Stop fucking the air slut, we aren’t here for you. You won’t get to cum until I allow it. In fact, you won’t be allowed to cum without my permission,” Master informed him, grinning wickedly when the slut whimpered, tongue still hanging out of his mouth.

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