And When He Was Bad... (hypno)

Chapter 1

I already knew how to control his mind - all I needed now was to get him alone for ten minutes. Easier said than done.

'He' was Peter Lewis, the sexiest guy in school. He was tall, muscled, charming, boyish, popular, smart, had white teeth and a thick head of blond wavy hair. I spent days dreaming about him and nights spying on him. Well, not quite spying. He lived next door, and occasionally I'd look out the window into his bedroom ... you know, all innocent. Okay, there was the night that he undressed in front of his bedroom window that kept me in wet dreams for months, but aside from a little obsessive behavior, you could just call me your average high school nobody.

What I did have was a great imagination. My biggest thing was the Drama Club. Not acting, but writing little scenarios and directing them. It gave me such a thrill of power to tell people what to feel, what to say, how to act, and then watch them do it. I don't know if the 'puppet master' syndrome came first, or whether my exposure to the theatre caused it, but all during puberty my fantasies were made up of me controlling other guys and getting them to do all sorts of perverted things. Wherever it came from, by the time I was ready to graduate, my sexual world consisted of an overwhelming desire to make the most popular boy in school my total slave.

That's where the subliminal light optic goggles come in. The SLOGs were a present from my parents, and the box said they helped you relax or study or meditate and a hundred other totally useless New Age things. I tried them, they were nice, they went back into the box.

Then I saw this report on the Discovery channel. It seems certain rates of flashing lights can lead to epileptic fits and - in some cases - trance! Shi-it! This was just the thing I had been looking for. It took a couple of weeks to get the right set of pulses (it's amazing what you can find on the internet) and then another few weeks to set the SLOGs up so they would hit that rate.

I won't bother you with all the details about my experiments, and how I tested it on my parents. If you keep reading, you'll probably find out. All you need to know is that they worked. They induced a deep, programmable trance state in 9 out of 10 subjects (okay, I hadn't tried it out on ten people, but that seemed a safe statistic at the time) and I was ready to try out the big plan. Four more weeks of school, then we graduate and I might not see my hot stud again.

But now, getting the Most Popular Boy In High School alone so I could brainwash him was proving almost impossible. But there is one thing an obsessive personality does extremely well - wait.

Tuesday afternoon, after school and Peter walks out of his back door and throws a towel down on the lawn. He sets himself up for a bit of sunbathing, and I'm out the door like a shot to put a little impromptu plan into action.

"Damn stupid thing ... damn, damn. Damn!"

"What's up, Chris? You cut off your toe or something?"

Peter came over to the fence, drawn by my cursing. His tanned body looked so smooth and his eyes were so blue, I almost got some drool on the SLOGS.

"Nah, Pete. It's just these goggles my parents got me. I just can't get them to work." Peter looks over the fence at the shiny black plastic and wires in my hands, and like any good male, he's eager to get his hands on a new toy. And prove in the process that he's a more competent human being than I am. That's okay with me.

He comes in through the side gate, dressed only in a skimpy pair of swimming briefs and a light sheen of perspiration, and I show him how I pressed the little switch and the LED's flash and there's this little hum, but I just can't get the goggle lights to flash. He puts the SLOGs on, and the next minute his alpha waves go so high and his delta's go so low he's mine.

(You know in the cartoon shows, when the little character does his dance of joy after some complicated trap is sprung and the victim is helpless before him? I'm not saying I did a little dance, but, boy, was I tempted.)

"Peter, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Good. Peter, I want you to listen to what I'm about to say very carefully...

"You are in a deep trance state at the moment, and I'm just going to try some reprogramming. From now on, you will do exactly as I tell you. You will obey any order I give you completely and without question. You won't be able to help yourself.

"Everything else will remain the same, except this compulsion. No matter what I tell you to do, from now on, you will have to do it. You will not be able to resist my orders in any way. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"So what did I just say?"

"I must do everything you tell me to do. I must obey you without question and completely."

"Good enough. Now, when I take off the goggles, you will be programmed. From now on, you must do everything I tell you. Everything."

I removed the goggles, and held my breath as I waited for a response. (Needless to say, this was an extremely nerve-racking moment. I mean, I was playing with fire here. If the programming didn't work, I was dead meat.)

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Peter looked extremely angry, and ready to punch my lights out. "What was all that shit about 'obeying your every command'?"

He started walking toward the gate, mumbling about the loonie that lived next door.

"Stop!"

He stopped. Just like those paralyzing rays in the cheap sci-fi shows, or reruns of Mork and Mindy. He just stopped dead in his tracks.

I walked over to him, and looked him over. His eyes were still working, but his arms and legs seemed frozen.

"What the fuck is going on? What have you done to me? If you don't stop it, I'm gonna kick the shit out of you, you..."

"Shut up, Peter." He shut up. His eyes said he was still cursing me, but there was no sound coming out of his mouth. (Okay, at this point I couldn't help myself, and I did a little victory dance. So I'm a cartoon evil genius. I already knew that.)

"Okay, Peter, I'm going to let you move in a minute, but a few things first. You are not to harm me in any way. Ever. Unless I specifically order you to, that is. And you are not to leave this yard until I give you permission. So, you can move again now." He seemed to come out of deep freeze. He completed his move toward the gate, and then just stopped. He turned around to face me, and I could tell by his eyes that he was still screaming at me inside his head.

"You can talk now, as well."

"..you pigheaded little shit-for-brains. I'm gonna get you so bad..." It was funny listening to him saying all the things he was going to do to me while he just stood there. I don't think he really knew what had happened.

"Peter, I think you should drop and give me ten pushups." He immediately went to the ground and started work. He was still cursing, so I sent him back down for another ten. He couldn't get up after I had made him do a hundred, and he was panting enough to at least stop badmouthing me. For such a nice guy, he had a really extensive vocabulary of swear words. I'm not into swearing myself. Shit, if I could swear I wouldn't keep this anger and resentment inside so I could stew over complicated plans for revenge, and that'd be no fun.)

"Peter, I think that's enough for now. Stand up." He managed to stand and stood glowering at me. "No, not like that. Stand at attention, hands straight by your side. Like a soldier." He stood erect, at a reasonably good imitation of a cadet at attention, but I'm afraid it wasn't good enough. I stepped forward and spoke quietly into his ear.

"This is very important, Peter. I know that you hate me at the moment, but from now on, when I give you an order, you will not only have to obey, but you will obey with enthusiasm. You'll try damn hard to obey my every command to the best of your ability. I don't care what's going on inside your head, but when I tell you to stand at attention, you will damn well do better than this."

"He gritted his teeth, but he must have stretched up at least another inch. He didn't want to obey, but he had no choice.

"Okay, stand at ease."

He adopted a good at-ease posture. He must have been watching army films or marine recruiting ads. I was pleased. Of course, he wasn't. He tried reasoning.

"Look, Chris, I don't know what you've done. But you've had your fun now. Let's stop it here, and I'll forget all about it. Okay?" What was he going to do next? Try out his own version of 'good cop, bad cop' on me?

"I didn't do all this just for a little joke, Peter. You are mine now. Forever. Or until I get tired of you. Do you understand? Mine!" I think he really got the point, because there was this glint of fear in his eyes that wasn't there before. Maybe I was evil? Well, too late to do anything about it now.

"There's something I've always wanted to do. Actually, it's something I've always wanted you to do. Now is as good a time as any, don't you think?' He looked even more afraid. "Good, I'm glad you agree. Now, let's get you into some decent street clothes and go for a drive, shall we?"

I sent him to get dressed, and I met him out the front in my Mum's car. He obediently climbed in, and I could tell he'd used the few minutes in his bedroom to think up a new strategy.

"Look, Chris, you know I'm your friend..." God, it was going to be good cop, bad cop. Is that the only thing people pick up from cop shows nowadays?

"Peter, you will never again ask me to undo what I've done. You will never try to undo what I've done. Comprende?"

"Yeah..." He was still sullen, but at least I stopped him from making a fool of himself. That was my job.

We drove out to the army base, about fifteen miles out of town. I pulled up about a mile from the main gate.

"Now, this is where we start doing things my way." I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder, and he pulled away. He still had control over everything I hadn't given an order for. He had to stay in the car and not try to escape, but he could still move away from me.

"From now on, I am going to touch you where and when I like. You will not pull away from me, flinch or in any other way try to stop me. Actually, I want you to feel good about me touching you. It will make you feel nice and warm." With that said, I again reached out, and this time he didn't pull away. As I rubbed his shoulder, there was a look of surprise on his face, as he actually felt it as a nice thing. He knew I had told him it would be, but that didn't change the fact that it was a good thing. I don't know whether he tried to fight the pleasant sensation. It didn't matter. Eventually, he would come to love it.

"You know, I've always wondered what you'd be like with a buzz cut. Like a marine." I reached out and stroked his thick golden hair. "I mean, not necessarily forever, but just for a while. To see what it looks like."

"Chris, please, I'm asking you..."

"Ssshhh..." I said, and he did. "You see, there's a barber shop on the base that does these wonderful army cuts. You are going to drive in there. Use your charm and tell them that you've lost a bet, and you've come to pay up. I want you to go to that barber shop and ask for a 'high and tight'. Got that?"

"A high and tight?"

"Yep, that's right. And if he asks you how high and tight, I want you to tell him to go for it. The higher the better. You won't tell anyone what is really going on. Your story will be the thing about the bet, and if anyone asks you, you secretly want to do it anyway. I want you to act as if you're enjoying every minute of it. I don't want you to raise any suspicions. But you must do what you have to get the cut. Okay?"

He still couldn't speak, because of my 'shhhh' but I could see by his eyes that he understood. I ran my hands through his hair once more, then got out of the car.

"Now, drive up there and do what I've told you to do. Then, when you're finished, come back here and pick me up. Sounds simple enough, eh?"

He moved over to the driver's seat and I stood aside. He drove off toward the base and I sat down by a tree to wait.

Now, a word about what I'm doing. Yes, I would have loved to watch him go through the whole performance. And watch them shave his head. But at the moment, it was enough that I had set the events in motion. God, I mean, from now on, I could get him to shave his head every day. What I needed most was to be alone for ten minutes with my cock, before it decided I had lost both my hands in some horrible accident and it would start without me.

 

Chapter 2

It was over forty minutes later when Peter left the camp and drove up to where I waited. (Actually, I had made good use of the time, but a hypnotized slave is a hypnotized slave, right, and I couldn't let him get away unpunished.)

As he pulled up, I was amazed at how much the haircut had changed his looks. His scalp was white where the skin was exposed, and there was just a strip of bristly short hair left on the top of his head. He looked like a new recruit, except for the civvies he was still wearing. He looked quite miserable, but I assumed my orders regarding the process itself had worn off. Actually, I think he was starting to get a little pissed off with me.

"So, Peter, how did it go?"

"Fuck off. You can see damn well how it went." Yep, he was definitely upset with me. You see, the good thing about using the SLOGs is that, although he couldn't help but obey my every command, outside those orders he was still very much himself.

"Now, Peter, that's no way to talk to your master - although the swearing is something new. From now on, you may not swear at me, or get angry at me at all. However, other than that, I want you to indulge your swearing everywhere else. I think it will suit your new look. And talking of this new you, I think it would be best if you called me Sir from now on. All the time. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." He grunted.

"Good. Now, what have you got on under that shirt? Take it off and let me see." He reluctantly pulled his shirt off and handed it over. I don't know if anyone from the base was watching us, so I told Peter to start driving back toward town, but to stop at one of the picnic areas before we got there.

Then I set to on his shirt. I ripped off the sleeves, leaving them rough and torn at the shoulders. Then I managed to get rid of all the buttons except the lowest. That done, I turned to look over my slave.

Without his shirt, his muscles were gleaming in the sun. The skin on his shoulders and chest was a lot darker than his exposed scalp. Although he was well-muscled, I had a thing for bigger, more bodybuilder types. I would get him working on that later. Maybe we'll need to get him on steroids?

We pulled up off the road still a mile or so from town. The area was deserted, so I had him get out of the car and try on his remodeled shirt. The exposed chest and biceps, combined with the marine cut made him look very butch. Now, I just needed to add a few more instructions before we returned home.

"Peter, in a few minutes I'm going to let you go back home, but I want you to do a few things for me. When you get there, you are going to have a huge argument with your parents. I don't care what it's about, but they'll probably say something about your new look. You will get very angry, and probably start swearing at them, whatever they say." Peter was looking a bit shocked as he realized what I was telling him to do.

"Then, once you've got everything really stirred up, I want you to leave the house - just storm right out - and come over to my place. I'll be waiting there for you with some further instructions. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." He looked like a beaten puppy.

"But for now, let's work on that 'Yes sir' a bit, shall we?" I once again put him through his paces, having him do push ups, running around the tables, doing deep squats, and all the time yelling out at the top of his lungs "Yes, Sir! Thank you Sir! Please let me serve you, Sir!" which was a real turn on but probably scared the shit out of any nearby animals. It didn't take long until he was running with perspiration and his demolished shirt was soaked through.

We got back in the car and drove into town. I couldn't help reaching out my hand and rubbing it all over him, from the short hairs on his head to deep into his crotch. Of course, he couldn't do anything but sit there, as one set of orders stopped him from getting angry with me, or stopping me from touching him, while other orders made him feel warm and happy at my touch. Although I think somewhere inside he knew he shouldn't like me fondling him like that, he was getting used to it and I think he was beginning to like it.

We got back to my driveway and he parked the car. Then he got out and started over to his place, ready for a big scene. In all the years I'd lived next door, I don't think I'd ever heard an argument from them. They were such a civilized family.

Well, that was about to change.

I waited on the porch, and it didn't take long before the sound of raised voices came wafting over the fence. I could tell by the snatches that I could hear that Peter was taking my suggestion about swearing very seriously. I didn't know how long it would take before he stormed out, but from the bits I picked up, it wouldn't be long. And I was right.

Peter came pounding out of his front door, and his father not far behind, yelling something about 'ungratefulness'. His wife pulled him back inside, obviously worried about the neighbors, while Peter made his way to where I was standing.

"That was excellent, Peter. You've done a wonderful job. Now come up to my room and we'll get stuck into some serious stuff."

"Yes, sir!" he shouted, and followed me willingly inside. I just waved to my parents in passing and told them we were going upstairs, and they just smiled and said they'd call us for dinner.

We got to my room, and Peter just stood in the doorway.

"Come in and stand at ease, soldier boy." Peter had no choice but to obey. He adopted an at ease position, and stood facing me.

"I think you can take all your clothes off now, Peter, and show me what I'm actually getting in the way of slave meat."

"Yes, Sir!" he said, and proceeded to strip and throw his clothes on the bed. He went back to the at ease position, and I had a chance to admire the 'equipment'. I walked over to where he was standing, and reached for his flaccid cock.

"Now, then, this doesn't seem very happy to see me. I want you to make your cock as hard as possible for me, Peter." He stared over at me with hate in his eyes, as the blood flowed down and made his dick throb. I was extremely pleased with what I now held in my hand.

"I want you to keep staring straight ahead while I ask you a few questions. How often do you masturbate Peter?" He looked startled, but the words blurted out.

"Once a week. On Sunday, before we get up for church." His face flushed slightly - either through guilt or embarrassment I wasn't sure.

"Only once a week? No wonder it looked so small before. It's not getting enough exercise. From now on, I want you to jerk yourself off about, oh, shall we say eight times a day? To start with, anyway, while you build up your strength. Is that okay?"

"Yes, sir!"

"That means you've got a lot of catching up to do before midnight, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir!"

"So, I guess you'd better start now. Sit down on that chair and show me how you beat your meat." Peter moved over to the chair and sat down with his legs spread. Then he started rubbing his cock slowly, and then harder and faster. Not much technique, but effective, I suppose. It didn't take him long to come He spurted forth over his chest and stomach, and then he dropped his head and started crying.

"What's wrong, Peter? Didn't you enjoy that?"

"No, sir. Please, sir, why are you doing this to me?"

I walked over and placed my hand gently on his shoulder. "Because I can, Peter. Because I can."

He kept crying as the last reserves of strength left him. He had been humiliated all day, his world had been turned upside down and now he couldn't even enjoy jerking himself off.

"Okay, Peter, let's try it again, but this time, you're going to enjoy it. I want you to pretend you're a porn star - some big name famous guy that everyone loves. You enjoy making porn movies, and you really want to do this new film. I'm directing the film, and I want you to audition for me, so I know what I'm getting.

"Now, when I say action, you're going to start masturbating again, but this time do it with feeling. Take your time and really sell it to me. You want this part so badly, you have to get me excited as well. But don't get out of the chair. Just show me how sexy you are just sitting there. Okay, action!"

If I hadn't turned Peter into my own personal slave, he would have had a brilliant career as a porn actor. He took my instructions to heart and really went to town on himself. He kept eye contact with me most of the time as he fondled his nipples and balls, saliva'd his shaft and moaned all the way through. I couldn't help but swell in my own jeans as I watched him. It's amazing what people can do with a little incentive.

This time he came with more passion, and huge gobs of cum joined the rest on his chest, and some even got as high as his chin. It really was a masterful job, but as soon as he stopped, the tears came back into his eyes.

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that?"

"No, sir. You made me enjoy it. You're turning me into a fag, sir." He was weeping now. "You're turning me into a fag. Please, sir, don't make me do that. Please. Sir."

"Now, now, Peter, don't worry about that. I'll fix everything. Look at me." He raised his head, and at least he had stopped crying.

"Listen carefully. That was the best orgasm you've had - so far. You loved it, and from now on, you are going to love being made into a 'fag'. In fact, you'll become extremely excited by the very thought. The more like a 'fag' you become, the happier and hornier you'll be. And you'll be extremely thankful to me for helping you become one. Understand?"

He jumped to his feet and yelled "Yes, sir!". His cock was still solid, and there was a gleam of pleasure in his eyes. There would be no more crying for this boy. I stood up and got extremely close to him, and started rubbing my hand over his bare ass.

"I'm going to turn you into a real little sex slave - a true cocksucker. How would you like that?"

"Sir, Yes Sir! Please sir, I want to be a cocksucker. Thank you, Sir!" He looked very pleased and excited. Good. That will help him with what's to come.

 

Chapter 3

"I think it's time we went down and had something to eat."

"Yes, sir." Peter picked up his briefs and started to put them on.

"You won't be needing them." Peter stopped for minute as he processed the words and determined if it was a new order.

"Sir?"

"I said you won't be needing clothes. In fact, from now on you will only put on clothes when you leave here by the front door. Here in the house or out the back, you will be completely naked."

"But, sir, your parents..."

"Don't worry about my parents. They won't mind."

He dropped his clothes, but he was still blushing. He had no choice but to do as he was told, but he could still feel embarrassed.

"Here. If it makes you feel more comfortable, you can wear this." I handed him an old swimming medal I'd won at some stage. It did little to cover him, but the silver against his naked chest looked right. It wasn't a set of dog tags, but it would do.

I moved toward the door and Peter reluctantly followed.

"By the way," I said, "I want you to spend the rest of the night flirting with me and trying to seduce me. I want your entire purpose to center around getting me into bed with you tonight. Okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

We went downstairs where my parents were waiting. Of course, they barely batted an eyelid when I led my naked slave into the dining room.

"You got yourself a haircut, young Peter? It seems a bit extreme."

"Now, dear, all the young ones do strange things with their hair nowadays. It's just the fashion." My parents had been programmed to ignore anything that didn't fit into their normal worldview, and to rationalize anything they couldn't ignore.

We sat at the table, and Peter started in on his attempt to seduce me. It was a great meal, sitting across from such a handsome stud who spent most of his time telling off-color jokes and winking at me.

"There's nothing like a good piece of meat, is there, sir?" he said, while stroking his hard cock.

"No, Peter, you're right. This steak is excellent," replied my Dad.

"That reminds me," I said. "Peter has a masturbation assignment. Don't you have to come in a minute, Peter?" I smiled across at him.

"Uh, yes, sir, I do."

"Well, then, I don't think you should waste it. I hear that cum is an excellent sauce on steak. Why don't you try it?"

Poor Peter. This morning, his life was just average. Now he was standing at the dinner table jerking off over his meal. It didn't take him too long to come, and the white cream spilled all over the steak and potatoes. He sat down and started eating his own jism-flavored meal.

The best part of it was the way he licked his lips and used his tongue on the meat, suggesting what he would like to be doing to my own cock. If he kept this up, I might soon have to add a little of my own gravy. After the meal, we went in to watch some TV. Peter sat beside me on the couch, and placed his arm around my shoulders. It was just a cozy domestic scene, if you can imagine the Cleavers with a naked son. Every now and then he would lean close and whisper something erotic into my ear. Well, I suppose he thought it was erotic. I guess he was still new to this whole sex slave gay thing.

Dad went to get a beer, and I asked him to bring us back one as well. It made me even more turned on to watch Peter use his mouth and tongue on the neck of the beer bottle, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to take much more. I knew there was just one more thing I needed him to do.

"Dad, do you have any of those cigars left over from last Christmas?"

"Sure, son."

"Peter was telling me this afternoon how he always wanted to smoke cigars. Do you think you could show him?"

"I'd be glad to. Let me just go get them."

I turned to Peter and I could see the worried look on his face.

"Don't worry, Peter. You'll love smoking cigars. It's the sexiest thing in the world, and it will really turn me on." With that he smiled. He really needed to seduce me, and if smoking was the thing to do it, he would smoke the whole box.

The next half hour was spent showing Peter how to smoke. Some of it was funny, but a lot of it was sexy. We sat back on the couch with Peter puffing away and his arm around my shoulders. I slowly rubbed my hand up and down his inner thigh, and he was groaning with pleasure.

"From now on, Peter, if my dick isn't in your mouth, I want you to have a cigar there instead to remind you just who's boss. Okay."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"I guess we'll be going up to bed now. Don't forget, Mum, I want you to take the goggles over to show Mrs. Lewis tomorrow morning."

"I won't forget. Have fun, you two, and don't stay up too late."

We went up to my bedroom with Peter following docilely behind. This was the bit I had been waiting for all day - waiting for for months.

"Peter, I want you to be a real good fag slave, but you don't know shit about pleasing a man." He looked puzzled, sad and apprehensive at the same time.

"I'm going to have to teach you everything tonight. But I want you to pay close attention, 'cause I won't explain it again. Tonight you are going to learn how to please me, and the more you please me, the happier you will be. If you can make me come, you'll feel more ecstatic, more wonderful than you've ever felt before in your entire life." He started looking pleased.

"But I don't want you to come while you are pleasing me, unless I give you a direct order. You will keep you erection solid and hard, but it is my pleasure that must always come first. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" he beamed.

"Good. Now, let's start with undressing." I guided him through all the little rituals and moves that I had long fantasized about. I don't know whether they would arouse any other gay man, but who cares? This was a slave I was training to be exactly what I wanted in a lover. If I wanted him to kiss my bellybutton, then that's what he would dream about doing. If I wanted him to tie my shoelaces around his aching balls, then it would be his ultimate pleasure to do so. God, what power!

"Peter," I said.

"Yes, sir?" His head was lying on my stomach, and I was running my fingers through his short stubble. I had come three times over the past two hours, and his cock was still swollen and rigid.

"Peter, my little slave. This is very important. In a minute, I want you to have the best orgasm you've ever had. You are going to blow your load and feel wave after wave of fantastic feelings. Would you like that?"

"Yes, sir!"

"But listen. When you come, you will forget everything about what I've done to you. You will believe that everything you have done today was entirely your idea. You weren't hypnotized or brainwashed. You've always wanted to be my slave. You have always fantasized about serving me sexually. I didn't make you do this. Serving me, being my little cocksucker, all this was what you wanted."

"Yes, sir." I could see remnants of the old Peter trying to surface, trying to let out one last scream of protest.

"Now, Peter, you love me so much that all I have to do is touch your cock and you will come. And remember, it will be the best orgasm ever. And you will then be my slave for the rest of your life. Okay?"

"Yes, please, sir."

I reached out my fingers and gently stroked his bulging shaft. The stain is still on the side of the bookcase. His cum must have been forced into the wood by the pressure of his explosion.

 

Chapter 4

I came home from school feeling wonderful that it was all over. There were a couple of months of holidays, and then off to college. Boy, it felt good to be alive.

No one was in the house, so I walked through and looked out the back door. Peter was there, moving the mower across the lawn. Of course he was naked. Of course he had the end of a cigar dangling from his lips. Of course he looked good. Of course he looked good.

At first, I thought we might have to use steroids to build him up, but some of his new friends at the army base had shown him how to use the weights properly, and so now his muscles fairly rippled in the sunlight.

He was completely tanned all over, as he seldom wore clothes. The only times he left the house were his once a week visit to get his hair cut and to mingle with the off duty soldiers. They all assumed that on his eighteenth birthday he was going to enlist, and so they treated him as a sort of mascot. I just wanted him to look army. And now I was even getting bored with that.

I watched while he stopped moving the mower and pulled back on the handle so it rested against his erect dick. The vibrations of the machine acted like a vibrator, and he quickly came. It wasn't a fountain, more like a trickle. But then again, I had him jerking off about twenty times a day now, and so there couldn't be much time to replenish his poor seed.

I stepped out onto the back porch, and he was devastated. Not because I had caught him jerking off. But because he had not been at the door to greet me in his usual manner. He wasn't to know that school would be out early, but that didn't stop him feeling as if he'd failed me. He came straight over and threw himself to his knees in front of me.

"Please, sir. Forgive me, sir." Normally, this sort of scene would have turned me on. A few months ago I would have enjoyed him begging and me punishing. But, like I said, it was getting a bit boring.

"Forget it, Peter. I need to talk to you for a minute."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Do you remember you had a friend in school called Robert Lloyd? Dark hair, dark eyes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, he's been asking questions about you. The school board and the social services believed your parents, but it seems that Robert wants to investigate some more. He hasn't done anything until now because of exams, but I'm afraid he's about to make a mess of things." Peter just knelt and listened, waiting for a command or order.

"I think the only thing I can do is use the goggles on him and turn him into a slave." I stopped and tingled with the anticipation of a new conquest.

"Unfortunately, there's no telling who he's already convinced that you have met with some sort of foul play. So, I guess the best thing for us all would be if you actually did join the army." Peter looked slightly puzzled, trying to glean something from what I'd said that he could do to make me happy.

"So, I'll arrange with your parents to sign the release forms, and you can enlist right away."

"Yes, sir."

"I've enjoyed these past few months with you as my slave, but let's face it, you didn't put up much of a fight. I think Robert is going to be a tough nut to crack."

"Yes, sir."

"So, that's it for us. You'll like the army. Of course, you'll probably have to cut down on your jerking off, but I'm sure you can find someone else to serve. That will be my gift to you - we'll fix it so that you can get a new master. I'm sure there's at least one of the men at that camp that you like?"

"Sir, my cock is yours. You are the only master I serve."

"Yes, of course. Don't worry, we'll fix all that. It's time for some new blood, that's all." Peter looked almost heartbroken, but the programming went so deep he couldn't imagine not obeying my orders. I walked over and placed my hand on his bronzed head. He had come such a long way from what he once was. But Robert - now, there's a guy I could really fuck with.

As my mind wandered into thoughts of my new acquisition, Peter knelt on the newly cut grass and felt the absolute pleasure that only came from the touch of his master. The cigar was almost finished, and he anticipated a mouth fucking that would leave him squirming in the dirt with pleasure.

END

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