The Secret of My Success

This is not a new story, as some of you will recognize. I am just making sure all my stuff can be found on this site. I am fighting to make some free time so I can add sections to my newer stories before work requires me leave the country again.

Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the legal age to read this, or are offended by the idea of male-male sex or mind control, DO NOT read further.

My name is Jason L. Although I'm just 28, I already have an extremely successful psychology practice in suburban Boston. I'm successful because I'm known to get results with relatively little work on the part of the patient. Real results, in a very short period of time. If someone wants to quit smoking, for example, I can accomplish it in just a few sessions, without the patient feeling deprived, and without them even really noticing any withdrawal symptoms.

If a couple wants their marriage truly solidified and improved, I can do it. If someone has an intractable weight problem, I can modify their behavior to the point that they emerge as healthy eaters. If someone brings me a child with ongoing behavioral issues, I can fix them up, usually without doing damage to their underlying personality.

I haven't published my techniques because I'm sure they would be very controversial, and I'm not exactly sure how they would be received by the professional societies, not to mention the government. It all comes out of work I did at school, both in college and my graduate program in Cambridge, where I concentrated on mapping elements of personality and self in specific areas of the brain. While work has already been done in that area, I far outstripped my professors in understanding, in minute detail, how to find very particular personal characteristics, and then—here is the secret of my success—I developed a machine, which I kept in a somewhat obscure corner of James Hall, that enables me to perform direct modifications to those personality elements.

It required years of experimentation, which I did mostly on heavily drugged patients with deep psychoses, to uncover what I did, and learn how to stimulate the appropriate brain areas and connecting neural paths in order to, say, eliminate the psychological portion of an addiction, or dull or eliminate a debilitating memory, or even soften a longstanding hatred. So naturally in the course of this research, I also found out where loves, lusts, admirations, and even preferred tastes and other elements are kept. And with its modification capability, my machine is a much more accurate version of hypnotherapy.

While a hypnotist inducing a trance may lead the subject down an imaginary staircase, I have the map of the ACTUAL staircase as I use electric stimuli on the right regions of the brain to lead the subject through deeper and deeper layers of his "self". And through the use of drugs that lower his inhibitions, I can have him describe to me each step of the staircase, what memories and keys to personality elements it contains. And with my secret innovation, I can then use small shocks from the machine to delete or even (with those suggestibility drugs) make substitutions for the memories and personality elements along the way. Of course, there is as much art as science in performing a nondisruptive substitution, and sometimes some personality element may be hiding somewhere I can't find it, but I have learned a lot in these procedures, and I do succeed at most of what I try in the way of personality replacement.

I believe I have benefited society greatly with this innovation. In addition to accurately curing psychological problems, I have taken people who were pretty worthless to society due to some large personal issues, and freed them to become valuable to others by overriding those problems. I have also helped many ordinary people get past otherwise impassable mental blocks. And despite the secret power of this machine, I have generally operated it responsibly, never using it for personal gain.

Okay, so maybe I violated ethics a tad when a gorgeous graduate student strolled into my office and wanted help quitting smoking. In a few short sessions, Kevin had given up smoking, his fiancee, and his business major, had switched to studying psychology, and had become my "wife" and assistant. (I haven't yet had the nerve to legalize the "marriage" under Massachusetts law.) But how have I hurt anyone? He and that harpy of his wouldn't have been happy together, she has no doubt by now latched onto a new victim, and he and I are VERY happy. Whatever I want, he wants too. (With a short visit to my therapy room, that is.) Don't we just make a perfect match?

We have two adopted sons. They are perfect examples of why my machine is such a benefit to society. Hector, 17, was a particularly sadistic Salvadoran gang member since he was about 12. His mother died in childbirth, his father was in prison, and he was nominally part of a foster family, but they never had any control over him and never knew where he was while he was out running with the gang, which was most of the time. He was (and is) covered in tattoos, and kept himself in the fantastic shape any aspiring gang leader needs to be in.

Patrick, 16, came from the south side of Boston, from a series of foster families that couldn't keep him because he grew to 6'7" and graduated from pounding on his siblings to beating up his foster parents. He's got long straight black hair. smooth ivory skin and a young face, but his long arms, well-defined pecs and biceps, and pronounced eight-pack stomach easily intimidate anyone who gets the first impression that he is just an overgrown innocent kid.

Neither of these two had any possible place in society. The state didn't know what to do with them. They were about to move on from chronic juvenile delinquency to truly dangerous adulthoods. So when each of them was brought to me for an attempted 'cure' by a friend in the child welfare office, nobody asked too many questions, or really cared about the results. They just wanted those two off their books. And I saw an opportunity to try out my methods in a new field: criminal rehabilitation. I could give these lost kids another chance at a decent life.

I used my machine to break these two down, discarding personality layer after personality layer, so I could strip them to ground zero and start rebuilding them the way I wanted them. I dug deeper and deeper, clearing out some memory areas, reprogramming wants and needs, loyalties and goals. I erased many of the memories of their out-of-control earlier lives. I'm not sure I successfully replaced ALL parts of their previous personalities, but the new ones I put in their place seemed to take hold.

The new Hector and Patrick were respectful, friendly, helpful, and liked to dress well. I couldn't take the chance of releasing them into the public at large—I wasn't absolutely certain of the permanence of their reprogramming, and they wouldn't have had any place to go anyway—so I decided to try to provide them a good life with Kevin and me. To make them feel comfortable around the two of us, and to keep them out of possible girlfriend-pregnancy issues that would certainly open our family life to unwanted scrutiny, I made them both gay (the first time I had ever done that with anybody), but I didn't cause them to be attracted to anyone specific; I thought I'd let their taste in men develop naturally. I certainly didn't want them attracted to ME, because that could cause conflicts with my wonderful loving relationship with Kevin. Besides, they were certainly too young for my taste.

While I tried to subdue most of their nastier alpha male characteristics during their reprogramming, I guessed there were probably enough of those elements still around that they'd be natural tops. That would make it easy for them to find partners, since Hector's rippling tattoos and Patrick's large powerful body and innocent face would be major attractions for any bottom.

Both boys got good grades in their new school in my neighborhood. Patrick was the star of the basketball team, since he was one of the largest boys, and was willing to invest the time and effort to learn how to play well. As for Hector, although I had not explored that area of his mind, he seemed to have great soccer instincts that maybe came from his early childhood among other Latino kids.

And, what a surprise, there turned out to be some intelligence hidden under their earlier thuggish demeanors. My machine can't increase anyone's innate intelligence, of course, but once freed from other major problems, it's amazing what the mind can do. It's like cleaning years of tarnish off an old piece of silver, and discovering something truly beautiful shining underneath. Both boys showed an interest in learning new skills that they had never demonstrated in their earlier lives.

Soon, I was using Hector to help me with the mechanics of handling patients. With him at the machine's controls, I would call out the numbers of the brain areas I wanted stimulated, while I would stand next to the patient and "burn in" the new memories and personality elements I wanted to implant in them. Hector got quite good at this, and after the first few tries he never made a mistake in locating the right area.

I remember the first patient I let him use the machine on without feeling the need to watch over his shoulder to see every button he pressed. The patient was a college student who wanted to stop smoking. After administering the drugs and hooking him to the machine, and with Hector at the controls, I guided him down the "staircase" as I moved towards his addiction center.

As we reached the right point, I said to him, "You've just finished a really satisfying meal in the cafeteria. What do you want now?" as Hector stimulated area 881b. "A cigarette..." he mumbled. I signaled Hector, who triggered the "replace" stimulus. "No, what you really want right now is a piece of sugar-free gum," I said, holding a stick over the eyes of the patient. "It really hits the spot to chew this piece of sugar-free gum. It satisfies a really basic need. Yes, you really desire a piece of sugar-free gum." The repetition helped burn the substitute addiction into the stimulated memory location. I had Hector move around the area and stimulate areas along different paths as I said, "You know how great the flavor is, you like to chew the sugar-free gum for a long time until all the flavor is out," and so on. And in another area, "You feel how enjoyable it is to your mouth to chew the sugar-free gum, your tongue likes the feel of the sugar-free gum", and so on.

After about an hour of this, the session was done. I looked at the patient with a degree of satisfaction. He wouldn't know exactly why, but from now on, whenever the student reached this part of his "program" in real life, he would no longer think of a cigarette, but would seek the harmless substitute instead. He wouldn't know about the machine, he would just know I cured him with my miracle therapy. And he would certainly recommend me to his friends.

* * *

A few weeks ago I learned the limitations of my abilities. I discovered that I missed several crucial areas of my sons' old personalities that emerged without my realizing it, until it was too late. As Hector's old self began to re-emerge, like a man struggling to get out of a straitjacket, he was evidently helped by Patrick, whose old self was also not completely gone. Their efforts reinforced each other. I found out the hard way one Saturday afternoon.

I am usually an early riser, but when I looked at the clock by the bed, I saw that it was already one in the afternoon. I was feeling what was clearly the aftereffect of being drugged. I shortly recognized the symptoms; they were from the drug I used to weaken inhibitions and resistance when I used the personality modification machine! What had happened?

As I stirred, Hector looked into the room. "Ah, you're up. Good. Get out of bed," he ordered. I was about to protest his tone, but instead I found myself pulling off the covers and climbing out of bed. I looked at Hector; he seemed different in some way. More powerful. More masculine. More commanding. I couldn't help admiring the total confidence in this MAN. The sinews in his arms rippled under his tattoos. I shook my head; what was I thinking? Where did all that come from?

"Down on your hands and knees," he ordered. And without the slightest thought or hesitation on my part, I found myself before him on my hands and knees! He climbed on my back. "OK, pretend that you're my little pony. Take me to the treatment room. NOW!" And again without a thought I carried him out of the room, and down the hall to the room where I conducted my machine therapy sessions. It was clear to me now that I had been drugged and put on the machine, and reprogrammed in some way. It clearly forced my absolute obedience to his every command. And yet there was something more to it, too. What else had he put there?

Once we got into the treatment room, I saw a chilling sight. There on the therapy chair, head covered with the electrode cap, was my beloved Kevin. Standing over him and checking the attachments was Patrick. Hector climbed off me and ordered me to stand in the corner while they reprogrammed Kevin. He told me I was not allowed to say anything unless he told me to.

Using the technique I had taught him, Hector began the process of "going down the staircase" with Kevin. He did so somewhat crudely, but quite effectively, as I could tell from Kevin's responses along the way. I had no idea what he and Patrick had planned for Kevin, but in any case, under Hector's compulsion, I was a helpless bystander.

I can't exactly describe why I couldn't just step forward and stop them. It was as if I was standing on a narrow ledge, above a deep chasm I couldn't even see the bottom of, and in order not to fall off the ledge I had to completely obey Hector. When he gave an unclear command, I would start to break out in a sweat in deadly fear of not complying exactly with the order. I hated the sensation, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. The power of my own mind was being used against me.

Hector was approaching Kevin's core personality areas. And he knew just where he wanted to go. "OK, let's go to the area around 2121c. That's the center of his lust images." Hector pressed the stimulate button. Kevin's facial expression changed immediately, to one of total desire, and he licked his lips.

"Kevin, what do you see?" asked Hector.

I knew what the answer would be; I put it there myself. Kevin mumbled, "It's Jason. God, he's gorgeous. I want him so badly..." One by one, Hector stimulated nearby linked areas. "Ooh, it's Jason's smooth torso. Aah, his firm butt. Mmmm..." Hector stopped the stimulations.

Patrick spoke up. "All right, go back to the main area, and hit it with the 'replace' signal." Hector pushed the buttons. "It's Jason's beautiful face..." murmured Kevin. "No, it's Patrick. You're seeing my feet," said Patrick, lifting his long lean foot into Kevin's line of vision. Hector giggled. Patrick continued: "You lust totally after my feet. In fact, your sex life is all about feet. You notice all men's feet longingly, as a symbol of your inferiority to them. You study them, you compare them, you check shoe sizes, you sniff any old socks or sneakers you can find. You are so in need of feet that you can't ever cum without a guy's foot on top of your dick. But the most incredible, powerful, beautiful feet in the world are mine. You love their perfect look." He held his foot over Kevin's glazed eyes. "OK, Hec, another nearby one." Hector pushed the button. "You love the odor of my feet. You're always checking my laundry basket for socks, you're always sniffing the sheets at the bottom of the bed, so you can get a whiff of that odor. It drives you wild, and it gives you the uncontrollable urge to jerk off."

Hector stimulated another nearby area. "You love the taste of my feet. You love licking off the sweat, the toe jam, even the dirt if I'm walking around barefoot. When you see me sitting down anywhere, you desperately want to serve my feet by being my footrest. You get totally excited giving me foot massages. There is more power in one of my feet than in your entire body. You were born to serve my feet. Sometimes, you sneak into my room at night hoping I'll be asleep so you can quietly kneel and worship my feet."

Although Hector wasn't hitting all the sub-areas in exactly the right order, what he was doing was close enough. As Patrick intoned more and more about his feet and Kevin's lust for and worship of them, I could see the acceptance in Kevin's eyes as his internal programming was slowly, inexorably changing. His new personal characteristics were sinking deep into his subconscious. And from now on, as the days went forward, if Patrick reinforced the new programming correctly, it would go deeper and deeper into him and become more and more difficult to change. Impossible, in fact, since Hector had ordered me never to use the machine on Kevin. So Kevin, my beautiful graduate student wife, would be forever lost to me, and would become an obsessed foot worship slave. He might sleep in my bed, but his true heart would be at Patrick's feet.

Hector explored further. "Over in area 2188, that's where he keeps people and things he admires." When Hector stimulated this area, Kevin mentioned several names: Abraham Lincoln, Ben Franklin, his father, and a neurological link down to list in another area. Hector stimulated "replace", and then both Patrick and Hector leaned over Kevin's face, and placed themselves at the top of the primary list. "You admire your sons. You admire Hector because he has an unbendable masculine will that you must obey, he is more of a dominant male than anyone you've ever met. You admire Patrick because he is God's most physically perfect male creation, and he has used that to take you over and protect you, for your own good. Both your sons are much greater than you, and you love, admire and obey them."

Hector moved to a different area. "Here's where he keeps his favorite tastes, in both food and drinks, and his favorite teste-linked smells." He pushed the stimulate button. Immediately, Kevin said he saw "roast turkey... apple pie..." Patrick stood his 6'7" frame on a chair next to the machine, and whipped out his hard 9.5" cock for Kevin to examine. He told Hector to hit "replace", and said "Your favorite taste is any fresh hot liquid from this cock. The most incredibly wonderful taste is the hot white protein drink that comes when you please me. You even secretly love the taste of the hot frothy piss produced by this cock, and will sneak into the bathroom after I have used it to see if there are any loose drops on the floor or around the rim.

"And here is you favorite smell," he said, rubbing his cock directly under Kevin's nose. Helplessly, Kevin slowly inhaled and smiled dreamily. "You will always remember that smell and it will make you hungry and horny whenever you smell it." Sure enough, Kevin licked his lips and there was a noticeable stirring in his crotch.

The boys continued their reprogramming of Kevin, converting him into their willing, worshipful slave. And I stood right there and helplessly let it happen. In a way, I envy Kevin. At least he gets personal and sexual satisfaction from his enslavement. In my case, the boys did nothing to change my lusts, desires, tastes, etc. All they seem to have done was to make obeying them, and being in awe of them, the very essence of my being. So I get no pleasure out of serving them. I just have absolutely no choice in the matter. I think Hector actually likes the fact that when I jump to serve him, or wiggle my ass playfully in the air to be brutally fucked by him, I hate it but can do nothing about it.

Kevin has stopped being my office assistant. He tried to continue at it for awhile, but was always staring at patients' feet, and doodling pictures of his head under someone's feet on patients' charts. I couldn't take his obsession any more, even though I knew it wasn't his fault. I let him spend his days surfing fetish Web sites, digging through Patrick's laundry basket looking for smelly treats to chew on, and attending to Patrick's feet whenever they are available to him.

Outwardly, I continue to be allowed to have my own professional life as before. This is convenient to Hector and Patrick because it generates a good income, and no one from the outside knows that anything is different. If Hector is in a playful mood during a patient's therapy, he might program them with some obscure fetish that they might discover later when it's triggered—say, the desire to lick a man's hairy armpits, or the need to beg to be fucked whenever they meet someone named "Hector." There is of course nothing I can do or say about this.

And Hector's favorite forward for the Boston Celtics, who comes to me for psychological coaching, will soon find himself begging to serve his new Latin teen daddy. Of course Hector plans to refuse him at first, calling him pervert and faggot and slamming the door in his face. The unfortunate guy will be disgusted and hate himself for what he's doing, but he will be compelled to try again and again. Eventually, Hector may be gracious enough that if offered, say, a car, he might let the guy's long tongue find satisfaction in Hector's love chute, and maybe also in the asses of the guy's own friends. Naturally, Hector is smart enough not to do any physical damage that might hurt his toy's career. He just wants the guy's unconditional love and absolute obedience. Is that too much to ask?

We have what it takes to have a truly happy family. I love my wife, Kevin. And we both love our boys. We worship our boys. We obey our boys. And that is the secret of my success.