Leonard

The Serum Conditioning

It's surprisingly easy to get Kevin to drink the compound. He often hangs out with his friends after school, playing a pick-up soccer game or just talking, goofing around. Coming home on those warm spring days, he's tired, sweaty. He doesn't know I've been watching him, and one day I offer him my bottle of water. I live just a few blocks away from him, he's seen me around 3; he's very grateful for the refreshment. Regardless, the deed is done: he's swallowed the serum.

Kevin is a gorgeous boy. Just turned ten years old, brown hair, thin but not thin, you know what I mean? He has a bit of that baby fat, that luscious plumpness. I bet you can't see his ribs, but he's not overweight. His legs are straight, clean, with a bit of outward curve to his thighs and calves. Expressive blue eyes, a lovely big mouth, and a very slightly tinted complexion. A bit tall for his age, maybe four foot eight, four foot nine. Yet no signs of puberty: his voice hasn't broken, his legs are smooth.

Oh my God, I want him right now. But no matter how much I want him, things will have to proceed slowly. The serum settles in, slowly lining the brain's pathways, building its web across the neurons. It opens the brain up to a kind of conditioning where each obeyed command reinforces the pathway, making the next command stronger, more likely to be obeyed.

His mind is young, and that actually makes it more difficult. While his parents should quickly fall under its influence, Kevin's brain might adapt to fight the drug. The trick is to start with very straightforward commands that he'll obey without fighting. With repetition, his brain will get conditioned to obey what I say. Eventually, he will obey everything, absolutely everything, that I tell him to do.

But tonight, tonight 3; all I can do is imagine as I lie awake in bed.

I have to start small, and carefully.

***

For the next few weeks, I make sure to be on the street when Kevin comes home. I offer him drinks (not drugged, as I'm already confident the chemical is lodged in his brain). The point is that I say "Here Kevin, drink this" when I give them to him. I wear an odorless 'perfume' to activate the drug on my arm, and so it is a command. But it's also nothing Kevin tries to fight, and so his brain becomes more accustomed to obeying me. When I tell him to call me 'Barry', even that is a command. Even on days he isn't playing soccer, his parents won't suspect anything so long as he comes home by the time his soccer games are usually over, so I start telling Kevin to "come home with me and play some Smash Brothers." Again, a command his brain easily agrees to, especially since the conditioning is starting to take hold. At my house, it's easy to give him more commands: to take drinks of water, pick up a controller, turn on the TV. He asks to go to the bathroom, and I say, "go down the hall and into the first door on your left." A command. I start ordering him on which character to pick, and he always obeys. He plays Fox, even though he doesn't like Fox. He plays Peach, even though she's a girl.

I give him commands in-game, too. At first it's things like "pick up the hammer," a move he wants to do anyway. Then I order him to do dumb moves, like throwing away a weapon, not attacking me (while I kick and attack his character), and even to jump off the screen – which he does. There is nothing quite so satisfying as watching a child commit virtual suicide at my order. He gives me a look, after that, curious why he obeyed – but still he obeyed.

When I decide we're done, I order him to go home and even what route to take there (a test of the strength of my control: I follow and watch as he takes the longer route I ordered him to take). One time, I order him to go home shirtless, and he does. He gets asked, on the way, why he's not wearing a shirt. "Because I'm not," he says back aggressively.

In short, the conditioning is going wonderfully. Soon I don't have to wait for him: I just give him the order "come here on Wednesday instead of playing soccer," and he obeys. I give him the most important command: not to tell anyone he is coming here, nor allow others to see him come. It goes without a hitch; this strange suggestion elicits no complaints.

I know we can soon get to things he will not 'want' to do so much. But I have to be patient. I have to be patient 3;

Of course, I need to be sure that no adults will interfere. After three weeks of conditioning, I order him to slip the same chemical into his parents' morning coffee.

He confirms that it's done the next day.

***

Thank goodness I won't need to condition Kevin's parents for so long, or I would die of boredom. Their older brains are far less able to adapt. I just have to make sure that their love for their boy never overcomes my mastery of their brains. So I have to go slowly, but not that slowly.

I take a long jog, finally coming up near Kevin's house. It's a Saturday, and Kevin's dad is mowing the lawn. I'm sweaty and I look exhausted, so I ask for a drink. He agrees to the 'order'. So far so good. I tell him to invite me in. He does, although he clearly finds it a little bit strange. It's my first time in Kevin's house, a nice, two-level home, standard middle class fare. Kevin is in the backyard, although I don't think he sees me. I imagine yelling over for him to stop playing and come to me. He stands at attention, and I order him to strip. He's confused, but he does it, and he removes his shirt, then his socks, then his pants, then his underwear, which tangle on his toes. I order him to open his mouth 3;

Shit, Kevin's parents can not see me getting an erection, not now. I quickly put aside my dreams and focus on the moment. Kevin's father has handed me a cold glass of water, which I drink slowly and gratefully.

Kevin is playing with two friends, and they look nice. They're running around, hiding, doing 3; something, I can't tell what. It looks to me like they have nice bodies. I'll have to get a closer look later.

Kevin's mom comes down, and with both parents under the influence of my drugs, I can condition them together. I come up with reasonable-sounding orders: "Give me another drink," or "direct me to the bathroom," or "tell me what the weather report is." I phrase everything as an order. "Tell me how Kevin is doing in school." "Tell me what you use to treat your grass."

If I want to save myself some weeks of this boring chatter, I know I have to create a better opportunity to get them used to my commands. I order them to invite me for dinner the next day. They do so, and I'm pretty sure I'm set.

***

Everything goes so slowly! But it's worth it, and tonight I will get to do a little (but only a very little) more than simply look at Kevin as he bounces around waving his Wii-mote.

It's Sunday and dinner. I have to play this very carefully. I arrive for dinner nicely dressed, and we sit down. I easily give over hundred 'orders': to pass this or that food, to tell me about various aspects of their lives, to show me various things in the house. I even sit through an album of vacation photos so that I can order them to tell me about various photos, to go to the next page, and so forth. Kevin is bored out of his mind, but I order him to stay and watch. He does.

I can never tell what exactly goes through the heads of those who are following my commands. What are Kevin's parents thinking? Do they think that I'm somehow a new friend of theirs, when we've barely seen each other walking down the street? I can't tell how they rationalize it away, how they do what I tell them with a straight face. But they do, and that's enough. Eventually my commands will become too hard to rationalize, but by then it'll be too late.

Finally, a little bit, the tiniest bit of payoff. I order them to turn on the TV. I sit down, and order Kevin to sit down on the same couch, to my left, pressed against my side. His ten-year-old thigh pressed against my thigh, his ten-year-old torso pressed against my torso. I literally feel electricity going through me at his touch. It's all I'm willing to risk at this point, but it is so very sweet. I order his parents to watch with us. They do. No one says anything while we watch (part of) an episode of Once Upon a Time. I feel Kevin next to me, pressing his skin against mine, warm, so warm. I know that Kevin's parents see my erection. They say nothing, they do nothing, but watch us. My control is strong enough to keep them from protecting their boy.

After the episode is over, I get up. I instruct everyone not to talk to anyone about my visit, not even each other, since the control is still weak and I don't want them to benefit from each other's resistance. I order them not to make any effort to keep me from coming over. I order them to invite me over for dinner on Monday. They do; they will invite me over each night that week after my orders.

***

I can't believe how much I was turned on just by touching this kid. His skin is so fucking soft and warm, I swear I was like a kid with a crush. I just wish this could go faster, but if I go too far I don't know what he or his parents will do.

Monday it's a dinner filled with meaningless commands. Then we watch Dancing with the Stars, again with Kevin pressed against my side, but now we are holding hands, his moist warm hand gripping mine, as if we were teenagers in love, next to each other on a park bench.

Tuesday Kevin eats dinner sitting on my lap. He's uncomfortable, squirming against my stiff cock. Then it's 'The Flash' and I have my arm around his shoulders, holding him close, feeling his warm body, almost sensing his heartbeat.

Wednesday, Law and Order while I have my arm around Kevin again – this time with his shirt off.

Thursday, The Big Bang Theory while Kevin has his shirt off again, and I am massaging him, rubbing his tummy, his back, his arms 3; all over, but never his privates, not quite yet.

Friday we move on a little bit, just a little bit, just a painful little bit. While we watch The Amazing Race, I have my hand just sitting over his shorts, on top of his privates, and he has his hand, just sitting on top of mine. I have no idea what he is thinking, and I have no idea what his parents are thinking, but they are far enough in my control that they can't resist. You cannot imagine how I wanted to move my hand just a bit more, to handle his cock, to feel around his gentle thighs. But I held myself back. Each time I go further a step, each time they acquiesce to a new command, my control grows that much stronger, and so they will tolerate even more the next time. I know it's worth it for what I'll get.

I find out that Kevin will have those friends over again. Their names are Corey and Timothy. It's time to start planning ahead, and I arrange that Kevin will drug them, too.

Interlude: Kevin

Why am I doing this? thought Kevin as he took off his shirt. I guess my parents aren't stopping it, so it's okay. But I don't really want to. But I guess I should do it anyway. My friend wants me to.

I wish we'd play Wii again. That was fun.

I come over at about 1:30 on Saturday, when the serum should be settling in to their brains. The two new boys are splendid.

Corey is blond and blue-eyed, shorter than Kevin at four and a half feet [1.35 m]. His face is round. He's wearing sandals and I can see delightful feet, with nice short toes, meaty toes, not boney. The most enticing thing about him is his mouth: a big smile and a tongue to die for. I'm not usually one for tongues (unless they are in proper use, but that's not going to happen for a while with Corey), but his is bright red and long, and flexible. He's always licking his lips, especially while he's thinking. Sometimes he sticks it out at someone when he doesn't like something. It's beautiful.

Timothy (and he goes by Timothy, trying to get away from Timmy, but I haven't decided what I want to call him) is considerably shorter at 4 feet 3 inches [1.30 m]; he's more like nine years old. He has dark hair, and small-but-cute hazel eyes. He's a bit thinner than the others, but that's probably only noticeable if you really pay attention to boys' bodies. (And I do.)

I use the cover of a friend of the family and I don't get in their way too much, except when I can find an excuse to give them a command: to bring me something in the living room, or move their toys out of the way, or eat some snacks. I'm only just setting myself up with Corey and Timothy. They will be mine eventually, but I have to tread carefully.

The day passes uneventfully, for the most part. I am particularly pleased when I get to play some basketball with them. I'm not very good, but Corey is on my team, and since I'm the older teammate I get to tell him what to do (where to go, when to shoot) a lot. I can tell that he is getting used to following my orders. He's very promising.

After dinner they leave. I'm again alone with Kevin's family, and my hormones have been simmering for hours with these boys. But I have to hold myself back, especially knowing that I don't have much time this next week to spend here. Before I go, I order Kevin to kiss me. It's brief, but I revel in the feeling of his soft lips against mine, the feel of his breath against my face. Then I head out, after reinforcing the requirement that he and his parents not talk to anyone about me except as a 'friend of the family'.

***

I stop by three times that week.

On Sunday, I come by and order Kevin to really kiss me this time. It's deep, tongue-to-tongue, and goes on for a few minutes. Feeling around his warm mouth is heavenly, and I explore every nook. I feel the hardness of each tooth. I run my tongue along his tongue, along the roof of his mouth. I stick it deep towards his throat. I taste his saliva. I suck on his tongue, and I bite gently on his lips. He is helpless to my commands and he does the same. Then we do it again. And again. I can order him to do it as many times as I want. His parents are stressed, but pushing their obedience without breaking it is exactly how I will get them to accept more.

That night when Kevin and I were kissing is the first time I've really looked at his eyes in some time (and it's a pity because they are so nice). What I see there is clear: he doesn't like this, not at all. He's obeying because his brain is forcing him to, but he wishes he could be out doing what little boys do.

It turns me on.

***

I can't come by on Monday, but I do come by on Tuesday. I've made a decision now: I want to start prepping Kevin to give me a blowjob. After dinner, I order Kevin to close the drapes. Then I open up my fly and show him my penis. His parents are ashen; they're not sure how far I'm going to go. But all I do today is simple: I have Kevin undress as well. We look at each other for a while, then we sit and watch TV again. This time it's NCIS. We watch it naked. I take advantage of the situation to give some other commands. To bring me food, or a pillow. While NCIS is still running, I have him do some jumping jacks and I get to watch his flapping penis and ballsack. I have him do situps and watch his tummy crinkle each time he comes up. When the show is over, I get dressed, I order him to sleep naked tonight, and I go home.

The next time I can come by isn't until Saturday. It turns out that Corey will be over again. I decide that it's time to bring Corey a bit more up to speed.

***

I realize by now that I might be painting a very strange picture of the situation, as though Kevin and his parents are merely automatons, as though Kevin simply goes and performs sex acts and his parents simply watch. Well, that's definitely part of it. But the truth is that I'm just describing the 'highlights'; most of my interactions are between me and a boy and two other adults. For most of this time, they are normal people. I still interact with Kevin as a man and a boy might; we play games, we talk about school and other things in his life, I bring over my Wii and he gets to try it out. His parents are more difficult, since we really don't have much in common. But we talk about housekeeping and work, politics and raising a child. When I feel their hostility towards me starting to emerge, I simply order them to be happy with me, to change their emotions. They do it, and we continue interacting normally.

My control is not yet at the point where I can use Kevin for sex all the time and he or his parents will accept it. It'll be there eventually. But there's something about interacting with the real people, when on some level they know that you control them, that makes the excitement so much more real. I suppose that we'll just have to see where I end up taking it.

***

As it turns out, Kevin is much closer friends with Corey than with Timothy; Timmy is mostly just Corey's friend. I'll fix that once my control is strong enough, but at least for now I'll be seeing a lot more of Corey than Timothy.

Corey is over that Saturday, and I'm ready to go.

First, some control 'warm-ups'. We talk and play games while I watch Kevin follow my orders not to tell Corey about anything I've been doing with him.

Second, a test for Corey, to make sure I can get him to do something unpleasant, so I order them to help do some chores around the house. I have them vacuuming, taking out the garbage, and eventually moving some furniture around so I can get them really sweaty. Corey responds so well that I have both boys take off their shirts, no problem, and it's a great sight. Corey's tummy is smooth like Kevin's. Whereas Kevin's is almost flat down his body, Corey's curves out a little bit, and I can see it jiggle as he goes around the house. Both of their nipples rock up and down, back and forth, as they run off to pick things up, move things aside, and so forth, all exactly as I tell them to.

While they're working, I take Kevin aside. "Kevin," I say, "before we finish working, talk with Corey. Tell him that I'm a good friend. Tell him that things might be weird today, but that he should trust me." I figure that Corey will trust his friend, and this will make him a bit more likely to obey me.

Finally, it's time to stretch Corey's control and pull him deeper. After the work, I order them both to dress again and to get themselves a drink, then to join me by the TV. I make sure that Kevin's parents are watching.

We watch for a bit and I order Kevin and Corey to press into me, Kevin on my left, Corey on my right. Both obey, and I have two warm boys on either side. Now the real test. I order Kevin to sit still while I reach my hand down, under his pants, to his penis. I'm not quite touching it; his underwear is still between my hand and his body. I can tell that Corey is watching as I masturbate Kevin. Corey watches as Kevin's penis starts sticking up, as I play with it, pushing it down and letting it bounce back up. Corey stares at Kevin, not at the TV. He sees Kevin's sharp intake of breath as he has a dry little orgasm. I hear a gasp, probably Kevin's mother as she watches what is being done to her boy. But my attention is on Corey. They boy is staring, wide-eyed, his tongue unconsciously out, braced against his upper lip. It's a close thing, but the commands hold. He does nothing but watch. Using a friend as leverage against another has been brilliant; it won't be long before Corey, too, is mine.

Before I go, I am careful to give several orders. First of all, to refresh the order that Corey is not to tell anyone (and I make sure that Kevin will repeat this to him, as a request from a friend, afterwards). Then, an order that Corey is not to avoid coming over: he will come over next Saturday, just as usual, to be with his friend. Or, should I say, friends.

Hopefully, by then, I will have crossed a new level with Kevin. I'm close.

Interlude: Kevin (one week earlier)

Kevin thought back to when he first realized that his mind was not his own. It was probably the kiss. Up until then there was just this funny guy who liked to hang out with him, and he was cool, and he had weird ideas for what to do. Kevin just sort of went along with it. He thought he was just going along with it.

But that kiss 3; when Barry said to kiss him, Kevin was going to say no. But he didn't say no. He opened his mouth and leaned in. Barry's tongue came in and Kevin wanted to gag. The man's face was rough, pressing against his chin, prickly. His breath smelled bad.

When it was over, Kevin thought to himself, never again. But then Barry told him to kiss him again, and Kevin did. Barry told him to do it again, and Kevin did it again. It was like his thoughts didn't even matter anymore.

Even before all that, why did he agree to watch all those TV shows he didn't like? Why did he take his shirt off? Why did he sit next to the man and let him touch him on the privates? Why why why?

Kevin hadn't gone to play soccer in weeks, because the man told him not to. He hadn't seen any of his friends except for Corey and Timothy, because the man told him not to. Sometimes the man didn't let him eat the foods he wanted. The man made him sleep without his PJs. Once the man hadn't let him pee when he really really had to.

Kevin wanted to go play soccer again. He wanted to be with his friends. He wanted to make his own choices.

And he couldn't.

***

That night, Kevin had his first nightmare. He was playing soccer, and it was wonderful. He felt the fresh air, felt his muscles moving to power him across the field. His team was winning, and he made every pass. He scored a goal.

Kevin subbed out and went to drink some water. The man was there, and he told Kevin to sit down next to him. Kevin did, and he felt the man's hand on his penis. The hand moved a little bit, rubbing it.

Then Kevin was back on the field. The man was his coach now, and he was making calls. But they were stupid things. Kevin passed the ball to the other team. He tripped one of his teammates, who scowled at him. The man told him to kiss one of his teammates, and Kevin did, and the ball sailed past them. Kevin was being booed at by the crowd.

"Take off your clothes!" called the man. "Maybe you'll play better!" In the center of the field, while the game went on around him, Kevin took off his cleats. As teammates passed the ball around him, he pulled off his socks, revealing his bare feet, and then his shin guards. He took off his jersey, revealing his chest and torso. And then his shorts, and then his underwear. Naked, he tried to run after the ball, but he kept slipping on the grass. The crowd kept laughing at him.

The score was tied, and the other team had a clear shot – Kevin was the only person in the way. As the shot raced towards him, the man yelled, "block it with your cock!" Kevin dove, and the ball intercepted his tender ballsack, and he howled, and he woke up screaming and sweaty and crying.

Interlude: Kevin (present time)

I couldn't stop it, thought Kevin. I tried, and I couldn't, and I tried so hard.

The boy was in his room. He was playing a video game, but he wasn't really paying attention to it. There was a sudden knock at his door, and he jumped with an "ah!"

"Kevin?" called his mother. "It's us. Can we come in?"

"He never used to jump at sounds," said his father quietly to his wife.

"He doesn't usually close his door, either," she replied.

Kevin didn't reply, but they still came in. Kevin was lying stomach-down on his bed, knees bent up, feet dangling in the air. He kept playing at his game, ignoring them.

"Kevin," said his mother, "we want to talk."

He kept playing the game.

"Kevin!" shouted his father, "pay attention!" The boy startled and actually jumped to the far side of the bed before he realized what was going on. On the screen, his character died. His mother turned the game off.

"I'm sorry," said his father, apologizing to his mother.

Suddenly the boy started crying. "I'm sorry!" he said, as if repeating what his father said. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"No, Kevin, it's fine, it's not your fault," said his mother. "Your father startled you."

His father sat down on the bed next to him and tried to put his arm around Kevin's shoulder, but the boy startled at the touch and pushed away. The two parents looked at each other nervously, and then at their son who didn't like being touched any more.

"I tried not to do it. Not to do what he said. Not to give you that drink. Not to give Corey and Timothy that drink. I couldn't stop it. I tried, but I can't do anything, can't stop anything. It's all my fault."

"Kevin, please, it's all right," said his mom. "It's not your fault."

"I'm not strong enough," said the sobbing boy.

"It's not about strong," said his dad.

"Will I be like this forever?" asked Kevin. "Will I be a fuck toy forever?"

"No!" said his mother. "Kevin, where did you hear that word?" She wanted so much to reach out and touch her son, but she wasn't sure if she should. Would touching him just set it off again?

"It's what he called me," Kevin sniffled.

"Kevin, you should never say that again," said his father.

"What?" asked Kevin. "Fuck toy? Fuck toy! Fuck toy!"

"Kevin!" said his father. "Stop it!"

"You're not the boss of me! He is! I'm a fuck toy! I'm going to be one forever! You won't even tell me what it is, but I am it! He won't let me play soccer again while I'm his fuck toy!"

Kevin's father grabbed his son's chin and turned his face to look at him. "You are in my house, and you will listen to me when I tell you to do something!"

Kevin broke away from his dad and ran to his mom, burying himself in her stomach. "Dad wants me to be his fuck toy," whined the boy.

"Your father wants you to respect him, and you should," replied his mother, trying to keep an even voice.

"I'll show you!" said the boy. "I'll ask Barry to order you not to tell me what to do. Then you'll have to let me do what I want."

"Think about this," said Kevin's father. "We have to stick together. Kevin, we only want the best for you. We want to get you out of this situation. But we have to work together. We have to stay calm."

Kevin turned back to his dad. His face was red, his eyes were puffy, snot was flowing down from his nose. There were dark circles under his eyes from his lack of sleep. He opened his mouth to yell at his father again, to tell him to leave him alone. Instead, the boy crumped to the ground. "I don't want to be like this," he sobbed. "I don't like doing those things. And I can't say no. Even when a teacher tells me to do something, I can say no and get in trouble. I can't even do that. I'm just a fuck toy."

Kevin's parents tried to comfort him. They distracted him with some games, as best as they could. They'd wanted 3; they'd wanted to come in, to at least warn him about what they thought was going to happen next, to tell him so that he could be a bit more ready. But after what they saw, they just tried to make their boy as comfortable as possible.

Eventually, they left. That night, like for the past week, he woke screaming in the middle of the night.

This week 3; this is the week we can finally, finally 3; Kevin will submit. He will. And Corey will soon follow, led by his friend.

On Monday, the preparations begin. After dinner, I order Kevin to close the blinds. Then I open my zipper, exposing my penis. Kevin looks at it with some amount of dread; I think he knows what's coming. But he stands there. He knows my control. I order him to strip, and he does. There is something about standing there, (nearly) fully clothed, in front of a naked boy.

How can I describe Kevin's naked body? It's only the second time I've seen it, but it's as wonderful as I could have imagined. A perfect-cut top, not muscular but not flabby. You can't see his ribs, but you can feel them when you rub your hands over his torso. His penis is just right. Not a hair to be seen, and I still have a bit of time while he is in this perfect time of life. It just, how shall I put this, his penis naturally fits on his body, a natural extension of his pelvis as the skin smoothly comes out to accomodate it. His thighs are smooth and shapely, and his lower legs are not too thin, with a bit of muscle tone visible. His feet are small. His toes, now that he is naked, wriggle uncomfortably.

I order Kevin to kneel.

He closes his eyes, opens them again, and then he kneels. I see his perfect legs bend as he goes down to his knees; I see his toes bend backward against the ground; I see the wrinkles form in his stomach as he leans forward. I see a tear streak down from his closed eyes.

His parents are now really fretting, but still unable to do anything. Close 3; but not breaking yet.

I have him kneel there, in front of my penis, waiting, eyes closed. For a minute. Two minutes. His knees must hurt, but my control roots him in place. His cheek has dried; there is only the slightest trace of a streak left of the tear I saw.

My penis is killing me. The boy is there, naked, kneeling in front of me, and I can do nothing because I'm worried it would break my control. I want to say "damn the preparation!" and take him right now. I know better. I know what I get if I wait.

So we keep practicing, building him up to the moment.

I order him to stand. He's confused, but he does so. Breathes a sigh of relief. We again wait a minute, and I tell him to kneel.

The process repeats. He might just be barely ready to suck me off – maybe – but I'm not ready to risk it. This is preparation. I have him kneel, stand up. Kneel. Stand up. Kneel. Stand up. Over and over, naked in front of me, a practiced motion. His perfect body bends, his muscles flex, his skin crinkles and folds over itself, down on his knees, back up. Down on his knees. Back up. His parents just 3; watch.

Then I can't take it any more. He's kneeling, and I order him to open his mouth. I almost insert 3; but I know that I shouldn't 3; I imagine what that warm tongue would feel like 3; He thinks it's coming, I can see his fear, but I keep back, imagining, unconsciously stroking my cock. The boy kneels, naked, a light sheen of sweat on his body from going up and down so many times 3; I lose it. I spurt cum all over him, there in front of me, some of it landing in his mouth, the rest of it all over his body, his face, his hair. Not a drop makes it to the floor.

For a minute I'm terrified. Did I go too far, too soon? Are they conditioned enough for my control to hold? I look up at his parents, and they are shaking. If they are about to gain their freedom, I have to plan quickly. The only hope I have is to knock them unconscious and then train them up quickly so they won't report it. Maybe I could kill them, but then I'd never be able to get Kevin safely, since the police would be searching for him.

The moment passes. The mental commands hold. They stand there, watching, and I stand there, watching them. It's OK.

Oh, how I want to order Kevin to lick my cum up off himself. I want to watch as he twists around, as I order him to get every drop and point out the spots he's missed. But if I do that, it really might break his parents. It's one thing to know that your son might be forced to have sex soon, but it's another to see it happen in front of you.

It's no good. I decide to make the best of the situation and order Kevin to stand up. I watch his perfect feet, his perfect toes, unbend. The creases in his cum-covered stomach go away leaving a divine smoothness as he straightens up. A drop of cum drips from his elbow to the carpet.

With his parents watching, I order him to follow me to the bathroom. If I can't order him to lick it up himself, I can at least have the pleasure of giving him a bath. And so, that night, I give Kevin a bath. He's in the tub and I scrub him off. I kiss him even as he takes no pleasure from it. And once more, there in the water, I masturbate him. I feel his shaking body rubbing against mine as the water flows over us. Not quite 3; not quite the perfect night. But it's coming. It's coming.

***

On Wednesday, I let myself in, and I happen to overhear Kevin and his family talking.

"I can't," says Kevin. "I can't stop it. I try, but I can't. I can't!" I think I hear some sobbing through the door.

"It's all right, honey," says his mother.

"Don't be stupid, Margaret," says his father. "It's not all right. Kevin, you have to fight it."

"We can't even fight it!" says his mother.

"We have to! You know what happens next."

"No," says his mother. "He won't."

"Of course he will. What do you think the pervert wants?"

"What's going to happen?" ass Kevin.

There's a pause. Silence in the kitchen. And then his mother says, "I don't know, honey. We'll find a way to stop it."

"But what does he want? What's he doing?"

"Nothing, honey. We'll stop it."

"Can you really stop it?"

"Of course. We just need to be strong."

Kevin's voice gets quiet. "I keep trying," he says, softly. "I try to 3; I know that I don't want to do it, but I can't stop. He tells me to do something and I just feel like I have to. Like, I don't even think about it. I just do it, and it's like I try to not do it but I'm not even listening to me, I'm just doing it without thinking. Is it always going to be like that?"

"No," said his father. "No, we'll stop it."

"But you can't!"

"We'll keep trying. We'll be stronger."

"It doesn't work. It never works." Kevin seemed to catch his breath. "How long 3;?"

"Not long, honey, we'll find a way."

"A week?" he asked. "A month? A year? Oh God. What if he keeps doing this forever?"

"We'll find a way to stop it!" shouted his father.

"You can't!" shouted Kevin, and ran out, upstairs to his room. He didn't even see me.

"Oh God," said his mother. "What is happening to our son?"

"I don't know," replied his father.

"He asked a good question, you know. How long this will keep going on. How far this man is going to go."

"We won't let it get there," said Kevin's dad. "We won't."

I strut into the kitchen. "Is dinner ready?" I ask.

A pause. They stare at me. Then Kevin's mother sighs, and says, "yes."

"Then call your son."

"Kevin!" she calls. "Kevin, come to dinner!"

No answer.

"Kevin!" I say. "Come to dinner!"

The boy comes.

Kevin, all through dinner 3; he's quiet, like his mother. He looks down at his plate and avoids my eyes. In the silence, I hear the clink of his fork echoing through the room. Occasionally I catch a glance of him looking at me with his big eyes, as if to ask me to stop, to let him go, at least not to do more tonight.

We get up after dinner, and they follow me into the living room. We've had a ritual each night where I order Kevin to close the blinds so that no one will see what I do to him, but this time, head bowed, he just does it on his own without being asked. I order him to strip and he does, and I take off my own pants and underwear.

For practice, I have Kevin kneel and stand up a couple of times. Really, that's just for fun. I finally have him stay kneeling. Should he take my dick right now? It's a risk 3; I look at his parents and decide to wait one more frustrating night. Almost, almost 3; so much waiting.

Instead, as Kevin kneels naked in front of me, I hold out my finger and tell him to suck it. He does, and he does a good job. I have him adjust his technique as he goes on. At my instructions he runs his tongue along the finger, adjusts his rhythm faster or slower, and goes in and out along it. I try to stick my finger deeper down his throat, but he wasn't quite ready for that yet. Still, it was good. It was great. As the boy sucks back and forth on my finger, I feel the pressure build and I have an orgasm. My finger still in his mouth, I rock back and forth on my heels as the cum spurts out.

After a moment, I have Kevin stop, and I pull my finger out of his mouth. It's gorgeously wet with his spit. He starts to get up, but I tell him to stay kneeling. He looks up at me, scared. His father is redfaced with anger and unable to say anything, just stewing, impotent.

I finally decide that I can't resist. I lean back on one of the chairs and I order him to lick the cum off the floor. He hesitates for just a moment, eyes flaring with distaste. Then he kneels down and starts licking. I watch as, for the first time ever, this crawling boy ingests cum. Of course I'm rubbing my dick while he does that.

When he's done, I'm hard again, but still haven't cum. Now I finally tell him to lick the cum up off himself. Most of it is on his legs, and so I watch as he has to hold his legs up to his mouth and lick it off. I watch as he holds up his perfect ankles, and as he licks those perfect ankles. I watch as he licks the soles of his feet, and at one beautiful moment between two of his toes. I watch as he licks all along his thighs, and his knees. I watch as he turns and contorts himself, as he bends his body to try to reach it all. I watch his shoulder blades as they go back and forth. I watch his tummy, as he has to bend over, as his skin creases. I watch the concentration in his eyes. When there are a few places he can't reach, I have him come to me, and while I masturbate myself with my right hand, I use my left to wipe cum up off of him and have him lick it off my fingers.

We're just finishing when I cum again, and it spurts out all over the floor and the table. His mother looks horrified. I just look at him. "You know what to do," I say, and he does, again.

When he's done, he's filthy. His tongue is black with dirt from the floor, and the rest of his body is not much better. An excellent time for another bath. I wipe him all over, and I masturbate him again. I dry him off, and then I leave, with another order to sleep naked, just because it amuses me to do so.

***

AT FUCKING LAST.

The routine is clear. Thursday. Dinner. To the living room. Close the blinds.

Kevin kneels, and I take out my penis. "Swallow what comes out," I say.

And it's wonderful. Amazing. His tongue goes up and down over my penis, just like we'd trained with my finger. My cock doesn't all fit in his mouth, not yet, but he takes it in a good ways, and his tongue licks the whole shaft. It's almost as if I can feel each little bud along his tongue running across my cock. The warm breath flowing from his nose lightly grazes my cock, my pubic hair. His moist hand gripping me, guiding my cock. I can see his eyes, turned up to look at me as his head moves back and forth. The pressure of his sucking encircles my cock, surrounds it. The boy's head is sliding, sliding back and forth, his saliva lubricating the cock. His head goes out, and then the pressure of the sucking increases as his head comes in.

"Faster," I moan. In, and out. In, and out. In, and out. Every so often I hear the slurp of his mouth along my cock. His lips separate a bit and a tiny bit of cool air flows through into the vacuum made by his sucking. The cool air is yet another sensation against my cock.

In, and out. In, and out. In, and out.

"Take it deep!" I command, and my hand wraps around the back of his head and forces it down, the whole cock is in there now, and he's gagging. "Suck harder!" I shout and he does, somehow he does, my cock is jammed against the back of his throat and he's sucking so hard that it almost hurts, maybe it does hurt but it's nothing compared to the feeling, the pleasure. "Use your tongue!" and he's doing it, rubbing it back and forth along the cock, sucking so hard that it hurts, the thing is pressed down his throat, he's twitching and it just rubs against my cock more, and then I feel it break and the cum pumps out and into his mouth and he swallows, the sucking pulls more out, he swallows, and he swallows, and I'm done at last.

His parents are standing like statues. I've pulled out, and Kevin has collapsed to the floor, coughing.

"Oh my fucking God," I say to the slaves in front of me, "that was fucking amazing. You have raised the most amazing cock sucker," I say to the boy's parents, still standing like statues. "I mean, he has a bit more technique to learn, but I'll teach him. My God. That kid has a lot of fucking in his future. Holy shit." I kneel down and ruffle the weeping boy's hair. "My little fucktoy," I say.

I stand back up and look down at him, enjoying the look of the curled up boy. "Kevin," I finally order, "stand up."

He picks himself up off the floor and stands in front of me.

"Why don't you kiss me good night?"

The boy wraps his arms around me, and soon we're in a blissful, deep kiss. The faint taste of my cum is still in his mouth as our tongues meet. I sense the saltiness of a tear, and the remnants of the chicken we had at dinner. I get so hot, I think about another face fuck, but that's enough for tonight. Each of these first blowjobs is precious, and I can save my second for tomorrow. After all, I can come over and get a blowjob from Kevin whenever I feel like it.

Before leaving, I reinforce the commands not to tell anyone or allow this to be discovered in any way. I ask after Kevin's friendships and order him to continue to hang out with friends, except, of course, for these evenings. I check up on his schoolwork, and sure enough, given this strain, it's slipping. There's only so much you can do with these commands, but I order him to concentrate and to pay attention in school. That should at least hold off too much of a slip, so that no one will find out what's going on, no teacher will think to check up on him until it's too late.

I leave preparing in my mind for the next few days. I'll be back tomorrow, and then Saturday Corey is coming over and apparently bringing Timmy, which I take as outstanding news.

Interlude: Kevin's Parents

"Thank you for coming," said the guidance counselor as Kevin's parents entered.

"You said there was an incident?" asked Kevin's father.

"Yes," said the counselor, "although that's not all I want to talk about." She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. "Mr. and Mrs. Williams, Kevin has been 3; acting out. He hasn't turned in any homework at all in weeks. He has become reclusive, staying away from his peers, even those who are his friends. He has been ignoring teachers and willfully disobeying their instructions, as if he did not care about the consequences. We've been terribly disappointed. Until a few weeks ago, he was a model student, and if he can pick things up again he'll have a bright future ahead of him."

There was a silence in the room. Apparently his parents were supposed to reply now. "We've been going through some rough times at home," said his mother.

"I understand that," replied the counselor. "It's apparent from Kevin's behavior."

"What happened today?" asked Kevin's father.

"Kevin was going through the hallway when another student came through with a computer cart. The other student was delivering it for a teacher, and he asked Kevin to get out of the way. Kevin shouted back, 'I don't take orders from you' and punched the other child."

Kevin's parents just looked at each other.

"There are often interventions that can help, even in difficult situations like this," continued the counselor after Kevin's parents did not reply. "Often formal counseling, talking through the problems, can give the child an outlet that is not so asocial. I don't want to pry, but if you can tell me more about what is happening, perhaps I can help."

"I'm afraid," said Kevin's father, "that in this situation there really is nothing you can do."

"If you could just tell me something about what is happening--"

"--I'm sorry," said Kevin's mother. "We just can't."

The three adults sat in silence for a few moments.

"Well," said the guidance counselor eventually, "Kevin used to be an outstanding student and he has a lot of potential. If we can act quickly, this doesn't have to derail his life. I hope you can reconsider or find some other way to help."

"Thank you," said Kevin's father. "We appreciate your offer."

"Very well," said the guidance counselor resignedly. "Let's go talk to him."

Interlude: Kevin's Parents

"Steven, what are we going to do?" asked Kevin's mother. They were sitting in the living room, where they often stayed to talk. The TV was running with low volume, but neither was paying attention. Kevin was in his room, silent.

"I don't know," he replied.

"We have to do something!" she said.

"Margie, we've had this conversation over and over again. We've tried, and we still can't do anything."

"Call the police!"

"We've tried!"

"Try again!"

Kevin's dad pulled out his cell phone. He held it there in front of him. His fingers dialed a 9. Then a 1. And he sat there, his finger hovering over the 1. He sat there. And he sat there. Finally, he threw down the phone in frustration. "You try it!"

"No," she said. "It won't work. We're losing our son. Even if this man left right now, left us alone forever, it would take years for him to get over the trauma. If ever."

"I know."

"He was such a good boy," she whispered.

"Our son," said Kevin's dad, "is still here. He is alive. He is upstairs."

"I watched him sleep last night," his mom said. "He was dreaming, and he had his thumb in his mouth, and he was sucking it. But not for comfort. His tongue was out, and he was massaging it. In his sleep, in his fucking sleep, Steven, he would take it out of his mouth and then lick his fist like they were a man's testicles, and then he would go back to sucking the thumb, moving his head back and forth along it. Along his own thumb. What do you think his dream was?"

For a while they sat there in silence.

"Margie," said Kevin's dad, "what do you say we go to bed early tonight? Maybe we could 3;"

"You are not," she replied, "proposing that we have sex? With what goes on in this house?"

"We're still alive!" he replied. "We're still people. We need each other now, Margie."

"I will do nothing of the kind while that is happening to my son. Absolutely not."

Kevin's father nodded. He got up, went to the kitchen, came back with a bottle of wine. He opened it, and he started drinking.

Friday night is the perfect night I've been waiting for.

"We're going to use your bedroom tonight," I tell Kevin's parents. "You will dress in your most formal clothing and you will bring us dinner in bed. Make me something I'll really like, with lots of courses, and bring it to us on your fine china. Serve it with the nicest wine you have. Treat me like I am at the fanciest restaurant possible. Is that understood?"

"Yes," replies Kevin's mother.

"Yes," replies his father.

"Excellent. Go dress, and then do not disturb us except to bring us food."

Kevin and I go up to his parents' bedroom. "Please don't make me do what we did yesterday," asks the boy.

"Kneel," I say.

"Please," he says, as he kneels.

"You will not speak again tonight unless spoken to," I say, and his mouth shuts. I tower over the kneeling boy. "You are mine, Kevin Williams. Your body is mine. Your mind is mine. Your life is mine. Your soul is mine. You will do everything I say. You will give me any pleasure I ask for. The rest of your life, the rest of your existence, is mine, and it shall always be mine. Do you understand?"

Kevin blinks up at me.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes," he says.

"Then," I say, kissing his forehead lightly, "let's set up for the night."

With the boy still kneeling, I put on some of his father's music, a Miles Davis CD. Then I put my hands under his shoulders and guide the shaking boy to stand in the center of the room, where I start to undress him. His shorts come off, revealing his lovely thighs, which I caress with my hands. Then his shirt. His socks. His underwear.

"Undress me," I say to Kevin, and he does, little bits of electricity going through my body as his fingers gently touch me while he removes the clothes. We climb into bed. I have the boy lay on top of me while I sit against the backboard, and we kiss, deeply, our tongues exploring each others' mouths.

"Kevin," I say, "my fucktoy, run your hands along my stomach, my chest." I feel him place his warm hands on me. "Good, good," I say. There's a slight tremor to them; he's crying. "Go more slowly," I say. "Good. Ohhh. Mmmmm. Slowly. Good. Move them down, move them down, run them along my thighs. Yes, like that. Slowly. Good. Good. Oh, yes. Don't just run them along. Squeeze a little bit. Run your fingers along them." I let him run his hands along my body a little bit more.

"Here," I say, stopping him. "Watch what I do. Learn it so you can do it back to me." I take my hands and start running them along his smooth skin. Sometimes I squeeze his skin between my thumb and other fingers. Or I brush the fingers gently along the skin. I run my hand down along his legs, down to his feet, down to his toes. I run them between the toes, taking each one and gently massaging it, then up, back to his stomach, his chest, where I gently pull on his nipples, folding them back and forth. Then around, under him, along his back, back around his front, along his thighs. Sometimes I stop, and let them sit where they are. Sometimes they keep moving, caressing, grabbing, squeezing, pinching, scratching the tiniest bit, fondling.

"Do that," I say. "Make me feel good."

The boy's hands go everywhere, all along me. He learns what makes me happy. He's been ordered to make me feel good, and so he's forced to think about what gives me the most pleasure, to remember where I'm sensitive, to find what gestures get me the most excited. "Oh, good," I say at one point, while he pinches my thighs ever so slightly. "Ohhhhhh. Yes. Take one of your hands and just hold my balls with it. Just hold them. Just hold them. Oooooooh yes. Now massage them a little bit with that hand. Just a little bit. Just a little bit of squeezing. Oh. Ohhhh." I've closed my eyes, my head tilted back, just feeling it, just letting it wash over me. I'm moaning, moaning, so caught up in the feeling, in the warmth of his hand, I'm getting so close 3;

"Enough," I say. "Keep massaging, but leave my balls alone."

His hands return to me, going around my thighs, to my legs. I hold up my right leg and his hands encircle it, going all over it, all the way down. Then I hold up my left leg and he does the same. He reaches my feet and starts massaging them, his fingers picking out each of my toes like I did for him.

"Suck on my big toe," I say.

"Really?" he squeaks. I say nothing, and then I feel the caress of his mouth close on my toe. He's sucking, sucking. Sucking. "Run your tongue along it," I say, and he does.

That's when Kevin's father comes in, wearing a dark black suit. "Ah!" he exclaims, when he sees what is happening. He's carrying the salad course.

"Leave it there," I say, gesturing vaguely to the nighttable, as his son continues to suck noisily on my toe.

He growls at me. "What dressing do you want?" His face is red with rage.

"Really?" I say, smirking as I raise an eyebrow. "Is this the service at this fine establishment?"

He pauses. Collects himself. "What dressing would you like, sir?"

"Kevin," I say, "start sucking on the other toes, too." I turn back to his father. "What do you have that's creamy?"

"We have a ranch. And a hummus dressing."

"Let's do the hummus, thanks." I sigh contentedly, then say to Kevin, "other foot!" as his father exits.

"Kevin," I say, after a few moments, "lick my stomach now."

The naked boy crawls up along the bed to my stomach, he leans down and starts licking. "Mmmm," I say. The tongue laps lightly along my skin, and I feel my body hair get gently pulled along. I lazily let my hand rest on the back of his head, enjoying the sleek hair, the motion of his neck muscles as he works to give me pleasure, the heat that radiates from his neck.

"Come up here," I say, my hand gently guiding his head, "lick my nipple." He crawls up further and obediently starts licking. "Oh, good. Ohhhh. Suck on it. Suck hard. Yeahhhh. Ohhhh. Suck hard. You can even bite, just a little bit. Just a tiny bit. Oh yes." The boy is sucking, biting. Every so often there's a slurping sound as a tiny bit of air gets into the vacuum his sucking is creating. "Here, give me your right hand." I take the moist little hand and I guide it to my other nipple. "Massage it. Pinch it a little, pull it a little, but mostly massage it. Back and forth. Yeahhh. Ohhhh, yes. Yess. Mmmmmmmm. Ohhhh."

The door opens again, and it's Kevin's father, bringing the dressing. "Ohhhh, good. Ohhhh. Mmmmm," I'm saying. "Mmmmmm. Dress the salads," I say. The man walks past his slurping boy. "Ohhhhh." He takes the bottle of dressing and pours some on the first salad. "Mmmmm." He pours some on the second salad. "Toss the salads," I say. "Mmmmm. Ohhh. Kevin, switch nipples."

There's a pause, some shuffling. The slurping stops, as does my moaning. For a brief moment, there's just the sound of the jazz. The boy has to get himself up, bracing himself on the bed, and switch sides. Meanwhile his father is mixing the salads. Kevin positions his mouth on my left nipple, raising his left hand to stroke the other nipple, and he begins. "Holy shit," I say. He's slurping. My left hand has gone to stroking his smooth back, feeling down each vertebra, while my right hand is stroking his hair. "Ohhhhh." My legs have wrapped around his body, pushing him closer. "Oh my God," I say.

I realize then that his father hasn't left yet. He's just standing there. "Go," I say to him. He stands there. His face is red, his eyes are bulging, he's fighting the command. "Go," I say. Slowly, slowly, he turns, and he walks out. I can see him fighting against each step, fighting it, fighting it, and still he takes the step, and the next step, until he's out of the bedroom.

"Suck harder!" I exclaim, feeling the pressure increase.

It's bliss, pure bliss, but at some point I stop the boy. "Are you hungry?" I ask him. He nods.

I work my way down until I'm lying flat on the bed, and I take a bowl of salad, pouring it onto my stomach and chest. "Eat," I say. "Eat, and lick. No hands." The boy eats the salad off of me, getting each little bit. Here his tongue gently rubs against my skin; in another place his lips; a slight feeling of hardness as a tooth scrapes across. I feel each piece of salad get lifted off by his mouth, I feel his breath along my stomach. His tongue swirls down into my belly button, licking up the dressing that has pooled there. Some dressing has gotten onto the sheets, but that won't be my problem. Kevin has dressing on his face, and I lean over and lick it off.

"Lie back," I say, and he does. I pour the other bowl of salad onto him, and I do the same gesture in reverse, eating up each little bit, tasting his skin, his sweat, feeling each motion of his body, each fidget. I lick generously along his stomach, and he giggles. He's ticklish. I lick some more, and he laughs. "Man," I say, "look at what your body does." I lick my way down and take in his penis, sucking gently. It's tiny, soft, flabby. The skin rolls gently in my mouth, sliding easily over the firmer inside. I can smell the boy's musk, the sweat and stench of his crotch.

The boy's mother comes in. I can see tears going down her face, but she moves almost as if she doesn't see us. She sets down the two bowls of soup, takes a look at us. "Your soup, sir," she says, getting the words out as quickly as possible, her voice breaking under the strain, and without another word she walks out of the room as fast as she can.

I keep sucking for a while, running my hands along the boy's thighs, feeling along his gentle skin, but I stop eventually. "Open your mouth," I say. I take a spoonful of soup, swish it around in my mouth, then go over as if to kiss him. Our mouths lock, and I let the soup flow in. "Swallow it," I say, and he does. "Now do the same for me." One spoonful at a time, we eat the soup, each of us taking some in our mouth, mixing it with our saliva, and then transferring it to the other.

"Stroke my cock with your finger," I say. "Just one finger. Back and forth."

He runs his gentle touch along it. "Oh yeah," I say. "Oh yeah. Now lick it. Lick the cock up and down. Yeahh. Keep running your tongue along it. Up. Down. Up. Down. Yeahhh." I vaguely heard his mother yelling in the distance, "I don't want to go in there again! I can't! I can't!" Kevin's father came in to take away the dishes.

"Now take my cock in your mouth," I say. The boy hesitates briefly, then takes it in. "Suck on it. Suck hard. Good. Fuck yeah. Good. Suck harder! Yeah! Ohhhhh. Now run your tongue along it. No, more. Run your tongue back and forth along the cock. No, keep sucking. Suck and use your tongue. Press hard with your tongue! Ohhhh. Yeahhh. Shiit." I lay there, enjoying it, showing my pleasure.

"Now slide your head back and forth along the cock," I say. "Just slide back and forth. It's wet, slide along it. Yes. Yes. Oh yes. But keep sucking. Keep sucking. Slowly. Slowly. Suck. Suck hard, and slide on it. Slide. Keep sucking while you slide. Stop for a while and use your tongue. Slide. Yeah. Mhm. Mhm."

It's divine. Perfection.

I reach out and grab his head, moving it, sliding it back and forth. "Keep sucking!" I exclaim. Kevin's father is back, carrying two steaks with mashed potatoes and green beans, but he stops and stares in the doorway. "Oh!" I shout. "Oh!" I have the boy's head in my hands, I'm sliding him back and forth, thrusting my pelvis forward. Finally I grab his head and shove it deep on my cock, all the way in. The boy is gagging. "Gk gk gk" comes the sound from him; his torso is shaking and I can see one of his feet kicking out. "Suck!" I shout, shoving his head further on the cock. I cum, deep into his throat, the cock pulsing, pulsing, pulsing into his soft throat.

"Ohhhhh," I sigh as I sat back. I'm done for a while. The boy's mouth is still around my soft cock. "Leave the steaks," I say to his dad. "Kevin, lick me clean."

"Mrrrrm," he whimpers, and then he starts licking.

When the boy is done, I bring him up to cuddle against me. I cut the steak into pieces. I pick up the first one, rub it against my armpit, and feed it to him. I pick up the next piece. I rub it along my crotch. Then I have him eat it. Next piece, armpit. Next piece, other armpit. Next piece, crotch. As we start to finish the steak, I do a few of the last pieces in my ass. Each bite trains him to be more obedient.

When we're done, I order him to lick the grease of the steak off of me. Licking my armpits, my crotch, my ass. Meanwhile, I eat my steak.

The mashed potatoes I slather all over myself, and I make him lick them up, his tongue once again caressing my body, spreading the potatoes everywhere. For the greenbeans, I take each one at a time into my mouth. With each greenbean, he must kiss me, and while kissing slurp up the greenbean from my mouth into his. He gets quite good at it by the end.

When we're done, I take his body and I press it up against mine. I gently stroke his back. It's quiet, the soft music playing in the background, the little boy wrapped against my body, and all of a sudden he starts crying. I let him cry against me, the tears flowing freely, as I gently stroke his back. Even this gives me pleasure as his sobbing torso slides against mine.

I'm holding the crying boy, comforting him, if you will, when his dad comes in with dessert. Two big slices of chocolate cake.

"Oh, excellent," I say.

I kiss the boy again, deeply. He's still crying. Then I take a slice of the chocolate cake and I impale it on my stiff cock. Of course it's up to the boy to eat it. His warm tongue presses the fluffy cake into my cock, my balls. As he licks, the frosting provides a lubricant against his tongue. Again and again he licks, pressing to get every last bit of frosting, every last crumb, his tongue running over my cock and licking my balls again and again.

"Stay down there," I say when he's done. "Keep licking. And get ready to suck."

Of course, we're not done yet. The two of us will stay up for hours together. Kevin gets tired, drooping. Still I force him to stay up and service me. By the time I leave, it's already 2am.

Interlude: Kevin

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

Kevin's parents sit quietly in the living room. Neither is speaking. Upstairs, Kevin is banging on the wall, again and again.

"Kevin, honey," calls his mother up the stairs. "Stop doing that. You'll hurt your hand."

"So what?" shouts Kevin back angrily.

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

To himself, Kevin wonders if he's even human any more. He picks up a toy, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figure. He positions it as if it was sucking the cock of his Captain America figure. I'm like these toys, he thinks. I can't do anything on my own. I just do what He tells me to do. The boy sweeps his arm across the table, sending the figures flying.

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

I can still hit the wall, he thinks. I can still use my action figure slaves. When He's not around, I can still do things if He hasn't told me not to. But when He's there, I'm just a toy, a thing. I'm not strong enough to stop Him. I'm trapped.

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

"Should we stop him?" asks Kevin's mother.

"And tell him what?" asks his father. "What are we going to tell him? That everything will be okay? That we'll take care of it? That the nightmares will end? All we do is fucking sit around while this pervert orders our kid around."

Again, the parents sit quietly in the living room.

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

Interlude: Kevin

"No!" shouts Kevin as he wakes from a dream. The boy is sitting up in bed, gasping, chest heaving with each precious breath. Tears fall down his cheeks, but he doesn't even feel them.

"Kevin, honey, are you all right?" calls his mother from the door. It's a stupid question, thinks the boy, naked in bed because he was ordered to sleep naked. The dreams are always worse when he's naked.

"I'm fine, mom," he calls back. He's gotten used to lying. Lying to his friends whom he avoids, his teachers, everyone. Lying about how he's sick that day, or how he has lots of work, or how he has to get back home for his family. This was barely even a lie. He's as fine as he ever is. There's nothing his mom could do about it anyway. She eventually goes away.

Tonight was the usual dream. The one where he walks up the stairs at the man's side and goes into his parents' bedroom. He tells himself not to, but it doesn't help, he keeps walking. Suddenly they're naked. His dad's jazz is playing, and the man tells him to suck. In the dream, Kevin knows he has to please the man, he tries to do it, but the man isn't satisfied, he pushes on the back of Kevin's head, and suddenly Kevin is impaled, the man's penis is pushing into his throat, pulsing there like a snake, pushing again and again against the soft places there. He can't breathe, he feels like he's going to throw up, but still the man pushes. In the dream, it goes on for twenty minutes, forty minutes, an hour. It never ends. Kevin is going to die. He knows that he will die because he cannot breathe, but still he's forced deeper, and deeper again. The man starts to 3; what was it called? To cum. His penis jams against the back of Kevin's mouth again and again, the strange liquid spewed almost right down his throat. In his dream, the cum burns. And just as Kevin finally thinks he's dying, he wakes up.

Kevin sits there in bed, trying desperately not to relive it, failing. Reliving those nights seems to be all that he does. Except for when he's actually being fucked, anyway.

It could have been worse. Sometimes he has the same dream, but with his father instead of the man. He doesn't know why he dreams that. It's not like his father ever did this stuff to him. But those dreams hurt more for some reason. He's really screwed up.

Kevin realizes he's breathing fast again and he tries to slow down. He could try to go to sleep, but then he might dream again. He could read, or try to play a game, but it's 2am and he couldn't focus anyway. As the adrenaline leaves his body, he starts to realize how tired he is.

Eventually he settles down. He tries to just lie awake in bed, but it doesn't work. Kevin drifts off to sleep. And he dreams.

When I arrive the next morning, all three boys are already there. Corey looks apprehensive, glancing around at the room, as if waiting for some trap to be sprung on him. Timmy is a little boy, not a care in the world. Not a clue. Kevin's head is downcast, and he shuffles his feet. He looks 3; resigned, and tired.

When I last saw Kevin about eight hours ago, I was caressing his warm body. His mouth was wrapped around my cock. He was licking my toes, my chest. It's hard not to get an erection, not to look at this beaten boy and want to take him right there. But I have to think of the other boys. I have to think about what I'll be able to do to them if I wait, if I just don't ruin it.

We start off with many of the same tasks as the week previously. First it's basketball, and I bring Timothy on my team because he's behind the others in their training. Then we do some chores around the house. "You look hot," I say to Timmy. "Take off your shirt." He pauses a moment to consider, and then he does. His nipples are a slight shade of pink, practically flat against his chest. His tummy is tight, flat. His armpits curve generously into his shoulders.

A few minutes later, I manage to get the other two boys alone. "Corey, Kevin," I say, "you're hot. Strip down to your underwear." There's a stunned silence for a few moments. The two boys look at each other. Then Kevin sighs, and starts taking off his clothes. Corey soon follows.

"What's going on?" asks Timothy when he sees them.

"We were hot," replies Corey.

By the end of all the moving things, poor Timmy is exhausted from carrying heavy things all over the house. While I send him on one more useless task with a lamp, I again pull Corey and Kevin aside. "Boys, you're going to take Timothy up to your room and play with him. You can play whatever game you want, so long as it involves lots of touching. In fact, do some kissing while you're up there. In the next two hours, you should touch Timmy's penis at least six times. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," says Kevin.

"Corey?" I say.

"Yeah," says Corey, looking down at his feet.

When Timothy comes out, I stop him. "Timothy," I say, "you're done working. You'll go to play with Corey and Kevin now."

"Okay," says Timothy.

"Corey and Kevin are your very good friends. You look up to them because they're older. Right?"

"Sure," says the boy.

"You want to be like them. Right?"

He nods.

"They might play some games that feel weird, but they're you're very good friends and you want to fit in. The games are normal older kid games, and you want to play along and fit in. Got it?"

"Yeah," he says.

"Go have fun!" I say.

While the boys 'play', I stay with Kevin's parents. My only command to them is that they cannot raise their voices, and so they are direct with me. They call me a pervert, a psychopath, the soul of pure evil. They tell me that the police will catch me. They beg and plead with me to release their son, to release them. Kevin's mother even offers to find me another boy, as her husband shushes her. I just sit quietly, allowing them to say what they like. What they want is no longer relevant.

While I'm tossing out some leftover food, I notice that the Miles Davis CD is in the trash, broken into pieces.

***

The boys come down from Kevin's room a couple of hours later. Timothy looks uncomfortable but uncertain, warring somewhat within himself, his normal feelings about such a day at 'play' vs. my orders to find it ordinary. Kevin and Corey, by contrast, are embarassed about what they did.

I want the boys to be as comfortable as possible, especially Timothy, so as not to strain things with my last few orders of the day. We go to the kitchen, where I had ordered Kevin's parents to prepare plenty of good snacks for the boys. They eat, and I see them regain some of their energy and normalcy. I order them to come with me to the living room.

By now, I should mention something about how this goes. I say something like, "Come with me to the living room." Kevin, and to some degree Corey, are pretty deep in my thrall. Especially for a simple command like that, they just obey. For Timothy, it still takes a moment. I time my command just before he reaches for one last cookie, and his little hand stops in mid-air. It hovers, fingers clenching slightly, then unclenching. Then, wordless, the boy stands up without his cookie and goes to the living room, the struggle adding yet more to my control of him. In contrast, Kevin is so deep in my command that he stops mid-slurp on his juice box and some of it dribbles down his chin.

We arrive in the living room and I turn on the TV with cartoons running into Saturday afternoon. I sit down in the middle of the couch facing it. At my order, Kevin and Corey sit to my left and right, still in their underwear, bodies pressed tightly against mine. Corey's mind seems so flexible, more so than Kevin, that I figure he'll hold even through this next demonstration. I smile as I tell Timothy where to sit: right on my lap. He's short enough I can still see the TV, and I hold on to him, my hands settled on his stomach.

Oh, Timmy. He's like an unwrapped present, like a book where I can run my hands along the cover and just feel what a 'good read' it will be. Although I feel Kevin's nearly naked body pressing on one side, and Corey's body pressing on the other, although I could feel the wonderful heat coming from both of their young preteen bodies, it's Timmy's body heat that is all over my front. I can feel his feet, still in their socks, bounce gently against my legs. With my hands on his stomach, I can feel his energy, feel how alive he is, feel his breaths in and out. I can smell the candy-scented shampoo in his light brown hair, mixed in with his sweat from the chores and basketball. I bring up a hand to run through his hair, and the smell wafts through even stronger. With my left hand on his stomach, my right sifts through his hair, then down his face, along his cheek. I murmur to him to keep still. My hand slowly goes down to his chest, his nipple. I circle around it with my finger. I feel him tense a bit, the muscles contracting to sit up straighter, the in and out of his breath getting a tiny bit faster, more shallow. His cheeks flush from the blood flow. Rather than pushing it, I lower my right hand to join my left, gently holding his stomach, gently feeling his breath come in and out, in, and out. I can feel his hyper-awareness of my every touch, my every motion.

I bounce his light form up and down on my knees a bit, feeling him go up and down, watching his hair bounce back and forth, watching his neck bend slightly with each landing.

No, maybe I can't 'unwrap' my 'gift' just yet, maybe it's not quite Christmas just yet, but I can at least shake the box a bit more to see what's inside. I can at least explore a bit more of Timmy's body. I take my right arm and feel down his perfect, hairless right arm. From his shoulder to his elbow, where I feel his pulse, the blood pumping through his veins. Then down his forearm, which I can completely encircle with my hand, all the way around, down to his hands, with their perfect, clean fingernails. I love his hands: full, not skinny, with short but dextrous fingers. I take his hand in mine, and feel the warm moistness in his palm. Holding his arm, I raise it up so I can see it extend outwards, and then so it's pointing up at the ceiling. I take a sniff of his hairless armpit, with its smell of dried sweat from the chores earlier today, and I feel its smoothness with my nose. Then I return his arm downwards.

I order him to hold out his legs, and I look at his hairless lower legs coming out of his shorts. I see his knees, not knobbly at all, just right. His feet, still in his white, slightly dirty Hanes socks, with toes pointed outward, extended forward. I reach down and roll his shorts up a bit, almost to his underwear, so I can see more of his perfect thighs, paler under his shorts than the rest of his legs. For a moment, I just stare at my new toy. How wonderful it would be to play with. But now, I know that I can't unwrap my present any further. I will have to wait to see everything inside the box. I have him put his legs back down, I put my hands back on his stomach, and we sit for a while so that he can rest up for what's coming next.

We sit for about fifteen minutes as the TV plays, and then I decide to finally push my boys and firm up my control over them that much more. I take my hands off of Timmy and put my left on Kevin's penis, my right on Corey's penis, and I masturbate the two simultaneously. I was right about Corey, he can do nothing against my control. Of course, Kevin is long past this stage. Timmy watches as his two friends take it silently. Soon their little cocks are stiff. They're twisting back and forth. Kevin utters a low moan. I can see his toes curling and releasing, curling and releasing. Corey's right foot seems to involuntarily kick forward as he closes his eyes and leans his head back. I feel his hand grip my thigh, the fingers pressing tightly into it. It takes a long, long time to get two young boys like this to orgasm. But finally, moaning and sweating, their bodies vibrating as their skin jiggles back and forth, they both do (I have to periodically stop masturbating Kevin so that Corey can catch up to him in arousal and they're reasonably simultaneous). Timmy is 3; well, he's confused. But that was good. He sat there the whole time, even with my erection pressing into his ass.

"Boys," I say, "I think Timothy is nervous about these older kid games. Tell him how you really liked that."

There's a silent pause, then Corey manages to speak. "I really liked that," he says.

"Me too," says Kevin. Another pause. "It was great."

I return my hands to Timmy, who looks even more confused. I run them across his body. I go slowly – he's seen plenty already – but I periodically run them around his nippes or in his belly button or around his tummy. Meanwhile I whisper commands to sit still. He does.

After watching the cartoons for a while sandwiched between the boys, I decide it's enough. Timmy and Corey have gotten enough out of today. They can even be boys and play normally for the rest of the day, if they still have the emotional state for that. Before leaving, I give what is by now a pretty standard set of orders about not telling anyone what happened, and I order them to come back the next week. But there is one more special thing for Corey and Timmy: I give them each some doses of the drug to give to their families. Once I'm sure they'll be administered, I leave for the day.

***

Sunday is, by now, a standard day. I come to Kevin's (it was just Kevin) and prepare for a day with someone who can now truly be called my sex slave. With his parents watching, less stressed every time it happens as my control deepens, Kevin takes my penis again and again into his mouth. We practice going deep, all the way in. I instruct Kevin on how to give me the most pleasure.

I even get tired of it, and we just watch TV, Kevin lying naked on top of me, or perhaps just holding my tired penis in his mouth. We spend an hour that way: me sitting on the couch, Kevin cross-legged on the floor in front of me, facing right at my crotch, my slack penis in his mouth, his nose buried in my pubic hair. For an hour he sits there. Inside, his mind must be screaming, telling him to spit it out, to get his face out of my crotch, to do anything. Yet the boy just sits there, cross-legged in front of me, mouth wrapped around the cock, nose twitching slightly as my pubic hair enters his nostrils, empty blue eyes gazing upward at me.

Over the past few weeks, I watched those eyes grow older, sadder. But they are my eyes, now. His smooth arms are mine, his incredible legs, his smooth tummy, his flaccid penis, they are all mine, and most of all, his brain is mine. Not entirely, not yet. There are still a few things I haven't done yet, and his parents are not quite at the stage I need them. But it won't be long.

There is one more thing to attend to. I can't have Corey's and Timothy's parents getting suspicious, so I need to start exerting my control over them as well. Three boys is plenty, but I need unrestricted access. Thus, before I leave, I make sure his parents will invite the other boys' families over to dinner next Wednesday, when I will next be over. That will let me bring them fully under as well, and my plans will soon be complete.

***

The dinner Wednesday is really not worth describing. I take the usual opportunities to issue many commands to the boys' parents. We talk about this and that. The dinner passes.

I never asked about the other boys' family, so I'm surprised to discover that Corey has an older brother Jake (about 15) and Timmy has a younger sister, Louise (about 7). Neither is of any interest to me, one because of his age, the other because of her gender, although I will grant that Jake must have been incredibly hot just two or three years previously. The siblings, too, are falling suitably under control, but their presence will complicate things as younger minds are better able to initially resist commands. I've dodged a bullet, though: none of them yet have any brothers or sisters in college (or the army) and thus out of my reach. So if I can get their immediate families, there'll be no one who could easily notice my control.

The evening is uneventful, as I already mentioned, but I have to say that watching these boys fully clothed for an entire dinner is torture. I keep imagining Corey's ever-so-slightly chubby tummy. It feels like an eternity before they leave. Almost as soon as the door closes I say to Kevin, "strip."

***

Thursday I spend visiting Corey's house, and Friday visiting Timothy's house. Neither visit is eventful. The truth is that I'm stuck on the early stuff: their families are not nearly deep enough within my control. I'll be training their parents and siblings to obey my commands before I can do anything with those boys at their houses.

Saturday, at least, I'll be able to have proper fun with Kevin.

Interlude: Kevin's Mother

Kevin is away at school. Cold comfort. He's probably getting in trouble, acting out. She doesn't blame him. She just wishes 3; she just wishes anything. Anything but this.

Memories float through her head of when Kevin had been a younger boy. Raising a boy had seemed like an insurmountable challenge at the time. Now she realizes it was paradise. Schoolyard fights, willfull disobedience, potty training. They were nothing, nothing compared to this.

She looks around the room. Kevin didn't make his bed this morning, of course. He used to make it every day. Looking more closely, she realizes that maybe Kevin has been sleeping on the floor. Is he afraid of beds now?

She walks around the room. His books, his games, the TV he got as a present when he turned ten. She used to limit his time on that. Should she keep limiting his time? Try to keep a sense of normalcy? Or maybe she should let him get what escape he can. Heaven knows how long he'll be able to 3; no, she can't think like that.

She runs her hand along the TV, where a thin layer of dust has built up. It occurs to her that she's started to think of her boy as a lost cause. She thinks of her time with him as finite, until this man Barry decides to just take him away, or until Kevin has had too much and loses his mind. If she was really fighting for him, really trying to raise a good man, she'd limit his video game time. Instead, she's happy for him to just get that little bit of pleasure in a world of pain.

She moves on from the television. His action figures. He used to get so lost in those toys. He'd play with Corey, yes, with Corey, in their own worlds of imagining. Nothing in the outside could touch them when they played with those figures, when they made up grand stories and big adventures.

Looking more closely at those figures, she sees that they're not just thrown around. He's been playing with them. And every single one of them has been arranged to have sex. Every single one. For any figure with removable clothes, the clothes are off. Some figures kneel in front of others, their plastic mouthes next to the other's crotches. Some are up against each other, arms wrapped around, kissing, or hugging. It is a grotesque menagerie. It is the mind of her son.

She runs out of the room, crying, uncertain what she should do. It is not an unfamiliar feeling. Every day, she again feels the terror and the pain of not knowing what to do, of not being able to do what needs to be done.

Interlude: Corey

Corey wakes up screaming. Kevin had told him that he'd been having nightmares. Now Corey understands what they're about.

"Hey, lil' bro," says Jake, coming into the room and rubbing at his eyes. "You all right?"

Corey catches his breath. "I had a nightmare."

"Second time this week," observes Jake. "You wanna tell me about it?" Jake sits down on the bed, putting his arm around the sweaty, hyperventilating boy. Corey lets his head fall against Jake's chest as his brother's arm holds him close, and he finally starts to settle down.

"It was bad," mumbles Corey, his voice a bit muffled through Jake's pyjamas.

"It'll help you to talk about it."

"The Man was here." The Man, their codeword for the person who had taken over their lives. "He made me take off my clothes."

"Yeah?" says Jake. "Yeah." The sit there in silence for a moment. Corey's body, so hot from the comforter and the thrashing, starts to shake a little bit as he sobs into Jake's pyjamas. Jake waits, hoping his brother will calm somewhat. Finally, he asks, "Then what happened?"

"He 3; he made me kneel and stand up a lot. Like he's been doing."

"Okay."

"Then he made me sing."

"He made you sing?"

"Yeah, like songs from Disney stuff. You know."

"Okay. Has he made you sing before?" Jake asks, confused.

"No," says Corey. "It got weird. Like, then he made me get on my stomach, and he reached down and pulled my feet together and he tied them up at the ankles. And then my hands at the wrists. Then he tied my hands to my feet, so they were stretched back and I couldn't move and I was just held there. And singing. I was still singing."

"Uh," said Jake, "has he ever tied you up in real life?"

"No, just in the dream. I dunno. God! Why can he do these things?"

"It's messed up," said Jake to the shaking boy. "It's messed up."

"Then it got really weird. He put me on a tray, like in an oven, while I was tied up and still singing, and he put an apple in my mouth, like cooking a pig, but I was still supposed to be singing so I was trying to sing with this apple in my mouth but it came out all weird, and he told mom to put me in the oven, and the oven got really hot, and I was still singing but I was also screaming because I was getting cooked. Like, it really hurt."

"Was that when you woke up?"

"No, then the apple turned into his hand, and one of his fingers was in my mouth, and he was telling me to suck on it like a lollipop."

"He was in the oven with you?"

"No. Maybe? Just his hand. But he said that if I sucked really good he'd take me out of the oven, and so I sucked, and it tasted like a lollipop but really rotten, you know? And then I was out of the oven but still tied up, but kneeling now, still on the pan, and he said `Now you're going to do something really special,'" and then I woke up.

Jake squeezed his brother's shoulder. "It was just a dream, lil' bro, he said. You're here now, with me. You're safe."

"But he's still going to be back."

"Maybe not," lied Jake.

"Do you know what he's going to make me do?"

"I 3;" Jake paused. "Yeah, you deserve to know. I think he's going to make you suck on his penis."

"Ew."

"Yeah, I know. Disgusting, huh?" Jake tried to smile.

"Is he going to make me drink his pee?" asked Corey.

"Uhm 3; I don't think so. But, something else will come out, maybe."

Corey lay there in silence, thinking about that. "Why is he doing this?"

"I dunno, lil' bro," said Jake, holding his brother close and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. "I think it makes him feel good. I just wish we knew how to stop it."

"Is this going to be going on for my whole life?" asked Corey.

"No way, lil' bro," said Jake. "No way. I promise, I'll find a way to stop it."

On Saturday, I arrive very early in the morning and I let myself in. The house is silent, the red dawn light just peeking through the windows. As I walk through the house, I can see dust accumulating on bookshelves and other subtle signs of neglect. Kevin's mother has been letting the housework slide.

Kevin's east-facing room is tinted red with the just-rising sun. The only sound is that of birds chirping outside. In front of me, Kevin is asleep, curled up in a little ball on his bed. Just his peaceful head sticks up out of the covers, and he's so cute that my heart nearly melts. Gently, I pull his cover off, and the sleeping boy curls up tighter. I see his Avengers pajamas, his bare feet and hands, his stuffed Iron Man doll. I think about the delicacy I'm about to unwrap; he has no idea what's in store for him. He's so tranquil, this must have been a rare night without nightmares for him. Well, until he wakes up.

I sit down on the bed, and he stirs. He's groggy, but when he opens his eyes, he shoots up. I put my hand on his shoulder and steer him back down to the bed. He could resist, since I've given him no order. But he doesn't, and there's no need for a command. He's broken, and he does what I want.

I unbotton his top. My fingers gently undo the lowest button, then the next, then the next, working their way up. His face is slack in the fog of sleep, adrift in uncertainty; there's an unreality to the whole scene in the eerie red light. Does he think it's a dream? He does nothing as I expose more and more of his perfect tummy, his belly button, his nipples. I turn him over and there's no resistance, like a limp doll, and I pull the shirt out past his arms, throwing it on the floor. I roll him over again and encircle my arms around his torso, feeling his heat, and the heat on the bed from where he was laying. I feel around his smooth back, around his front, around his chest. Eagerly, I lick his chest, his nipples. I taste his sweat. Still no reaction. I move my hands to his warm neck and feel the blood pumping through. It's fast: his adrenaline is going. I go up to his face, feel his cheeks. He's crying. Not sobbing, but there's a tear working its way down his right cheek, and a moist trail from one down his left. With joy to match his sadness, I lick up the salty tears, running my tongue along his face, up nearly to his eyes.

Still he says nothing. In the semi-darkness, in the quiet stillness of the house, I kiss him, he opens his mouth to me because he knows I could order it. My tongue dances with his. My hands feel around his body, grip his back, then go down, into his crotch, under his pajamas, fondling briefly before I withdraw. He flops down onto the bed. There's a muffled sob, his first sound of morning.

Still he lies limp. I grab his hands, bring them up, hold them against each other. I move them apart, feel the life in them, the pulse in his wrists. I take his left hand in my right and suck on his index finger, feeling the taste of his skin. I cycle through his other fingers, sucking on one and then another, all five on his left hand and then repeating. His warmth, the sucking, the boy limply in front of me---I feel myself coming to orgasm. Quickly I open my fly and bring his other hand down in front of my crotch. Much of my cum squirts out over his hand or arm. Some lands on his tummy.

For a moment, he lies there while I sit over him. I point silently to his arm, and he knows what I want. He brings his arm up to his mouth and licks up the cum. He starts going for his tummy but I stop him. Instead, I take my finger, run it along his tummy, pick up some cum and bring it to his mouth. He takes in my finger and cleans it off in his mouth. We repeat the process over and over until his tummy is clean, a bit damp with his saliva.

I lay back on his bed for a few minutes, holding him close to me, feeling his breath. The light is brighter, still red, and the birds are louder.

I get back on my knees on the bed, straddling him, and move down to his lower torso. I unbutton his pajama pants and pull them off, leaving just his briefs. I lightly flick at his penis and balls through his underwear, and he winces in pain but makes no other sound. I go down to his feet and look at the wonderful toes. I smell them. Outstanding. I start sucking on his toes a little bit, although it gets no reaction from him. I work my way up his legs, licking at his calves, bending and flexing his knees, rubbing my hands up and down along his thighs, spreading my own spit and saliva, until I reach his crotch again. Now I pull his underwear off as well, and I'm faced with his penis.

I bend over and start sucking on it. It comes to erection, and I suck on it a while until I feel that he's close. Then I pull out. I rub my hands for a while along his torso, his legs, then I return, again bringing him close to his preteen orgasm, again stopping. We continue like this for a while. I never bring him all the way. His instincts take over and he reaches for his penis himself, but I bat his hands away.

When he's exhausted and as horny as a preteen can be, I point from his mouth to my cock. He understands, taking it into his mouth, starting to suck. It is an outstanding suck, slow and warm. He swallows all of my cum. After, he flops onto the bed, still with an erection. He will get no relief now. The room, filling with the glow of a fully risen sun, is still silent. I can hear some stirrings from his parents' room, but they're not awake yet either. I pull him up to his feet and walk him, naked, to the bathroom. I give him a wonderful bath, taking care not to bring him to orgasm, but getting him thoroughly clean. Then I walk him down, naked, to the dining room.

His parents are up now. They've made breakfast, and sure enough, there are two bowls of cereal, one for me and one for Kevin. They realized I was here, and they, too, have become resigned to this fate. We eat our breakfasts in silence.

Then we go to the living room. He stands, hunched. I decide to have mercy on him and bring him over to me. I lay him down on the couch, again feeling around him a bit, and finally come to his penis and take him in my mouth. This time he comes, and so do I. Of course, I hadn't actually undressed: I'd gotten my own underwear dirty. So I get up and make him kneel. I strip off my pants, and take off my cum-soaked underwear. I hand it to Kevin, and motion for him to put it in his mouth. I hadn't showered this morning. I'd been wearing this underwear for 24 hours, and it stank. Yet he kneels, using his gentle fingers to push the sticky underwear into his mouth, sucking on it, cleaning off the cum. I watch him lick and suck on all of the stained and smelly regions, tasting it fully. The dirty white briefs hang from his mouth as he rolls his tongue on them, pulls them through his teeth, and struggles to get all the cum out. When he's done, I gladly don my saliva-filled underwear.

It has been a perfect morning. What is even more wonderful is that I never spoke a command; I didn't speak at all. Technically, Kevin and his parents did all this of their own free will. They are totally and utterly broken.

***

When Corey and Timothy come in, I imagine that they're relieved to be let in by Kevin's mother. Perhaps they are even looking forward to coming back so that they can talk things through with Kevin and figure out what's going on and try to find a way out of it. It's certainly a rude surprise for them when, once they've come inside, Kevin and I step out from the kitchen already buck naked. They turn around and see that Kevin's mother has already closed the door, and she stands by it staring at the floor. They also realize, then, that the blinds had already been drawn.

"Come here boys," I say, and they do. I look at Kevin, who has maybe never been naked in front of his friends before. You'd think he'd be past it by now, but he's miserable and embarassed. His cheeks are flushed red, his eyes downcast. I have the other two stand in front of us.

"Take off all your clothes," I order. It's intentionally a command to push their boundaries, especially for Timmy. But I feel that my control is probably strong enough by now, and if we start with something so far removed from what they would normally do and they do obey, then they would certainly be even more open to suggestion later on. Timmy hesitates, but as he sees Corey obey, he soon does as well. He barely pauses before removing his underwear. I take it from him and smell it briefly. Delightful, of course.

I don't need to tell you that their penises are outstanding. I haven't seen them before, even if I had fondled Corey's through his underwear. Small and pert, they are delightful, vulnerable. Timmy is circumcised, Corey not, and I think I saw them glance with a moment of wonder at the different-looking penises. Their ball sacks are small against their bodies, not yet fallen. I will soon be much more familiar with those regions.

Given Timmy's hesitation, I decide not to try to go all out today. I also don't know how far Corey will be willing to go. So we start with the usual. We move things around. We clean. I get to watch them fall deeper and deeper under my control as they obey more and more commands, and of course, I also get to watch their penises bouncing up and down, up and down, as they carry out my tasks.

After cleaning and chores, we eat, but with a twist: they can only eat exactly what I order them to eat. They stand around the table not moving, and I might say, "Timmy, eat a grape," or "Kevin, take a bite of that apple." Corey is looking particularly sexy today, with his gorgeous blond hair, his blue eyes, his rounded tummy with innie belly-button, his uncircumcised cock 3; I have him hold out his huge, gorgeous tongue, and I have Kevin put a grape on it, and then I have him draw it in. Soon, soon that instrument will be put to better uses.

I'm the only one who gets to eat cookies for this snack, each one inserted into my mouth by one of the boys.

They're still sweaty, so we go for a group shower. I clean them completely myself, and then I dry them. I get to feel a lot of their cocks in the process. Kevin, deeper in my control than the others, I masturbate in front of everyone in the shower. As my hand strokes his cock once again that day, the boy's knees shake and he moans in pleasure and frustration. His head falls backward at some point and he looks to the sky while his body rocks. "Ohhh," he says, his hand gripping the side of the shower to keep his balance, and then at last he orgasms.

We come back to the living room and I lay myself down on the ground. Each boy takes on a different role. "Timmy, lick my arms," or "Corey, lick my legs". "Kevin, suck on my fingers." The boys are crawling all over me, licking my legs and tummy and arms and nipples, sucking on my fingers or toes. Only Kevin occasionally licks my penis, but I don't go there with the other kids yet. After a while, I see Corey's blond-haired head work its way up my arm. He gets to my shoulder and I take the pale boy in my arms and I bring his head to mine and I kiss him. I force my tongue into his mouth, and I swish it around with his tongue, pressing, pushing, exploring. My hands work their way along his back. His skin has a special kind of smoothness, a silkiness, a softness that boys sometimes have. It's completely unblemished. I feel along his strong shoulder blades, down and up and down his spine, and feel all the way around his waist. As the kiss releases, I looked into his wide blue eyes, lost in confusion and misery.

While the other two boys are still licking me, Kevin sucks me to orgasm. The boys stare, briefly, but I order them back to work. They keep licking.

We're basically done for the day. I tell the boys that they have to stay naked for the rest of the day, and that they can't have any cookies. (It's mild, but it was an effect they would constantly be reminded of, weakening their resistance further.) I give them one more order for their playtime: at some point before they go home, at least one of them has to take in their mouth the penis of another, and suck on it like a lollipop for at least three minutes, timed on a clock. It is better than having them suck me: they'd be less resistant to doing it for a friend of the same age. And this way, I get to make them decide who it will be. I figure that's a decision that won't come easily.

After that and some routine reminders not to tell anyone about this or let on that anything was strange, I leave. I will find out later that Corey sucks Kevin's cock, and that Kevin did indeed orgasm (still dry, of course). The older boys sacrifice themselves for Timmy, little good that it does. I would've been jealous of Kevin, if by the time I found out Corey's tongue hadn't been working its magic on me pretty regularly.

***

Most of what I do over the next three weeks is what has happened before. I can only reliably see all three boys on Saturday; it would arouse too much suspicion to have them going to each others' houses every day. Fortunately, I have gotten enough control over Corey's and Timothy's families so that I can enter their houses when I want to, and thus I start to build one-on-one relationships. I can tell that Corey's tongue is going to pay off when he sucks on my fingers, although I never have him actually suck my dick: that is waiting for a special moment. I do have him suck on my balls a few times. Once I have him start during a movie. I put The Avengers on Netflix, and tell Corey to suck my balls. But I get kind-of wrapped up in it and I forget about him, and he keeps going for the whole movie, the whole two hours, kneeling in front of me at the couch, face planted in my crotch, licking and sucking on my balls. The movie just ends, and there he is, still doing it, my forgotten command ruling his brain. I have him finish me off with a hand job then.

Corey is also incredibly flexible, so when I do squirt cum I make sure to get it on his tummy or his sides so he really has to twist around to reach it when he's licking it up.

Timmy is particularly interesting licking up cum, because when I have him get it off the floor, his sister, for some unknowable reason, goes for it herself! I have to hold her back. I have no idea what their parents think when they see that!

In fact, I'd probably say that Timothy is perhaps the only boy that might be, on some level, enjoying this. I never buy into the idea that boys really have a sex drive, but let's face it, I haven't really been making any effort to help them enjoy it. Still, Timothy is young and is approaching it simply as something new. He's unhappy about it, certainly because he's losing control over his own life, but not in the same way that the older boys are. It's refreshing to see his energy for it, especially in contrast to Kevin's beaten and resigned demeanor. (But let's face it, it's sexy to have so completely broken Kevin's resistance; I think he would have obeyed without any drug control at this point, even though I had no way to remove it to test my hypothesis.)

Their parents react in rather boring ways, to be honest. But what can parents do? They have to sit and watch as their children execute moves that are closer and closer to sex with an older man. The one interesting one is Jake, who still has a vestige of the hotness he must have had before puberty. It's a pity that he's already 15, because he still has a baby face and lots of potentially appealing features. Still, when I have him strip, he has pubic hair, armpit hair, leg hair 3; I'm just not interested.

Finally, I should mention that I'm still enjoying Kevin to his fullest potential. The boy has no more social life, of course. I've ordered him to return straight home after each day in school. Each day, he wakes up, goes to school, then comes straight home. Each afternoon he sits at home with his parents wondering if I will come that day. If I do come, he serves me. If I don't, then he knows it's one of his friends serving me instead.

I use Kevin whenever I want a release, a boy who is already obedient, helpless. I've taught him to suck well, and I use him over and over for it. I start anal play with the boy, inserting small things, little butt plugs, pens, whatever is convenient. It's a special moment when I first order Kevin to stick a finger up his own asshole. As his hand obeys the command against every wish of his own mind, Kevin's face scrunches up in a look of pure anger, this fury at his forced self-violation. "Lick your finger clean," I order him next, and I watch as he slowly, forlornly moves his hand towards his mouth; as he turns his head away at first and tries to shut his mouth and clamp it shut; as his jaw goes slack anyway, as his tongue comes out of his mouth to lick the foul finger, as he inserts the finger with traces of shit into his mouth and sucks it clean. When he's done, the powerless boy sits there, shoulders drooping, sobbing silently.

Of course, the next day it's my finger up his ass. The boy is emotionally beaten, and he just lays there quietly as my finger presses inside him. "You can guess what's coming next," I whisper to him as I leave.

And that was the three weeks. The boys, and their families, are getting pretty well trained.

Interlude: Timothy

"Kneel!" said Timmy's sister Louise in her high-pitched little girl's voice.

Timmy knelt.

"Pull down my shorts!" she said, giggling.

He pulled down her shorts, and then her panties.

"Lick!" she said.

The boy stuck out his tongue, and leaned in to her cunt. He buried his face in it, his tongue working its way inside her little girl's vagina. She giggled, rocking back and forth.

"Stop moving," he said slurred from inside her crotch, "it's hard to keep it in there."

She tried to stay in place, but she kept laughing.

All of a sudden their mother came in and dropped her laundry all over the floor. "What are you doing!" she exclaimed.

Timmy's muffled voice came out from between his sister's legs. "Just playing pretend, mom!"

"Timothy," she said, get up! She reached over and yanked him up. "Pull up your shorts!" she said to her daughter. "Don't ever play like this. Don't ever. Ever. Please!"

"But, mom 3;" said Timmy.

"No!" said his mother.

Interlude: Jake

Jake peered into the living room through a slightly open door.

His parents were in their bedroom, hiding. His mother was crying, of course. But Jake was here, watching. His heartbeat thudded in his ears. Against that, the sound of his mother was distant, muffled.

In the living room, Corey was naked. Kneeling. A finger was shoved in his mouth.

"Suck," said The Man.

Corey began to suck. In contrast to his mother's crying, the sounds in the living room were clear. The slurping sounds, the suction of air entering Corey's mouth, the sound of Corey's feet shuffling on the carpet, the creak of the floorboards as the man shifted his weight: Jake could hear every subtlety of those sounds.

"Good," said The Man. "Now keep sucking, but run your tongue along the bottom. Gently. Slowly back and forth."

Jake watched.

He was furious. Desperately, he wanted to stop this, but he couldn't. He warred with himself, against the control. If he couldn't save his brother, part of him just wanted to run to his room, to shut out what was happening in this house. But he wouldn't do that.

"Stop sucking for a little while," said The Man. "Just lick the finger. Lick it from the base to the tip. Run your tongue along the bottom." Corey's tongue extended out of his mouth and he tilted his head, lowering it down. His tongue ran gently along the finger. "Oh, nice. Nice. Keep your tongue wet with saliva while you do it. Good."

Jake's mom had told him to stop watching this. To stay in his room. But he couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't because he couldn't abandon his brother, he told himself that again and again, he couldn't abandon his brother. He repeated it, like a mantra, a clear reason to keep watching. An excuse?

Hiding. Hiding in the kitchen. Wasn't that abandoning his brother?

"Now start sucking again," said The Man. Corey did, and suddenly The Man reached over and grabbed Corey's head, forcing it deep onto the finger. There was a coughing sound, a gagging sound that came from the boy. "Keep sucking!" barked The Man. Corey seemed to continue to suck.

Jake watched through the cracked door, transfixed. Corey's eyes seemed to widen as the finger pressed deeper into his throat.

"Use your tongue!" instructed The Man, as he shoved another finger, then a third into Corey's mouth. He pulled the boy's body against his legs. The Man's penis was erect and he lay it on top of the boy's shoulder which gently rubbed against it. Corey's eyes, wide with pain, found Jake's through the crack in the door. "Stay strong," mouthed the older brother.

Suddenly The Man came into his orgasm, pushing the three fingers deeper into the boy's mouth, his cock releasing a shot of cum that flew onto the floor, with the rest dribbling down Corey's back. Drop, splatter, drop, drop, splatter, each one leaving a spot of shiny white on the smooth skin.

Damn it, thought Jake.

"You know what to do," said The Man, and Corey, still red-faced from the difficulty breathing, tried to reach his hands around to his back to scoop up the cum and bring it to his mouth.

Jake could feel the wetness in his underwear, his own cum, from his own orgasm. Damn it.

"Some landed over there," said The Man, gruffly, and Corey crawled over to find it.

Slowly, Jake got up, trying not to make a sound. He worked his way to the bathroom to clean off. He couldn't abandon his brother, he told himself. That was why he had to watch. He couldn't abandon his brother.

The next Saturday, I arrange for all three of them to come to Kevin's house along with their families. Today is the big show, a day of total debauchery unlike anything I've ever had.

The three boys and I eat a good breakfast. Then we go up to the bathroom and I shower them thoroughly, cleaning in all the places. We walk back naked to the living room and I gaze at the beautiful boys. I look at Timmy's wet hair, plastered onto his forehead. Unconsciously, the little boy licks up a droplet of water that coasts down his face. Kevin's skin has a bright sheen from the water that coats his body. He doesn't even recoil as I gently run by hand along his back to feel the freshly-washed smoothness. The room is warm, but Corey is shivering in fear. Drops of water run from his wet hair down his face. Water pools at the tip of his nose, and as I watch the shaking boy, a drop falls off and arcs to the carpet. I embrace Corey, stroking his hair. "There there," I say. "I'm going to fuck you good."

Of course, this is all in front of the watching parents and siblings. Under my orders, they've already set up the living room, moving the couch and chairs to the outer edge, forming an impromptu stage in the middle. As I let go of the shivering Corey, I order the boys to stand at attention in the center, and each does. Kevin stands there, eyes downcast. Timmy shuffles his feet, his right foot crawling over his left, his big toe trying to work its way between the other toes. Corey's shaking has gone to his knees, through to his whole body, swinging his little cock back and forth.

In the chairs, on the sofa, we have their families. Kevin's parents. Corey's parents and his older brother, Jake. Timmy's parents and his younger sister, Louise. They wear their polo shirts and nice blouses, their emblems of middle class life. I have ordered them to sit and watch quietly while I rape their children.

"By now I think you understand," I announce to them, "what I am doing, and what will happen here today. What I have over you, over your lives, and of course over your children: total control. Total obedience." I walk over, and I reach my arms around Kevin and Corey, hugging them close. "In every way, they are mine." I put my hand on Corey's head. "Their minds belong to me." I walk over to Timmy and lick my finger, then gently trace a path down his torso, from the gap in his collar bone, down between his breasts, along his tummy. It leaves a new sheen where his body had dried off. "Their bodies belong to me." My hand gets to his crotch, and I cup his tiny balls and cock. He shuffles as I gently raise one of his balls with one finger, then lower it and raise the other with another finger, alternating balls as I toy with them. "All of their bodies."

"Never!" says Corey's mother, her voice ringing out through the silence. I give her a fierce smile.

"You will all stay silent," I reply, and they instantly quiet. I grin into the emptiness, to emphasize my total control. Of course, each command that they so hate to obey also deepens my own control over them. "You will stay where you are. You will watch. You will not turn away. Today," I say dramatically, "is a festival of pleasure. I am the god Dionysus and I rule over your trivial lives, my will made manifest, yours subjugated into nothingness. A festival of sex."

Timmy's mother's face has gone white; Corey's mother tries to speak, but fails, and she starts crying. Kevin's father has his arm protectively around his wife's shoulder. Some of the parents are literally, physically shaking. Jake's face has gone completely red. "Now," I announce dramatically, "let's begin."

"Corey, kneel," I say, and he does.

"Take my penis into your mouth." A parent gasps, I'm not sure who. Corey, who's been trained only on my finger, reaches up with his delicate hands, his fingertips tickling my cock. I see his face scrunch up as he smells my penis, but still he opens his mouth wide and guides it in. Soon it is encompassed in the warm, moist place. "Ohhhhhh," I say. "Enjoying the taste?"

I swear I feel him shake his head slightly.

"Now, suck," I whisper. "Slowly."

The pressure on my cock suddenly intensifies, and I feel it tugged forward. His tongue wraps around the cock, the muscle massaging it back and forth. It feels as if the cock is totally encircled by his warm tongue. He pulls hard with his sucking, towing me deeper and deeper. I moan in pleasure and thrust my hips forward. His whole head slides back and forth along the rod, his saliva layered between his tongue and my penis. It's as if I feel each of the tiny buds on his tongue massaging me. He stops moving his head and the pressure of his sucking increases, tugging and tugging, almost squeezing it, his eyes shut tight with the concentration. Again his tongue seems to encircle the whole thing, and then again he's bobbing back and forth, sliding along it, sliding along it, sliding, sliding.

I grab his head and force it deeper. "Erk!" comes his shout, his gagging. "KEEP SUCKING!" I shout as my hands grab harder onto the back of his head and slide it along my cock, back and forth, my tip running up against the back of his throat again and again, my pelvis rocking forward to shove it in, my hands squeezing his head tighter and tighter in my pleasure, shoving him forward and back like a toy, again and again the tip hitting against the back of his throat, his groans of "mmm" and "uck" and "erk", the slurping of his mouth, the tongue pressing and pressing, the pressure and warmth and wetness 3;

"DON'T SWALLOW!" I shout as I start to spew it out. "Just hold it in your mouth," I gasp as I cum, more and more into his mouth, my hands pressing on the back of his head, forcing it deeper as my cock pulses.

Finally I'm done. I pull out, my cock dripping slightly on the floor. Corey stays kneeling, his mouth full with cum, a slight dribble working its way down his chin.

Silence from the parents. "Any questions?" I say to them as I stand there, a few drops still falling from my cock onto the floor. Corey is still kneeling, mouth full of my sperm. The other boys just stand and watch. The families have no questions.

I sit down and lay back, closing my eyes in pleasure, while everyone in the room waits for what I want to do next. "Corey," I finally say, opening my eyes, "why don't you put your mouth up against Kevin's and pass the cum to him? Don't either of you spill a drop."

Corey takes a deep breath through his nose, then he obediently gets up and goes to Kevin. Slowly, confused and uncertain, they maneuver closer and closer to one another, their lips almost touching. Then Corey finally gurgles through the cum, "lean your head back". Kevin does, and Corey positions his mouth over Kevin's, lowering it down until their lips are touching, and finally Corey opens his mouth. I watch the white gloop slowly drip down, in globs and spurts and finally a dribble, landing in Kevin's mouth. When it's done, the two boys stand up.

"Very nice!" I say. "Kevin, transfer it to Timmy." This new operation is slightly easier, since Timmy is actually shorter than Kevin. They repeat Corey's maneuver.

I have them repeat this over and over. It looks as if they are kissing, until you see the white stuff go from one mouth to another, someone's tongue trying to push it all out, rubbing against the other's tongue or teeth to deposit the sticky goo. Soon the boys all have some mixture of cum and saliva splattered around their faces. Eventually, when the cum has made a few rounds and then gets to Kevin, there in his small mouth, combined with the spit of all the other boys, I have him hold it.

"Timmy," I say, "your turn. Come over here." Everyone watches as I order Timmy to climb up on to the coach with me and kiss. We embrace and our tongues lock together, each pulling on the other, each exploring the other's mouth. I taste the remnants of my cum, the boy's own saliva, and faint traces of Froot Loops from that morning. I smell the boy's sweat, the shampoo from washing him up, the fear. One of my hands moves to hold the back of his little head, his hair meshed between my fingers, as I push him deeper into the kiss, as I continue to explore his mouth. I feel his warm breath as it comes out in gasps through his nose, impacting against my cheeks.

Eventually I pull him off of me and sit him on top of me, my cock again becoming stiff as I feel along his smooth body. I run my hand gently through his hair, and he shivers. "Suck on my nipple," I say, and soon his little mouth is tugging on it. "Now kiss my nipple," I say, and he does. "Kiss me a little lower," I say, and he kisses just below the nipple. "Kiss me again, a little lower." He does. "Keep going." His light kisses proceed, down my chest, along my stomach. "Oooh, put your tongue in my belly button for a while," and in it goes. "Good, now keep kissing." He keeps working his way down. When he gets to my crotch, he loops up at me, as if expecting me to tell him to suck it. "Hmmm," I say, "not yet. Why don't you lick my balls, and suck on them, for a while?" He does that too as I lean back on the couch, closing my eyes, enjoying the gentle feeling.

I don't know how long I have Timmy doing that. "All right, boy," I finally say. "Lick my cock from my balls up to its tip." Timmy's tongue comes out, and he runs up along the shaft. "Again." That gentle tongue returns. "Again." I moan softly as he runs up it again. "Now," I smile, "suck on it." His wide hazel eyes turn up to look at me and I see a tear slowly fall down his cheek. After a moment, still looking up at me, I see his tiny mouth open slowly and then encircle my cock for the first time. It is the gentlest touch. His tongue laps softly against me, a light tickle and glide, barely in contact but so soft. His lips mildly ring the rod, forming a little seal of warmth. Inside his mouth, my cock is awash in his saliva; his mouth is just full of it. As he coasts back and forth along the penis, it is the lightest touch, the most effortless slide, as if I am swimming in that liquid. I find this gentle touch to be one of the most remarkable things I've ever felt, and I find myself not wanting to deep throat him, but just to enjoy this softness. I lie back on the couch, my muscles totally relaxed, my eyes blissfully shut as I feel the mild and tender touch.

It's not long before the soft, wet, spirit-like touch really gets me going, and I let my cum out. "Don't swallow," I command him, as his mouth fills.

Timmy stands up. I gently reach out and stroke his little penis, which hardened somewhat despite his displeasure. A few tugs and it stands straight out, although I stop after that.

"Corey, lie down on your back," I say, and he does. "Timmy, lie down on top of him, with your face in his face. Good. Hug each other," I tell the two boys as their two bodies stretch out against each other. "Corey, open your mouth. Timmy, how about moving that cum to Corey's mouth?" Once again, the two boys are transferring cum between each other. As Timmy starts to finish, I say, "now just kiss, and cuddle each other. Really kiss, tongues in and out, but don't lose that cum. Run your hands on each other's bodies, really feel them. Good. Come on, Corey, run your hand along Timmy's back. Good. Interlock your legs, really feel each other. Corey, why don't you wrap your legs around Timmy's body? Nice. Keep kissing!" I watch as their tongues explore their cum-filled mouths, my orders forcing them to caress each other, their bodies tightly wrapped together as they continue the deep cum kiss.

"All right," I finally say, "leave the cum in Timmy's mouth." Awkwardly, they maneuver Timmy to be on bottom, and in pours the goop. Corey rolls off the boy, breathing heavily, sprawled on the floor and looking up at the ceiling. "Corey, come here," I say.

"What!" he shouts. "That's not fair! It's Kevin's turn!"

"Trust me, little boy," I say. "You don't want to trade with him today." I smirk at Kevin, and he just stares at the ground. Then I stretch back on the couch and hold out my right foot. "Why don't you suck on my big toe here?"

Corey looks back at me a moment, and then his head droops as the command takes hold. "It's Kevin's turn," he mumbles, as he slowly lowers himself to all fours, then dips his head down to start sucking on my toe. I lean back and breathe out, enjoying the moment. Eventually I call Timmy over so that he can sit on my lap, and I can feel along his lovely body, run my arms along his thighs and occasionlly stroke his erection back into life. Corey is told to move on to my next toe over, then the next, until eventually he's done my pinky toe. Then he does the other foot, and then I have him lick my soles, too, bathing both feet with his tongue.

"Now stand up," I finally order him. "How'd that taste?"

Corey stares for a moment, then answers, "awful."

"Figures. Go to the bathroom, brush your teeth and wash out with Listerene." The boy leaves while I keep fondling Timmy. When Corey returns, I have him take my cock into his mouth one more time, and for the second time I enjoy his mouth to the fullest.

Kevin has been holding my cum for over two hours by now, the boy waiting and watching his friends get abused. Only after they've all been holding the cum in their mouths, only after I go and get myself a snack while forcing them to stand at attention, only after I finish leisurely eating my Cheetos, I finally allow them to swallow. They obey completely. Their families watch, powerless, for hours as the boys are abused. They are reduced to a background chorus of gasps and sighs and sobs while their lives are torn apart.

I have the boys masturbate each other, for no particular reason other than that I am pretty exhausted.

Then I lay down and I have them gather around and just lick me, all over. Periodically I grab a head and kiss it, deeply, for several minutes, while I'm still being licked by the other two boys. At other times, I grab someone and put their mouth over my penis, and have them suck for a while, but each time I stop before orgasm. I've already spent myself three times that morning; I'm not in any danger of cumming soon. I let the boys continue for over an hour of licking and caressing and sucking.

Finally, having rested, I decide that it's time for Timmy to suck me again. "Timmy," I say, "come here. Kneel, and suck me off." Like the creature he now is, Timothy obeys. It's bliss. Again the soft, ghost-like touch, the slightest hint of pressure, the warmth and overflowing wetness. I reach out and gently push his head further down, but it only goes a little bit deeper. Again I push. Last time I did not force him to deep throat me; now I do. I grab his head and I force him down. His eyes widen, looking up at me in shock at the sudden push. I shove hard with my hands and my cock goes deeper; then I shove again, and with the third time my cock slides into his throat. His tongue spasms, a soft stirring against me. Now the whole penis is flowing in saliva, all of it feels his gentle touch, the front tight in his throat and the back in the gentle warmth of his mouth. Out pours my cum into the gagging boy.

While all this has been going on, I finally look at the families again. They are sitting there, dejected, not moving. They've now been sitting and watching my show for five hours. I'm pleased to see how strongly my control has extended over all of them; moreover, after seeing this and failing to overcome my control, it will become even stronger. Jake, poor teenager, has a hard-on.

"You might think," I announce to the families, "that you've seen the worst. Well, I'm afraid your god has more in store for you."

I have the boys all line up. "Five hours!" I say, looking at my watch. "That's a long time. You all had a lot to drink for breakfast, right boys?" No answer. "Answer me." Ah, a command: "Yes," they all say. "And you all need to go to the bathroom? Answer me." "Yes," they respond again. They look worried, which is perfect.

"Corey," I say, "you will kneel in front of Kevin and take his cock in your mouth. Kevin, you will piss into Corey's mouth. Corey, you will swallow everything. Timothy, you will then do the same for Corey. Kevin, you will then do to the same for Timothy. Understood?" A horrified pause, then, forced to obey by the brains I controlled, I get their responses: "yes." Nothing more; they know they don't have to say anything else.

They just stand there, so finally I say, "Corey, Kevin, begin." Corey, face downcast, kneels; Kevin walks up to him and in goes his little penis, and Corey sucks down the steaming piss. When he's done, the boy enters a violent coughing fit which soon turns to sobs, and he ends up sitting on the carpet, crying.

"Stand up, Corey!" I order, and he does, his face red, still crying, tears and snot all over his face. With each sob that rocks his body, his stomach jiggles and his nipples quiver up and down. Yet even as he sobs, the boy starts to pee when Timmy's mouth takes in his cock. The younger boy has trouble keeping up with the stream of piss, but he tries valiantly. Some dribbles down his chin, and I have him lick it up. Then on to Kevin. Even though Kevin too is freely crying now and completely horrified, he easily keeps up with Timothy's smaller cock.

"Are they not magnificent?" I say to the families, who are still sitting there as I daub the tears and try to recompose the red-eyed boys. Timmy too has started crying with his older friends, and I order the three sobbing boys to stand at attention. "Let me tell you," I say amidst a chorus of sniffling, "you have raised some amazing boys. You should be proud! They are so obedient!" My solitary laugh emerges over the sobbing and echoes throughout the room.

"But seriously, folks." I stroll up to Corey's parents and look his mother right in the eyes. "Your boy's tongue," I whisper loudly, "is the most incredible thing I've ever seen. The way it just melts around my cock, the energy 3; I mean, I literally think it's surrounding my dick when I face fuck him. It is a thing of beauty." I can practically feel the puppet strings getting ever tighter on their brains as they are forced to stand there and do nothing, as the conditioning grows ever more powerful. Then I get an idea to really cement it. "Corey, come over here," I tell him.

I order Corey's father to put his finger in the sad boy's mouth. "Suck it," I tell Corey. As the boy does, I say, "Do you feel his strength? Doesn't his tongue just completely engulf you? Feel the warmth, the wetness." Then I have his mother put in her finger. "Suck," I tell the boy. For a little while I just let him go at it. "It is a thing of beauty," I say.

"And Timmy," I say, walking up to his parents. "I know he wants to be called Timothy, but he's my little Timmy. Look at his skin! It's so smooth, so warm. Look at those perfect nipples, the creases at his armpits, the perfect curve of his belly! It's divine, a thing from God, a silky perfection." I pause. "Come, Timmy." He does. "Put your hands on his stomach," I say to his parents. "Just feel his breath, the perfect smoothness, the warmth." After a minute, I move their hands up, to his nipples. "Squeeze those lovely nipples," I command them. "Massage his chest. Did you feel his nipples harden at your touch?" I let them poke and pinch for a while, the boy's eyes squeezing shut every so often as he winces in mild pain.

"Tell me," I say, grabbing the boy and positioning him sideways, "did you know that Timmy has a little discoloration in his skin on his right side?" I turned him again to face them, and put my hands on his chest. "Do you know, before now, that his nipples get hard when you pinch them?" I held up his arms and sniffed. "That his armpits smell like salt and boiled eggs? Do you know how he sighs when you stroke his back along the right side? Do you know how to stroke his little penis to make it get erect the fastest, and how to bring him to orgasm?" Everyone in the room turns their faces as my hand reaches down and starts to stroke him. Gently, the little instrument starts to rise as they stare. "You may be his parents, but you don't know your kid's body like I do." I smile at them. Then I turn the boy back to face them. I pick up their hands and put them on his cock. "Feel his perfect little boy's balls, massage his cock, squeeze a little bit." The boy gasps as his parents touch his privates. "There we go," I say. "You have truly produced an amazing boy."

"Then there's Kevin. Kevin, come over here." I've moved to stand by his parents. "Look at his arms," I say, grabbing one and holding it out. "Look at their perfect shape, the soft flesh that yields so easily to the touch. Feel it," I command his parents. "Squeeze his arms, run your hands along them." I let them explore. "Now look at his legs," I say, putting my two hands on his thighs and feeling my way down. "The thighs, not too fat but not bony, down to the beautiful muscles on his calf. Go on," I tell his parents, "Feel his legs." They do. Then I stand up. "Kevin, turn around and bend over." He does. "Now look at his asshole, a perfect little pink spot." I reach out and touch his ass; he startles but then settles down, and I circle my finger along his tiny hole. "Feel it," I tell his parents. I can smell the fear on them, the unease at what they are about to do. They slowly reach out their fingers, running them along his clenched anus, feeling the puckered little hole as the muscles adjust to their presence. I smile. "This one is for me," I say, waggling my finger at them. "You can't have it."

I go back to the center of the room. "I'm famished," I announce. Soon I'm giving the families all kinds of orders to prepare for a feast. These by now "easy" orders don't strengthen my control so much, so I also give some that will be hard to obey. I order the men to masturbate into the salad instead of applying dressing (after I've taken my portion, of course). I have the women pee into cups that everyone (except me) will drink. We eat in silence, with Timmy placed nicely on my lap.

After lunch, we return to the living room again and they take their seats. "Kevin," I say, a grin plastered on my face, "it's your turn now. Why don't you kneel and suck my dick?" The boy has a blank look in his eyes as he obeys, a distance from what is happening, a distance from this place and his family and his friends and from me. But his mouth wraps around me, and I feel the familiar pulling and stretching and suction. When I am good and hard, I finally stop him.

"Stand here," I command him. The boy unfurls himself from his kneel and stands. I grab him and turn him around. "Bend over. Grab the end of that table and hold your arms straight to brace yourself against it."

"Oh no," I hear his mother's whisper.

The boy's beautiful back extends in a graceful arc in front of me; an ocean of warm skin, smooth and flat with an upraised line at his spinal column and mounds where his shoulder blades flex out. His arms are extended straight out ahead of him, gripping the table's edge, and his head hangs down between his arms, his hair gently dangling down. I can hear his breathing, accelerated, nervous with anticipation. With each breath, his stomach goes out and in; his back arches further and then back down; his shoulders go out and back. I run my finger along his spine, feeling each little knob. Gently, I separate his asscheeks, and my finger gently runs along the orifice. Kevin's butt gently rocks to one side or another, as if to shake the finger off of it.

I press my hands into the side of his torso and I feel them engulfed by his warm flesh. With pressure to either side, I hold the boy steady, and with a slight tug, I pull him back, towards me, forcing his arms out until they are straight, giving him better leverage. Briefly letting go, I kneel down and grab one ankle and then the other, spreading his feet apart so that he'll have more stable footing.

Then I stand, and I lube up my dick. My hands spread his asscheeks again, and I guide my cock to the soft, pink spot. "Oh," I say, as I hold it there, "I want to savor this moment."

While one hand holds the cock in place, I gently massage his back, letting all the tension out of my body, closing my eyes as I try to store this memory. Even as I relax, I feel his body tense as I touch it. My hand runs along the side of his torso, my fingers pressing into his warm flesh, feeling his ribcage underneath. Then, guiding myself with one hand and holding him with the other, I finally go in.

I push, and push, and push again. The cock starts to slide in. I see his arms tense, his knees give way a little bit, but he forces himself to stand firm. Pushing. Pushing. "Nnnnnnnn---NNNN!" shouts the boy as my cock presses in, slick warmth pressing on it from all directions. "Ahhh-ahhhhhhhhh!" he shouts as his sphincter gives way. My cock is enveloped in his ass. His parents are weeping; Corey and Timmy are staring wide-eyed; I press in, and in.

There's a huge burst of feeling. My dick, already gorged to its full width, is being pressed on all sides. The pressure is intense, almost painful, but so warm. All my attention is on that pressure. Dimly, I hear the boy's gasp. I see the toes on his feet curl, maybe in pain. I hear a muffled sob from his mother. My hands grip his side, holding him in place, pulling him onto me. I push. I push.

And slowly, the cock slides further in.

There is a muffled squelch from inside his ass. The boy's fingertips and knuckles are white as he grips the table. "Guh," I hear his grunt. With each exhale, "guh 3; guh 3; guh 3;"

I push. The cock slides further in.

I feel his hole pulsing, pushing against me, squeezing and squeezing. The boy adjusts his right foot, taking a wider stance, trying to hold on. My hands are gripping his fleshy sides, pressing in, my fingernails digging into his skin. I can feel every rapid breath as his stomach goes in and out. "Guh 3; guh 3; guh 3;"

With a pause after each word, I gasp towards Corey. "Do you still," I say, "wish you had traded with Kevin today?"

Still I push, and the cock slides further in.

"Oh God," says Kevin's dad, before the serum reasserts itself.

" I am your god!" I shout back. Kevin's body tilts to the side, and I tighten my grip on his torso to hold him in place, hold him on my cock. His grunts become higher pitched, higher even than his usual voice. "Nnnnnnnnnuh," he says. "Nnnnnn 3;"

The tightness slows down the cock. I stop a moment, pull out maybe a half centimeter, and the boy gasps; then I ram it in. It pushes past the point that held it before, deeper and deeper in.

"YAAAAAAAH!" screams the boy. Kevin's head jerks up, wide-eyed and frantic. The boy is shaking, shivering with the pain and the pressure. "Don't fall!" I exclaim, hoping he can hear the order through the pain he's in.

I push again and I'm all the way in. "YAAAAAAAH!" he shouts again. The boy's knees buckle, but I hold him up with my hands until he regains his footing. His body is still shaking while I stay implanted, enjoying his vibrations around my implanted dick. As if in slow motion, I see each part of his body: his right big toe, curled over the next two toes; his knees, shaking violently; his hands, balled into fists against the table; his stomach, muscles tensed; his elbows, the veins visible against them; his ears, red from the blood flow to his head; and two drops, two tears, rolling along his gently rounded cheeks, falling from his face to the ground. He mewls something unintelligible, a high-pitched moan.

I start to move in and out, or perhaps I'm pushing his body back and forth along the length of the dick. Regardless, I feel his ass slide along the cock, I feel the pressure and warmth push against it as it slides out, then in. Again I'm all the way in, again I slide him gently out, then in. As I move out, Kevin whimpers; as I move in, he screams, but after two or three times it quiets to a defeated moan. His left leg inches slightly outward, trying to hold up his tired body, and I feel his body wriggle against the dick.

Slide out. The squelch of his tight hole. A whimper. Slide in. Squelch. Moan. Slide out. Squelch. Whimper. Slide in. Squelch. Moan. His body slides back, forth, back, forth; whimper, moan, whimper, moan, whimper, moan.

Finally I can't take it any more. The gentle slide of his warm, wet hole presses against me and I slam in deep. He howls, and I cum, pushing and pushing and pushing with each burst, spewing into his asshole, pressing his warm sweaty body close. The boy has run out of screams, so he just moans quietly as I finish deep inside him, "uh 3; uh 3; uh 3;", his body shaking in time with each ejaculation.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh," I let out a huge groan of satisfaction.

I pull out, and the beaten, fucked puppet boy collapses to the ground, his arms and legs splayed out in all directions, cum and shit and blood oozing slowly out of his ass. I see his face red with exertion, his tummy coming in and out with each deep breath he manages to take. The same gunk drips from my cock slowly onto the carpet. The other boys, their families, they all stare back ashen-faced. I can see fury in some of the parents' eyes, resignation in others. Corey's older brother Jake looks like he's aroused and trying to hide it. Timmy's little sister Louise looks curious, and sympathetic in the serious way of younger girls.

Kevin collects himself into a fetal ball. We can all hear the sound of his crying, his misery. The naked boy shakes with each sob.

"Kneel," I order him. He is beyond exhaustion, beyond sanity, beyond any kind of reason or strength. But it is a command, and though every part of him protests, though he has no strength left, though his body wants nothing but to stay in its protective position, his hands go out against his will, pushing him to a sitting position, and then he rocks forward onto his knees. Snot flows from his nose. The mess in his ass slowly flows down his leg. The red-faced boy turns his tear-streaked face up to look at me.

"Lick my cock clean," I say. He frowns, closes his eyes for a moment, tries to fight it; and then he opens his little mouth and takes in my cock. He is still crying and I feel his shaking. I also feel his warm, moist, velvety tongue caress my cock as it cleans it off.

The other boys are still staring.

"I think Kevin's worked hard enough, don't you?" I say lightly. "Timmy, why don't you lick his ass clean, and any streaks on his legs where it dripped down? Corey, why don't you lick the floor clean?" They get that disgusted look on their faces, but soon Timmy is burying his face in Kevin's ass, and Corey is on his hands and knees licking the floor. Blood, cum, shit and all.

When they're done, I have them all line up again. Their posture is completely changed. Not just Kevin, who can't quite stand straight any more, but the others, too. Their eyes are downcast, their shoulders limp. They are defeated. "As you've guessed by now," I tell them, "you will all serve as my sex slaves. If you don't know what sex is, it's what I've been doing to you all this time. You'll give me pleasure at all times and do what I tell you." I pause to let that sink in. "For the next few weeks, you are going to continue to serve me here. Then, once you are well and truly ready, you will come with me. Elsewhere. Away from distractions like school, to where you can truly do nothing but serve me."

I can see that for Corey especially, it hasn't quite hit that this would be his life from now on. He looks stricken. "Yes, Corey," I say, "you'll obey me in everything and your life will be mine. My guess?" I say, as I walk up to the boy, running my finger along his smooth chest, and armpits, and grasping his cock briefly, "is that I'll be using you for three, maybe four years. You better get used to it. In fact, you better get used to taking my orders for the rest of your life." I give his cock a little pull as I stand back from them.

"The boys," I announce to the families, "will be spending the night. You can pick them up tomorrow at noon, when you will receive further instructions. To anyone else, they are at a sleepover. The usual commands to keep this secret apply."

"Before you go," I say, "one more thing." I step up to Jake, the 15-year-old, still baby-faced and not quite yet shaving, at least not regularly. I'm not going to cum for a while anyway, so I might as well get some entertainment.

"Tell me, Jake," I say. "Do you think this is hot?"

It's a command. Jake's eyes fall to the ground and he blinks rapidly. He's literally shaking with fear, and a pregnant silence fills the room. "Yes," the teenager finally says.

"Jake!" exclaims his dad, before the serum forces him to be quiet again.

"Do you think your brother has a sexy body?"

Pause. Jake stands there, mouth slightly open. His shoulders rise with each heavy breath. "Uh huh," he says, breathlessly.

"Corey, come and stand over here," I call. "What's the sexiest part?"

As Jake's miserable eyes look over Corey's waiting body, the room is completely silent. Their parents gaze quietly at their two children. Kevin's parents, Timmy's parents, the other two boys, they all just look at him. Corey's face is blank as he looks up at his taller brother.

"His cock," says Jake at last.

"Really?" I say, raising my eyebrows. "You teenagers, always going for the sex organs." I sigh in exasperation. "Go ahead, touch your brother's cock. Feel it. Play with it a little bit."

Tentatively, slowly, Jake's hand reaches out. He touches the tiny cock, withdraws by instinct, then again touches it. Finally he grasps it, and gently he massages it.

"Oh, for crying out loud," I say. "Enough. Honestly, kids." I grab the boy's cock in my hand. "This? It's fine, but it's nothing special. Man, look at his stomach, look at its curve. Or, like, his hands, and how moist they are with his sweat." I grab Corey's hand and I pull it, placing it under Jake's shirt, fingers splayed out and pressed flat against his stomach. The teenager instantly straightens at the touch, and his breathing gets faster. "Feel that, y'know? You have to appreciate the whole package, not just the cock."

Jake's pants are really tented out now.

I let go of Corey's hand, and he quickly pulls it back. I walk up to the older boy and come right up to his ear. "You know," I say, "I could make Corey give you a blowjob. Kneel in front of you, take your cock into his warm, moist mouth. Run his tongue along it. Suck on it until you came and then drink it all down. The blowjob of a lifetime." I pause a moment. "I guess that if I gave that order, no one could blame you for anything. No consequences. Hell, Corey's done way more perverted stuff for me already." I pause again to let this sink in. "But I'm not going to do it unless you want me to."

I pause a moment. "So, Jake," I say, "do you wish I would give that order? While you stand there, are you hoping I might, as, I don't know, collateral damage, order Corey to suck your dick? Do you secretly want me to force Corey to kneel in front of you and take it all in?"

"No!" Corey manages to exclaim. Their father is shaking his head. Jake just stands there.

Corey backs away slowly, fear in his eyes. But it is the wrong move as his cock bounces slightly with each step. "No one could blame you," I whisper. "It's your own innermost thoughts, not your choice. And look at your brother, Jake. Look him in the eyes. Look at his smooth chest, his little nipples, those long legs. His tiny penis, if that's really what you want. Think of his warm mouth. Are you wishing I gave that order?"

I pause. Silence. The whole room is quiet again, everyone's eyes on Jake, who just looks at his brother. His head is tilted, his tongue slightly out of his open mouth, his head rising up and down with each breath.

"Corey," I say, "come up and stand in front of your brother." The boy is forced to walk back, and he stands there.

"Kneel," I say.

Corey kneels.

"We're one command away," I whisper to Jake. "All I have to do is say `Corey, suck.' Do you wish I did that right now?"

Jake looks down at his brother, kneeling in front of him, looking back with upraised blue eyes. I notice a little bit of my cum dried on the boy's cheek. Again there's silence as Jake stares, wide-eyed, head still rising and falling, rising and falling. And then, Jake speaks.

"Yes," he whispers. His mother makes some kind of indistinct blubbering noises, while his father balls his fists.

"Say it," I say. "Say `I am so perverted that I want my ten year old brother to give me a blowjob.'"

His eyes blink shut, then open. His face twitches as he stares, as his panting continues to engulf his body. "I am so 3; perverted," he breathes, "that I want my ten year old brother to give me a blowjob."

"Fuck yeah," I say, and I pat Jake on the shoulder. Looking to Corey, I say, "Open your brother's fly and take out his cock."

"Don't make me do this," says Corey. "Please don't make me do this! Jake, say you don't want it!" Even as he's begging, his hands are unzipping Jake's jeans, and then reaching in through the underwear, pulling out the cock. We all stand there staring for a full minute as he struggles to get the erect penis out through the underwear. "Please," he keeps saying. "Please don't make me do this. Jake, please." Finally, the dick hangs out. It starts to become slack, wilting under the combined eyes of so many people.

I kneel down, ignoring Corey's pleas. "Corey," I say, looking up at Jake, "suck."

I stand back up as Corey is motionless for a moment. Then I put my hand gently on Jake's shoulder, and I say, "one more gift for you." I look back down at his brother. "And Corey," I say, my voice ringing across the room, "make it the best blowjob you've ever given."

There's total silence as Corey kneels there and everyone stares. There's no noise at all as the boy opens his mouth, as he slowly leans forward. His mouth wraps around his brother's cock, and he starts to suck, and the first noise to disturb the silence is the slurping.

Jake's face has gone beet red. At first, I can see him pretending that it makes no difference, that he doesn't care about the stimulation his 15-year-old dick is getting. But it has been rock hard this whole time. I can see Corey's tongue rolling along it, see him licking the cock. It's not long before Jake lets out a moan. "Oh God," he gasps, his eyes closed. "Oh God. Oh God. Oh God." His whole body is arcing forward, trying to push his cock deeper into the warmth. "Mmmmmm" he moans in pleasure.

Soon he's past caring that he's fucking his brother, past noticing that his parents are staring open-mouthed. His head lolls forward and back with each breath, with each push. His whole body rocks back and forth. His eyes are still closed, but his hands reach out clumsily, trying to grab the boy behind the back of his head. Instead they land on his face, a thumb even running across Corey's eye, and they crawl their way backwards along the boy's head until they finally work their way to the back. Those soft hands, still growing into a man's strength, they pull the boy's head closer, deeper, deeper on the cock. Soon Jake is pulling his brother's hair. He puts one hand on each side of Corey's head, holding it in a tight grip, pulling it back and forth, deeper, deeper, his brother is gagging, but he doesn't care.

It turns into a rough face fuck. "Ohhhhh 3;" says Jake, moaning in pleasure again and again. In a moment he's on tip toes. With his tight grip, he forces his brother's head to slide out along his cock, then back in, then out again, then back in. Over and over again, he pulls the boy's head out and back, sliding along the thick saliva. With each pull of the child's head, Jake thrusts his pelvis forward, his whole body rocking in the feeling. And then, at last, he holds the head in, deep, his cock pulsing into the boy's throat, and he cums and cums and cums.

"Swallow it all," I say simply to the boy as his brother's body shudders and sways deeper into him, and pumps, and pumps, and pumps.

Finally, Corey withdraws from his brother's cock, gasping for air, a thin strand of cum dangling from his mouth to the limp instrument. Jake wilts as he avoids the gaze of everyone else in the room. "Now, I'm going to stay with the boys until tomorrow. You'll all go home." While I talk, my finger picks up the dribble of cum and I stick it in Corey's mouth for him to lick off. To Kevin's parents, I say, "make sure to bring us good food for dinner. Otherwise stay out. You can sleep anywhere else in the house."

"Boys, go to the bedroom and wait for me there."

As they file out, I continue to everyone. "Pick up your children tomorrow at noon. They won't have had lunch. I'll be by every few days for the next few weeks and you should be ready to entertain me. Don't have other guests without calling me first, and don't leave town." I follow this up with the usual instructions to make sure nothing interferes with us and no one else finds out.

"Other than that, take care of your children like you normally would. Help them with their schoolwork and keep them as happy as you can. That might be difficult given the circumstances, but I'm sure you can do your best.."

"Oh, and Jake," I say. "Let me talk to you a moment."

We go into the kitchen. "So, Jake," I say. "Did you like that?"

He gives a teenager's shrug.

"Answer me."

Silence. "Yeah," he finally says.

"A lot?"

"Yeah."

"The most of anything you've ever felt?"

He pauses, and finally answers, "It was unbelievable."

"Well, my friend," I say, smiling, "now you've felt the wonders of a boy's mouth. Your brother's, no less. How can you ever go back, huh? Want to fuck him again?"

"I 3; I don't want to hurt him."

"Oh, man, fuck him," I say. "I mean, literally."

"He's my brother."

"Want to fuck Kevin instead?"

Jake's face becomes pained. "They're just kids! They're just kids! Oh my God. They're just kids 3;" He ducks his head down, holding his eyes, trying to hold back tears. Again he tries to speak, "I 3;", but his voice breaks and he stops. Then, head still down, he speaks. "I do want to feel it again. I do."

I wrap my arm around his shoulder. "It's ok, really," I say. "I used to think like you do. But you're like me, and we can either live a pointless, unfair life where we suppress all our desires, or we can take some pleasure from others and experience that kind of bliss. What kind of life do you want to live?"

"I don't know," he says, shaking his head.

"You know, they always tell us to be ourselves. Well, this is who we are. We want to fuck little boys. It's what we are, and we live in this world."

"I know, but what about them?"

"Jake," I say, "I'm thinking of offering you the serum."

Jake turns suddenly quiet. Breathing in, and out, and in, and out.

"Do you want it? You could control your parents, your teachers, anyone. You could have any kids you want, have sex with them, make them serve you, make them do anything." He was completely quiet. "You understand what this could do for your life? You understand that this kind of opportunity basically never happens?"

Slowly, Jake nods. "You'd give it to me, just like that?"

"You'd stay under my control, of course. And let me be clear. This serum is for someone who's bold. Someone who has a vision to impose on the world. A will of their own. If all you want to do is to get rich and live in some mansion somewhere denying who you are, I'm not interested. You understand what I mean? You have to act on your desires."

Again the teenager nods, processing. "Do you want it?"

"I don't know. Honestly. I 3; thank you, sir."

"Well, you're a special kid if you can hear that offer and not say yes right away. I like that you're strong. Now you have to be true to yourself. Tell you what. You get a week to think about it. At the end of the week, you can tell me what you want to do, and if I like it, the serum is yours. You can also say you don't want it. But if you say no, that's it. No more chances, and aside from serving me sometimes, that's it for the serum in your life. You got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great," I say. "Now, I'm afraid you have to go back to your parents. Good luck." With that, I head up to my boys.

***

Before entering the bedroom, I stop to listen in on their conversation. It's basically what you'd expect. They talk about how disgusting it is, and they try to see if they have any choices (which they don't). They yell a bit, terrified at how they cannot control their own actions. They wonder if I'm going to "kidnap" them or force them to come live with me (which I will) and what their life will be like. They even wonder if they'll still be allowed to watch TV! I guess I hadn't thought about that. Maybe they will, but only naked, and in certain arrangements 3; well, this is something I can decide later. They aren't quite ready to resign themselves to their fate, but they are close. I like them like this: it gives them that spark of resistance while still being forced into total obedience. Eventually, I go in, and the fun begins. You can imagine it yourself.

Interlude: Jake

It was a short ride back, but it felt like an eternity.

Jake's dad was driving, silent. His knuckles were white against the steering while, his eyes fixed forward on the road. Jake's mom sat in the passenger seat. Occasionally, Jake would hear a sniffle, some expression of grief, but she kept it quiet and to herself. Jake sat in the back, alone. He acutely felt the empty seat next to him, the seat Corey had ridden in on the way to the house. Corey, who'd just been fucked by his brother. Corey, who was now stuck in that house with that man. To be used like a doll. Distantly, Jake observed that he wasn't getting hard at the thought. Thank God.

They reached their house and got out of the car in silence. They entered the couch and took off their shoes like they always did. As Jake started to go upstairs to his room, his father called.

"Wait," he said. "Sit down."

Jake sat down in a chair, and his parents sat on the couch. He looked at his parents, and he saw those too-familiar signs of wear. He thought about himself, too. He realized that he felt older. He'd had sex. It was disgusting, it was the wrong sex, but he'd passed this trial to adulthood. And now he was being given a choice, a real choice over his life, real control over what happened to him for the first time. He felt powerful.

"Jake," said his father, "what you did there was criminal, and disgusting, and you did it to your brother."

Jake nodded. "I know, dad. But it wasn't my fault."

"You asked Barry to give you that command."

"No, he asked me 3; he asked me what I wanted, and he made me answer truthfully. It never would've happened if not for that."

"You wanted to do that to your brother?"

Jake was silent.

"Jake, did he order you to want to do that? Did he change your thoughts somehow?"

"No, I 3;" Jake took a breath. "I've always been like this. Since I was thirteen I knew 3;" Jake watched his father's face fall as he kept talking.

"You're a pervert."

Jake shrugged.

"Did you ever do this to Corey before?"

"No! Dad, no!"

"How did this happen?" asked his dad. "How did you become 3;"

"I don't know. Dad, it's not like that. How does it ever happen?" replied Jake.

"Did someone touch you when you were little?"

"No. I just am what I am. Dad, this is hard for me too."

Hi father's eyes narrowed. "And what were you plotting with him in the kitchen?"

"I 3;" Jake paused. "Nothing, dad," he lied.

"Why would he take you away from the rest of us, then? It's not like he didn't do everything else in front of us."

"I 3; he 3;" Jake stumbled. "He asked me how it felt," he answered, at last.

"And what did you answer?" growled his dad.

Jake replied in a small voice. "That it felt good."

In an instant, his father was standing and his fist flashed out and hit Jake the face, sending him sprawling back against the chair. "That it felt good to molest your brother!" his father shouted.

"Will!" cried Jake's mom, the first time she'd spoken.

"Dad, I'm sorry," said Jake. He felt tears come into his eyes. He knew he hadn't cried since he was eleven years old, and he didn't want to start now, not now in front of his dad. But despite all his efforts, the tears started to flow down his face. "I didn't have a choice. I didn't want this!"

"You ASKED him for it," shouted Jake's father.

"No," said Jake, "that's not what happened. That's not the question he asked. Dad, I'm like this, I'm attracted to kids and I'm sorry. But I would never have done this," the teenager insisted.

"Liar," said his dad.

Jake folded his legs into the chair, balling himself up. The tears still came down his face as he stared up at his towering father. He'd never felt so powerless, not even when Barry was commanding him, he'd never felt so much a child.

"What would you do, Jake, if you were me? If this was happening to your family? If one son told you he was a pedophile while molesting his other brother?"

"I don't know," wailed Jake.

His father stood there for a moment, emotions warring in his face. Finally, he said, "Jake, I am going to spank you now. I need you to feel this, to think about it, to be able to resist what this man tells you to do. Do you understand?"

Jake stared up at his father. "Yes, sir," he said.

Jake's father had spanked him a few times when he was a little kid. Never since at least the age of seven. But still Jake found himself being taken to a room away from his mother. Leaning over and lowering his pants. His father got some sort of cheese board from the kitchen, and used that. Jake found himself thinking that it was like a scene from a movie.

WHAM.

Jake gasped as he felt the pain rocket through his body; he felt himself pushed forward by the force of the blow.

"I'm sorry, son," whispered his father. "But you have to learn."

WHAM.

Tears came to his eyes again. The second time he'd cried in half an hour.

WHAM.

Jake felt so weak, so vulnerable. Was this what Corey felt like? Is this what he was doing to his brother?

WHAM.

He felt even more powerless than when Barry was controlling him. Bent over. Pants down. Hit after hit by his father.

WHAM.

Was this how his dad tried to get control over his life again? By controlling Jake like this?

WHAM.

Pain. All he could think about was the pain. He heard himself shout, then stifle it, not wanting to show how much he was suffering to his dad. Why did he care?

WHAM.

So. Much. Pain.

WHAM.

His dad didn't understand. Didn't understand that it wasn't his fault.

WHAM.

But he had said yes to Barry. Could he have said no? He wasn't sure. Was this really his fault?

WHAM.

His dad didn't know that Jake had been offered the serum. If Jake wanted it, if Jake asked for it, Jake's father would obey Jake. No more spanking. Jake in control.

WHAM.

That was the wrong lesson! Look at the pain this had all caused. Think about what his brother was feeling right now. His brother had it a lot worse than him.

WHAM.

He had to be strong. What did it mean to be strong here?

WHAM.

He felt so powerless.

WHAM.

Pain.

WHAM.

WHAM.

WHAM.

3;

Eventually it was over. Jake stood and slowly pulled up his underwear and his pants. He was embarrassed. Embarrassed at having to do this for his dad. Embarrassed that he'd cried like a kid, that he'd wailed out loud, that tears and snot slid down his face.

He'd cried like Corey did. Like all those kids did.

Jake's dad made him promise to stay away from Corey. To stay in his room. To stay away from Barry. And then, at last, Jake went to his room.

***

Sitting hurt. Eventually, he lay on his front on his bed, fiddling around on his phone, trying to distract himself.

He ate dinner with his parents. His dad asked him if he'd learned his lesson, if he'd do what he could to protect his brother. Jake said he had.

His mom visited him in his room, tried to comfort him. It just made him feel more like a baby.

Finally, he fell asleep.

***

The next day, Jake's parents brought Corey home, leaving Jake in his room. Jake was not invited to lunch. They ate, and then Corey went to his own room.

Jake eventually came out, knocked on Corey's door. "Corey?" he called.

There was no answer.

"Corey, lil' bro?" he called again. "I am so sorry. I don't know what you went through, but I am so sorry."

"Leave me alone!" came the boy's shout.

"Please, Corey, I'm just really sorry. I couldn't do anything about it 3; please 3;"

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" stormed Jake's father as he came into the hallway. "Get the hell away from your brother."

"I'm just trying to apologize!" explained Jake.

"Get to your room, now! You said you would leave him alone! Get!"

Jake stared back, then abruptly turned, and slammed the door behind him.

***

Jake wasn't invited to dinner, either. His mother brought it to him in his room. Jake ate alone.

***

That night, Jake heard screaming from his room as Corey had another nightmare.

And Jake didn't go to him.

Love for one's children is a powerful thing. It is a testament to the strength of my control that Kevin's, Corey's, and Timothy's parents let me do to their children what I do. I cannot imagine what is going through their minds; I'm sure they would kill me, if they could. Yet despite all their love, all their devotion to their children, it is only another month before I'm sure that my control is absolute.

I order all three families to give me their college savings for their children. Being good middle class parents, they have been saving. I tell them that they can start new savings accounts, because their kids might still want to go to college. What they save on feeding them over the next few years can go into that account. Smaller amounts, from other adults under my control whose children I find less appetizing, will suffice for any income I need along with my own savings.

Using my serum, I have long since bought myself some acres of wooded land in Montana, with a nice vacation home in the center, protected from any roads or neighbors by the thick forest and a long, winding driveway.

The same day that Kevin, Corey, and Timmy move to Montana with me, Kevin's father withdraws a large sum of money and "disappears." I don't know where he goes; I simply tell him to make sure that no one can ever find him. Corey and Timmy's parents, you see, will tell the police that they went for a "sleep over" at Kevin's. Kevin's mother will detail how her husband, whom she will claim had been drinking, took all three kids and drove off. She will explain how their marriage had been falling apart after she found some child pornography on her husband's computer. (Of course, nothing of the kind existed there until I planted it. That plant included pictures of Kevin's dad fucking his boy and the other boys, at my orders, of course.) The police, no doubt certain that Kevin's father kidnapped the boys, will try to track him and not me. I don't know what will happen to him. Perhaps he'll go to another country, perhaps he'll hide somewhere in the midwest, perhaps he'll commit suicide. That's his business.

Epilogue: Jake

[Author's note: a long (but good) epilogue]

That first conversation with Jake had been on a Saturday. On Monday, I went to his house. I had Corey dance in front of us, stripping as he danced. When Jake seemed so horny he was going to break, I made Corey suck him off. Then I ordered Corey to give his brother a blowjob every morning before school. Jake begged me not to do it, but I ignored him. I still think he knew I would anyway.

On Wednesday, I returned to the house. Jake was sore: every day, after he'd gotten a blowjob from his brother, his dad beat him. While I'd ordered his dad not to interfere with the blowjobs, there was nothing I'd said to stop him from spanking his son afterward.

Wednesday was the first time I fucked Corey up the ass. I had Jake watch, and I gave instructions, narrating how to position the boy, how to lube up, how to get yourself in deep. I could see Jake wince with every moan and cry from Corey, and I could just as clearly see the tent in his pants.

When I was done, Corey lay sprawled on the bed, sobbing. "Strip, Jake," I ordered. He did; the teenager was lean, still boyish in looks, with just a bit of developing hair on his chest and stomach, the rest of the skin smooth like a child's. His cock, not yet fully mature, was completely erect. I playfully pressed it with my fingers and let it shoot back up. "Yeah," I said drily. "You're not attracted to your brother at all."

"Please don't," said Jake.

"Somehow I don't think you really mean that," I replied. "Jake, go fuck your brother up the ass." And for the second time ever, Corey felt himself penetrated by a cock, now by his brother's cock. I gave instructions as they went.

Before leaving, I ordered them to fuck every night before bed, in addition to the morning blowjobs.

On Saturday, after my usual sessions with Corey, I came up to Jake with the boy in tow.

"Jake," I said, "you've had a few days. Do you like fucking Corey?"

"Yeah," he responded. "But it's not all right. I mean, he's my brother, he's ten. It's fucked up. He's a kid, and I'm hurting him!"

"But you're obviously horny for him."

" 3;Yeah."

"And for other boys."

"Yeah."

"I'll bet you've been pretty obssessed thinking about him."

Jake nodded, and he blushed.

"You know, I could order him to stop. Do you want me to do that?"

A long silence. He finally whispered a hoarse response: "please don't." Corey stared at him with fury in his eyes.

"Mmmm, I don't know," I said. "Corey, you are released from your order to suck off your brother each morning, and to let him fuck your ass each night. You no longer have to do that."

The relief on Corey's face was stunning. Jake's jaw dropped. "W..wait, the week isn't over yet 3;"

I held up a hand to quiet the teen. "Corey," I said. "Tomorrow night, after your brother has had a chance to think about his reluctance, let's say at nine o'clock, you're going to go to Jake's room. You will strip, then you will kneel, naked, bowing to your brother with your forehead on the ground. Like a Samurai movie where someone kneels to their emperor. And then you will say, `Command me, master.' From then until midnight, you will obey every command Jake gives. Every time you speak to him, you will refer to him as `master' like saying `yes, master' or `I will, master'. You will not speak unless spoken to: you will answer questions but nothing else. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," snarled Corey, his eyes throwing daggers at his brother.

"Jake," I said, smiling, "it's totally up to you. No orders this time." Then I turned to Corey. "Do you have plans for Monday?"

Corey shook his head. Of course he didn't have plans, because he had to be home in case I came by.

"On Monday, same thing, but all day. As soon as you wake up, go to your brother's room. Don't shower, don't go to the bathroom: he's your master on Monday, and it's up to him when you pee. Take off your clothes, kneel, and bow to him in the same way. Say `Command me, master.' For the rest of the day, you'll obey every command he gives you, and you will refer to him only as `master'. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he said through gritted teeth.

"Jake, if you want to stay home from school, and if you order Corey to stay home from school, you can. Your parents will write you a note. It's up to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he replied, grimacing.

"So tell me, who are you attracted to?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you attracted to just Corey, or other boys too?"

"Others too."

"Yeah," I said. "How old?"

"I dunno, like, young. Not yet 3; fuck!" He was clearly upset with himself.

"You've never told anyone this."

"No."

"Keep talking."

"Kids who are, like, nine, ten, maybe."

"And are you attracted to anyone else? Men? Women? Girls?"

"Not really," he said. "I don't think so. Maybe a little bit?"

"That sucks," I said. "You know why it sucks? 'Cause usually you can't ever have sex with a boy. This is a really special occasion, you know? Tomorrow and Sunday might be your last times ever, or you might go to jail or worse."

Jake nodded. "It's my life."

"It doesn't have to be," I said. "Look at me. I have money, power, all the sex I want." I paused a minute. "Hey Corey!" I said. "Why don't you give me a blowjob now to warm up for your brother tomorrow?"

Corey looked up pleadingly at Jake, and then he sank to his knees, taking out my cock with his tender little hands, starting to lick it as I'd taught him.

"It's not really fair that you're stuck never having sex, is it?"

"I guess not," replied Jake as his brother took the cock into his mouth, bobbing back and forth, running his tongue along it. "But it's not fair to Corey, either."

"Ohhhhhh 3;" I moaned. After a moment, I kept talking. "I guess, but 3; oh 3; but you're deciding your life here. That's all I'm saying. Ohhhhhhhhh 3;" For a while, I just let Corey keep going on my cock, sliding back and forth over it. "Soo good," I whispered.

"Look," I said, when I had some mental faculties back to me, "what you decide now is how your life is going to go. Do you want to be happy? Have what you want? Or do you want to live a whole life where you're repressed, hiding what you are?" My hands reached out to Corey's head, pushing it down deeper. My body arched, pushing in, pushing.

"Think," I panted, "about what your life would be. Would you marry? Try to hide what you are from your wife? Tell her the truth? Would anyone marry you? Have kids with you? Your whole life will be this quiet thing, no one to tell, no 3; mmmm! 3; satisfaction."

I focused on the boy then, maneuvering his head back and forth, shoving my cock in. His warmth surrounded me. Soon, I came deep down his throat.

I pushed Corey off of my cock, a slight dribble of cum gently working its way down from the corner of his mouth. We'd have to work on that. "Look," I said. "you have a choice between the life you consider moral, or a life where you can be satisfied. It's your choice. If you want the serum, you have to tell me on Monday, and you have to tell me what you're going to do with it. Otherwise, I write you off as a waste of a good pedophile and tell Corey to stop pleasuring you. I'll be having sex on Tuesday. The question is, will you?"

I pulled up my pants and left the house, leaving the two boys together.

***

I wasn't there, but here's what happened.

I'd ordered Corey and Jake's parents not to cause any physical harm to Jake. I was worried they'd beat him so senseless he wouldn't be able to enjoy the "gift" I'd given him. I also told them to leave both brothers alone from Sunday 9pm until I came in on Monday. So of course they asked Jake what I had commanded, and they were shocked when they found out. They yelled and yelled and yelled, but it didn't do any good. I'm told that their dad brought everyone into the car and started the motor, sitting there on the driveway, trying to drive away, to get away from it. He couldn't. Eventually, they came back inside.

So Jake had a day to think over it. A day with no sex, no friends. Just him, and his thoughts, and the knowledge that his brother would utterly subjugate himself in 24 hours. And then 20 hours. Ten hours. Two hours. So it came that Jake was in his room when Corey knelt, touched his forehead to the ground, and snarled "Command me, master."

"Stand up," said Jake. "Sit down over here," he indicated a spot on the bed. Jake sat next to him. "Are you all right, lil' bro?"

"No!" shouted Corey, then adding meekly, "master". "Jake, master, I 3; please don't 3; master 3;" Corey immediately started crying.

Jake reached out, putting his hand on Corey's shoulder. The boy tried to pull away. Corey was right: Jake had intended the motion to look like he was comforting the boy, but he wanted the touch. He felt electricity at the touch of Corey's warm skin. He always had, but he'd hidden it. His cock hardened at the feel of his brother's shoulder, as he saw the boy's body shaking with sobs. As Corey cried, his tongue unconsciously ran across his lips, and it fixed in Jake's mind as he thought about how it felt on his cock.

"Corey, I don't want to hurt you," said Jake. Corey hadn't been asked a question; he couldn't talk. He just sat there, sobbing. Jake ran his arm along Corey's shoulders, and Corey shivered. Jake tried to comfort his brother, he really did. "It's ok," he kept saying. "It's okay. We'll find a way out of this." But he also felt his brother's warmth, the gentle motion of his shoulder with each sob, the smoothness of his skin.

Jake hungered for more contact, but he was trying to stay chaste, trying not to harm his brother. He reached over and he hugged Corey. Corey just sat there, being hugged. Now Corey's warmth was all over Jake. He smelled the boy. He felt his breath. Jake realized one of his hands was on Corey's nipple, and he tried to move it away, sliding over his brother's skin. Their cheeks met for an instant, and Jake felt the wet trail of the tears down Corey's face. "I'm sorry I hurt you," whispered Jake. "I won't do it again. I promise." Jake's cock was hard, but he tried to ignore it. He held the hug, trying to be comforting, but he realized that the hug had gone on a moment too long, then another moment, then another moment. Corey had stopped sobbing. He was just breathing. Breathing. Breathing. Jake tried to cover the too-long hug by giving Corey a brief kiss on the forehead, like any family member would. But in a split-second decision he kissed Corey's cheek instead. Where he'd meant to make a totally non-sexual contact with his lips, instead it was a wet kiss, and he let his tongue brush against his brother's cheek. He recoiled backwards.

"Fuck," he said.

He realized that he was stroking his own cock. He stopped himself.

"What do you want?" he asked his brother. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to go to my room, master" answered the stony-faced boy.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Right away Jake realized what a stupid question that was.

"No, master" said Corey.

"All right," said Jake. It was probably a good thing. Get the boy away. Stop being tempted. It was a good thing. It was the right thing. "Go," he said.

Corey got up. The boy who had no control over his life didn't look happy, but at least he wasn't about to get fucked.

Jake saw everything in slow motion. The boy's stomach unfurling. His balls dangling gently in the air, gently swaying as he rose. The boy's back, each muscle acting together as he walked out. His ass, swaying slightly with each step.

Jake went to his door, watching his brother walk down the corridor. He thought how he would never be able to feel that warmth again. How his brother hated him anyway. How his brother was going to be a sex slave no matter what. He thought about how much he wanted him right now 3;

"Wait!" he called. "Stop! Come back."

Corey stopped. His shoulders slumped. He turned around, and he walked back to Jake's room.

"I just 3; I'm sorry, I just 3; I really 3;" Jake stopped, tried to get a grip on himself. He put his hand on Corey's shoulder and he felt the electric jolt. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to protect you, I really am, but I can't 3; you don't understand how it feels 3; I need you just a little bit. Maybe we can just lie in my bed? Nothing more than that, just lying in my bed."

Corey just stood there. "You don't understand how it feels," his brother had said. The words echoed through Corey's head, the rage building within him. But he couldn't say anything because his orders prevented it.

"Oh, right, I guess you need an order, I guess. Um. Go into my bed," said Jake. Corey stomped over to the bed and stepped in. Jake climbed in too, and he rolled his brother's body to lie against his own, feeling the gentle sway of the child's stomach in and out with each breath. He lay there, feeling a tightness in his chest, a nervousness. His parents had been ordered not to interfere. His brother would obey everything. It was up to him, it was his choice. He could do anything.

He had to stay strong.

He closed his eyes, trying to just enjoy the moment, to enjoy the feel of Corey's skin, to be satisfied with that. His hand started idly caressing the boy, nestling in the small of his back, feeling up each vertebra one by one. He drew it in a wide circle along the skin. He felt it brush by the boy's ass, and he quickly moved it away. Just enjoy it, he told himself. Just lie here and be happy with what you have. Nothing more. Nothing to hurt Corey.

His thoughts drifted to the past months, watching his brother fall hopelessly under this man's sway. He remembered Corey punching the couch in fury one day after the man left, just punching it, for what must have been a whole hour. He remembered his parents trying to comfort Corey, cooking his favorite foods, giving him extra TV time, even doing his homework a few times. The furious discussions over meals about how to try to escape this place. But he also remembered his own thoughts, the way he would sneak looks at the man as he abused Corey, the way he'd pleasure himself while imagining those scenes. He remembered the dreams he'd have at night, the dreams he still had, of Corey or the other boys having sex with him, and the way he'd carefully clean his bed so no one would notice. He remembered how Corey would wake up screaming from nightmares in the middle of the night, and how he, Jake, would go to comfort him, holding him close, and feeling guilty at his own erection; how he would ask Corey to tell him about his dreams, saying that would give them less power, but really because he wanted to hear Corey talk about the sex he dreamed of; how he would go and masturbate right after that. Dimly, he wondered if Corey felt betrayed at how Jake had once comforted him.

Jake realized that his left hand had gone to his cock again, that he was rubbing it. He stopped himself, but he was so horny. He looked down at the boy, the whole body laying in front of him, his smooth back to his ass to his legs and his feet, all lying pressed against him, rising and falling with each breath. He was so warm. His hand was at his cock again, damn it, but if he could just get his release, just a little release, just something to mellow down.

Jake pulled Corey's body up a bit and started kissing his head. The boy seemed subdued, maybe he'd fallen asleep. Jake kissed him on his forehead, his cheeks, his neck. So warm 3; he kissed him on the lips. Each contact was like heaven. "Kiss me," he said.

Corey kissed him, lightly, on the cheek.

"No, kiss me the way he would make you kiss him. On the mouth."

At the man's orders, Jake had fucked Corey up the ass three times that week. He'd been given a blowjob six times. Each had been a quick thing, maybe ten minutes, done under total mental control. But this was the first time they'd kissed. Corey's tongue came into his mouth and they were slurping at each other, sucking, biting the tiniest bit. Jake's whole body shuddered with desire, his arms and legs encircling his brother, one hand going behind Corey's head to hold it in place. Corey's tongue played with his own, wrestling it back and forth. Jake rolled over, on top of Corey, mouth pressing in further. He lost track of time, just burying himself in the boy's mouth.

Eventually he pushed himself off. "Oh my god," he said. He could practically feel the hormones flowing throughout his body begging for a release. "Corey, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. I can't help myself." His brother had turned over and Jake was looking at his back. "You are so beautiful," he said.

Breathing fast, Jake lay on his back, trying to recover himself. Trying to get himself to stop. Trying to get himself to say, "Corey, go back to your room." Maybe even "Corey, go back to your room and turn up the music so loud that you can't hear me." But he never said those words. I'll tell him to leave 3; soon, he thought. Just a little more. It won't change anything if I just touch him a little more.

Jake reached out his finger and traced along Corey's smooth back. Up and down along the back he went, feeling each muscle, each bone, each little indentation of the little body. His finger found its way down to Corey's ass, and he pushed playfully against an asscheek, watching it bend in. He moved his finger to the other asscheek, pushing against it as well. With his two hands, he separated the asscheeks to see the asshole inside.

Abruptly he let go. "Oh god," he said. "I can't. Not like this." All he had to do was tell his brother to go to his room. Go to his room, and be out of here. He'd fucked the boy's ass the last three nights. Not another night. Not his own choice.

"Corey," he said. Go to your room, he told himself. Go to your room was all he had to say. "Lay on your back," he said instead. Helplessly, the boy complied.

Jake looked at his brother's body laying in front of him, open, unprotected, his to command, taking too much pleasure at the little shiver in his brother's body when his finger made contact. Just a little longer and he'd let him go. Again he ran his finger along Corey's body. Around his nipples. Tracing the outline of his ribs, along the round edge of his belly, into his belly button. He ran his hand down to Corey's little penis, rubbing it gently. He felt along the ballsack, along the seam in the sack, around each little testicle. He ran his hand along the gap between penis and thigh, the hot little place. He rolled over to his elbow to look down at Corey, and he realized that his fingers smelled from rubbing the kid's crotch. Before he'd thought about it, he said, "suck my fingers clean."

Corey reached over and his mouth closed on the fingers, sucking them gently, cleaning the sweat and dirt from his own privates off of them.

Oh my god, thought Jake. He ran his flat hand along Corey's stomach, his chest. He brought his face over and licked the belly button, getting a taste of the boy. He moved his face up, and he started licking on Corey's nipples, so tasty, so small. He sucked on the left one first, running his tongue along it, nibbling gently as it grew to firmness. His tongue kept toying with it, and then he went back to sucking. Corey closed his eyes, lying back, just trying to endure this. The room was silent except for Jake's slurping, and his heavy breathing. When Corey let out a soft moan, it sent Jake over the edge, and he sucked twice as hard, then moved to the other nipple and repeated it, pressing against his brother's flesh, his hands crawling all over the body. One found its way to Corey's mouth, and Jake inserted his index finger into mouth. "Suck it, lil' bro," he mumbled between slurps. The boy sucked his finger while he sucked the boy's nipple.

After some time had passed, Jake pulled off. Corey was still sucking his finger. "Suck my nipples like I did for you," said Jake. The boy was powerless and he obeyed, his tongue rolling over Jake's nipples. Jake arranged his brother's body flat on top of his own. Corey was face down so he could lick the nipples, his smooth stomach resting gently on Jake's stomach, rubbing slightly against his developing body hair. The boy might fall off slightly and have to reposition himself, or he'd need a new angle for the nipples, or he'd change which nipple he was sucking. Each time, his flesh slid against Jake's flesh, often rubbing against Jake's cock, and it sent a further thrill through the teenager's body.

Jake's thoughts were in a haze. He knew that what he was doing was wrong. He knew it was his choice, for the first time, it was his choice alone. He tried to stop himself. But he also knew that the pressure in his own cock was beyond anything he could bear. He knew what he needed. Could he at least make it better for Corey? Maybe if Corey got some pleasure too? He threw the boy off of him and he moved his face to Corey's crotch, took the boy's penis in his mouth, and sucked.

If he could get Corey to understand, if he could get Corey to be a willing participant, maybe it'd all be okay. Maybe Corey could want this. Maybe he could convince Barry to let him keep his brother. Barry would check in, of course. He'd order them to have sex. But it'd be better than going away with the monster! He'd be doing Corey a favor.

So he sucked on the little penis. He used all the tricks he had ever read about, ever heard about: he licked it, he kissed it, he took Corey's balls into his mouth, he rubbed it back and forth, and he took it all the way in his mouth, sucking and sucking. He found himself trying to immitate all the times Corey had sucked him, and he realized how well-trained the younger boy was. Finally he felt the kid's penis get harder, to elongate. He felt Corey respond, thrusting his pelvis forward, moaning. "Uhhhhh 3;" went the boy.

"Oh yeah," said Jake.

He kept sucking. The boy squirmed. "Mmmmmm," he said. "Ohhhh." The boy kept raising his pelvis up, pushing his tiny cock a little deeper. Finally it seemed to go straight as a rod, and the little kid had a dry orgasm.

"Oh," said Jake, resting his head on the boy's stomach. "Was that good?"

There was a pause.

"No, master," said Corey.

"What the hell?" said Jake, sitting up. "You clearly enjoyed that!"

Corey was silent, because he could not talk.

"You orgasmed! How can you say you didn't like it?"

"It wasn't what I wanted, you fucking forced me to do it, what the hell, master! Stop it, master! Stop it!" Corey had meant to say "Jake," but his orders had prevented it.

"Fuck you!" said Jake, and he slapped his brother across the face. "Fuck you! I gave you a blowjob! Don't you get it? Don't you get it?" He was red-faced, so angry. He lowered his head to kiss Corey on the mouth, but Corey, who had received no order, turned away, tried to push him off. "Fuck you! You little bitch, give me a blowjob!" screamed Jake.

Corey instantly stopped moving away. His face was red, contorted in rage. He wanted to yell, he wanted to tell his brother to fuck off, to remember who the hell he was, but he wasn't allowed to talk. He wasn't allowed to do anything but to give his brother a blowjob at that moment.

"Make it a good one!" screamed Jake.

And so the boy, the little bitch, turned to face his older brother and crawled along the bed. He lowered himself down to his brother's cock, and he started to lick it.

Jake lay back in the bed as his brother's mouth engulfed his cock. He felt the sweet warmth overrun him. He felt the gentle motion as the boy worked his way along it.

He knew what he'd done was wrong. He should tell his brother to stop. This was too far. But how could he ever get his release if Corey didn't keep going?

"Mmmmmm," he moaned quietly.

Corey let the cock out of his mouth and stuck out his tongue, licking up the shaft from the base. He got to just below the head of the penis, and he let the tip of his firm tongue linger there. Then he finished up to the urethra. Then, again, this time starting from the ball sack, licking all the way up the penis. Again, another lick. Again, another. The boy dove down and wrapped Jake's balls in his mouth, the tongue running along below them, bouncing them lightly. He sucked on the balls for several minutes of simple calm bliss, then he let them out and Jake moaned. Again he ran his tongue up from the balls, all along the penis, up to the base of the head, then up the rest of the way. Again he ran his tongue along the penis. A third time he did it, coasting along the pulsing organ, but now instead of pulling off, he opened his mouth wide and took it in.

"Oh my fucking God," said Jake. A part of him still said that he should stop the boy, let him go. Then he thought, surely Corey must enjoy this if he's so fucking good at it. Stop rationalizing, he told himself. Don't be stupid. You are forcing your brother to fuck you! What the hell!

He felt his cock get swathed in Corey's tongue. "Ohhhhhh 3;" he said. I have to just enjoy this, he thought. I'm going to stop thinking about him, I'm going to just enjoy this, and then I'll be done and I'll let him go.

The boy's movement seemed to stop for several moments as he just held the cock in his mouth, motionless but sucking, sucking, sucking. "Fuuuuck," said Jake.

Then the boy suddenly started moving again, up and down, up and down. Corey let the cock fall out of his mouth and again he ran his tongue along it. Then it was in his mouth again, and he was bobbing up and down on it, the constant suction pulling on it, pulling on it. "You've been taught like a fucking master," said Jake. "Man that guy is good."

Again the mouth was all over the cock, and Jake shouted, "in, deep!" He forced the boy's head down on it, and he came, each ejaculation pushing against the soft palate, the cock penetrating into the larynx. The boy coughed and gagged, his mouth filled with semen, and he finally swallowed as Jake finished.

"You're fucking amazing," said Jake. "Fucking amazing."

Corey coughed, his body trying to eject strands of semen from his windpipe.

Jake wanted to let his brother go. He really did. But he didn't think he could bear it, not after that. He needed just a little bit more, he couldn't go without that. If he just kept the kid around a bit longer, maybe if he just enjoyed this night, he could let the kid go tomorrow. They'd just lie together, that was it.

"Come up and kiss me," he said, and they kissed, deeply.

For another half hour they lay together, Jake caressing his brother. Three times Jake said "kiss me," and Corey did.

The fourth time Jake said "kiss me," Corey replied "no."

"What the hell?" said Jake.

"It's after midnight," said Corey, hoarsely. "I'm done, you asshole." Corey sat up, and Jake just stared at his brother. He was surprised at the stop, at Corey's feelings 3; he'd never heard his brother use language like that. This stuff was changing him. It was changing all of them.

"How to hell could you do that to me?" continued the boy. He was crying. "I thought we were friends."

"I 3;" started Jake. "Corey, I 3; it was 3; I needed that."

"You needed that?"

"I've always been so scared that I'd never be able to have sex. I mean, I'm interested in boys, and I can't 3;"

"So what, you used me?"

"Corey, it was just the one time."

"JUST THE ONE TIME?" roared Corey. "I'm like a toy to you, that you use and throw out. It's all right, he's going to be a slave to this other guy anyway, I might as well use him? This might have been one of my last nights of freedom!"

"I'm sorry," said Jake.

"You are so sick," said Corey. "You made me do all that, you made me call you `master'--"

"--That wasn't me," said Jake.

"Bullshit!" said Corey.

For a minute, the two brothers just sat there, Corey still sobbing. "Promise me," he said, "promise me that you'll let me be free tomorrow. That you won't make me do that again."

Jake sat there. He wanted to make that promise, but couldn't he decide that tomorrow? He stayed silent.

"Promise me!" shrieked Corey. "I want a day to be free! Promise me!" Still Jake was silent, and Corey lunged at him. "Promise me!" he shouted, as he punched his brother in the shoulder. "Promise me!" Another punch. "Promise me!" and he kneed Jake in the groin.

"AAAAAAAH!" shouted Jake. "You little shit!" He slapped Corey across his face.

"You like that?" shouted Corey. "You think that even comes close to what you did to me? You think we're even?" The boy threw himself at his brother again, punching, scratching, kicking. Jake managed to grab one of Corey's wrists. Corey shot out with the other, and Jake finally managed to grab it too and hold it. Corey tried to kick, but Jake pinned him down with his own legs. Corey squirmed, trying to break free of his brother's hold. The two boys were still naked, still in bed. Jake clasped his brother's wrists and felt him struggle, felt the heat and the anger and the helplessness as his brother struggled against him. The fighting, the holding, the squirming, it was so much, Jake's cock rose to attention again.

"Oh god, Corey, stop it," he said. Corey still struggled. "Stop it! Go back to your room!" Didn't Corey get what he was doing? Didn't he see Jake's cock?

"I'm not your slave now!" screamed Corey. One of his hands broke free for a second and managed to hit Jake in the face before Jake recaptured it.

"Corey, please, you don't understand," said his brother. He was holding the struggling boy's wrists against the bed as he squirmed and tried to get out. Jake was straddling the boy now, using his bulk to hold him down. Corey was twisting, turning, so hot and sweaty, trapped, still helpless, Jake bent down and kissed him.

"What the hell!" screamed Corey. "YAAAAH!" He redoubled his efforts but he was stuck. Jake rolled the boy over on the bed so he was face down. Corey's arms couldn't reach behind him, and Jake shifted his hands to push down the boy's back while he moved down to sit on the boy's legs. He reached his hands down and pulled the asscheeks apart, looking at his asshole.

After so much, Jake thought, what difference did it make? Corey was 3; he was like an animal now. Like an animal.

Corey was struggling, twisting, trying to get out. He kept trying to reach his hands back at Jake but he couldn't. He tried to kick backwards, but it did no good. "Stop it!" he shouted. "Stop it! Stop it! Mom! Dad!"

But as his parents sat in the next room, their orders not to interfere with the brothers holding firm.

Jake moved his engorged dick up, positioning it over the pink hole. With one hand, he started to guide it in. The boy was struggling, Jake had lubricated but only with some saliva, it would be Corey's first time without lubricant, but Corey was a slave anyway, this was his life now, that was just how it was. Jake's dick started to penetrate the hole.

"AAAAAAAH!" screamed Corey. "STOOOOOOP IT! STOOOOOP!" The boy's fists beat against the bed as the dick squeezed its way in. His legs kicked into the bed. His body twisted, trying to find a way to make it hurt less. He felt the thing inside him, not slimy and slippery like usual, but firm, pressing against his intestines, tearing him apart.

Still further it pressed in. It came in fits and jerks, unevenly, sometimes with a sudden push, then it stayed put, then it would jump in further. Corey's back arched up and he howled, "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Still it pressed in. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah" went the boy. Still it pressed in. He twisted and he howled and he punched the bed. His mouth found the pillow and he bit down on it, hard. Still it pressed in. "Ohhhhhhhhhhh" moaned Jake.

It took time, oh god it took time, but then it was in, or at least a good way in --- thank God Jake wasn't fully grown --- and Jake settled in, letting his weight press down on the boy, ever so slightly moving his cock back and forth. He couldn't move it as far or as fast because it wasn't lubricated, but still he could rock back and forth. Corey felt his brother's weight pressing him into the bed. He felt his brother's thin chest hair against his bare back. He felt his brother pulse his pelvis back and forth. He felt his brother's tongue run along his back, his brother's breath dance across his skin. He heard his brother moaning sensually.

The pain separated into the constant feeling of being stretched inside, and the dull ache of the penis moving slightly in and out of him. "Mm-hm-hm-hm-hm," he cried softly. He tried not to give his brother the satisfaction of tears. He'd started to realize that Jake enjoyed them, liked his pain. But he couldn't help it, and they flowed out of him.

He heard his brother whisper, "so beautiful."

Suddenly Jake seemed to move his pelvis more than usual, the cock sliding further out and then pounding back in. "AAAH!" shouted Corey. Then again, and again, a steady pounding against him, the bed giving way and bouncing up slightly with each shove. "AAAH! AAAH! AAAH!" repeated Corey with each impact, each time he felt himself being torn apart inside.

Then Jake seemed to press into him more than usual, and Corey recognized the coming orgasm. He 3; he knew what it felt like, now. The cock stretched itself within his ass, pumping out, each time pushing further, further against his intenstine. "AH! AH! AH!"

"Oh God," said Jake. "So good, so good, you little bitch."

"AH! AH! AH!"

Finally it was done, the semen deposited. Jake collapsed on top of his brother, and then eventually rolled off.

Corey lay there for a few minutes. Finally, painfully, he raised himself up to sit on the side of the bed. His ass was still leaking, leaving a stain on the sheets. Eventually he stood, walked to the door.

"What's happened to you?" Corey asked his brother.

Jake looked back at the boy. He'd wanted not to do this. He really had. But it was such an incredible release, such a rare opportunity. He just needed it so much. He knew now that tomorrow would be no different, that he'd need his brother just as badly. "I promise next time I'll use lube," he replied. Then he added, "lil' bro."

Corey looked back at this person he'd once admired. "Fuck you," he said. With his legs spread wide to try to lessen the pain in his ass, he stumbled down the hallway back to his own room. His ass left a trail of red drops on the carpet.

Jake didn't sleep that night. He stayed up running through what he'd done. Was this the man he was? Someone who raped his little brother? There was no denying that's what he'd done.

He had two options. In the morning, he could give Corey his day of freedom. He could apologize and beg forgiveness, to try to make things up. It probably wouldn't work. And no matter what, Corey would be a slave to this man.

Or he could use Corey. Use his brother. Again. The whole day. He knew there was no halfway, not anymore. If Jake let himself touch Corey, he would use every hole in that boy, he would do every perverted thing he could think of. He was out of control. He'd tasted the forbidden fruit and he could not hold himself back any longer.

Corey woke up screaming during the night. Jake didn't go to comfort him.

The next morning, the boy came into Jake's room. He knelt, touching his forehead to the ground. "Command me, master," he spat out.

"Stand up," said Jake, and the boy stood.

"Apologize to me for being a bad boy yesterday."

"I'm sorry for being a bad boy yesterday, master," said the boy flatly, eyes flashing with hate.

"Tell me that I'm your brother and you love me."

"You're my brother and I love you, master."

"Tell me that you'll do everything I tell you to do."

"I'll do everything you tell me to do, master."

"Good. Let's start with you sucking my cock," said Jake calmly. "And make it a good one. Then you can lick up all that gunk you left on my sheets last night. And we can take a nice, long shower together."

***

I came back later that day and it was time for Jake to make his decision. He had bags under his eyes; he clearly hadn't been sleeping much. "I 3;" he began, "I 3; I want it."

"You want the serum?"

"Yeah," he said.

"What are you going to do with it?" I asked.

"I 3;" he paused. "My parents, and my teachers. I'll make them obey me."

"So what?"

"One of my teachers," said Corey, "he coaches a little league team. I can use him to get to them."

I looked him up and down. Finally, I nodded. "You will command all of your slaves to obey my commands before yours. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Jake.

"You will not use them for any purpose you don't think I would approve of. You will keep me updated on everything that happens. When I tell you to, you will bring some of the best boys over to where I am staying. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," replied Jake.

"What made you do it?" I asked.

And suddenly, the teenager who was being given ultimate power started to cry. "I 3; can't 3; I can't give it up!" he exclaimed. "I want to, but I can't. If I didn't 3; I mean, it's how the world works, right? If I don't do this, I'll just be miserable, used."

"Yeah," I said. "And now you'll be happy."

Jake nodded. "Oh, one other thing," he said. "I think I'm going to need control of my parents."

I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. "Sure," I said, smiling. "I'll tell them."

"And could you leave me Corey?"

"No fucking way," I replied. "He's mine."

Epilogue: How It Turned Out

I now live happily with my three boys in my Monatana vacation home. I've trained them all for excellent oral sex, and I've used their asses more times than I can count. We've had dress-up games, tests of endurance, and I've forced them to have all kinds of interesting sex amongst themselves. I wake up every morning with a mouth around my cock, and I go to bed every night with my penis in a cute boy butt. We've even invited some neighborhood boys in to play (well, not that those boys had much choice about it), even if none of the regional specimens are really as beautiful. They put on shows for me, and sometimes I give them choices about what they do, but they're always choices between two things that, well, they really don't like. Occasionally, I like to give them some hope of leaving. I tell them that if they can beat me in a one-on-one fight, the winner gets to leave and go back to his family right now. That way, I get to see their hopes go up, and then I get to see their hopes dashed, while I get the extra benefit of inflicting a bit of pain and hearing their screams.

It's more than just physical, though. The process of breaking their minds, turning them against each other, making them understand that they are toys in my games, that's the really interesting challenge. But that is another story.

I've had Jake visit a few times, too, sometimes with his boys. They're a nice crop of kids, mostly a bit younger than my own. Jake and I had some good fun, but it's clear that Corey is still his favorite. I heard Corey begging him to help them all escape on the first night Jake visited. Corey understood his mistake pretty quickly.

The truth is, my boys are getting older; I've been noticing the first pubic hair, some signs that their voices are deepening. I thought about trying to delay their puberty, but the truth is that I'm going to want some variety, and I don't want that many mouths to feed. No, after another six months, maybe a year or so, Kevin, Corey, and Timmy will get to go back to their families, with a harrowing story of their captivity under Kevin's father. I'm not saying that their lives will be back to normal, though. For one thing, they're going to have one hell of a psychological trauma to live down, and I'm not going to let them talk to any psychologists about what really happened. For another, I'm giving them all supplies of my drug so that they, with my very close guidance, can help me come up with replacements. I wouldn't want to be lonely, and I sure don't want to take more chances trying to recruit boys all the way myself. I can use Jake's boys for a while, or I can order him to give me some of them permanently, but I want some choices of my own. Kevin, Corey, and Timmy are going to start making good friends with some younger boys in the neighborhood, and the choicest morsels will be brought for me to properly inspect and decide. I expect that these three will be providing me with new boys for the rest of their lives. I can't make them love boys the way I do, but I can order them to have sex with some of the boys we'll get, and we can have parties up here at my house. There are all kinds of interesting things you can do with four mature penises instead of just one.

I should probably also make sure to order the three to obey Jake once they're back home. Jake might still have a thing for his brother, after all, and I'm happy to provide him with more entertainment.

My boys won't miss me, but I will miss them. It's a good thing their replacements will almost certainly be just as good.

The End