Things That Make Me Throb And Twitch

MM, mind control, bondage, corruption, Stockholm syndrome-ish elements, 18+, NSFW

“Alright, Brody….looking good...and the trap is set.” I tightened the binds around my fellow slave brother’s wrists, smoothed the duct taped on his mouth, and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before taking my hiding spot in his closet.

He looked adorable like this—helpless and bound, trussed up like a rag doll.

The image conjured a sense of nostalgia. I’d been in his same position many times, usually serving as bait—like he is right now. But the first time my Master actually subdued me, captured me, bound me. The memory gives me chills. Sure, I was upset at the time. Angry and frightened if I remember correctly. I didn’t realize Master was doing me a kindness.

It took some time to catch up to the truth and accept my identity as a pussyboy, but I caught on eventually. Better late than never!

My slave brother, Brody, has been starting to catch on as well. He was taken a few months ago. Plucked away from his old life in the middle of the night. Per usual, Master didn’t waste any time throwing him into a life of servitude (he’s a firm believer in on-the-job training).

At first, it was upsetting to see how much difficulty Brody was having acclimatizing to his new life as a slave to a better man. He pushed back at everything, and was quick to earn punishments for disrespecting the hierarchy.

But Master is patient, powerful, and proficient at breaking down disrespectful boys. It’s actually quite thrilling to see him work in real-time. Take Brody for example. After rounds and rounds of hypno, sexual stimulation, orgasm denial, and slave training—Brody is no longer the unruly, wild, disruptive brat he was upon arrival. He’s docile and subservient, rather than feisty and rebellious.

Though he’s yet to demonstrate the enthusiastic submission and worshipful obedience that will soon become his second nature, the signs are there.

For instance, he finally answered Master’s question honestly:

“Hi, Brody. Let the record state this the 89th time I’m asking you. Which one of your old friends should I capture and induct into my stable?”

“Scott.” He said. A tear traced his cheek as he said the name. Sweet Brody. He looked tired, and defeated, and guilty. But he also looked pleased when Master responded with: “Good boy.”

I was incredibly proud of Brody. I knew we’d soon be looking back on this memory fondly. So would Scott, eventually.

Which brings us here.

After roughing up Brody a little (as gently as possible…my bro is more delicate than he looks), I bound him tightly and tossed him onto his old bed. Then I kissed his forehead, slipped into the closet, and waited patiently for Scott to arrive home.

This is so fun.

I tried to shush the butterflies in my stomach, thinking about how Scott would react to the scene. He’d be so confused to see his old friend—reported missing months ago—back at home.

His confusion would turn into concern as he realized Brody was bound and gagged. Then as soon as Scott moved to untie him, Brody would stop struggling—no longer needing to feign distress. I’d pounce on Scott, subdue him, tie him up, stuff his mouth with one of Master’s old socks, seal his lips with tape, and assure him everything was going to be okay. And then kiss his forehead, obviously.

Finally, I’d take out the wireless speaker Master provided, and hit “play” on the hypnotic audio track. My favorite part.

Soon the world would go black…and soft…and warm…and quiet…and…

…Somehow, we’d wake up in the familiar safety of Master’s estate. I’d be ecstatic, Brody would be Brody, and Scott would be very confused and very frightened and very, very, horny.

Most importantly, Master would be pleased.

The sound of footsteps shook me from my thoughts. Scott’s home! On cue, Brody started wriggling in his binds, grunting aggressively.

“Hello?” Scott called from the hallway. Even though his voice was shaky with concern, I could tell he sounded like a cool dude. I couldn’t wait to be his friend. We’d eventually bond over our mutual passion for serving alpha men, worshipping cock, etc. But first thing’s first…

“Mrrmpphmmmph” Brody mumbled into his gag, eyes wide, wriggling like a worm.

Good job, brother. Really selling it.

Theo’s Magic Space Rock: Part 2

It’s been a while since I posted Chapter 1, so here’s a lil recap: After getting struck by a magic space rock, Theo Raeken gains the power to override free will and dominate anyone he chooses. He immediately embraces the gift without hesitation, subjugating Derek into a submissive bitch and transforming Stiles into his omega.

MM, 18+, MDNI, CNC. steo, sterek, therek (sorta). mind control, ABO, stiles gets f*cked stupid, Derek gets cucked yikes. Full tags available on AO3.

Theo had Stiles bent over the kitchen island again, the newly transformed omega enjoyed the way his chest felt against cold granite. Stiles’ pretty hole was still puffy and leaking from earlier loads, but Theo lined up and sank back in with one smooth thrust. A broken, happy whimper spilled from Stiles’ swollen lips as his eyes rolled back.

“Fuuuuck, look at you,” Theo growled, gripping those narrow hips. “Still so tight for me even after I fucked your brains out.” Stiles could only nod, completely dick-drunk, his small cocklet dripping a mess onto the floor. Every snap of Theo’s hips made the boy’s legs shake. His mouth hung open, drool slipping down his chin, eyes glassy and unfocused. No smart remarks. No sarcasm. Just soft, needy sounds and a greedy clench around Theo’s thick cock.

Theo leaned down, biting the back of Stiles’ neck. “Who owns this pussyhole, princess?”

“Yours… Alpha,” Stiles slurred dreamily, pushing back for more even as his mind floated somewhere far away. Theo grinned darkly and fucked him harder, savoring how easily he had reduced the once-brilliant boy to a cock-hungry, hazy mess.

Later, after taking Stiles countless more times, Theo lounged on the leather couch, legs spread wide, while Stiles knelt obediently between them. The boy’s eyes were soft and hazy, lips parted as he carefully licked Theo’s feet clean with long, worshipful strokes of his tongue. There was no hesitation, no humiliation in his expression—only calm, empty devotion.

“Good boy,” Theo murmured, running his fingers through Stiles’ messy hair. “Look at you. Used to run that smart mouth all the time. Now you’re on your knees licking your Alpha’s feet like it’s the only thing you were made for.”

Stiles made a small, contented sound and nuzzled against Theo’s calf, pressing soft kisses up his shin. When Theo lifted his other foot, Stiles immediately shifted to service it without being told. His small cocklet was half-hard, but he made no move to touch himself. He simply existed to please.

Theo watched with dark satisfaction as his once-clever omega submitted so completely. No fighting. No questions. Just pure, hazy obedience. Stiles looked up at him with blown pupils and smiled sweetly, as if serving like this brought him perfect peace.

Theo wondered how Derek would look in the same position as Stiles, kneeling at his feet. It’d be hot, for sure. But before Derek earned the opportunity to serve Theo, he’d have to prove himself worthy.

Derek tested the binds again, not to escape but to feel how easily they held him—how easily he let them hold him.

His breath fogged as he stared at the empty path where Theo had carried Stiles out of the woods, like freshly hunted prey.

In the distance, Derek caught the smell of sex carrying from the direction of his loft. Rather, Theo’s loft now.

What the hell happened? How did Theo do…all of that?

Derek knew he must be misremembering things, because there’s no way his recollections were true. One second he was lunging to protect Stiles from an unseen attacker; the next Theo’s presence had slammed into him like a meteor, crushing Derek’s resolve into a cloud of dust. The young man’s eyes had been glowing with something cosmic, something that made Derek’s knees buckle.

Theo smelled so good. Like brightness and time and power. It was fucking intense. Weird and intense and erotic.

He’d called Theo “alpha,” called him “sir.” He’d bared his throat and whimpered like a puppy.

The shame should have burned, but instead it pooled low in his gut, making his dick jerk and leak another pathetic string of pre-cum onto his thigh.

Naked and bound, he felt every inch the discarded bitch he suddenly was. Nothing but a whimpering pup tied to a tree with his own clothes as his untouched cock leaked like something broken.

Derek felt like something broken.

A fresh wave of anger cleared some of the fog from Derek’s head. After finding out whatever perverse magic was responsible for this fuckery, he was going to make Theo pay for humiliating him and defiling his beautiful Stiles.

Theo. That smug, treacherous fucker. Derek had hated him for years—betrayal after betrayal, the chimera who always wanted what wasn’t his.

Yet…maybe Derek had it wrong. Theo only took what already belong to him. Stiles was clearly made for Theo. While Derek enjoyed spending time with Stiles, he didn’t have any right to get in the way of Theo’s rightful claim to the sweet boy.

Sure, Derek hated Theo. But that was before he knew better.

Things were different now. The second Theo’s new scent hit him earlier today, something ancient and primal inside Derek had simply snapped. The way Theo’s voice dropped when he looked at Stiles and said “He’s mine.” The unbelievable might of Theo’s massive dick, swinging low and heavy.

The muchness of Theo’s presence had short-circuited every alpha instinct in Derek’s frazzled brain. He had bared his throat like a pup. Called him sir. Offered his mate, his Stiles to Theo like a fucking housewarming gift.

The memory made his face burn with shame and his stomach flutter with delight.

Derek caught another whiff of Theo—perfect Theo—on the wind. It was intermingled with the familiar aroma of Stiles’s arousal. But sweeter than it had ever smelled, and unobstructed by Derek’s inferior musk.

Derek could picture the Alpha and Omega too clearly: Stiles draped over the couch, legs spread, that dazed look on his face while Theo claimed what used to be Derek’s. He’s up there getting bred right now and I’m… here. Thanks to the empathic connection of his mating bond, he could feel and hear Stiles getting fucked into oblivion.

It made him sick to his stomach. Sick with envy.

Why him first? I’m the alpha. I’m stronger, older, I’ve protected him. Saved his stupid ass countless times. Stiles wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me…

But Derek’s protest died before it finished. Theo hadn’t chosen the stronger one. Theo had chosen the prize. And Derek was the leftover.

Theo’s dominance had felt inevitable, magnetic. Derek’s mind kept replaying the moment Theo’s thumb smeared spit across his throat and his own cock had betrayed him instantly. He wanted to feel that thumb again.

No, this isn’t right. Derek shook his head, trying to dislodge the intrusive thoughts. Something was seriously wrong.

He swallowed a broken whine. Theo’s scent still clung to his skin, thick and commanding, making his hole clench uselessly around nothing

I could break free. Run. Warn someone.

Instead he pressed his forehead to the bark and whispered into the empty woods, “Please… come back for me, sir. I’ll be good. I’ll be yours.”

How about a jock with easy confidence and charisma with a natural of self with a jealous roommate who turns him into a needy, self ridiculing, anxiety riddled, scared of the world twink.who needs constant reassurance and support from his boyfriend (doesn't have to be the roommate can a jock like he was before) and help making nearly every important thing.

Really fun idea! And definitely on the longer side. Really wanted to capture this one from start to finish. Hope you enjoy it!

The sauna was packed, but Jack barely noticed. Heat, sweat, easy conversation—it was his element. He leaned back against the wood, arms stretched along the bench, grinning as one of his buddies chirped him about moving day.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack laughed. “Gotta go help my new roommate. Bro sounds like a mess over text, honestly. Figure I’ll get him out more, you know? Fix the vibe a little.”

“Fix the vibe,” one of them echoed. “Classic Jack.”

He shrugged, easy. “What? Dude just needs confidence. Not that hard.”

And he believed that. Always had. People overthought everything: how they looked, how they sounded. Jack didn’t. You showed up, you were yourself, things worked out. Keep it simple.

---------------

Jack knew within about thirty seconds that Liam was… a lot. Not bad. Not even unlikable. Just... loud in a way that filled every gap in a room.

"...and this guy was like, ‘I’m not into twinks,’ and I’m standing there like, okay, cool, did you not see my selfie?"

Jack blinked. "Wait... what’s a twink?"

Liam stopped, turned, and gave him a long, exaggerated once-over. "Oh my god. You’re serious?" A pause, then a dramatic sigh. "Honey… you have, like, sooo much to learn."

Jack laughed, a little unsure, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, man, guess I do."

Liam kept going... about guys, about rejection, about how everything always came down to looks. It was constant. Every story circled back to it. Who was hotter, who got ignored, who didn’t measure up.

"You’re overthinking it," Jack said, leaning back against the counter. "Just relax. Be yourself. People like confidence. Trust me, bro!"

Liam paused, looking almost offended, “Must be nice.”

Jack frowned. “What?”

“Not caring what people think.”

Jack shrugged automatically. “I mean… yeah, I guess. Never really thought about it.”

Liam just hummed, like that answered everything.

---------------

Later, in his room, Jack kicked the door shut behind him and tugged his shirt off, tossing it onto the bed without thinking. He glanced at the mirror, just a quick check, same as always. Except… he didn’t look away. His eyes dropped to his stomach. He’d never really thought about it before, not like this. But now the line of hair down his abs stood out more than it should’ve. Darker. Thicker. It broke up the definition in a way that suddenly felt… off. Messy, almost.

Jack ran a hand over it, frowning slightly. “It’s fine,” he muttered, like he needed to say it out loud.

He straightened, flexed a little. Habit. But instead of the usual quick nod and move on, he hesitated. His chest didn’t pop the same way it did at the gym. Or maybe it did. He couldn’t tell. Still, he shifted his shoulders, trying a different angle. Then again. And then he noticed his necklace. And for the first time, he wondered... Is this tacky? Did it look kinda cheap?

Jack let out a short chuckle. “Chill dude.”

---------------

“Glad you agreed to come along.” Jack smiled as they stepped onto the gym floor. “This is gonna be good for you. Build some confidence, get you feeling better about yourself.”

Liam looked around, already tense. “Or I humiliate myself publicly. Love that for me.”

“You’re fine,” Jack reassured with a grin, “Stick with me.”

They started easy, but Liam struggled. Arms shaking, stopping early, constantly glancing at himself in the mirror.

“God, I look awful,” Liam muttered. “Like, actually tragic.”

“Trust me, no one’s looking,” Jack said automatically, "Here, let me show you the right form..."

He grabbed his usual weight, sat down, pressed... and immediately felt it. Heavy. Wrong. His arms wobbled on the second rep, stalling halfway up. Jack’s jaw tightened as he forced it back into place.

"Okay,” He tried to laugh it off, “Off day.”

But when he reached for the weight again, he hesitated. For the first time, he noticed the guy a few benches over. Then another, across the room. Were they watching? Did that rep look as bad as it felt? And suddenly, he was hyper-aware of how he looked.

"You okay?"

"Ye-yea..." Jack mumbled, "Uh, maybe we should just go."

"Oh no! What about my routine?"

"Your routine?"

"I focus on all the right places," Liam explained, "A bottom needs a juicy ass, babe."

"A bottom?" Jack repeated, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Really? You have so much to learn." Liam teased, patting Jack's arm, "Tops need something nice to squeeze while they rail you senseless."

Jack swallowed hard, face flushing slightly at the blunt talk. He glanced away.

"I guess I never really thought about it that way…"

"Well, now you know," Liam said airily, "So humor me, okay big boy? Besides, you could use a good leg day."

---------------

“This is so unrealistic,” Liam muttered.

Jack sat back into the couch, his ass sore from what had to be the fifth day in a row of Liam's gym routine. Meanwhile, Liam was curled into the other side, phone in hand, only half-watching the screen.

“No one just… ends up together like that. Not without a reason.”

Jack huffed a quiet laugh. “You’d be surprised, bro.”

Liam finally looked at him then. Really looked at him, eyebrow raised.

“Would I?”

Jack shifted slightly. “I mean… yeah. Me and Erica, for example. We’re good. No drama, no weird stuff. Just works.”

“Well duh…” Liam shook his head. “You’re tall. You don’t try too hard, which people love. You’re built…” he paused, tilting his head slightly, “…well, you were more built a few weeks ago, but still.”

“What?” Jack blinked and looked down at himself. “I haven’t changed that much.”

“Someone's defensive!” Liam smirked. The two sat in uneasy silence. “You think she’d still be with you if that changed?”

“That’s not...” Jack shook his head. “No... That’s not how it works.”

“Confident!” Liam smiled. “But there’s always a reason.” A small pause. “And it’s usually something you can lose.”

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the movie neither of them were really watching anymore.

“Dude... you overthink this stuff too much.” Jack said, quieter now.

“Maybe,” Liam shrugged.

Jack looked back at the TV, but his focus slipped almost immediately. His mind snagged on something else… something smaller.

You were more built a few weeks ago.

Erica always said this shirt looked good on him, that she loved the way it highlighted his muscles. But now? The fabric wasn't taut against his pecs. Even the sleeves sat different, the cotton no longer hugging his upper arms. Looser. Unimpressive. He flexed subtly, but the movement barely changed anything. No pull, no stretch. His arms were actually… smaller.

“L-O-L! You’re doing it again.”

Jack’s head snapped up, “Doing what?”

“Inspecting!” Liam giggled, nodding toward him. “You've been checking yourself out more."

“I am not!” The words came out sharper- and higher- than he expected, the pitch jumping suddenly before he could catch it. Jack blinked, clearing his throat quickly. “I’m not... I'm just...”

Liam raised an eyebrow, then gave a small, knowing smile.

"I-I'm going to bed." Jack huffed, "See you tomorrow, bro."

---------------

“You're so jittery!” Liam laughed, already pushing the door open. “Aren't these your friends?”

“Yeah, I know, I just... like... yeah.” Jack trailed off, looking down at himself, pulling at the hem of his shirt.

It fit tighter, which would've made Jack happy if it was his shirt. But he borrowed this one from Liam. It stretched taut across his slim torso. And his pants? Tight as fuck from all those glute workouts. Highlighting his ass in a way that would certainly draw attention.

“Yo!” one of his boys called. “There he is.”

Jack smiled, “Hey~! What’s up!?” His voice came out lighter than he meant it to, a soft lift at the end. He blinked, clearing his throat.

Erica stepped in with a smile. “Hey.”

“Hi babe!”

The kiss was quick... and empty. He blinked slightly as he pulled back.

“You good?” she asked lightly.

“Yeah,” Jack said quickly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

One of the guys gave him a once-over. “New look?”

Jack shrugged quickly. “I mean... yeah. Just like... trying something different, I guess.”

Liam slid in beside him. “He looks good.”

“Yeah,” another friend said. “Just… not what I expected.”

Jack laughed, a little too fast. “Okay, wow, rude,” he said playfully, earning a raised eyebrow from Erica.

They settled in, drinks passed around, Liam made his introduction. But as the conversation picked up, Jack felt... off. Same topics. Same jokes. Jack found himself drifting, only half-listening, his attention snagging on other things... how people looked, who was watching who.

“So you still lifting?” someone asked.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “Just, like not as heavy. I’ve been doing more, like… cardio? And legs.”

“Legs?” his friend repeated. “Since when do you care about legs?” A couple laughs.

Jack felt his chest tighten. “I mean... people notice a nice ass. Sorry I don't base my whole personality off how much I can bench.” It came out harsh... defensive even.

“Woah dude, I was just joking.” his friend raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, no, I know, I just... yeah.” A small, breathy laugh slipped out.

He took a quick sip of his drink, eyes flicking around the room like he was trying to reset.

Liam nudged him. “Okay, but that guy? The shirt is… not helping him.”

Jack followed his gaze automatically. “Oh my god, yeah,” he said, a sharper laugh slipping out. “And the hairline? Like... pick a struggle.” He blinked right after, like the words had surprised him.

“Dude,” one of his friends cut in, frowning. “You don’t gotta be a dick.”

Jack’s smile faltered. “I’m just joking...”

“It didn’t sound like a joke.”

“Right... yeah. Sorry,” Jack said again, softer now.

The conversation moved on... without him. Jack frowned, leaning back in his chair. Something about his own voice...his tone... himself...felt off. As he quietly withdrew from his friends, something snagged his attention.

“Hey… that guy over there?” he whispered to Erica. “The one in the black shirt.”

Erica frowned slightly but glanced over. “What about him?”

“He’s been, like… looking at me.” Jack said, a little too quick.

She looked again, then shrugged. “I mean… maybe?”

“No, like... he is.” he said, quieter now. Tight but not entirely anxious.

Erica didn’t answer right away. “Do you... want him to be?”

“I mean...” Jack hesitated, a small, almost self-conscious smile tugging at his mouth, “I don’t not want him to be.”

Erica nodded slowly. “Oh...” Jack could see a sudden sadness in her eyes, “I’m... I need to call Jess real quick.”

“Oh... yeah, okay,” Jack said, blinking.

He watched her walk off, something in his chest tightening. When he looked back at the table, the conversation had already moved on again without him.

---------------

Jack replayed it more than he wanted to admit. Erica across from him, arms folded, voice calm in that way that made it worse.

“I don’t think this is working anymore.”

And him... just sitting there. He wanted to say something. Something important... Instead, there was nothing. Just a strange, hollow feeling, like he’d missed something important without knowing when.

"God you've been moping for days!" Liam whined, "Here, throw this on. We're going out."

---------------

"Where are we going?" Jack whined.

"Shhhh you'll see!"

Jack slowed as they got in line, the music bleeding out onto the street, the way people stood a little closer to each other than he was used to.

"Oh my god!” he let out, a quiet, nervous laugh slipping free. “Is this a gay bar?”

Liam just glanced at him. “You’re so cute when you piece things together.”

"Is this why you wanted me to wear this?” he asked.

His tank top clung to him- tight, thin, riding up just enough to expose his stomach. Flat. Smooth. Too smooth. His eyes lingered there for a second longer than they should have. The treasure trail he was used to... gone. Not trimmed. Not shorter. Just… not there. Jack’s brow knit slightly.

Had it always been like that?

The shorts were worse. Short, tight, hugging high on his thighs in a way that made his ass feel fully, undeniably on display. And it was. It wasn’t subtle. It was the point.

“You look good.”

Jack swallowed, voice softer now, that higher, lighter tone settling naturally. “I feel like… totally exposed.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

Jack huffed a quiet laugh as they made there way inside.

---------------

The dance floor swallowed him quickly. At some point, Liam was gone and Jack found himself hovering at the edge, watching, feeling... out of place.

“You new here?”

Jack turned and gawked at the man behind him. Broad shoulders, solid chest, the kind of grounded confidence Jack used to carry without thinking about it.

"Is it that obvious?” he asked.

The guy smiled. “A little.” He held out his hand, "C'mon."

Jack hesitated briefly, but took the man's hand. He was pulled into the crowd, the flashing lights disorienting as the music pressed in around them. Bodies moved close, the space tightening, and suddenly the guy’s hands were on him- firm at his waist, steady, guiding him into the rhythm. Jack followed without thinking too hard.

Then... a squeeze. Sharp, deliberate.

Jack’s breath caught, his body jolting slightly at the sudden pressure on his ass. He shuddered. Looked up at the man. Lips quivering. The guy’s expression softened into something amused.

“Fuck... you’re so cute.” Jack swallowed, heat rushing to his face... but he didn’t pull away. “Is that okay?” the guy asked, quieter now, giving Jack's ass another squeeze.

“…Yeah,” Jack moaned, softer. “Yeah, it’s okay. More than okay...”

And it was. The man smirked.

“You wanna get out of here?”

Jack didn’t look for Liam.

“I... Yeah.”

---------------

The bedroom was dim, warm. Jack stepped inside and slowed without meaning to, suddenly aware again—of his body, of his clothes, of the way the guy gazed at him. Not casually. Intentionally.

“You okay?” the guy asked, stepping closer, voice lower now.

Jack nodded, a little breathless. “Yeah… I think so.”

“Do you want to?” he asked gently. “We can just hang. We don’t have to do anything.”

Jack hesitated. It had felt good... being wanted like that... being touched like that. But the thought tangled uneasily in his chest. He was straight… wasn’t he?

“…Yeah,” he said finally, quieter. “I do.”

The guy studied him for a second, then nodded. “Okay.”

His tank top came off easily, lifted and gone. He felt... vulnerable. Small compared to the man in front of him.

"Fuck... you're cute."

Jack blushed, turning and unexpectedly catching his reflection in the darkened window. His hair held the light differently, the dark brown he knew softened, warmer now, almost blond at the edges.

Since when...

“It's okay.”

The guy’s hand settled at his waist again, grounding him, thumb brushing lightly against his side. Jack blinked, pulling himself back.

“I...” He swallowed. “I’ve never… done anything with a guy before.”

A small pause. Then a slow, almost amused smile.

“Really?”Jack nodded, his breath catching slightly. “You sure you’re okay with this?” the guy asked again, softer this time.

"Yeah,” Jack said, and meant it.

“Good,” the guy murmured. “You really have no idea what you do to people, do you?”

The words landed warmer than they should have, settling somewhere low in Jack’s chest. Then, the guy pulled his own shirt off. Jack’s eyes followed without thinking

"Wow..." Instinctively, Jack’s hand came up, resting lightly against a muscular pec, feeling the heat, the firmness beneath his palm.

The guy smirked and leaned in...

Jack's first kiss with another man was slow at first. The warmth, the pressure... his hand tightened slightly against the guy’s chest as he responded. He giggled when the kiss broke.

The man leaned in again. Their lips connected. Deeper, more certain. It wasn’t empty. It wasn’t confusing. It felt… good. The guy’s hand slid lightly along his side, resting against his bare skin, and Jack felt his breath catch again... but he didn’t pull away.

He leaned into it instead.

It had been a week since he met Paul that night and so much had changed.

“Do you think my hair looks good?” Jack adjusted it again, fingers careful, practiced. It was fully blond now... soft, styled, falling just right. Not effortless anymore. Deliberate, “I think Paul would like it more like… this.”

Liam smirked.

“Oh! Look at these!” Jack turned his head, “I got these. See?” He angled his ears, the small studs catching the light. Flashy. Begging to be noticed. “They’re not too much, right? I just... thought he might…”

Liam watched, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh!” Jack tugged lightly at the hem of his shorts, glancing back. “Look at my ass in these!” A pause, “I want Paul to notice.”

“Oh he'll notice.” Liam laughed.

“Thank god! Like, last time we only kissed! I didn't even get to taste his cock...” He glanced down at his phone again, thumb hovering. “This time, I want him to fuck my brains out. And so like, I need to look good!"

"Poor Jack."

“Now... what about my top...? Like, does it even look good?” Every word felt like it mattered. Every look. Every reaction.

Liam’s eyes flicked over him slowly- taking in the slimmer frame, the softened edges, the way Jack held himself now. Smaller. Careful. A faint smirk pulled at his lips. Jack didn’t notice. He was already looking back at his phone, rereading Paul’s last message.

---------------

"Woah." Paul grinned as he opened the door, "I uh..."

“Hey,” Jack said softly. His eyes betraying his desperate need. Paul’s eyes moved over him slowly, taking everything in: the blond hair, the earrings, his juicy ass.

“I...” he murmured. “You look... amazing.”

Jack flushed, a small, breathy laugh escaping. “You think? I just... I want to look good for you.” He draped his arms over the man's shoulders and nuzzled into his chest.

"You do."

Jack didn’t hesitate this time. Didn’t think. His hand moved along Paul's growing bulge. He licked his plump lips. He'd been practicing, imagining this... obsessing over making Paul feel good.

"I want to gag on it." Jack breathed, "And then I want you to fuck me. Hard. Please..."

Paul smirked and watched as Jack dropped to his knees easily, naturally. Looking up, waiting, searching Paul’s face for approval. The other man wasted no time- quickly freeing his engorged cock.

And Jack felt it then- the validation, that warm, consuming need to be wanted- settle fully into place. He couldn't wait for his reward.

Like every Tuesday, Ashton drove himself to the gym. Tuesdays were leg day as part of his 5 day a week program to get back into shape. He had started a week ago and was determined to make a habit out of it. The gym Ashton had been coming to was a ghost town most days. Not many people seemed to frequent it aside from the few guys he’d see come in and out of the locker room.

Ashton was setting up his workout playlist and minding his own business. Pre workout still taking its time working. He took off his hat as he finished his playlist and was about to begin

Ashton hadn’t noticed one of the men he had seen a few times this week had been watching him from afar. The man kept to himself mostly from what he had seen so he payed him no mind. The man walked behind Ashton and for a few seconds admired him. Watched as he sat staring ahead not a care in the world. The man grabbed a visor from his bag and with quick precision placed it over Ashton’s face.

The visor sprung to life. Ashton had no time to react as the swirling spiral glowed brightly into his eyes. Confusion began to set in as the man spoke calmly into his ear.

“You can’t resist this. You will become nothing more than a dumb himbo slave. Isn’t that right?”

Ashton couldn’t think for himself. He slurred something that almost sounded like -help- but the man only spoke more to him

“You want this. You want to join my slaves and obey me. You CRAVE it.

Ashton had nothing more to fight with. His head swaying ever so slightly. Arms limp at his sides. He agreed. He belonged to this man. He was ordered to flex his arms for his new master. Ashton obliged immediately.

with his results, the man felt immense pleasure knowing Ashton he under his complete control. He rubbed his crotch against Ashton’s ass. Ashton moaned with pleasure. The man ordered him to strip his shirt.

Ashton peeled his shirt from his body and tossed it to the floor. He stood motionless as his master came up from behind and teased Ashton’s nipples. He kissed Ashton’s neck and moved his hands down to Ashton’s now erect cock. Ashton could do nothing but moan and whimper. There was no going back now. Ashton belonged to this man.

The man began to take off the visor from Ashton’s face. The mind control had taken permanent hold. The visor was no longer needed. Ashton’s eyes glowed a faint green glow.

The man took Ashton back to the locker room where two other men stood motionlessly. Same green eyes as the newest slave. The man grabbed the waistline of Ashton’s pants and pulled him toward himself. He passionately locked lips with his slave and allowed Ashton to taste another man’s mouth for the first time. He ordered Ashton onto his knees and he obeyed. The man sprung his 7 inch cock from his shorts and ordered Ashton to suck. Not only to suck but to enjoy it. He happily took the cock into his mouth and began to suck. As if he had done this all his life. This WAS his life now. His master blew a load of cum down Ashton’s throat and stared down at his new slave. “You are such a good boy” he said. “You have talent. Pity it took you so long to join me”. Ashton stared ahead happy to have pleased his master.

A month had gone by since Ashton’s new life had begun and his workouts became more frequent. As did his sessions pleasing his master. Using his mouth and ass to service whenever required. Ashton had his ears and nipples pierced to add more sensitivity to his body during sessions.

He was happy to serve alongside his fellow slaves. Always hoping for other attractive men to begin coming to the gym. Master must show them the way too.

With every rep, the good jockboy recites an affirmation…

I am a good jockboy.

I am a game. I am a thing to be played, I am a hole to be filled, and I am a challenge to be conquered.

I am a loser. I lost my ego, I lost my free will, and I lost my manhood.

I am winner. I won the right to serve, I won the right to worship, and I won the right to obey.

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BEING OWNED IS RIGHT FOR ME NOW

I HAVE PRETENDED TO DOM FOR TOO LONG

MY MASTER HAS SET ME FREE

Jason didn’t expect much from this party, he just needed an excuse to get out of his dorm. He was, frankly, a scrawny loser. He had made no friends since coming to campus and he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d find someone likeminded at this dumb welcome party. He didn’t wanna get his hopes up, but he really hoped that, by some miracle, he’d find another gay guy there.

Finally he worked up the courage to actually enter the frat and— eugh! What on earth was that smell..? The air was thick with a smell Jason could only describe as unwashed jockstrap. How on earth was he the only one who seemed disgusted?

… Whatever, he’d just ignore it for as long as possible. He didn’t even take three steps inside before one of the frat brothers bumped into him and spilled his beer all over Jason’s shirt. “Yo, sorry dude! Didn’t see ya there!” Jason wanted to yell at him, “Watch where you’re going, jackass!” “Nah, it’s no problem, brah. This shirt was already getting too tight for me anyways!” He covered his mouth as soon as he said it. Brah..?! Since when did he ever say that?! Better question, why WAS his shirt feeling tighter..?

What the hell?! When did he get so… big? He never exercised, he found it exhausting EXHILARATING. Ack— his head was throbbing, whose… thoughts were these? Were they ARE his?.

H-He just, needed to relax… it must just be the excitement from being in a new place. He was couldn’t actually be getting bigger and thinking these weird, douchey normal thoughts!

Fuck, his headache was just getting worse and this faggy shirt wasn’t helping! Ugh he just wanted to— RRRIIIP— damn, that felt SO much better! A bod like his shouldn’t be hidden behind fabric, especially not with all those hot chicks around!

Wait, h-huh? He didn’t like girls, what was he on about? He was totally gonna get laid tonight, fuck he was already eyeing a blonde in the corner~

H-He liked dudes, he was gay— Seriously, how could fags even exist when pussy was just SO fucking good!

Jason could barely discern between what was him and whatever the other thoughts were… what if this WAS him..?

He couldn’t remember his… anything anymore! What— What was his name..?

… Jake.

Yea, what was he on about? His name was Jake, duh! He was a business major, and a proud brother of this frat! God, maybe be needed to drink some more, beer always got rid of those pesky thoughts.