Cuddly, Fuzzy, and Nice.

Secretly, he was.

You were his gym buddy, his ride, the friend he called in the middle of the night when he needed to be picked up from wherever he was. He barely returned a thanks, never available if you needed the same favor. Your friends laughed when you mentioned it, leaving you feeling stuck with nothing else to do but suck it up.

At least, until you got an idea from a magic show with a mind mentalist.

You began using the same tricks whenever you were with him in the gym or your car. You expected it to take at least some form of effect from how much time he spent with you, but was surprised to learn just how suggestible he was.

One week of conversations about famous skin heads Brian Shaw or Terry Crews, and he couldn't have shaved his head any faster to match. One week of mentioning underwear and support, and soon he could only ever be touting about the lockerroom in a jockstrap. He was too unaware to even consider the stares or weird glances from the other men in the gym, so mentally weak when that gave you another idea.

You added subliminal messaging to your soundtrack, layered voices under the music in your car. Your friend could never notice. You started saying "oh boy" whenever he was about to do something, training him to respond to it. Conditioning him.

You let him train for a month, finding that you couldn't be happier to learn just how effective it was. You were out eating with friends when you decided to drop the trigger, responding "oh boy" to something that was said. His reaction couldn't have been more immediate, your friend bumping the table as he got up to excuse himself before mindlessly wandering to the rear of the restaurant.

You waited a moment before also saying that you needed to go yourself, and tried not to dash back to the same room.

You walked into the best sight you'd ever seen of your friend. His hands were planted above the urinal, pants lowered revealing his powerlifting ass wrapped in a white jockstrap. His back was arched, pushing his rear out and allowing for easier entry.

You had trouble concentrating on anything else but the smell at this point. Your body was exhausted from your exercise, blood rushing through your head and quieting your thoughts, but the scent was always there. In each breath in, and out. You didn't know what was with it, but you had grown a stiff at this point, your skin tingling with sexual anticipation. You tried not to focus on it, hoping it would die out, but the sensation only grew more intense.

Your skull was feeling light at this point, forcing you to move to the locker room in hopes of recovering. The smell almost seemed stronger here, leading you to sit down on one of the benches along the lockers. You had gone into a daze leaning against the wall when you were suddely woken up by a firm grip on your shoulder.

You lifted your eyes to a strong figure in front of you, the smell stronger than ever. Metal and grime, sweat and dirt. Your head was eye level with a pair of mesh shirts the man donned, his body seemingly soaked in sweat. You didn't know what you were doing as he moved you up with his grip, pushing you back into one of the stalls and following you in.

You were in the corner facing him as he eyed you, shirt off, fingers around his chin almost seeming to be contemplating. You couldn't tear your gaze off his chiseled form. Muscles wrapped around his figure, thick hills that lined and curved around his figure. His shoulders stood out above a thick chest and tight stomach before spreading out to a strong waist.

"How are you feeling?" The man asked.

You didn't know how you could have responded in your state, but your body answered for you.

"Dumb. Horny. Obedient."

The man smiled at your response. "My smell must be working then" He mentioned offhandedly, taking a few steps forward. In a moment your face was pressed up against his groin, unable to stop yourself from breathing through the mesh shorts wrapping his waist. You felt his smell travel like a fog through your system, dulling your senses but turning you on even further.

"Good boy" He cooed, pulling down the shorts and revealing his thick musky cock.

You couldn't reject it as he started feeding it to you, his shaft quickly filling your mouth. Its flavor exploded in your mind, its taste dripping down your throat as its smell flooded your nostrils. It kept sliding deeper, falling to the back of your throat while your face planted into his bush. Your mind finally blinked out of existence, victim to his natural scent, his hormones taking control of your actions turning you into a tool meant for the dominant male.