Paul was a vice president at the Activity Company Pty Ltd. It was the largest gaming software company in the southern hemisphere. At the age of 34, he was also the youngest executive the company had. He was young, handsome and had the body of a Greek god. Naturally, this bred a lot of resentment in the workplace.
It was one sunny Saturday morning and Paul was out for his daily jog around the park. His luxury apartment was overlooking the large city park, and he took advantage of the fact. As he was running along side Park Drive, a large black van began to ghost him. It was in broad daylight and there were plenty of people around, so Paul had no reason to worry.
He just kept on joggin’.
The van pulled up beside him and two huge men jumped out. Paul was fit and strong, but he was no match for these two colossally oversized brutes. They grabbed him and stuffed him in the back of the van. With a growl at the bystanders, the two men slammed the door shut and the van raced away. The other people in the park pretended that nothing had happened. I mean, honestly, what is the world coming to?
During his brief struggle, one of the men had clonked Paul so hard on the head that he had passed out.
When he came to, he was lying on a bed in large room. Paul sat up with a start and looked around. The room was not actually large, but it was so sparsely furnished it looked much bigger. Apart from the bed, there was a small coffee table, a chair, a television and a few pieces of gym equipment. His head was pounding and at first Paul did not remember what had happened to him.
He stood up and walked to the door. It was made of metal and it was locked. He looked at the coffee table, there were a few magazines lying on it. He picked one up. On the cover was a picture of a semi-naked man, with a tight washboard stomach and large biceps. He flicked through the magazine. It was gay porn. With a shudder, he tossed it back on the table with the other gay magazines and turned his attention to the television. As far as he could tell, it only had one channel. A sports channel.
Since there was no way out, Paul sat down in the chair and began to watch the football match that was showing. It was actually a very good game.
After about two hours, the door opened and in walked the most buxom woman Paul had ever seen. Her long, sexy legs were attached to a body that could only be described as a horny teenager’s wet dream. Her breasts were ginormous (gigantic and enormous). Paul was a successful man with a successful man’s appetites, and his cock sprang instantly to attention.
The vision spoke, ‘Don’t attempt to subdue me, Mister Farrow, there is no escape and I am a black-belt in four different types of marshal arts. My first move will be to rip off your nuts.’
When the woman had entered, Paul had not even considered escape, and now, well, he decided she was probably not joking. His senses reasserted themselves, ‘Why am I here? What are you going to do with me?’
‘Aren’t you going to ask who I am or where you are?’ asked the woman.
‘I want to phone my lawyer. I have rights.’
‘You’re not under arrest Mister Farrow. We’re not the government.’
‘Oh.’
‘In fact, what we do here is completely illegal.’
Paul did not like the sound of that. He glanced at the door and pondered the possibility of fleeing. The woman saw his glance and just smiled.
Paul decided to find out as much about his predicament as possible, ‘Then what do you do here?’
‘Me personally? I look after my prisoner. I want them to be very, very happy.’
The way she breathed the last words sent a tingle from Paul’s brain right to his crotch.
‘But as for everyone else here,’ she continued, ‘they work on a far less personal level. You see, Mister Farrow, your arch rival, Chris has paid for you to be put through our special program.’
‘Chris!’ Cursed Paul. Chris was a fellow vice-president at Activity. They had never gotten along, ‘What program?’
‘Apparantly you have been too successful. He wants you taken down a peg or two, and we specialise in down pegging people.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’re going to neutralise your ability to be a successful vice- president. We’re going to make you a subservient gay slave.’
With that, the woman turned on her high-heels and strode out.
Paul was in shock. Why was this happening to him? It all seemed so unreal. A person abducted and taken to a facility that was only set up to change a person’s sexual preference? If it wasn’t happening to him, he would have dismissed it as the contrived mutterings of a disturbed mind. As it was, his situation was very real and very dangerous.
Paul knew that you could not just brainwash a person in to believing what you want. Obviously these people were deluded. But that made them more dangerous in his mind. They could kill him, or worse, they could torture him.
Nothing happened for the next few hours. Paul did not know if it was night or day outside. But the sports channel started to show a night match. If it was live then he had already been here at least a day.
A meal arrived though a small chute in the wall. It was a bland white mush. Possibly ground up rice or wheat. It was almost tasteless. To a man used to dining at the finest restaurants, it galled him. Paul ate half of it before turning away in disgust. In the match, the last quarter was a draw with only five minutes to go. The television was his lifeline.
At the end of the match, the beautiful woman re-entered.
‘Lights out in five minutes, Mister Farrow.’
Paul was pleased to have company, especially company like this, and he felt that he needed all the help he could get. Paul knew that he was devastingly handsome. If he played his cards right with with woman, she might turn out to be his own Pussy Galore.
‘Please, call me Paul.’
‘Very well, Paul.’
‘I was rude before … what is your name?’
‘For the purposes of this conversation, my name is Ms Vellen.’ she said in a business like manner. She turned to go, but Paul grabbed her hand. Her skin was cool and soft to touch, ‘Please, don’t go.’
Ms Vellen turned to face him. She moved so close that Paul could feel her body pressing up against his through the hospital gown he was wearing. ‘What would you do if I stayed?’ she asked.
‘I’m sure I could find something.’ he responded in his sexiest voice.
She patted him on the arse and turned away, ‘Maybe some other time.’ she said.
Paul sat down, horny, disappointed and alone. Almost as if on cue, the television and the lights went out. He fumbled his way to the bed and got in. His dick was still hard from his encounter with the curvacious Ms Vellen. He stroked it and fantasised about her bounding up and down on it. Too late, he realised he had forgotten about tissue paper or a towel and came. He had no choice but to let the gown soak the hot jism up.
There was a clang and Paul jolted awake. Two burly men were strapping him to a hospital trolley. He was naked, and they had already locked his legs slightly apart and his right arm. He fought with his left but they easily held it down and strapped it in next to his head. It was a very compromising position.
They wheeled him down a series of non-descript corridors. They finally passed through two large metal doors and in to a small chamber. It was filled with all sorts of strange equipment Paul did not recognise, and some that he did. Monitors and drips shared floor space with lights and machines. He noticed a table covered in surgical equipment, including scapels and needles.
The men wheeled his trolley in to the middle of the room and without a word turned and left. A doctor wearing a surgical mask entered and began to ready some equipment.
‘Let me go!’ demanded Paul, straining against his straps. The doctor’s only reply was to raise a large needle, filled with some strange fluid. Paul’s eyes widened in fear. ‘Don’t you dare! I’m warning you! I’ll kill you!’ he yelled. The doctor pushed the needle in to Paul’s arm and the trapped man felt the cool liquid entering his body. Instantly he began to feel woozy. The doctor moved one of the machines closer to Paul and placed a set of headphones on him. Paul wanted to shake them off, but he could not move his head. He felt like he was dreaming. The doctor switched on the machine, and instantly Paul’s ears filled the sound of music. It had a strange beat and there was an insistent buzz underneath the melody that he could not focus on. It seemed to go straight in to his brain though, echoing around just out of reach of his senses. The doctor set up a machine and then left the room. The new machine had a large light on it that began to pulse at irregular intervals. As Paul lay there in a semi-comatose state, he felt his mind begin to cycle through thoughts and emotions. He remembered Ms Vellen and the warmth of the sexual feeling flooded though him. He thought about the football match he had watched the night before and then the food he had eaten. It all passed by him like a dream. At some time, he must have fallen asleep.
When Paul woke up, he was back in his room. He was in his bed. There were no straps, but he could see the redness on his wrists and ankles where he had been restrained. Everything was the same it had been the day before when he first arrived, yet, somehow, it all seemed different. Paul felt glad to be here. At first he was startled by that, but then when he recalled the operating room, he realised that he was probably just glad to be some place familiar.
He could sleep no longer, so he got up and switched the television on again. He was pleasantly surprised to find that his favourite team was playing the team he hated the most … and the scores were tied at half time. Play had just started for the second half.
Paul sat down in front of the screen, expecting to enjoy some great football, but instead, he fequently found his attention wandering. It wasn’t that the game wasn’t of a high class; the commentators kept remarking on ‘sensational plays’ and ‘good for football’ but try as he might, he kept starting to daydream. The action on the screen seemed pointless to him … it was boring. After about half an hour, Paul was so bored he switched the television off. ‘Normally I would be glued to that screen,’ he thought to himself. ‘Perhaps this situation is getting to me. I can’t relax and enjoy sport because I’m a kidnap victim.’
The next few hours went incredibly slowly. Paul tried to get some sleep but could not. He tried watching the television again, but each time found himself disinterested and bored.
His next meal could not come soon enough, but it was the same bland food from the previous day.
‘This could really use some salt,’ he decided, ‘Oh, and a steak.’
An hour after his meal, Ms Vellen came to see him.
‘How was your day?’ she asked, clearing his dishes.
‘What do you reckon? I don’t mind admitting it … I’m scared.’ he said.
Ms Vellen looked at him with sympathy and walked over to him. Once again he realised how sexy she was. Ms Vellen looked down at the cum stain on his gown from last night. He blushed first at the stain, and then at the fact that the gown was beginning to tent from a new erection.
‘Just remember to play it cool, Paul. It won’t be so bad.’ With that, she kissed him fully on the lips. Paul had not been expecting it, but quickly warmed to the occassion. After the kiss was over, Ms Vellen again turned and left.
Paul was forced to add a new cum stain that night.
The next day started as an almost virtual repeat of the day before. He awoke on the trolley. He was shipped to the chamber and placed in the same position as before. This time, however, two doctors were present. One injected him with a cocktail of drugs that sent his mind off to la la land while the other placed a mounted screen in front of his face and headphones on his ears. The music began to play and was this time accompanied by images on the screen. It started off with pictures of sunsets and other vistas, but quickly became images of people smiling and laughing and crying and yelling.
When Paul came to in his room, he had a painfully strong erection. He resisted the urge to beat off and instead surveyed his room. He thought about trying to watch some sport, the thought quickly made him yawn. His eyes searched the room for something else to do. The magazine that he had disgarded the other day caught his eye. The guy on the cover was obviously a male model of some kind. His hairless chest was completely buff and without an ounce of fat. Paul suddenly felt envious. He knew he was probably as well defined as that man, but for some reason he could not shake the feeling that he could be better … more handsome, more cut, more defined. His eyes turned to the few pieces of gym equipment in the corner of the room.
‘Well, since I’m not doing anything, I might as well keep fit.’ He decided.
Two hours later, he was still working out when his meal arrived.
Ravenous, he shovelled the pasty gloop in to his mouth, suppressing a grimace. It really needed salt. As soon as the bowl was empty, he decided to get a quick work out before bed. As he pumped the weights machine to his limit, he felt good. He felt healthy and fufilled. He only stopped when Ms Vellen walked in.
‘My, Paul, you’re looking very buff. I like it.’
Paul grinned, he knew his body looked good. Ms Vellen was carrying a towel. ‘You’re so sweaty, can I towel you off?’ she asked.
Paul could not believe his luck. She began to rub his arms, chest and legs, slowly working her way towards his erogenous zones.
But just when he thought she was going to satisfy him, she stopped.
Ms Vellen handed him the towel and returned his hurt and puppy dog look with a bright smile. She left him sitting there.
Paul went to grab his meat and flog it, but decided instead to go double hard at the work-out machine. An hour later, tired but happy, and feeling fit, he collapsed asleep in his bed.
The next day was slightly different. Instead of being strapped face up, he was strapped stomach down, with his tight naked butt exposed to the cool breeze. The trolley was different too. Instead of a normal bed-like trolley, this one had a cradle that forced his head back, so that he was facing the wall of the chamber.
This time they injected drugs in to the soft flesh of his behind. He felt the familiar sensation spread through out his body.
Instead of headphones this time however, the doctors attached more sinister looking devices to his body. They placed an evil looking helmet on his head. Then they attached two small pads to his nipples. Finally they placed a tube over his soft penis. He tried to resist, but the straps and the drugs had him completely immoblised. One of the doctors flicked a switch and his head suddenly began to heat up under the helmet. He felt needles burrow in to his scalp. It felt like they were drilling in to his brain. Paul tried to scream, but the drug had made his voice box slack.
The machine started to register data, presumably about what Paul was feeling and thinking. The pain receded in to the warm glow that was his present state, and Paul realised that resistance was useless.
The other doctor placed a blindfold over Paul’s eyes and he was unable to see anything other than pitch black. He felt a clamp being placed in his mouth, and despite his attempts to keep his teeth together, they were slowly forced apart.
A strange object entered his mouth, it was long and wide, soft but firm with a large bulbous head. With a start, he realised that it was a penis. He tried to bite down on it, but his mouth was held steadfastly open. It slowly moved further and further in, and it occurred to him that it was probably a rubber dildo controlled by a motorised computer. It kept coming in, until Paul was sure he would choke. He felt that at least five inches of it was rammed in his mouth. Since he could not move his head or close his mouth, it was there to stay. After a few minutes, his throat began to get dry and so he reflexisively swallowed. The action cased his tongue to rise up and pump the shaft. He heard the machine that was attached by wires to the helmet begin to ping. It was recording the thought waves associated with his swallowing.
He felt the devices attached to his nipples begin to heat up. The feeling was not unpleasant, and they rapidly hardened. The machine began to chatter excitedly. ‘Excellent.’ He heard one of the doctors say.
Next, the device attached to his penis began to throb. Very shortly his penis was erect and ready to go. The machine continued to stimulate it and despite Paul’s best intentions, he came soon enough, the intense pleasure of the orgasm washing over him with unusual intensity because of his inert state. The machine made a sound like it was done recording, and Paul felt that the next stage was about to begin. His penis and nipples had gone soft again, spent after the orgasm, and as the glow faded, he became acutely aware of how uncomfortable he was, strapped naked and stomach down on a table, with his head forced back and with a large rubber dildo stuffed in his throat.
Paul heard the doctor typing away, and shortly there was a buzz of machine activity. The fake erect penis in his mouth began to move in and out, rubbing against the sides of his mouth and back of his throat. The feeling was repulsive to Paul, and his gag reflex kicked in.
The machine made a noise, and suddenly the helmet began to get very warm. Instantly, Anythony began to swallow in time to the thrusts of the robotic cock. The machine was forcing his brain to send the instructions to his mouth to swallow! Each push of his tongue rubbed against the dildo. It was like Paul was performing a blow-job.
The devices on his nipples activated and once again they became hard.
Except, this time the feeling of pleasure kept on increasing. The machine must be amplifying it, he thought. His chest began to burn with desire and Paul writhed the best he could, considering his position.
The dildo’s rythym picked up. The device attached to his own penis began to operate, and soon waves of intense pleasure were flowing over Paul. The pleasure continued to increase, far beyond the level he should have cum. The strobing became faster, but he still did not cum. By now, he was getting desperate. Suddenly, without warning, the impulse to swallow cut out. Paul was left with the dildo moving in and out of his mouth. Suddenly, the pleasure in his groin began to fade. Paul was desperate for it to continue. His throat was drying from the constant rubbing, so he swallowed. Instantly the pleasure returned with a vengence. He swallowed again and the feeling increased. Like a man dying of thirst Paul began to lap at the dildo, desperate for relief. Abruptly, the situation changed. Some sort of fluid began to pulse out of the tip of the fake penis, it splashed against the back of Paul’s mouth and at that precise moment, he came. The intensity was at least ten times more powerful than any ejaculation he had ever had before. He swallowed some of the fluid, and was rewarded with another orgasm. In addition to that, the fluid contained salt, the very thing he had been craving since they removed it from his diet.
Paul began to suck on the dildo, trying to extract every last drop of the solution, he was rewarded with pulses of pleasure through the helmet.
Paul felt another needle enter his bum, and soon he was unconscious.
He woke up back in his room. Paul was exhausted, but the sight of the exercise equipment and that fit man leering at him from the cover of the magazine, spurred him to get up and start working out.
While Paul was pumping away, he puzzled over the events from earlier that day. He could still taste the strange fluid in his mouth, but he did not feel any compulsion to suck any more penises. In fact, the thought of another man’s naked body still filled him with mild nausea. Yet his brain still felt like it had been rewired. When he thought of Ms Vellen, his cock sprang to attention. ‘Good work, soldier.’ he said to it.
Ms Vellen did not show up that evening.
The next day, Paul was taken to the chamber. A doctor was there. He injected a new drug in to Paul. As the poor man began to fall asleep, he saw the doctor lift up a scapel.
When Paul awoke, he found Ms Vellen leaning over him.
‘How are you, Paul?’
The look of concern on her face made Paul realise that maybe she did care for him. His devastingly good looks and powerful body had finally broken down her defences, he decided. In his deepest, sexiest voice, he said, ‘I’ve been better.’
With a choke he sat up. His voice was completely different. Despite his attempt to talk sexily, his voice had come out disturbingly high. It also had a lisp.
‘What the hell have you all done to me?’ he demanded.
‘We told you. You’re going to be a subvervient gay slave. Part of that is a re-adjustment of your personality and abilities. We’ve given you a slightly effeminate voice and a lisp so as to undermine your self confidence.
It was working, realised Paul. He did not want to speak.
‘But don’t worry, we’re nearing the end now. After we’ve finished, you won’t be worried about your voice anymore.’ she said. Ms Vellen began to massage his penis. It was quickly hard.
‘What do you mean? Am I going to like my new voice?’ He groaned from the good feelings.
‘Heaven’s no. There’ll just be more important things for you to worry about.’
Ms Vellen sensed that he was close to coming, and stopped. She left him there to finish the job himself. Which he did. Paul looked at the jism pooling on his flat stomach and wondered if he was supposed to desire it. He did not. The thought of swallowing it mad him gag.
Still, he craved salt, and as a test he placed a small amount on his tongue. As soon as it hit the back of his throat, a wave of intense pleasure, as strong as an ejaculation, washed over him. Even as he gagged from the thought of sperm in his mouth, his body rewarded him.
The next day was very similar to his second day, with headphones and a monitor. Except this time instead of pleasurable feelings, the sounds evoked horror and disgust in him. The images that appeared on the screen were of sexy women in provactive poses. Close-ups of cunts and breasts. Paul felt so ill that he vomited often. There was no relief as the drugs they adminstered kept him awake all day.
He was wheeled back to his room. After about an hour, he began to feel almost normal. Paul was contemplating getting out of bed and doing some exercise when Ms Vellen entered the room. She strode over to him lying on the bed and placed her hand on his chest. She kissed him and then climbed on top of him. Sitting astride of him, she began to massage his body. ‘Make love to me, Paul. I want your hot body.’ she demanded.
It was his dream finally come true, and Paul roughly tore her clothes off. He began to kneed her huge breasts with his hands, elicting a moan of pleasure from her. After a few minutes, he began to feel queasy, and his cock remained limp. Ms Vellen tried to get it hard by grabbing it with her hand and stroking it, but it remained shrivelled and small. She lowered her mouth on it and began to suck. Paul felt a pang of envy, quickly followed by disgust. He pushed her off and began to stroke his penis himself, desperate to get a raise. Ms Vellen watched with clinical amusement.
‘Just give me a minute,’ he said, wincing at the gay lisp that came out of his mouth.
‘I’m waiting…’
After five minutes, he had an erection. Smiling at the impressive size, Ms Vellen climbed on again. Instantly it went soft.
They continued this merry dance for about ten minutes before Ms Vellen left, horny and disgusted.
Paul was humiliated by his performance. He had not failed sexually since he was an awkward teenager. As a vice president he had never lost control, ever.
Had they made him gay? Paul was still repulsed by the thought of sex with men, but now, he was also repulsed by sex with women.
The next day, Paul awoke to find the door to his room open. Not caring where his good luck came from, he ran out of the door and down the hall. There was only one other door open.
Paul walked through it and found himself in some sort of waiting room. There was a large screen television, tuned to the same sports channel that Paul found so distasteful in his room. There were five men there, Paul recognised one of them as the well built model from the front of the magazine. The others were probably from the other issues. His first thought was that of envy. If he worked out a little more he could be better than them.
‘Hi’ said one of them.
Paul decided to talk in spite of his wussy voice, ‘You’ve to help me … I’ve been kidnapped.’
The men just laughed. One of them turned to him, ‘Calm down, man. Watch some television with us.’
Paul realised that these people were in on the whole game. Dejectedly, he slumped in front of the television. Presently the two strongmen guards came to collect him.
Back in the chamber it was more devices attached to his erotically sensitive areas. The images on the screen were that of naked men, and men have sex with other men. The pleasure built up all day, until he was finally returned to his room.
When he recovered from his stupor, Paul wondered what changes the program had wrought on his brain today. He glanced at the magazine cover and discovered his sense of revulsion of sex with men was still there … yet … his body seemed to think overwise.
The sight of those rock-hard abs and sharply defined pectoral muscles made sent blood rushing to his dick. Despite the lack of desire in his mind, his body began to tingle with sexual desire.
Perplexed by the flood of mixed feelings surging through his mind Paul wanted to get away from his room and those images. He walked in to the waiting room, and found the same five guys there. To his humiliation, the sight of the cute guys caused his gown to tent undeniably.
‘Quite a boner you’ve got there, mate.’ said one of them.
Paul’s face burned with embarrassment as he sat down, ‘Look. I’m not gay, okay?’ His voice lisped on the last word. As he sat there, Paul wondered what else the scientists had done to his brain. He looked across the room at one of the men, a young, buff jock with blonde hair and blue eyes. The man looked at Paul, and rather than look away, Paul found himself smiling coyly at the man. Without thinking, he leaned forward and let his legs part slightly, assuming a classic flirting pose.
‘What the hell am I doing?’ Paul asked himself. ‘I just subconciously flirted with a guy!’
He glanced up from his feet to see if the man was still interested. He was. Paul shook himself and declared again, ‘I’m not gay.’
The others said nothing. They did however, share an amused glance. One of them yawned and flexed his muscles. Paul watched it happen, and while he felt no desire, his dick began to leak pre-cum, which began to stain the front of his hospital game.
The other men noticed this leak and began to laugh.
Paul could not stand it any more and returned to his room.
Paul found himself wearing the helmet with the probes buried in his brain the next day, while images of virile young men pulsed in front of his eyes. By the end of the day, he found himself appreciative or well formed bodies.
In his own room, he was drawn to the the gay porn magazines. For the first time he opened the cover. The strong bodies contained in the pages had him erotically hypnotised. Without touching his dick, he was able to cum just from soaking in the vision of the hunky men in front of him.
Paul tried to resist his own temptations, but he felt compelled to go the waiting room. He told himself it was just for company, but in reality his heart was leaping at the chance to see hot male flesh in real life. He was already sporting an erection, so he took the gown off and fashioned a makeshift pair of shorts out of it.
The men in the room seemed to have been waiting for him. They grinned when he entered.
One of them gestured to him, ‘Why don’t you come over here and sit down next to me?’ he asked.
Paul sat down next to the man. He was so close, the warmth of the other human radiated out. Paul willed his body to soak it all up. It was taking every bit of his will power not to reach out and stroke the man’s bulging bicep.
The man knew this and flexed it impressively.
Paul did not how to repsond to the new feelings in him. When he was a vice president, he had enjoyed a steady diet of beautiful women. When he wanted one of them, he had just taken. He realised now that he had never actually lusted after all of them. He had desired them, he had felt attraction for them, but he had never been captive to his own emotions like he was now.
Paul reached out to fondle the man’s skin.
The two guards appeared at the door with Ms Vellen.
‘Time to go, Paul.’ she said.
Paul allowed himself to be led away.
The next Paul did not go to the doctor. The doctor came to him. Paul was churning through a thousand stomach crunches, obsessed with having the perfect six-pack, when the two guards came in and grabbed hold of his arms. Paul struggled, but their grip was vice-like. A doctor walked in carrying a syringe filled with a pale liquid. He then said the only thing that any doctor said while Paul was at the facility.
‘This will help you solve your salt cravings.’
The doctor stabbed the needle in to Paul and injected the liquid in to him. The medicine quickly left Paul weak and feverish. He crawled in to his bed and spent the rest of the day in agony. By the evening, his fever had broken and other than a dull ache in his stomach, he was fine. Paul’s meal arrived and he ate it quietly. He identified the dull ache in his stomach, as a craving for salt. The was meal was as bland as usual.
It was not until the next day that he began to suspect that the injection was causing his craving to be enhanced. Paul did not have time to test his theory, as he was whisked away to the chamber for the last of what Ms Vellen called ‘Behavioural Programming’.
This involved programming him to always say the first lust filled thoughts that fill his head, to prefer wearing tight gay clothes, to seek out dangerous relationships and hundreds of other little things.
When Paul woke up in his room, his head felt like it had been through a masher. He fell out of bed and moved to the exercise bike. He glanced at one of the open gay porno magazines, it was a hulking danger man exposing his tight butt to the camera.
‘That is one tight piece of arse.’ he said out loud. Paul was puzzled, but frankly past caring. He sat on the bike and began to pedal, ‘Fuck I’m horny today.’
Paul stopped pedalling, ‘Did I say that or think that?’ he asked himself.
Ms Vellen walked in. When Paul looked at her, it was without lust.
‘Come on, Paul, it’s time to test your new attitude. We’re going to meet some men.’
‘I hope I’ll finally get to suck some dick.’ He said, recoiling in horror even as the words escaped. ‘What have you done to me?’
‘It’s just a standard “improvement” we make to all our men. You’re now inclined to say the first lust-filled thing that enters your mind. Now come along.’
Paul meekly followed Ms Vallen. She led him to a room where clothes were waiting for him. They were humiliating skimpy. They did not cover his midriff at all. The t-shirt was stretched taut across his chest, his nipples showing through. The pants were shiny black leather, so tight that it was like a second skin. Despite their obviously less than vice-president like appearance, Paul found them extrememly to his liking. In fact, he realised he liked them too much for it to be a natural appreciation.
The van pulled up outside the gay nightclub.
‘Don’t try and escape Paul, or we’ll kill you.’ warned Ms Vallen, ‘Have a good time.’
One of the guards gave him a shove and he stumbled out of the van and on to the footpath. Unsure of himself he walked in to the club. He walked up to the bar, hoping to use their phone to call the police.
Lots of cute gay guys were standing at the bar mingling. Paul could not help but say to one of them, ‘You have one hell of a hot body.’
Five minutes later, they were pawing at each other in a darkened corner of the nightclub. Paul found his entire will power fading and he just wanted to please this man. He recognised what the ache in his stomach was, he was craving semen. As well as wanting to give this man a blow-job, he knew that he would enjoy it.
The whole situation was horrible. Paul’s rational mind wanted to return to the world of pie graphs and office manouvering that was the role of a vice-president. Yet, every fibre of his sexually heightened body wanted more kissing, more fondling and more sex.
Paul sank to his knees and took the man’s hard member in his mouth. He began to suck on it like a pro, the pleasure centres of his brain began to fire and soon Paul was enjoying it more than the man. The hot jism gushing down his throat caused Paul to cum. The cramps in his stomach vanished.
The next day was his final day at the facility. There was a short hypno session in the morning and then in the afternoon, Ms Vellen came to take him away for the last time.
She led him in to the van and it drove off. Sitting in the back, Paul could not stop the tears from beginning to run down his pretty-boy face.
‘Why have you done this to me?’
Ms Vellen looked on him with pity, ‘It’s nothing personal Paul. We’re just a bunch of twisted, twisted individuals.’
‘But why me?’
The van stopped. It had arrived at its destination. Ms Vellen paused before answering. ‘It’s because of your bubble butt and your perfect features. As I said, we’re twisted, twisted individuals. Did I mention we were shallow?’
They had arrived at his place of work; The Activity Company Ltd Pty.
‘We’re here to hand you over to Chris. We’ve made you totally subservient to him. You’ll do his bidding, suck the cock of anyone he wants you to. You’ll also be unable to resist trying to pick up the cute guys in your office. All the guys back at the office are taking bets for whole long you’ll last. I’ve said two months. Try to resist your gay carnal urges for that long, please. For me?’ said Ms Vallen.
A life of slavery to his arch-rival Chris? The very thought sickened Paul, yet at the same time he came in his pants. He felt resigned to his fate … or was that also part of his re-education?
Paul began to walk to the revolving door at the front of the building. He turned to look back at the van and Ms Vallen once more. He found himself more attracted to the two burly security guards that accompanied her.
‘I’d love to see them naked.’ He said to no-one in particular.
The sound of a chopper interrupted Paul’s chain of thought. It had steadily grown louder over the last minute, but now it was a deafening roar. It came flying from around the corner of the building and landed in the middle of the road, blocking the van. A fleet of vehicles roared around the corner and surrounded the trapped kidnappers. Out jumped several dozen soldiers. They arrested Ms Vallen and the guards. One ran up to him.
‘Mister Farrow?’ He asked.
‘Yes I am.’ Replied Paul, not sure what was happening.
‘We’re here to rescue you.’ said the soldier.
‘I’d like to strip you out of that uniform and fuck you.’ said Paul, placing his hands around the soldier and fondling his butt. The soldier was obviously well trained, ‘I’m sorry sir, but this is for your own good.’ The soldier clubbed Paul on the head with the butt of his rifle.
When Paul woke up, he was in a normal hospital. He was doped up on drugs and unable to feel a thing. A doctor was there to talk with him. ‘Mister Farrow, I know you can’t reply, but I want to reassure you that you’ll be okay. The police have been monitoring Ms Vallen and her cohorts for almost a year now. We have the top commonwealth scientists now installed in the lab and they are able to reverse the procedure that has been done to dozens of men such as yourself.’
Paul was astounded. He had been rescued! Even in his semi-comatose state, he was sure of one thing. Chris had gone too far this time. They both worked at only a computer game company … it’s not like it was anything worth fighting over. They didn’t even make very good games.
The End.