This story is a fantasy set in the real world. Obviously, any similarities between characters appearing in it and the real world are purely coincidental. This is also copyrighted material. So while you're welcome to make a personal copy for yourself, any other reproduction or reposting is not allowed without the prior written consent of the author.
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DR. DEBT & HIS NEW BITCH
PART THREE
It was just a little before 10:30 p.m. when Brady and Jen returned from the airport. He opened the apartment door for her, let her enter first, and then followed her in. She kept walking towards the living room as Brady stopped, put the suitcase down, and quickly stripped off his clothes. He'd already concluded that, though he might be able to stay dressed in his apartment despite Dr. Debt's conditioning for a few minutes, it'd only be a matter of time before he'd be forced to strip down. So rather than put it off, Brady had decided to confront the problem right away. Besides, he had reasoned, it was more consistent with the excuse he'd worked up if he removed all his clothes immediately.
The idea had come to him as he thought about what had happened at the bench-press in the gym. The guy spotting him had basically swallowed his line about a doctor recommending that Brady stop wearing restrictive underwear if he wanted to have a baby. Of course, he could hardly use that line with Jen seeing as she was on the pill and neither of them wanted a pregnancy right now. But that got Brady thinking about how willing people were in general to accept an unusual regimen simply because a doctor had recommended it to treat some medical condition. He'd come up with a pair of imaginary medical problems that could arguably explain not only his need to be naked in the apartment but also why he had shaved his body and why he couldn't sleep in the bed or sit on the sofa.
He'd already laid the groundwork for sleeping on the floor by making such a show of keeping his back rigidly straight and awkwardly getting into the car that Jen had asked him if something was the matter. Brady had quickly explained that he'd injured his back at the gym and it had really been hurting him, so much so that he had seen a doctor. The doctor had diagnosed a severe muscle strain and recommended that he try to keep his back as erect as possible and avoid resting on any soft surfaces. He told Jen he'd slept on the floor the last few nights and that had seemed to help but the doctor said it might be weeks before he'd fully recover.
"My poor baby," Jen had commiserated, as Brady turned his attention back to the road, maintaining as awkward a posture as he could. "I'll have to give you a massage when we get home." Normally the prospect of a massage from Jen would have really pleased Brady. She gave great massages which frequently ended in a wild sex scene between them. The problem was that in his super-sensitized state, it might be a real agony for Brady, particularly since Brady had already realized that Rule No. 9 of 'Mr. Bitch-Maker's Nine Rules for Male Bitches' might make it impossible for Brady to fuck Jen. But that problem was somewhat down the road. His more immediate problem was going to be handling Jen's reaction both to his nudity and his completely shaven body.
Having quickly stripped down, Brady picked up Jen's bag and headed into the living room, noticing that, as it had been virtually all day, his little boy-dick was sticking straight out from his crotch. He was, however, happy to see some minor skin eruptions around his enlarged tits and along the edge of his groin where the skin rubbed against his thighs. Presumably, the same eruptions were occurring along his perineum. Hopefully, they'd provide enough corroboration of the story he'd worked up for Jen to buy it. That, he was about to find out.
"Jesus, Brady," Jen began when she saw him enter the living room naked. "I know I've been gone over a week but you could at least give me a couple minutes to unwind before we go at it." She had been smiling as she made this comment, her eyes focused on Brady's erect seven-inch cock. But then the smile disappeared from her face as her eyes moved up his body.
"Oh my God, Brady. You shaved your body. Why would you do something like that? It makes you look kinda faggy, don't you think?"
"I know, Jen," Brady started, carefully bending at the knees to put her suitcase on the floor, keeping alive the illusion that he'd injured his back. "I hate it, too. But the doctor suggested I try it - and it seems to work."
"What doctor? What are you talking about?" Jen asked, obviously confused.
"I didn't want to tell you right away, Jen, because it's pretty embarrassing," Brady began, feeling himself blushing. And, to tell the truth, even though Brady personally thought he looked better without body hair, it was embarrassing standing in front of his girlfriend, his entire body denuded of all hair, and hearing her expressions of distaste at how he now looked. But Brady also realized that his own embarrassment would help to make his story more believable, so he soldiered on.
"The day after you left to help your mom, my whole body just erupted with little pustules. I mean it was all over, from my feet to my neck but it was really bad in the groin area and on my pecs."
Hearing Brady mention his pecs, Jen focused on them. For the first time she noticed his swollen nipples. "Shit, Brady," she interrupted. "What happened to your nipples? They're huge."
"That was part of the reaction, Jen. My tit...my nipples just swelled up and became real tender."
"I can believe that, Brady," Jen replied. "They look like the nipples of a nursing mother. They're way bigger than my own nipples."
Brady didn't say anything. He knew his tits were huge; he caught people looking at them every place he went. But they were supposed to be large - they were bitch-tits now. But he wasn't about to share that piece of information with Jen. Instead, he merely noted that "the doctor was surprised by how widespread my condition was. He said it looked like contact dermatitis but it seemed almost too generalized for that to be the answer."
Jen interrupted Brady again. "You mean like the reaction you had a couple years ago to rubbing alcohol? I remember that."
Brady had been banking on Jen remembering that. Two years ago, out of the blue, Brady had developed an allergy to rubbing alcohol. His skin had erupted in little blisters wherever it came into contact with the alcohol. At the time, the doctor told him that while an allergy to rubbing alcohol was unusual it was not unknown. The doctor also told Brady that his reaction meant that he probably had particularly sensitive skin and he might have other problems in the future. Jen knew all about Brady's problems with rubbing alcohol and Brady hoped that might make it easier for her to believe the rest of his story.
"Exactly, Jen," Brady agreed. "Exactly. But this time," Brady continued, "the doctor couldn't pinpoint what was triggering the allergic reaction. All he could come up with were two possibilities. I had either developed an allergy to cotton or some other fiber or, alternatively, I had somehow suffered an auto-immune response to my own body-hair. He realized that I could scarcely walk around naked in public, but he suggested that I try going naked at home and see if that had any effect. He also suggested that I shave all my body-hair off, in case it was an auto-immune response. I didn't want to do it, but the skin eruptions bothered me so much I decided to bite the bullet and totally shave myself. I don't know if it's because I haven't been wearing any clothing at home or because I've gotten rid of all my body hair, but since I've done both the eruptions have pretty much disappeared. The only areas that still have some are my groin and my pecs, right around my nubs. Even some of the swelling of my...my nipples has gone down."
"The swelling has gone down?" Jen asked incredulously. "You mean they were bigger before?"
"Yes," Brady assured her.
"God, that must have been gross," Jen responded. "They look like a girl's nipples as they are." As Jen continued to stare at Brady's enlarged nipples, she also noticed that the skin around his aureoles was clearly irritated, just like they had been when Brady had his allergic reaction to rubbing alcohol and a quick glance at his crotch also showed some similar pustules.
Brady had been closely watching Jen's reaction and he could tell that, at least for now, she was buying his story. Thank God they hadn't thrown the rubbing alcohol out two years ago. He'd found it in the back of the bathroom cabinet and applied a small amount to his tits, crotch, and perineum before he left to pick Jen up at the airport, not sure whether the allergic reaction would kick in soon enough but, fortunately, it had. Brady knew from his last experience with contact dermatitis that all the eruptions would probably be gone in a few days, but Brady would use that to justify the continued shaving of his whole body. Brady realized that he wasn't making any real progress in breaking Dr. Debt's conditioning, but at least he had managed to buy himself some time as he attempted to overcome it.
Jen looked at Brady, her eyes full of concern. "You've really had it rough while I was gone," she sympathized. "And here I was worrying about you fooling around while I was out in California dealing with my mother. I'm sorry, baby," she added, stepping forward to embrace Brady. Brady let her enfold him in her arms, feeling a spasm of guilt over both what he'd done with Dr. Debt - or rather what he'd let Dr. Debt do to him - and how he was deceiving her now, but he brushed it aside, telling himself he'd had no other choice with either Dr. Debt or with Jen.
As Jen continued to hug Brady, she became aware that his erect cock was hard against her stomach. She pulled back and looked down at Brady's erection and then up at his face. Her own face took on a playful leer. "Happy to see me or is that a banana sticking out of your crotch?" she asked.
"I'm happy to see you, Jen," Brady replied with his own leering smile. "Really happy and positively excited to see you."
"I can see that," Jen chuckled, looking back down at his crotch. "Well, we'll have to take care of that, soon," she added, "but right now I want to unpack and then get something to eat. I haven't eaten in hours and I'm famished. So you're just going to have to wait, baby. But I'll find some way to make it up to you, I promise. You and Mr. Banana," she added with a grin. She disentangled herself from Brady, picked up her bag, and headed off to the bedroom.
Brady watched her go and then snatched up the TV remote and settled down on the floor. While he was really pleased with how things had gone so far - even better than he'd hoped - he was still worried about later. Obviously, Jen expected to get fucked. Hell, they fucked most nights and, given the way his boy-dick had been standing straight up since they'd got home, it was scarcely surprising that she expected she'd be getting it again tonight. And Brady was more than willing to oblige her. It was just that he wondered whether he'd be able to overcome Rule No. 9. He'd mapped out in his mind a strategy that he thought might work but, until they were in bed together, he had no way of knowing whether it would. He figured, time would tell.
Lying on the bedroom floor later that night, Brady reviewed how all his strategies had worked so well on Jen and failed so miserably when stacked up against Mr. Bitch-Maker's rules. He and Jen had stayed up to about midnight even though Brady had suggested more than once that maybe they could go to bed. Brady got the distinct impression that Jen enjoyed seeing him sitting on the floor, stark naked, with a big boner that just wouldn't go down, trying to watch TV. She even reached forward a couple of times and tweaked his swollen tits, something she had occasionally done in the past but which she particularly seemed to enjoy now, probably because his tits were so tender that every time she ran a finger over one he couldn't help but moan aloud as his cock jerked back and forth.
It was almost like he was her bitch now. Jen was calling the shots, deciding when they'd have sex, playing with his body whenever she felt like it, making him hotter and hotter until his need to shoot off blotted everything else out of existence. Brady wouldn't have been surprised if she had reached down and started feeling him up. Even his pussy started palpitating as if it expected to see some action before the night was over.
And, all things considered, it probably would have been better if she had fucked him, if she had pulled out a strap-on and plowed his aching boy-twat. Anything would have been better than the scene that eventually played out in the bedroom.
He had started slowly, undressing her as they stood alongside the bed, rubbing his hands up and down her silky body just the way he knew she liked it, letting her stroke and tease his hard boy-cock till its flaring head was coated with pre-cum. Then he had eased her backwards onto the bed, spread her legs apart and buried his face in her pussy.
He almost always ate her out during their sexual romps but this time he really went at it. He buried his face in her pussy and used his tongue to tease and excite her to the point where she was thrashing and moaning on the bed. Brady wanted Jen as close to orgasm as possible because he didn't know how long he'd be able to maintain his erection once he started fucking her. During the whole time he worked on Jen, Brady's cock was achingly erect between his legs, leaking a steady stream of pre-cum on to the side of the bed. And then, deeming the time perfect, he made his move.
Brady crawled on to the bed, moved Jen's legs a little farther apart and then just thrust his cock into her. "Oh, my God," Jen screamed. "Oh, yeah, Brady. That feels so good." Brady thrust forward with his hips and then did it again. He was just about to launch into a hard fucking rhythm when he realized he was losing his erection.
'Oh, no!' Brady's mind screamed. 'Please, God, no!' He tried grinding deeper into Jen but it was all to no avail. In just seconds Brady's boy-dick had gone from aching hardness to an almost completely flaccid state. He continued to thrust inside of her, hoping that somehow his dick would re-harden but it was useless. His little boy-dick was just flopping around now, as limp as wet rag inside of her.
It took Jen a little bit longer to realize what was going on. But as Brady's fucking motion slowed and then stopped she looked up at him, the ecstasy on her face now replaced by shocked frustration. "Jesus, Brady," she complained. "I was so close. Why did you stop? Did you cum already?"
"No, I didn't cum," Brady replied, in a tone of total frustration that mirrored Jen's own feelings. "I just sort of lost it, Jen. I don't know what happened."
"You lost it?" Jen asked incredulously. "You've been walking around the apartment all night with your hard dick waving in my face and now you tell me you just lost it? You've got to be kidding me."
Brady could feel his face heat up. This was so fucking embarrassing. He had never, never been unable to perform as a stud before. Sure, a couple of his buddies had occasionally confessed to him their own problems in bed, usually blaming them on either an excess of booze or sex. But while he had commiserated with them - after all they were his 'bros' - he had never really understood how it could happen. You got hard; you stuck it in; you fucked. It wasn't rocket science. It was as simple as 'a,' 'b,' 'c.'
Brady had realized that fucking Jen might be more difficult than usual because he had Dr. Debt's conditioning to deal with. He'd never completely succeeded in overcoming any of those rules, but he'd been able to violate most of them for at least short durations. He'd been able to sit on the living room sofa for five-minute stretches and had even lain on the bed for almost an hour. Neither experience had been pleasant - he always had the feeling that what he was doing was wrong - but he'd been able to do it.
Brady knew that fucking Jen would violate Rule No. 9 but he'd thought he'd at least be able to do it for five minutes which, considering how he had prepped Jen and how horny he himself felt, would have been more than enough time for both of them to get off. Instead, he'd manage to prime the pump only to have the pressure suddenly fizzle away at the crucial moment. For Brady, the experience had been worse than those times last Friday night when Dr. Debt brought him right to the edge of ejaculation, only to remove his hand and deny Brady the release he craved. Brady could only imagine how frustrating it must have been for Jen.
Brady was still trying to deal with his own emotions when he felt Jen's hands on his chest pushing him off of her. He rolled over, pulling his limp penis out of her vagina. They were lying side by side, each completely unsatisfied, when Brady felt a tingling in his groin. He looked down and it was all he could do to stifle a scream of frustration. His dick was slowly but inexorably plumping up. In less than a minute, it was fully engorged, sticking straight up in the air, as hard and stiff as it'd been the entire night. And as his boy-dick rose above his belly, Brady felt the aching, demanding need to cum returning with renewed urgency.
And then, just to make the whole situation perfect, Jen noticed his erection. "Are you kidding me?" she screamed. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
She sat up in bed and looked down at Brady. "What the fuck is the matter with you, Brady?"
"I don't know, Jen," Brady answered, totally abashed, feeling like a little boy whose mommy had just walked in and discovered he'd wet his bed. "I don't know. I'm sorry, Jen. I'm really sorry."
Brady waited a moment and then, looking down at his now rigid boy-tool, asked, "You want to try it again?"
Jen gave him a withering look. "I'm not in the mood, Brady. Not any more."
Jen lay back down on the bed and the two of the lay next to each other for the next ten minutes, not touching each other, not speaking either. They might have been in separate beds. Finally Brady, who'd been struggling against Dr. Debt's programming, knowing he was violating Rule No. 6 by lying in a bed, threw in the towel.
"Jen," he said, breaking the silence between them, "I'm sorry. But my back is killing me. I've got to lie down on the floor."
"That's fine, Brady," she coldly answered. "You do that."
As Brady eased himself off the bed, Jen turned away. Feeling awful, feeling impotent in every sense of the word, Brady stretched out on the floor. 'God damn you, Dr. Debt,' he thought. 'God damn you to hell.'
When morning finally came, things hadn't improved much. Brady felt exhausted. It had taken him a long time to drift off and, when he finally did fall asleep, his sleep was disturbed by vivid memories of how Dr. Debt had used and abused his body on Friday night. A number of times during the night, Brady woke up with a start, feeling a throbbing, pulsing sensation in his pussy that gradually dissipated as he realized he wasn't getting fucked. He'd lie on the floor, as the feeling of painful fullness ebbed, aware that his stomach was coated with pre-cum, feeling empty, feeling his anal tunnel contract and spasm as if searching for something it couldn't find.
Jen was quiet that morning. She showered, dressed, ate some breakfast and left for work with hardly a word to Brady. Brady had learned that when Jen was pissed off it was best just to lie low and wait for it to pass. That was one of the things Brady liked about Jen. She did have a temper but she also would work through her anger relatively quickly as long as Brady did nothing to aggravate the situation. So Brady had pretty much stayed out of her way. The minute she was out the door, he jumped into the shower.
Because Brady had made up his mind that, regardless of what else happened, he was going to keep shaving his body, he'd decided to approach his daily shaving routine methodically. He figured he'd shave his crotch every day, since the hair seemed to grow fastest there. Besides, he kind of liked the way it felt when the razor blade ran over his balls. It gave him a tingling sensation that was definitely erotic in nature. Not that his boy-cock needed any stimulation. It looked like Brady's dick was now in a permanent state of erection; except when he tried to fuck Jen, that is. But shaving his balls was still pleasurable and Brady was more than happy to do it every day.
As far as the rest of his body was concerned, Brady decided to alternate, shaving everything above the waist one day and everything below it the next. So Brady picked up his razor and started shaving. It didn't take too long. Brady was getting used to shaving himself and, except for the areas immediately surrounding his swollen tits, he just quickly ran the razor up and down his body.
Once he'd finished shaving, Brady took a couple of minutes to work on his tits. While Brady told himself he was doing it to make sure they stayed plumped up like bitch-tits should be, the real reason was that in their present over-sensitized state, his tits had become a real source of sexual stimulation for him. Even though it hurt when he really squeezed down tightly on his bloated nubs, it also sent a sexual jolt throughout his body. And, though he hadn't realized it yet, Brady was beginning to associate sexual pain with sexual pleasure. Brady didn't stop molesting his own tits until he realized how close he was to shooting off. That he couldn't do, so he reluctantly relaxed his grip and turned on the water.
After he finished his shower, he toweled off and then walked into the kitchen and micro-waved a frozen breakfast sandwich. He gulped that down in just a few bites and then went back to the bedroom, picked up some clothes, and headed to the door. Dressing just inside the doorway now seemed totally natural to him. But, before he did so, he walked back to the mirror and turned around. He reached around himself, grabbed his cheeks and spread them far apart. And then he craned his neck to take a look at his pussy.
It was obvious that the hole between his butt-cheeks was slowly closing up. Originally, he'd figured you could stick silver dollars up his pussy and he wouldn't feel anything - now it was down to quarters and, what was more, the edges of his rosette were beginning to reappear. Part of Brady was very happy about this. He'd hated the way he looked with a gaping tunnel where his asshole should be. But another part of him was perplexed. It seemed the tighter his pussy became, the more it closed and returned to its normal size, the emptier it felt. That didn't make any sense to Brady, but that was how he felt. His pussy felt empty. Brady felt empty.
Suddenly, Brady remembered the buttplug in his bedroom drawer. The moment he thought about it, Brady realized that, more than anything else, what he wanted right now was to stick that plug up his pussy, to fill his hole with something that would at least approximate Dr. Debt's massive member, to feel that painful fullness that he'd first experienced Friday night. It took a real effort on Brady's part not to do just that.
'That fucker really did a number on me,' Brady thought. 'But if I start ramming that butt-plug up my pussy on my own, I'm really gone. Besides, just imagine how it'd feel at work with the plug rammed deep into my boytwat - it'd probably end up either really hurting, which I don't want, or turning me on, which I definitely don't need at work. Anyway, how could I walk around with the damn thing jammed up my pussy at the gym. That's all those guys would need to see to really go off on me - fucking faggot parading around with a big plug up his pussy. No, man, that would be hell.'
In the end, Brady managed to forego the butt-plug, not because he wasn't anxious to fill the gnawing hole inside his pussy but because it would just create too many other problems. Which turned out to be a smart decision because Tuesday at work and at the gym was pretty much a replay of Monday. And so were Wednesday and Thursday.
And things pretty much repeated themselves at home on all three nights. Jen seemed to have accommodated herself to seeing Brady naked and shaved all the time. In fact, Brady got the distinct impression that if it was just that, Jen might actually come to enjoy being waited on and coddled by a naked, hairless houseboy. It was the damned erection that created problems. His fucking little boy-prick just refused to take a break. It was in full, glorious erection all the time. By Wednesday it was pretty much leaking pre-cum twenty-four hours a day. It didn't even go down anymore when he slept. No, the only time it would deflate was whenever he tried to stick it into Jen. And then it would completely disappear.
Needless to say, Jen found this situation not only sexually frustrating but actually insulting. They'd always been open about their sex lives, even discussing their encounters before they'd hooked up, so Jen had heard countless tales of Brady's sexual adventures. And once, when Jen had made the point of Brady's lack of discrimination in choosing his sexual partners, Brady had laughingly agreed. "You're right, Jen," he'd said. "In a pinch I'd guess I'd fuck anything with tits and a pussy, even my own grandmother if she was all that was around.'
Jen had taken Brady's reference to his grandmother as the hyperbole it was - after all, she knew for a fact that both of Brady's grandmothers were dead. But the real point was relatively clear - before he'd met Jen, Brady would've fucked just about anything in a skirt that walked by. In fact, Brady was so sexually voracious that at times she wondered if he'd ever screwed another guy. Jen never really thought that Brady, himself, might be gay - he seemed totally straight to her - but she wasn't so sure he'd pass up a chance to nail some hot male butt if it were presented to him on a platter and there was no female pussy around.
So, knowing all that about Brady, it was really humiliating to see him walking around all evening with a massive hard-on, visibly slick with his ball juice, only to have it wither and disappear whenever he tried to fuck her. It was impossible not to take it personally.
And as the same embarrassing scene replayed itself night after night in their bedroom, Jen began to wonder if the two of them had any future together. She didn't know what the problem was, but she knew it wasn't her. She hadn't changed. It was Brady that was different. For whatever reason, his back injury, his skin problem, whatever, he wasn't able to perform. And while she could enjoy having her pussy eaten out - and there was no question Brady still could do that with the same old gusto - it was no substitute for a good old-fashioned fuck. And if Brady couldn't provide that, then she'd have to go looking for it elsewhere. She sure as hell didn't plan on spending the rest of her life with a guy who was, as far as she was concerned, a fucking eunuch. That was not an option.
By the end of the week, Jen was beginning to doubt Brady's story that his recent marked change on behavior in bed was the result of on-going medical problems. After all, even if Brady was suffering from a bad back and a persistent auto-immune reaction, that didn't explain his sudden problem maintaining an erection. She was almost sure Brady was hiding something from her and she began to wonder if it was another woman. She'd never had reason to doubt his commitment to their relationship before but the way that Brady's reluctance or inability to fuck her had appeared virtually overnight was certainly suspicious.
In any event, Jen decided that Brady was either going to get over his inability to perform - and quickly, too - or it was time for her to start looking for different living arrangements. She didn't tell Brady about her decision because she didn't want to put him under increased pressure to perform, seeing as he was having enough difficulties as it was. But she was resolved. Brady was either going to start fucking her as she'd come to expect or it was 'Adios muchacho.'
By the time Friday morning arrived, Brady had pretty much grown accustomed to his daily doses of humiliation and embarrassment. But even he was unprepared for what happened that day. He'd had a stressful morning at work, with one customer in particular taking particular offense at his blatant erection. Around noon, he was called into his manager's office and told, in no uncertain terms, either his boner disappeared or he would. When Brady argued that his constant erection was the result of a medical condition, it was suggested that he consult a doctor and stay home until his condition improved. They sent him home just after 1:00 p.m. - without pay. With most of the afternoon off, Brady thought at least he could get in an early workout.
When he arrived at the gym, a quick look told Brady that he didn't know anyone there, which wasn't really surprising since Brady normally didn't hit the gym until after work, around 5:00 p.m. 'Maybe this won't be too bad,' Brady thought. 'None of these guys know me and I won't have to put up with all the sniggering and rude comments while I'm working out.' And, as far as the exercise part of his gym-time was concerned, that turned out to be pretty much accurate, at least until just before the end of his work-out.
Somewhere a little after 3:00 p.m., the gym got noticeably louder. A group of about half-a-dozen high school athletes had arrived and they were goofing around as they began their work-out routines. Nothing excessive, but just enough to attract Brady's attention. Judging from their well-developed physiques, Brady figured they were probably seniors and either wrestlers or football players. Brady was just casually checking them out when one boy caught his eye. He was a little bit slighter than the other guys, but had a nice pair of guns. What really set him apart from the rest, however, was his face. He had a classically even facial structure, with high cheekbones and glittering blue eyes that seemed to sparkle as he looked around, all set beneath a wild shock of golden yellow hair. 'That kid is fucking gorgeous,' Brady thought just as the boy turned his way and saw that Brady was staring at him.
Brady immediately looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at another dude in the gym. But when he looked back a couple of minutes later, he was surprised to see that the guy was checking him out. Their eyes met for a moment and Brady quickly looked away again.
'I don't need this shit, today,' Brady thought as he settled back on the inclined bench. 'I just need to finish my work-out and get home.' And with that thought he felt a distinct stirring in his groin. Jen had the evening shift at the Diner and Brady was planning on using the opportunity to dig out the butt-plug and see if it could at least somewhat assuage the throbbing emptiness in his boy-pussy.
Brady finished all of his Friday routine about fifteen minutes later and headed off to the locker room. He stripped off his shorts and T-shirt without a flicker of self-consciousness. He realized that other guys might think it was faggy but he'd grown to really like the way he looked without body hair and he was learning to shrug off the murmured comments he always generated as he walked to the shower.
But this time, there were no comments to be heard. As Brady padded his way to the shower he noted the entire locker room seemed to be empty. This was obviously one of the slow times at the gym, after the lunch crowd had departed and before the after-work fitness buffs started filtering in. 'Too bad I can't work out at this time every day,' Brady remarked to himself. Just not having to wait his turn at the equipment had knocked at least fifteen minutes off the time he normally spent completing his work-out.
Brady took a nice hot shower, dried himself off, and then headed into the sauna. He carefully placed his towel flat on the bench facing the door and then sat down, spreading his legs apart, careful to do nothing that would hide his erection. After all, his body was public property now and other guys had a right to enjoy looking at it.
Brady was just sitting in the sauna, trying to figure out a solution for his problem at work, when the sauna door opened. There in the doorway was the young blond adonis he'd noticed in the gym. The kid was wearing only a towel, tied low on his hips. He closed the door behind him and then leaned back up against the glass, his eyes taking in Brady's nude and obviously aroused body.
"Fuck, dude," he said after a long pause, his voice surprisingly boyish. "My little brother Jax has more hair on his body than you do and he's only fourteen. Course, he's not built like you are. You've got a wicked body, dude. Pretty face, too. Reminds me of a girlfriend I had in eighth grade who used to give me blow-jobs." There was a long pause. Then, with a slight smirk on his face, the kid went on, "so, you want to suck on my dick, faggot?"
"Now?" Brady replied, not even bothering to deny that he was a faggot. "Right here?"
"Of course, now," the blond responded. "I'm horny right now and," he added with a glance towards Brady's crotch, "it's obvious you are too. And why not here? Fuck, dude, any guy sees you going down on me ain't gonna be surprised, not after the way you kept flashing your boner in the gym. Only a stone-cold faggot would do that. It's a little late to worry about what other guys will think, dude. So why don't you just cut the blab and get down on your knees and blow me."
With that, the blond guy unhitched his towel and let it drop to the floor. A hard eight-inch dick shot up and literally bounced off his belly. Even before he realized what he was doing, Brady dropped to his knees and started making his way towards the boy. The boy just stood there, languidly stroke his hard cock, smiling at Brady as he closed the distance between them. When he was finally kneeling right in front of the teenager Brady raised his hand, gently gripped the boy's cock, and guided it to his mouth.
"Oh, yeah, dude," the boy moaned, leaning his weight against the glass door, as Brady ran his tongue all around the cock-head, remembering how Dr. Debt had taught him that a good cocksucker always starts slowly and gradually increases the pace of his sucking until he swallows the dick down his throat and then lets the man he's blowing take over. Of course, Brady had never even come close to swallowing Dr. Debt's monster - fuck, he'd had trouble just spreading his jaws wide enough to get the head of the man's cock into his mouth.
Besides, Dr. Debt's dick was not only enormous, it was an ugly, bloated tube of flesh with a rancid taste to it that had almost made Brady vomit every time he had to take it into his mouth. The blond in front of him was totally different. The boy had a beautiful cock with a silky texture despite its throbbing hardness. And the pre-cum that was already dribbling out of the cock's slit tasted almost like honey, it was so sweet. In just seconds, Brady realized that it was a taste he could become addicted to.
Brady looked up the kid's body and saw that the boy's eyes were closed, his face alive with the pleasure he was feeling, the pleasure Brady was providing. Just looking at that flawless young face exuding sexual excitement was enough to make Brady's own cock frantically rub itself against his shaven belly. Brady couldn't remember ever having been so sexually turned on by anything. While there was an element of frustration, since Brady realized that he probably wouldn't be able to cum, Brady was suddenly consumed with the desire to give this kid the greatest blow-job he'd ever had.
Slowly, licking continuously, Brady sucked more and more of the boy's throbber into his mouth until he could feel the tip rubbing against the back of his throat. That set off a mild gagging reflex but it wasn't anything Brady couldn't handle. He'd never done anything even remotely like this in the past, but he was consumed with the need to get all of the blond's cock into his mouth. Maneuvering his head slightly, he felt the angle of the boy's dick shift and suddenly he realized it was beginning to crawl down his throat. Taking a quick breath, Brady drove his face forward until it was nestling against the boy's golden pubic bush. He'd swallowed the whole thing.
Above him, he heard the blond gasp. "Oh my God," the kid moaned. "Oh, God. That feels so fucking good. So fucking good." Brady felt the blond's hands grab the back of his head and mash Brady's face against the kid's groin. "Oh, man, you are un-fucking believable. You're fucking incredible."
The boy started frantically moving Brady's head back and forth along his engorged dick, thrusting up with his hips every time Brady's face crashed into his pubes, the whole time repeating over and over again, "Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah." And then Brady could feel the boys legs begin to shake uncontrollably. The kid started banging Brady's face like it was the tightest cunt he'd ever stuck his dick into.
And then, in mere minutes, the blond was there. "Sweet Jesus," he started shouting, "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna....arrrrrgh," he ended with a wild scream as his hot boy-seed just exploded from his cock, blasting the insides of Brady's fluttering throat.
As the kid collapsed against the door, Brady moved his head slightly backwards extruding enough of the boy's cock so that it was no longer in his throat. Brady slowly ran the base of his tongue across the cock-head's slit, savoring the last remnants of the blond's massive orgasm. He was happy that the kid had so obviously enjoyed his efforts but sorry that almost all of the boy's cream had bypassed his taste-buds. The boy's cum tasted so incredible. Brady didn't think he could ever get enough. He began sucking on the cock again.
Brady felt a soft hand on his face, forcing his head back. He looked up to see the blond smiling at him as he extracted his softening dick from Brady's mouth. "Dude," the blond almost whispered, "that was fan-fucking-tastic. I ain't ever had a blow-job like that before. Compared to you, those bitches that blew me didn't know squat. But I need a break now. Maybe later, but right now I need a break. You fucking drained all the cum from my nads."
Brady sank back on his knees, looking up at the boy. The kid was so amazingly hot. Just looking at the kid's lithe, muscular torso sent shivers through Brady's body. He wanted this boy so bad. So bad. More than he had ever wanted any woman. Ever. But he didn't want to fuck the boy - though Brady was sure that that would be amazing. What he really wanted was to feel the boy's dick ramming up his pussy, filling the hole that Dr. Debt had left behind, fucking him like a bitch needed to be fucked, hard and deep.
Brady wasn't even wondering why, out of the blue, after twenty-five years of committed heterosexuality he was now lusting after another dude. He told himself he'd deal that later. Now, right now, all he wanted to do was get this awesome epitome of youthful masculine beauty to fuck him. He could take him right there on the floor of the sauna and Brady wouldn't care who saw him doing it.
The boy was looking at him with those sparkling blue eyes, taking in his whole body. Then he looked up at Brady's face. "You know, dude," he started, "you've got a really dynamite body. If it wasn't for the fact that you shave your pubes and walk around flaunting your hard meat, I never would guess you were a fag."
And then a look of concern crossed the boy's face. "Sorry," he said, "I probably should have said 'gay.' I mean, I don't really have anything against gay dudes it's just that me and my bros just use the term 'fag' all the time. I don't mean to insult you, dude."
"No insult taken," Brady replied.
"See," the boy immediately continued, "you don't sound like a fag...I mean a gay dude. You sound like a regular guy. If I saw you on the street I'd think you were just another straight bro, unless you were flashing you boner around like you are now."
"Sorry, sir," Brady answered, looking down at his erect boy-dick.
The boy raised an eyebrow. "Sir," he mused. "Nobody's ever called me 'sir,' before." He stopped as if thinking something over. "No," he said. "I don't like it. Makes me sound like some old dude. You can call be Heck."
Now it was Brady's turn to look quizzical. The boy saw his expression and laughed. "My dad apparently had a thing for the Trojan War. So there's my older sister Cassandra, or Cassie, as everybody calls her, she's a senior. Then there's me, Hector, but I much prefer 'Heck,' and then my brother 'Jax,' whose name really is 'Ajax.' He's a freshman. It's supposed to be all set out in a book called the 'Iliad.' I never read it, but a teacher once told me that Hector was a big hero in it, so I guess my father meant well. But I would have been just as happy if he'd named me something normal like Michael or even Jacob. So, what's your name, dude?"
"Brady."
"See," Heck went on. "That's what I mean. Something normal like 'Brady' wouldn't have been so bad. But 'Hector?' Hell, nobody's called Hector."
"Ever ask your dad about it?" Brady inquired.
"Never had the chance. My dad was killed in Iraq when I was five. I hadn't even realized how weird my name was back then."
"Sorry, Heck," Brady offered "about your father."
"Thanks, Brady," Heck replied with a little smile. "But it was a long time ago and I really don't have that many memories of him. But, thanks."
They were both silent for a moment, just looking at each other, Heck leaning easily against the door, Brady on his knees, sitting back on his heels, looking up at the blond. It was Brady who broke the silence. "Heck, you said you've got an older sister named Cassandra."
"Yep. But we all call her 'Cassie.'
"Right. And you said she was a senior."
"Yeah."
"A senior in college?" Brady asked, hoping against hope.
"No. She's a senior in high school."
"Oh, shit," Brady moaned. "And you're in high school, too?"
"Yeah, I'm a sophomore."
"Holy fuck," Brady exclaimed. "How old are you, Heck?"
"Fifteen."
"You're fifteen," Brady almost shouted, scrambling to his feet. "You're only fifteen? Jesus Christ!"
"What's the matter, dude?" the blond asked.
"You're a minor, Heck," Brady cried. "You're a fucking fifteen-year-old boy. I just had sex with a minor. I could go to jail."
Heck looked at Brady, surprised. "You didn't have sex with me, Brady. I had sex with you. I made you blow me."
"That doesn't make any difference, Heck. You're still only fifteen. Besides, nobody's gonna believe a fifteen-year-old kid forced a twenty-five-year-old man to have sex."
Now Heck registered his own surprise. "You're twenty-five, dude? I had no idea you were so old. I figured you for about twenty, twenty-one."
"What difference does that make, Heck?" Brady asked with a tone of exasperation. "I'd still be an adult having sex with a minor even if I was only twenty."
"It's just that you're a lot older than you look, Brady," Heck replied defensively.
"And you're a lot younger, Heck," Brady rejoined. "But so what? The bottom line is still the same. I had sex with a minor. I am really fucked."
"Dude, dude. Calm down," Heck soothed. "Ain't nobody saw us and I sure as hell ain't gonna turn you in. At least," he added with a leer, "not if you agree to blow me again. I'm not about to kick the best cocksucker I've ever had to the curb, not just because he's some older dude."
Brady looked at Heck. "I don't know, Heck. I mean, where can we do it? We can't do it here. I'd be too nervous now."
"You've got an apartment, don't you, Brady?" Heck suggested.
"Yeah, but I live with my girlfriend," Brady replied.
Heck's eyes flashed wide open. "What type of fag - sorry, 'gay dude' - are you? I mean, I could understand a boyfriend, you being that way. But a girlfriend? That doesn't make any sense."
"Well, I wasn't gay until last week," Brady responded.
"What?" Heck's eyes showed his total shock.
"I wasn't gay until last week," Brady repeated. "I mean, I never had sex with another guy until then - never really thought about it either."
"Are you telling me that you never had sex with another dude until a week ago?" Heck asked, the incredulity obvious in his voice.
"Yeah, Heck. That's what I'm telling you."
"So you expect me to believe that for twenty-five years you think you're straight, even get yourself a live-in girlfriend, then all of sudden, a week ago, you decide you're gay?"
"No," Brady responded, now on the defensive himself. "That's not what I'm saying. In fact, I'm not even sure I am gay. Wait, let me finish," he added seeing Heck about to say something. "What I said was I never had sex with another guy until a week ago. And that's true. But I didn't have sex with that guy because I was gay - I wasn't even attracted to him; he was repulsive. I did it because he paid me to have sex with him."
That answer definitely surprised Heck. "You prostituted yourself, dude? Is that what you did? Is that how you got fucked? You bent over for some guy with money?"
"Yeah," Brady admitted, "I guess I did. But it wasn't like I went out looking to sell my pussy. It was a lot different." And then he added, "and it was a lot of money, too."
"How much money?" Heck wanted to know.
"$12,000." Brady replied.
Heck actually whistled. He looked at Brady in obvious amazement. "Holy crap, dude. That's a lot of shit. You sure didn't sell yourself cheap. What've you got - a gold mine between your legs? Some guy gave you $12,000 just for a chance to plunder your booty? Fuck man, I might bend over for that type of money."
"Don't even think that way," Brady immediately warned. "It wasn't worth it. Take it from me. I had to spend six hours with the guy and he fucked me over and over again. He was ugly as sin and had this horrible, monstrous penis - as big as a horse's cock I swear - and it hurt, it hurt so bad I couldn't believe it. And he did other things. He beat me and made me do some really sick shit that I don't want to even think about."
"How the hell did you even meet this dude?" Heck asked.
"It's a long story, Heck, and I really need to get out of this sauna. The heat's beginning to get to me," Brady replied, hoping to avoid recounting the whole sordid adventure.
Heck looked at him for a moment and then smiled. "You're right, Brady. We're both sweating like pigs."
Heck turned around, opened the sauna door, and then turned back to look at Brady. "We're gonna go take a shower and after that we're going to hit the whirlpool...and then you're going to tell me the whole story, Brady."
With a sinking stomach, Brady followed the fifteen-year-old boy out of the sauna and into the shower. The last thing in the world he wanted was to tell this high school kid just what had happened last Friday night but Brady knew that, if Heck insisted, he'd have to. After all, Brady was now a male bitch and he had to do what he was told. He had to.
A half hour later, the two of them were sitting in the whirlpool talking softly. There were other guys around now in the locker room and even in the shower but nobody had joined them in the whirlpool. Brady had just finished recounting his six-hour session with Dr. Debt, though he never mentioned the man's name. Heck looked over at the twenty-five-year-old sitting next to him. He'd been fascinated by the story Brady had told. Fascinated and incredibly turned on as Brady described in detail everything the man had done to him.
And it hadn't just been the sex stuff. Heck had never even considered spanking some other dude's ass, but as Brady described his experiences that night, Heck could visualize Brady lowering his naked and shaven body over Heck's lap and then Heck whacking away at those muscled-melons with one hand and using the other hand to fondle and molest the dude's junk while Brady writhed on top of him. It made the teenager incredibly hot just thinking about spanking a grown man's ass - particularly a man as well-developed as Brady - and having the man do nothing to protect himself but just take his punishment like a little boy. And the possibility that Brady wasn't even a fag, that he might just be a straight dude caught up in some weird scene, somehow made it even hotter. Heck was close to cumming just thinking about it.
Heck had originally gone into the sauna hoping to get a quick blow-job from Brady and then getting dressed and going home. But now a whole new world of possibilities was opening in front of the teenager. Heck was vaguely aware that Brady had awakened urges in the teenager that he had never realized might be there. One thing, though, was clear to Heck. He wasn't done with Brady. Not by a long shot.
Now that Brady had finished his lurid story a long silence descended on the pair. Heck's eyes narrowed. "You're not telling me, are you, Brady, that you expected to get paid for blowing me? You're not suggesting that the only reason you went down on me is that you thought I'd give you some money afterwards?"
"Fuck, no, Heck. I blew you because I wanted to - well, at least in part, because I wanted to. I thought you were hot as hell. I didn't realize you were only fifteen, but I wanted you the moment I saw you. I wanted to suck your dick and...oh fuck it, man, I wanted you to fuck me. There, I've said it."
Heck was silent for another minute. Then, as if trying to work everything out in this mind, his brow furrowed. "But you said that was only part of the reason you sucked me, off, Brady. What was the other part?"
Brady could feel himself blushing. While he had completely described all the things Dr. Debt had done to him last Friday, he'd left out 'Mr. Bitch-Maker's Nine Rules for Male Bitches,' and hadn't even hinted at all the things that had happened since his session with Dr. Debt. How could he possibly explain his present situation to a fifteen-year-old kid - particularly since he couldn't really understand it himself? Finally, with a sigh, he tried to explain, "I sucked you off not only because I wanted to but also because I had to. I couldn't refuse."
"What do you mean you couldn't refuse? Did you think I was going to force you to blow me if you said 'no?' Come on, Brady. You're a big guy. I know I'm in good shape but you can't tell me that the reason you agreed to blow me was because you were afraid of me."
"No, man, I'm not putting this off on you. When I said I couldn't say no, I didn't mean it was because of something you'd done or you might do. It was something inside of me. Something I can't control. Something I had to do. Can't we just leave it at that?"
Heck ignored Brady's plea that he just drop the matter. Instead, he pressed on, "Why did you have to do it, Brady? That's what I'm not following."
"I had to do it because it's the rule," Brady replied, tears filling his eyes.
Heck could see that Brady was getting really upset but he wasn't sure why. What he was sure of, however, is that this was something he wanted to know. "What rule, Brady? Tell me."
"Rule number 7," Brady replied in a flat monotone, looking down at the water. "A bitch's body is public property and always available for use by others."
"Rule number 7," Heck echoed. "What kind of rule is that? Whose rules are they and why do you have to follow them?"
This was exactly the question that Brady had feared. Slowly, he began reciting 'Mr. Bitch-Maker's Nine Rules for Male Bitches,' as he'd been forced to do so many times by Dr. Debt and which had run through his mind almost continuously since last Friday night. Brady didn't know what was worse, feeling the rules resonate inside him as he listed them or watching Heck's astonished fascination as the kid listened to Brady recite his nine rules. When he was finished, Brady braced himself for the gales of laughter he was sure he'd hear.
Instead, Heck was looking at him really serious but also obviously perplexed. "I take it, Brady, that Mr. Bitch-Maker was the man you had sex with last Friday?"
Brady inwardly groaned. He just wished Heck would stop asking questions, since every answer seemed only to underline how low Brady had sunk. "No," Brady explained. "The guy who fucked me went by the name Dr. Debt. I know that's not his real name but he never told me that. 'Mr. Bitch-Maker' was the name of his cock."
"He named his cock 'Mr. Bitch-Maker?'" Heck asked.
"Yes," was Brady's short response.
Heck inched closer to Brady. In a soft voice, he asked him, "did he succeed, Brady? Did he make you into a 'bitch?'"
"What do you think, Heck?" Brady responded in a strangled voice. "Look at me. I'm a twenty-five-year-old man, as hairless as a ten-year old boy, who just sucked off a fifteen-year-old kid and told him how much I wanted him to fuck me. Yeah, he succeeded. I'm a bitch now. A fucking male bitch. And the worst thing is - the absolutely worst thing - is that the longer it goes on the more right it seems.
"I loved sucking your dick, Heck. It was just about the greatest sex I ever had and I didn't even cum. And I can't tell you how much my pussy - yeah, my pussy, because that's what I have between my legs now - I can't tell you how much my pussy wants to feel your beautiful cock coring it out and dropping another load of your jizz into by bitch body. Yeah, I'd say he succeeded. I'd say he hit a fucking grand slam." And with that, the tears that Brady had tried to hold back, burst through in a torrent, and he just hung his head and cried.
Heck sat there awkwardly. He'd had no experience watching a grown man cry. He had no idea what to do. So he just let Brady get it out of his system for a couple minutes and then he slowly reached out and put his arm around the man's neck. "C'mom, Brady. C'mon, dude," he soothed. "Everything's going to be alright. I'm sure things will work out. You're just going through a rough time. I mean, if you just realized you're a fag - I'm sorry, I'll try and work on that - if you just realized you're a gay dude, that's probably a lot to handle. And with all this shit about being a 'bitch' you've got rattling around in your head, everything must really seem fucked-up. Hey, man, you'll get through it. I'll even try and help you out if you like, dude."
"How can you help me, Heck, when I can't even help myself?" Brady asked through his tears. "Some total stranger comes up to me and tells me to suck his dick, I'm going to do it. I'm totally fucked, man. I let some guy turn me into a bitch for a night and now that's what I am all the time. A bitch. A bitch any guy can use if he wants to."
Heck reached forward and put his fist underneath Brady's chin and then forced him to look up. "But, Brady, maybe you could be my bitch. Maybe that would help." Heck had been thinking about this possibility almost as soon as Brady had begun describing what had happened to him on last Friday, but even the boy was a little surprised to hear himself actually voice it.
Brady looked into Heck's beautiful eyes. "I sure as hell wouldn't mind being your bitch, Heck, except for the age thing, but how would that help?"
"Because, Brady," Heck explained, "it dawned on me as you went through those crazy rules, that if you're somebody's bitch you have to do whatever he tells you to do."
"Yeah," Brady agreed, "that's the first rule."
"So, Brady," the boy continued with a pleased grin, "if you're my bitch and I'm your master and I tell you that I don't want you to have sex with any other guy unless I say so, you have to obey me. Isn't that right?"
Brady couldn't hide his confusion. "Well," he started out, "Rule No. 1 does say I have to do everything my master tells me to do but I don't know what rule applies if my master tells me to do something contrary to another one of the rules, like say he tells me to let my pubes grow."
"What I say, Brady," Heck argued, "is that the first rule trumps all the other rules. I mean what's the point of being a master if any other guy in the world can come up to your bitch and override your commands? The master's got to be in control. It can't work unless he is. So if I'm your master and I tell you to grow your pubes back, you grow your pubes back."
Brady considered this for a long minute. "I see your point, Heck," Brady conceded. "But how would you become my master? How does that work?"
"I don't know Brady," Heck admitted. "I think that's what we've got to figure out. And we've got to do it soon before you end up sucking off every dude in the gym."
Heck leaned back against the rim of the whirlpool, trying to work it out. After a couple of minutes, he looked over at Brady. "What exactly was your agreement with this Dr. Debt?"
"I agreed to let him fuck me for six hours in exchange for $12,000," Brady quickly replied. "I already told you that."
"Think back, Brady," Heck pressed. "Exactly what were the terms of your agreement with him? What exactly did he say?"
Brady paused for a second, recalling that first meeting with the man. There was a slight frown on his face as he answered, "I agreed to be his bitch."
Heck's eyes lit up. "I thought it'd be something like that. You agreed to be his bitch and he agreed to pay you for being his bitch. That's gotta be it."
But if Heck had thought he had solved the question, Brady was still confused. "What's gotta be it?" he asked, not a little embarrassed that he had to ask a fifteen-year-old boy to explain what was going on with him.
"It's an agreement. You agreed to be that man's bitch and he agreed to have you as his bitch. That's how he became your master."
"You mean Dr. Debt is now my master?" Brady asked in horror. "You mean that gross bastard now controls my life and I have to do anything he tells me?"
Heck pondered this question for a few seconds. "No, Brady. He's not your master right now. You agreed to be his bitch for six hours. After those six hours ran, the agreement just ended. Right now, you don't have any master. The way the rules work, you have to let any dude do whatever he wants to your body, but that doesn't make him your master. The only way another guy can become your master is if you agree to it."
Brady had felt himself become excited listening to Heck. If the kid was right, and what he was saying seemed logical, then if Brady agreed to let some other guy become his master, that guy could order him to violate any of the other rules. He could order Brady not to have sex with anyone but him and Brady would have to comply. He'd no longer have to be a bitch for any guy he met.
On the other hand, though, he would be his master's bitch. And that guy could order him to do anything and Brady would, thanks to his conditioning, be forced to do whatever that guy said. Whoever Brady accepted as his master would have incredible power over him, at least until Brady could break his conditioning - if Brady could break his conditioning. And Brady was becoming less and less sure that he could.
Brady looked over at Heck. The kid was fucking beautiful, but he was only fifteen. Besides all the legal problems a relationship with Heck might lead to, there was a real question whether Brady wanted to surrender all control over his life to a teenager. He could remember how fickle and impulsive he'd been when he was the same age and, regardless of how mature Heck had seemed so far, the kid was bound to have those moments when he acted like a fifteen-year-old. What if the kid got pissed off at him and ordered Brady to run around the block naked. Brady would probably feel forced to do it and that could really lead to major problems. Sure, Heck would probably feel sorry afterwards, the way teenagers always did when they did things they hadn't thought through, but Brady would still be fucked.
But what other alternatives were there? It was only a matter of time before some other guy at the gym had the same idea Heck had and decided to get a blow-job. And, if that guy spread the word, soon Brady would be spending all of his time in the shower area servicing any horny guy who wanted a go at him.
Heck, for his part, just sat there in the whirlpool looking at Brady. He could almost see the whirlwind of emotions and doubts Brady was feeling in his shifting facial expressions. Of course, Heck was experiencing his own emotional roller-coaster as well. Until he walked into the sauna this afternoon, Heck had never had sex with another guy. He'd thought about it, of course, but it had never really interested him. He just wasn't attracted to the guys who were 'out' in his school. He found them generally loud and obnoxious and not particularly physically appealing.
But Brady - he was something else. The dude was really good-looking and had just the type of body Heck would like to have for himself - really well-defined and muscular but not overdone. And he acted straight, too - other than flaunting his boner all over the place. But that was part of his conditioning - he was just following the rules - and if Heck became Brady's master he could order him to ignore those rules and wear a jock when he was working out. He could even have him re-grow his pubes so he didn't make so much of a spectacle of himself in the locker room every time he walked to and from the showers.
Heck paused for a few seconds. No, that was one rule Heck wasn't going to mess with. He wanted Brady to keep shaving his entire body. That way, if anyone ever saw the two of them together there wouldn't be any question as to who was the bitch and who was the master. Brady might be ten years older than Heck was, but as long as the dude was kept as hairless as a pre-adolescent boy no one would doubt who was in charge.
And Heck intended to be in charge. Just thinking about having a twenty-five-year-old stud like Brady at his beck and call was a real turn-on and he could imagine how all his bros would react if Heck ordered the man to service each and every one of them whenever they needed to get off. Yeah, Heck concluded, having Brady as his own personal fuck-bitch would be an incredible trip.
But, Heck wondered, could he handle it? Could he handle the gay sex? It was one thing to let some fag go down on you. It was something totally different to fuck the fag up his ass. Would his friends think he was turning fag on them? What would it feel like to have your dick up some other guy's butt? The more Heck thought about this, the more he realized there was one sure-fire way to resolve the question. He could fuck Brady and find out for himself - it wasn't like the dude could say no. Heck knew that now.
Of course, he couldn't do it right now because the locker room was filling up and Heck wasn't too keen on having other dudes see him punking the man. Besides, Brady did have a point about the under-age thing. Brady wouldn't be much use to Heck as his personal bitch if he was spending the next ten years in the slammer. If Heck were to become Brady's master that was something he'd have to be careful about - at least until he turned eighteen.
Heck realized that he had pretty much made up his mind, at least tentatively, so he was the first to speak. "Look, Brady, I have a proposal for you."
Brady immediately turned to face the boy.
"I'm willing to be your master but I'm not sure if I can handle some of the gay shit - particularly fucking you up the ass. I've never done that, not even with a chick, so I don't know if it's something I'd like. So I want to fuck your ass before I commit myself, kind of a test-drive I guess you'd say. I realize we can't do it here and now and my house is definitely out, but I was wondering when we could get together at your apartment."
Brady wasn't too happy having his apartment used for sex with Heck, particularly given his inability to satisfy Jen, but even he realized there weren't any other viable options. "Well," he replied slowly, "Jen told me this morning that she had to take the late afternoon/early evening shift tomorrow to cover for a friend, so she won't be home from 1:00 p.m. to sometime after 9:30 p.m."
"Good," Heck replied. "I'll get your address and phone number and plan on stopping by around 2:00 p.m. That'll give me more than enough time to figure out whether I like fucking your butt-hole. And, even if I don't Brady," Heck added, "I'll give you permission to cum while I'm fucking you, so either way the afternoon won't be a total waste for you."
"Oh, Heck," Brady immediately answered, his face suddenly alight with anticipation, "thank you. That's so great. That'd be super." Just the prospect of finally being allowed to get off filled Brady with gratitude towards the boy. Brady resolved to give him a great fuck, come what may afterwards.
"Okay, then, Brady. Here's the deal, assuming everything goes fine tomorrow." And then Heck laid out his proposal. "I'm willing to take on the role as your master, but I want you to understand I fully intend to be your master. That means that when I want you to suck me off, you'll suck me off. When I want to fuck you, you'll spread your legs and let me fuck you. No argument. And you'll do the same for any of my bros I tell you to. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Heck," Brady replied. "I understand." It was all Brady could do to keep from repeating everything that Heck had just said to show what he understood, the way Dr. Debt forced him to do last Friday. But that wasn't an actual rule and Heck hadn't suggested that he wanted Brady to repeat what he said, so Brady thought a simple 'I understand' was sufficient.
"And when you screw up, Brady, and I'm sure you will, I won't hesitate to discipline you. So you can expect your butt will be sore pretty often. On the other hand, I promise you I'll let you shoot your own load at least twice each week. And I'll let you wear underwear at work and a jock in the gym. And I'll give you permission to fuck your girlfriend until she gets off - I won't let you cum while you're fucking her, but at least you'll be able to satisfy her. And, here's the big one, I'll order you not to have sex with anyone other than guys I pick out for you, so you won't have to worry about total strangers coming up to you and forcing you to have sex with them."
"So, what do you think, Brady? Do you want to be my bitch?"
Brady sat there thinking about Heck's offer. Was he willing to become a bitch for a fifteen-year-old kid? A week ago, he would have thought that the very question was ludicrous. Now, he was giving it serious consideration. It would solve so many problems. He'd be able to keep his job and maybe even keep his girlfriend; it would end the frustration of going day after day without being able to cum; it would keep him from having to sexually service total strangers who totally disgusted him.
The downside, though, was equally obvious. He'd be surrendering all control of his life to this kid. He would literally become his bitch. And Heck had made it clear that he intended to share Brady with his friends, most of who would almost certainly be under-age too. Of course, Heck could do that right now. He wouldn't have to be his master to take advantage of the fact that Brady was conditioned to consider his body as public property and available for any use a guy might want to make of it. All in all, assuming Brady couldn't break his conditioning, the deal Heck was offering would definitely be better than his present situation. But Brady saw one element he needed clarified.
"How long would I be your bitch?" he asked.
"You'd be my bitch until I tell you otherwise, Brady," was Heck's response. "Once you agree to having me as your master, I'll be your master until I decide to release you - if I ever do."
Brady had been afraid that was the part of the deal. On one level, it made sense. By accepting Heck as his master, he was basically surrendering ultimate decision-making authority over his life to Heck. Clearly, that had to include the authority to decide when to end their relationship - the wishes of a bitch couldn't override the judgment of his master. On the other hand, once Brady agreed to the arrangement there was no turning back for Brady. He couldn't get out of it - not unless Heck agreed and there was no way for Brady to force his consent. Agreeing to Heck's proposal would be the most momentous decision Brady had ever made.
"I don't know, Heck," Brady finally answered. "A part of me definitely wants to say yes, but it's a big decision. I need a little time to think about it."
"No problem, dude," Heck replied. "I'm not really asking you for an answer right now. After all, I can't be sure that I want to become your master until I try out fucking you asshole - or pussy, as you call it. We'll just wait and see how tomorrow goes and then I can decide whether I want to be your master and whether you're willing to be my bitch."
Brady nodded his assent.
"C'mon, dude," Heck directed. "Let's go take another shower and then go get dressed. You can give me your address and shit and I'll come by tomorrow and, afterwards, we can just decide what we're going to do."
Without a word, Brady reached behind himself, grabbed the edge of the whirlpool basin and hiked himself out of the water. As Heck followed suit, Brady turned and began to head towards the showers, his hard dick pointing straight towards the ceiling, aching for release. Behind him, Heck was scoping out the dude's muscular buns. 'They are kinda sexy,' Heck told himself. 'I think I might enjoy fucking Brady's little pussy. I might enjoy it a lot.' Then he hurried up to join Brady in the shower. He knew he couldn't leave him alone for long; God know what and who that bitch might end up doing if Heck didn't get his ass out of the locker room pronto.
That night, Brady lay on the floor reviewing his options. And no matter how he thought about it, it always came out that becoming Heck's bitch was his only real option. The evening with Jen had gone poorly. He could tell he was losing her, which wasn't surprising given his complete inability to perform sexually. He was making almost no progress in his own efforts at deprogramming. If he left things as they were, he'd lose Jen, lose his job, and, if he didn't get off soon, lose his mind. The only real out he could see was to become the fifteen-year-old boy's sex bitch. So he would agree to be Heck's bitch. That is, if Heck would have him.