Christopher & Craig
Part 16: Mitch Unleashed
The headline of the newspaper was good news Tuesday morning: Craig Matthews Found! Which meant he could be found back at my house very soon. Nothing really interesting was stated in the accompanying article; he had been traveling and just returned.
At the stroke of seven Mitch was at my door. Today his jeans fit like a second skin. And his T-shirt appeared two sizes too small. He looked ready to bust out of it.
His boots were off as soon as he was inside and he followed me into the den and sat on the couch. Our routine had already become second nature to him. So, apparently, had his modified behavior. He had swished into the den and now sat with his legs crossed. A part of me wondered how much fun it might be to see Mitch’s reaction to his own behavior. But part of the fun of this situation was that he was completely unaware of the changes he was experiencing. At least that was fun for me. Something told me he wouldn’t see the eroticism of it all.
No matter. I had no intention of restoring his former personality and setting him free. For better or worse he had been chosen by Leatherman. The only thing left to do now was make the necessary modifications so he would please his new Master.
“Polish your boots. Breathe in and out, Mitch. How do you feel?”
“Good.”
“How was your day?”
“Okay.”
“Okay? How did people treat you?”
“They keep asking why I’m different.”
“What did you say?”
“I told them I’m not different.”
“Are you different, Mitch?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s right. What are you?”
“A fag, SIR!”
“Good boy. Anything else happen to you today?”
“Craig Matthews was found. The case is closed. I am no longer assigned to investigating his disappearance. I shouldn’t be here.”
“Why are you here?”
“I had to come.”
“Why?”
He paused, as if trying to find the answer. “I don’t know, sir.”
“I know. You like coming here, don’t you, Mitch?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You like coming here because you can think about men here. Did you think about men today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you see any?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What happened?”
“In the locker room at work today the guys were changing. And two of them were getting ready for bicycle duty. They pulled on the spandex bike shorts and I could see everything.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Horny, sir.”
“You felt horny?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did they see you looking at them?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you like looking at the men in spandex, Mitch?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you ever wear spandex?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When?”
“When I ride the bikes at the gym.”
“Do you like wearing spandex?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“I like how it feels. And I like how it looks.”
“That’s good. Do you wear spandex any other time?”
“No, sir.”
“Mitch, tomorrow you will wear spandex to work. You may wear it under your clothes. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What will you do?”
“I will wear spandex under my clothes tomorrow.”
“You’re a good boy. A good fag, Mitch. Breathe in and out. In and out. Becoming more and more relaxed with each breath.”
I stood and walked to my desk, retrieving a small bag from the bottom drawer. It was time to move forward. The spandex was a revelation; I had not considered that Mitch might have fetishes of his own. But Leatherman had his own fetishes, and it was time to adapt Mitch to them.
Mitch had already learned his lesson for using the word ‘fag’ as a slur. And that method had worked well for him. Now it was time to apply the same process to a new goal.
I sat in the chair opposite him again. “Very good, Mitch. Keep breathing in and out. Slowly. Relaxing more with each breath. Do you feel good?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you ever had a pet, Mitch?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you take care of that pet?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was it a dog?”
“No, sir.”
That would have been too easy. Not a problem, however. “Are there dogs on your police force?”
“Yes, sir. K9 units.”
“Tell me about them.”
“K9 dogs are specially trained to be highly skilled and obedient. They will follow voice or hand commands.”
“Who takes care of them?”
“Each dog has an owner who trains and cares for it.”
“Sounds like a pretty good life, huh, Mitch?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who trains and cares for you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you like to be a dog, Mitch?”
“Sir?”
“If you could be a dog, wouldn’t you like to live like that?”
“I-I don’t know, sir.”
“Breathe in and out, Mitch. Think about it. You could be specially trained to be highly skilled and obedient. You could follow voice or hand commands. You’d have an owner who trained and cared for you. That would really be nice, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you would want to be a dog?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Say it.”
“I would want to be a dog.”
“Good boy, Mitch. Stand up for me.”
He got to his feet. So did I.
“Mitch, I want you to think about every dog you’ve ever seen. All those K9 dogs. I want you to remember everything you can. Now think of the one dog that you really think is the absolute best. Can you think of that dog?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Breathe in and out. Very relaxed. How did that dog look? Did it wear clothes?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you wearing clothes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mitch, if you want to be a dog should you be wearing clothes?”
“No, sir.”
“Than what should you do?”
“Take off my clothes?” he asked.
“Go ahead.”
Mitch peeled off his T-shirt and discarded it. He undid his belt, unzipped his jeans, and shoved them down his legs, steeping out of them. He stood in his briefs and socks. Waiting.
“Mitch, do dogs have fingers and hands?”
“No, sir.”
“What do they have?”
“Dogs have paws.”
“Your fingers are curling into your hands like paws, aren’t they, Mitch?”
I watched as he slowly made two fists. He stood with his hands clenched before him. I opened my bag and removed a pair of white tube socks.
I pulled a sock over each of his hands up to his elbows.
“Mitch, can you wiggle your fingers?”
I could see through the socks he was trying, but he couldn’t make them wiggle.
“Do you have paws, Mitch?”
He wore an expression of confusion. “I—think so, sir.”
“Who has paws, Mitch?”
“Dogs do.”
“That’s right. Think about that dog, Mitch. Picture how it stood. How did it walk? Did it stand on two feet, Mitch?”
“No, sir.”
“How did it stand? Show me.”
Mitch dropped to his knees then balanced himself on all fours.
“How do dogs walk? Show me.”
Mitch dog-walked across the room, turned around at the door, and came back.
“Mitch, you stand like a dog. And you walk like a dog. And you have paws. And you don’t wear clothes. What are you?”
“A dog?”
“What are you?”
“A dog!”
“What are you?”
“A dog, SIR!”
“Good boy, Mitch. But you know there’s something you forgot. Do dogs speak English?”
“No, sir.”
“Can you speak English?”
Mitch looked confused.
“Relax. Breathe in and out. You cannot speak English anymore, Mitch. Language no longer has any meaning for you. Your tongue will not form words anymore. You understand my words, but cannot reply. Nod your head if you understand, Mitch.”
Mitch nodded.
“Are you a dog, Mitch?”
Mitch nodded.
“Dogs can communicate. Dogs bark, and yelp, and whine. SO you can bark and yelp and whine. Because you are a dog, Mitch. So speak, Mitch. Speak.”
He let out a high bark.
“Dogs can growl, and pant. SO you can growl and pant. Because you wanted to be a dog, Mitch.”
I reached back into my bag and pulled out a leather dog collar.
“Sit, boy.”
He leaned back on his haunches and supported himself on his hands.
“Look at this collar, Mitch. It is going to be very important to you. See how smooth and shiny and black it is? You like it, don’t you, Mitch. Yes, you do. Once I put this collar around your neck you will be a dog, Mitch. When I remove the collar you will be Mitch. Do you understand?”
He barked.
I fastened the collar around his neck and stepped back. Who would believe that the police detective sent to investigate me had become a dog?
“When I count three you’ll awaken. Your subconscious will retain all of the instructions I’ve given you. You will live as a dog whenever you wear your collar. When I remove it you will return to being Mitch Driver. All the things that Mitch has become you will retain. Do you understand?”
He barked.
“Good. 1...2...3.”
Dogmitch looked up at me. I stroked his hair.
“You’re a good boy.”
He whimpered.
“Sit, boy. Stay.”
I left Dogmitch in the den and went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine. It was time to celebrate. I had already created two distinct trained personas out of the homophobic cop who had first walked through my door. The next steps would be more difficult, but I had time. Short-term changes are easy. Long-lasting effects take work.
I filled a bowl with water from the tap and returned to the den. Dogmitch sat where I’d left him.
“Would you like a drink, boy?” I set the bowl in front of him.
He stood on all fours and lapped water from the bowl.
“You’re a good boy.” I patted his head. “Polish your boots.”
While Dogmitch lapsed back into his suggestive state I picked up the bowl and took it to the kitchen. I returned to the den and sighed. It was time to send Mitch home for the night.
“Mitch, can you hear me?”
He barked.
“Good. Listen very carefully. This is important. After tonight whenever you wear your collar you will live as a dog. When I remove your collar you will return to being yourself. All that you have learned here has become a part of you.”
I removed the dog collar from his neck. His mouth closed.
“Do you understand all that I have said to you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stand up.”
Mitch slowly got to his feet. His body was not accustomed to this position and he was surely stiff at this moment. And not just the bulge in his briefs.
I removed the socks from his hands.
“You will return tomorrow night as usual.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And do you remember what you will wear to work tomorrow?”
“Spandex.”
“Right. Under your clothes. So that you can feel it there. Now put your clothes back on.”
I watched as he stretched the T-shirt over his head and then tugged on the jeans. He yanked the zipper up over his bulging cock. Once he was fully dressed I continued.
“Sit on the couch, Mitch.”
He did.
“When I count three you will remember only that I taught you about hypnosis tonight. 1...2...3.”
Mitch stretched his arms.
“You look tired. Why don’t you head home? We can continue this tomorrow.”
He got to his feet when I did. At the door he put on his boots.
“Thanks, Christopher, for being willing to teach me.”
“My pleasure, Mitch. My pleasure.”
To be continued in Part 17...
Christopher & Craig
Part 17: To Love, Honor, & Obey...
After Mitch’s departure I settle in for what I fully intended to be a quiet evening of catching up on the elements of everyday life which had been slipping by unaddressed. It seemed tonight was not a good time for practicality, however.
The phone rang and I answered it absently at my desk. It was Leatherman.
“Christopher, it’s been a few days since I’ve heard from you. Is there a problem I should know about?”
Leave it to him to doubt my abilities. Leatherman is a friend, and there are times when I enjoy his company. But this much contact in a week was wearing thin. “No, there are no problems at all. I’ve just been wrapped up in training Mitch.”
“How’s that progressing? I’m anxious to have a boy of my own!”
“I suspect you’d hardly recognize him already.”
“Really? That sounds intriguing, Christopher. What have you done to him?”
I chuckled. “I’ve brought out the ‘fag’ in him. He’s a total flamer right now.”
“You’re not going to leave him that way, are you?” Leatherman sounded concerned. “I’m looking for a young stud here...”
“Yes, a young stud who will obey your will. I know. But this was to teach him a lesson. I’ll reel him back in soon. Well, not too far. We do, after all, want him to stay gay, don’t we?”
“Yes, of course. What good would a straight stud be to me? But Mitch was gay to begin with. I mean, you can’t make somebody gay who isn’t. So as long as you don’t try to straighten him out it won’t matter, right?”
I rolled my eyes. Leatherman had no idea what I could do. Ordinarily I would agree that a person is either gay or he isn’t. But once the hypnosis starts and he begins to respond to my commands it’s simply a matter of reprogramming the subject. Taken deep enough I can completely wipe a boy clean and rebuild him from scratch. I had planned to with Craig, though his original personality had been submissive enough that it wasn’t necessary. Mitch, however, might get the full treatment. He followed commands so well. And he had begun as a cocky homophobic jerk. Besides, I’d always wanted to try creating a person from a blank slate. I sound insane with power. And I’m not. The idea of such complete control over another person makes me a little lightheaded.
“Christopher?”
“Oh, of course, Leatherman. I can only do so much.” Just for that I wasn’t telling him about the dog training. Leatherman would relish hearing that Mitch had been collared already. He didn’t deserve to know now.
“You’re clear on what I’m looking for, right?”
“Yes. Although it would serve you right if I didn’t give him to you. Setting me up with a cop! It could’ve been a real mess.”
“I swear I had no idea, Love. He was just such a hunk after you’d agreed to train a boy for me that when he walked in that it seemed like he was sent to me.”
“Mm-hm. Well, I’m working with him. He’s already dressing in skintight clothes.”
“Wonderful! I bet he has some body. I can’t wait to own it...”
“You will! But you’ll have to wait. I know waiting is difficult. But it’ll be worth it in the end. And I still haven’t worked out how he can be owned by you and still be a cop without people asking questions. Any suggestions?”
“He can be my boy full-time, Christopher.”
“Then there has to be an explanation for his disappearance. Trust me; I’ve been down that road before. And I was careful to make sure Craig had no close ties.”
“Well, you’ll think of something. Tell me, is he smooth?”
I rolled my eyes. I’m working with serious details and he’s worried about Mitch’s body. “No, from what I’ve seen he’s pretty hairy.”
“I always love a smooth boy. They look so much younger and prettier.”
I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. Men have hair. That’s life.
“Christopher, does he obey like your boy does?”
“He will. I’m gaining more control every day.”
“And you’re sure he’ll obey me?”
“We’ve been over this. When he’s ready to be turned over to you I’ll program him to obey you as his owner, just as you want. But it’s going to take some time! Now will you just calm yourself and trust me?”
“Of course. I do appreciate this, Christopher.”
You should, I thought. Here I am taking away an unwitting and unwilling cop’s free will, replacing a homophobic man with a gay boy. There were certain aspects of this that bothered my ethics. Craig came to me willingly. He didn’t know he’d give up himself quite so completely for me, but he was curious about hypnosis and was a natural submissive. Mitch was another story. And his job as a detective further complicated matters.
Then again, there was that cocky jerk side of him who gaybashed. And he was learning that wasn’t acceptable.
“Okay, Leatherman. I’ll call you soon. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone.
My next course of action with Mitch wa sclear. I’d—
The doorbell rang. This was incredible.
Not so incredible as who was standing on my doorstep. “Craig?”
He smiled. “Hi, Christopher. I hope it’s not too late.”
“Not for you, Craig!” I was grinning like an idiot. “Come in!”
Craig stepped inside.
I dropped my eyes from his and looked at his loafers. “Craig, I just had the carpets done. Would you mind terribly taking off your shoes?”
“Of course not, Christopher.”
I watched as he used his left toe to pry off the right heel of his loafer, then repeated the process for the other foot. He kicked off the loafers and stood looking at me. Immediately his expression softened and the tension left his body.
“Master, how may I serve you?”
I felt completely happy at that moment. Craig was back. I mean, slave. I pulled him into a long, deep kiss and stood holding him in my arms. His skin was warm, even through his sweater. I had missed the feel of his body pressed to mine, how he fit perfectly against me, how his breath tickled my neck, how the hair on his neck felt soft to my touch, the scent of his skin. Craig always smelled amazing. And how his eyes danced when he looked at me. I hadn’t created that. He’d looked at me that way before I ever put him under.
This wasn’t about owning him, like it would be for Leatherman and Mitch. That’s how it began. And that was still a part of it. But Craig wanted a Master as much as I wanted a slave. And his desire to serve me hadn’t been manufactured. We had been friends over the internet for months before that first meeting. I knew his dreams and desires. And the first night he came here he had worn white socks and loafers because he wanted to please me. He had told me that later.
Leatherman simply wanted to own someone. He wanted to control another human. It had nothing to do with shared interests or personality. He wanted a guy with a hot body to worship him. He would never understand that with control and surrender come trust and love. He would never have with Mitch what I have with Craig.
And Craig was a wonderful slave. I could control every aspect of his life, or turn him into a dog at my will. But I could also turn him loose. Even when he was given freedom he would try to find ways to please me.
I stroked the back of his neck, just holding him in my arms. He pressed tighter to me and I felt his rock hard cock press against my hip.
I inhaled him for a moment, drunk on the happiness his return brought me. Yes I was having fun with Mitch. And yes he was attractive. But I would never feel about another slave the way I did about mine. I hated to admit just how much I had missed him this week. And just how sappy in love I felt.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and take off those clothes, boy?”
“Yes, Master.” He hurried up the stairs and out of sight.
I stooped over and picked up his cast off loafers, then took them into the den and placed them in my bottom desk drawer. I locked it. Craig Matthews may return someday, but slave was here with me for the foreseeable future. As it should be.