The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Out of control

by Dogslife

I’m writing this journal in the vain hope that I can understand what is happening or that someone might be able to help me. How I ended up in this situation I still don’t understand...

* * *

They were at it again! This time I wouldn’t bother banging on the window at the three sixteen-year old lads who kept cutting through my garden trampling on my plants and flowers. I shot out of the back door.

“Oi! Stop that! This is private property.”

“I told you he would!”

I glanced at the lad who had shouted this, just as the three of them rushed me. I’m only 25 and in pretty good shape, but three fit sixteen-year-olds had the advantage, grabbing me and slamming me up against the wall, knocking my breath out of me.

“How did you know?”

“His type are all the same—it’s all about their lovely garden or their lovely house.” The dark-haired lad had a sarcastic tone to his voice.

He brought out a bottle.

“Drink.”

I shook my head. The lad with brown hair grabbed my head to stop me moving it as the first boy began to pour the cola into my mouth. I spat the first bit out, narrowly missing the ringleader. The smallest lad, with an angelic face and blond hair—an image sadly belying what he was involved in, held my nose. I had no choice but to swallow as the drink was again poured.

The last drops gone, I tried to reassert myself.

“What the hell are you doing? Why are—”

I couldn’t continue. Although my mind was screaming at me, my arms, legs and mouth all seemed beyond my control. Everything slowly faded to black.

* * *

I awoke feeling the most refreshed I had done for some time. A glance at the bedside clock told me it was 8.30 a.m. on Sunday. Today, I remembered, was the day I had decided to give up wearing boxer shorts and buy myself some briefs. I felt elated at the task ahead.

A nagging thought crossed my mind about the boys yesterday. What had happened? Why had they made me drink? My mind seemed to shy away from exploring this, so I happily anticipated the trip to town.

Yes, a nice selection of briefs, maybe even a pair of Y-fronts or two. Something I had decided to do and had been considering for a while. A stray thought crossed my mind, asking whether I had been considering this yesterday, but as it was so obviously a ludicrous question, I shrugged it off.

I spent a few hours in town, trawling through the various shops, deciding which type and colour of briefs to buy. On an impulse I popped into the gay sex shop and bought some different size butt plugs and dildos, and a few leather items. It just seemed like a good idea, although I wasn’t entirely sure why.

Laying my purchase out on the dining room table, I experienced a moment’s confusion as to why I had bought small sizes of underwear when I usually buy large to have plenty of room, but I recalled thinking that tight pairs of briefs would show off my package that bit better.

I opened a packet and took out a black pair. On a whim I decided that a tight white T-shirt and white nylon shorts would accompany it very well. I put the clothes on and packed my shopping away.

After doing this I realized that I needed to go to the corner shop to get some milk. It wasn’t far, so I didn’t mind. As I stepped out of the front door, my arse began to feel really itchy. I squirmed for a bit as I walked down the street, but, seeing no-one nearby I gave in and had a good scratch up my arse crack. Ahhh! That felt better.

As I neared the shop, two girls passed me, laughing. I realized to my irritation that I had again been scratching my arse and hadn’t even noticed.

I grabbed a bottle of milk and went to the till. The woman handed me back some money, saying, “That’s 22p change.”

As soon as I heard the word ‘change’, my arse seemed to lose any sense of control and I could feel myself shitting long turds into my briefs. Face bright red, I shot out of the shop, but not before I heard the woman on the till mutter, “What on earth is that smell?”

I rushed home and jumped straight in the shower to clean up. I had never felt so embarrassed—why on earth had I lost control like that?

I dried my hair and pulled on a clean pair of white briefs, noticing with pleasure how they tightly gripped my arse, and cock and balls. I was making my way down the stairs when it occurred to me that I hadn’t bought this week’s TV listings magazine. Oh well, I thought, now is as good a time as any.

I grabbed my house keys and a five pound note and set off to the newsagents at the end of the street. I got a couple of odd looks from people passing by, but thought nothing of it, dreaming as I was of what I could cook for tea. In the shop, I leafed through the papers, only half aware of some muttering and muffled laughing behind me. I picked the magazine I wanted and headed to the counter.

“Forgotten anything, sir?” grinned the old man behind the counter. I looked at him, puzzled, and then looked down at myself where he was staring. I’d forgotten to get dressed and was just wearing my briefs. I thrust the note at him and ran from the shop, dashing down the street to my front door. What on earth was going on? I’d never had a day like this before.

I was about to put the key in the lock when the three teenagers from yesterday, wearing baseball caps, T-shirts, tracksuit bottoms and Rockports (a look I’ve always secretly liked on a young man) appeared beside me, grinning.

“Going to let us in, then, Alan?”

My mouth opened to tell them to get out of here, but I was surprised to hear myself saying, “Of course, come on in, lads.”

They trooped in behind me and flopped on the chairs in the lounge. I went and stood in the middle of the room.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean, Alan?”

“Strange things have been happening. Was there something in that drink? And how do you know my name?”

“You told us. And, yes, there was something in the drink. A hypnotic drug. Which is why you’re doing the things we told you to.”

I looked at the speaker, the taller, dark-haired one.

“You’re Scott, aren’t you? I seem to remember you telling me. And you.” I looked at the brown-haired boy, “You’re Dale. And you must be Callum.” I looked at the shorter, blond-haired boy. “But what do you want with me?”

Scott shrugged. “Just some fun, really.” He paused. “You’re a chicken, trying to lay eggs.”

I couldn’t stop myself. Although part of my mind was shouting at me that this was all wrong, I found myself believing I was a chicken. I began to chicken-walk around the room, clucking and pecking for seed with my non-existent beak. Every so often I stopped to lay an egg—they may not have been real, but believe me, I could feel the pain of laying them all the same.

“Stop.” I stood still. “Go upstairs and get the box.”

I had no free will. My body began to ascend the stairs. I struggled against it, but soon found myself bringing the cardboard box full of things from the sex shop back downstairs. I put it down in front of Scott. Dale and Callum jumped up to look inside, grabbing items out and examining them.

“Take off your briefs.” That was Callum, smiling his angelic smile.

Of course, I had no intention of stripping buck naked in front of these lads, no matter how good looking they were, but my body was no longer under my control. I pulled my briefs off. I blushed as I realised that my cock was growing into a full erection.

Callum wandered over with a metal ring in his hand.

“He’s loving this!” he said to the other two, who gathered round to watch.

He grabbed my cock and pushed the ring onto it.

“Apparently this will keep you hard all the time. Should be fun... for us.”

Scott fastened some straps round my balls, separating them, as he explained to the other two.

“Shift out of the way, Scott. Alan, bend over the arm of the chair and spread your legs.”

I did as I was told, my arse exposed for them. Within seconds I felt something pushing against my arsehole.

“Push harder—jam it in,” yelled Scott.

“I’m trying!” Dale shouted back at him.

And he was. Painfully, inch by inch the large object (casting my mind back, I decided it must be one of the dildos) made it’s way up my arse until I felt as full as I ever have done. Then Dale began pulling it out and shoving it back in, increasing in speed as my dry arsehole began to adjust to the onslaught. In spite of myself I began to groan and moan.

“See, I told you he was gay.”

I couldn’t believe the speed with which the thrusts were coming now—that Dale must be a strong boy. My arsehole was becoming warmer and warmer, and then, without warning I exploded with come all over the side of the chair. Dale thrust the dildo back and forth a few more times then yanked it out.

“Naughty boy,” he muttered, “Better lick it up.”

I got down on my hands and knees and licked up the come, shuddering inwardly as I had never swallowed anyone’s come before. As I was doing so, I felt the shape of a large butt plug being shoved hard into my arse.

“That’ll do,” said Scott. “Stand up. I want to see how quickly you can come again after that.”

I wanted to fight it, but my hand moved to envelope my cock and began pumping away at it. Inwardly, I shrivelled away from the thought of masturbating in front of these boys, but I seemed powerless to do anything else.

My hand movements became faster, but it was a hard job to get a full erection and it took me nearly ten minutes before I again reached orgasm.

“I hope you can bring us off quicker than that,” complained Scott. “That was pathetic... Down on your knees, Alan.”

I sank to my knees again. Scott stepped forward, tugging his trackies and briefs down far enough to let out his already growing cock. He thrust it into my mouth.

“Suck it and lick it and make it good, Alan. And then swallow.”

Now I may not be modest, but I know I can give a good blow job. Granted, I was doing this under duress, but to be honest, I can never get enough cock. For the first time since they had entered the house, I was doing something almost eagerly. I teased his cock with my tongue. I sucked on the base of his cock. And he blew off into my mouth. I swallowed and decided I quite liked his taste.

No sooner had Scott withdrawn than I found Dale’s cock in my mouth, which I again ministered to with care and was surprised by the amount of come he produced. Callum followed straight behind, a smaller cock and a smaller load, but I was in no position to comment.

Scott smiled—in fact, he had a very attractive smile. “You did a good job there, Alan. In fact, I bet you would have done even without our hypnotic control, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” I hung my head. I didn’t usually find sixteen-year-olds attractive (even though it is legal here in the UK), and I certainly hated being under their control, but yet... Some spark within me was growing, realizing that these lads were attractive. I felt my cock begin to grow again.

“I bet his arse would be even more fun,” I heard Callum say. I looked up at them, knowing what was coming, dreading having no control and (perhaps) anticipating the pleasure of it.

“Hands and knees.” Scott’s command was almost like a whiplash. I dropped to my knees and leant forward, exposing my arse again. Was there no end to my shame?

“I need some lubricant,” said Scott, “Where is it?”

“Bathroom, upstairs. There’s KY-Jelly.”

Dale dashed up the stairs and then back down them like a herd of elephants.

“Alan.”

“Yes, Scott?”

“You are going to beg each one of us to fuck you. Not just ask, beg. And then you’ll tell us how good we were.”

“Please, Scott, please fuck me. Plough your love stick into my hole and fill me with your love juice. I won’t feel whole without it.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I couldn’t believe I was saying this.

I felt the butt plug being removed and then cold jelly smoothed around my hole and just inside. Scott’s cock head pushed against my arsehole. He wasn’t as rough as Dale had been with the dildo, but he was clearly coming in. He pushed far enough to wedge open the door and then thrust right in to the base of his cock. He pulled almost all the way out and then began long strokes pounding against my hole. For the first time, it occurred to me that my ‘friends’ might well be experienced in gay sex, possibly with each other.

Scott’s thrusts grew more rapid until he froze and I felt his come flooding inside me, warm and pleasant. I was in two minds now, part of me hating the idea of losing control, part of me loving what it was doing for me.

“Thank you so much, Scott, you’ve filled me and made me whole.”

Scott withdrew and, looking over my shoulder, I saw Callum take his place.

“Callum, please fuck me till I am sore. I desperately need your cock inside me. Please take me now.”

Callum’s approach was much more like short, rabbit thrusts with his cock, but it was still effective and he came quickly adding to the come floating in my arse. I wondered at how quickly these boys could climax again and how much spunk they produced.

“Thank you, Callum. You have made me very happy. Please, Dale, please fuck me now. I want to feel you inside me to make my joy complete.”

God, where were these words coming from?

“No.”

I turned and looked at him.

“No?”

“No. I don’t think you want me enough.”

I crawled over to him.

“I do. I do. I need you to fuck me. I need you inside me. I want you inside me.”

I pulled his trackies and briefs down to his knees, kissed his legs and then his balls and licked round his cock head.

“Okay, get down and get ready.”

I moved back to my position and felt Dale’s cock began to push inside. At the same moment, to my surprise, Scott pushed his cock between my lips. I swallowed it up greedily. I might have been hypnotised to do this, but I was damn well enjoying it. Dale held my hips as he began his long thrusts, Scott held my head as he matched Dale’s rhythm. Face-fucked and arse-fucked I felt like a complete slut—and realized I was enjoying every second of it.

With a yell, Dale began to flood my arse—I was beginning to think he would never stop, when Scott burst forth into my mouth. Arse and mouth I was full of delicious teenage cum. As Dale withdrew, I could feel a little of it begin to dribble down my leg. I reached back, without instruction and trained it back inside. Dale, almost tenderly, inserted a butt plug to keep their juices mixed within me.

“Thank you, oh thank you,” I whispered.

“Stand up.” I stood. “You know you will remain under our control.”

I nodded.

“Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Good. When you go into work you will find yourself unable to stop thinking about cock—and any chance you have to suck cock you will take.”

“But,” Dale interrupted,” no-one is to fuck you. We’re keeping your tight arse to ourselves. At least for the moment.” I swear there was actually some warmth in that smile.

“Remember,” continued Scott, “you must suck cock at work—if you don’t suck at least three each day you will feel ill. And every hour, on the hour, your arse will itch. The only way to relive it will be to put a finger up it. That might be through your clothes or you might put your hand inside your clothes first. I’ll leave that up to you.”

“Do I have to?” I managed, for a moment, to regain some control.

“You will not argue. You will do it.”

I nodded, my brief moment of rebellion over.

“Now go and get the other bag of things you bought that you had forgotten about.”

I went and found an orange plastic bag—which I had no recollection of from my trip to town—and brought it back to them. He opened it and pulled out one of the many nappies stuffed into it.

“You will need to wear one of these every night unless told not to, as we know you have a bladder problem.”

I could see that, even though I have never needed to use the bathroom at night, these nappies would full of piss and shit every morning.

“You can keep the cock ring on and the butt plug in tomorrow until we come. Take the plug out when we go.”

Dale looked at his watch.

“We’d better be off.”

Scott nodded. “You can wear briefs around the house when we’re not here. Nothing more.”

He turned and the others followed him.

After the front door was closed, I pulled out the butt plug and put on my pair of white briefs from earlier.

I stood in the lounge thinking. Clearly the boys had hypnotised me while I was under some drug’s influence the day before and clearly they had planted certain instructions, but what I didn’t know was how many. I seemed to be out of their control now. I decided I should ring the police—it might seem silly being controlled by teenagers but I couldn’t let this go on. I walked to the phone and picked it up. I put it down again. Of course, I wouldn’t ring—Scott, Dale and Callum wouldn’t like that. They wouldn’t want me to tell anyone.

I shook my head to try and clear that instruction, but couldn’t bring myself to make the call. Fuck. Very clever.

“I’ll have to hope this wears off or I can persuade them to stop it,” I mused out loud. “At the moment, I know about three commands: I have to obey them when they’re here, I can’t tell anyone and I shit myself when I hear the word ‘change’.”

I put my hand over my mouth but, of course, it was too late: I lost control of myself again and began to fill my briefs with warm, mushy shit. As soon as I finished I sat down and felt the shit squishing all across my arse and up the arse crack. I felt a mix of emotions: horror and shame at again shitting myself, but also a perverse pleasure at the warm comfort of the contents of my briefs.

“Oh!” Realization dawned. “This is another part of the instructions. Oh bugger.”

Without warning, I found I was pissing myself. A large spot appeared on the briefs and piss trickled out and down my legs. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop it.

Another embedded instruction... Clearly, I would have to be very careful about what I said, in case it triggered off some other humiliation. In spite of myself, I discovered I was still squishing the shit around my briefs. How embarrassing. How warm and comfortable.

With a great effort, I got up and went to the bathroom where I cleaned up. After drying off, I put on a nappy. It seemed the obvious thing to do, seeing as I would be going to bed soon. I glanced at the clock and nodded. Yes, half past eight. Only half an hour until little babies go to sleep.

I shook my head. It was becoming impossible to work out which thoughts were my own and which belonged to the boys. Had I really enjoyed giving them blow jobs and being fucked by them? Or had that also been an implanted thought?

I shrugged and went downstairs to clean up the mess where I ‘d been sitting. Then I made myself some baked beans on toast, coffee (it’s never occurred to me how nice it would taste with laxative in it) and finished it off with a full tin of prunes. Then it was off to bed.

* * *

I woke up, as I’d expected to find my nappy full of shit and dripping with piss. I lay there in the comfortable warmth for a second as I tried to work out why I had woken up—the clock radio hadn’t turned on.

Then I heard the banging at the front door again, clearly what had woken me up. I heaved myself out of bed and with the heavy nappy hanging from my hips wandered downstairs to the door. It was half open before it dawned on me that opening the front door, wearing only a nappy might be considered a bad idea. Dale pushed the door further open.

“It’s all right, there’s no-one else out there.”

He shut the door.

“I thought I’d pop in and see you before I went to school.”

I’d noticed the uniform: blue sweat-shirt, white polo shirt and mid-grey trousers.

“Go and clean up first, you shitbag.”

I showered and disposed of the nappy. I put on a fresh pair of royal blue briefs and went back downstairs, where I found Dale in the dining room knelt up on a chair, his arse tightly framed in the grey trousers—a wonderful sight.

“Are you going to make me do something?”

“No.”

He leant forward on the table, so his arse was pointed directly at me. I don’t know whether this was a hidden instruction or a hidden desire of my own, but at that moment, I wanted nothing more than his arse. I sank to my knees behind it and buried my face in it, sniffing and licking along the seam. My hands came up and stroked his arse cheeks as I began to kiss every square centimetre of those perfectly shaped buttocks.

The distance covered, I reached around and undid his belt and lowered his trousers past his arse. Now they were framed in glorious white and I again sniffed, licked, kissed and stroked through the cotton material. Finally, I could wait no longer and peeled his briefs off. This time I was able to enjoy every sense: the soft scent (he was very clean), the silky skin. I explored for quite some time across the buttocks before flicking my tongue down his arse crack. He flinched and gasped, but made no effort to stop me. I circled his hole tighter and tighter until it opened for my tongue to enter. Probing in and out I could have stayed there for ever, but in the end I knew I had to pull out. I finished up kissing his smooth buttocks all over again and then pulling his clothes back on.

He turned round and looked at me.

“Thank you for doing that,” he whispered.

“Thank you for letting me,” I whispered back.

He leant forward as if to kiss me but then seemed to think better of it. Jumping up, he made his way to the door.

“See you tonight. We’re going to have some fun!”

And with that he was gone.

Out of control (part 2) by Dogslife

It’s all been getting very confusing. I’m not entirely sure why I’m doing some of the things I’m doing. Three teenagers seem to have managed to take control of some of my thoughts. But they’re not here now, so I’ll write some more of what has happened and hope that I can email it or that someone may come across this and be able to help me.

* * *

I dressed slowly, thinking about the encounter with Dale. Of the three lads, he seemed to be the one who was almost affectionate. Could he possibly be attracted to me? I couldn’t deny the fact that he was a very handsome lad, although a bit younger than I normally find attractive. And his arse had been great to look at, fondle and rim.

But was this my own thought or something that had been implanted? I couldn’t feel myself rebelling against it or any shame, so perhaps they were my own feelings.

Before pulling up my briefs, I checked my cock ring and bent over to insert my butt plug.

I made myself a strong cup of coffee and a huge bowl of bran flakes and sat down to my breakfast. As I ate, my mind drifted back to Scott’s instructions from the night before:

<<” When you go into work you will find yourself unable to stop thinking about cock—and any chance you have to suck cock you will take—if you don’t suck at least three each day you will feel ill. And every hour, on the hour, your arse will itch. The only way to relive it will be to put a finger up it. That might be through your clothes or you might put your hand inside your clothes first. I’ll leave that up to you.">>

How on earth was I going to get through a day at work under those conditions?

* * *

I straightened my tie as I stepped through the door into the main open-plan office. Immediately I felt my cock stiffen and realised I was gazing around, able only to think of cock. At the photocopier, Adam, the young office assistant (whose arse I had often admired), was busy copying some paperwork and I glanced at his groin, licking my lips.

“Morning, Alan!” Chris, one of the junior members of staff approached. “You okay? You’re looking pale.”

Pale? Of course, I was looking pale—it had been a real strain to divert my eyes away from his trousers and up to his face.

“I’m okay. Stomach’s a bit grouchy, that’s all.” And it was. I realised that it would only grow worse if I didn’t follow Scott’s instructions. “Chris, can you come into my office a moment?”

He followed me in. I indicated he should take a chair and then pulled the blinds and surreptitiously locked the door.

“How’s things with you?”

“Fine.”

“Did you manage to patch things up with Sarah?”

Only the week before, Chris had gone for a drink with me after work and told me of all the problems he and his fiancée were having with their relationship—they seemed almost on the point of splitting up.

Chris grimaced.

“No, things aren’t getting any better. I’m beginning to wonder if we should call it a day.”

Ah! My way in.

“But you’ve both put such a lot into this relationship—seems a shame just to dump it.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what else to try.”

“The whole situation must be very stressful, Chris. Perhaps you need some relief to give you some perspective.”

“Eh?”

I pointed. “Chris, you’re clearly as horny as hell.” The bulge in his pants didn’t contradict me. “You’ve not had any sex for how long?”

He looked a little embarrassed.

“Four weeks.”

“See? How can you think straight when you’re under that sort of pressure?”

“Well, I...” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I do wank every night.”

“That’s no good. Let me do something about it.”

I dropped between this legs, my stomach already beginning to feel more settled. I glanced up at him—his face was reddening, but he said nothing. I unzipped his trousers, unbuttoned his boxers and wiggled his cock out. Straight away, I fell on it, swallowing and then deep-throating his length. My lips began to work on its base as my tongue explored its surface, stroking and caressing. I felt Chris push even further inside my mouth, his pubic hairs brushing against my nose. I increased my rhythm and within seconds he spurted great gobs of jism into my mouth. I held his cock for a few seconds longer and then released it.

Chris, without a word, stuffed his cock back inside his trousers and stood up. I moved to the door and unlocked it. He stood in front of me, looking right into my eyes.

“Thanks.” He paused. “You won’t say anything, will you?” I shook my head. “Perhaps we could do this again.”

I smiled at him as he made his way out into the main office.

My stomach settled, and my mind able to focus on other things beside cock (for most of the time), I sat down to my work. I allowed myself a small grin—who would have thought that I would so brazenly suck cock in the office?

I lost myself in a pile of papers until I felt my arse become really itchy. I reached a finger down to scratch it, but it wouldn’t stop. I glanced at the clock on the computer monitor: ten o’clock. I reached under my briefs and eased out the butt plug, which I quickly licked clean and then stuck in my pocket. I pushed with my finger until I entered my arse. Even through the material of my trousers and briefs I could feel where I was slipping. But it gave me a chance to scratch really well and the itch died away.

I decided I would have to make sure I was in my office each hour on the hour.

* * *

It wasn’t to be. Just before eleven, Susan, the office administrator stuck her head round the door.

“Mr Saunders wants all department heads in a meeting now. Apparently something big is about to break.”

I glanced at the clock worriedly. Oh well, I would just have to try my best not to give in.

I entered the conference room and my mind exploded with thoughts of cock again—the room was full of attractive young men from other departments and it was a serious struggle not to just give in to thoughts of sucking them all off. Mr Saunders glanced at me with a raised, questioning eyebrow.

“Sorry, sir. Bit of a stomach gripe. I’ll be okay if I sit down.”

He nodded to a chair and began to speak. Apparently one of our main competitors had been trying to woo one of our main clients away from us, and Mr Saunders was already on the offensive. As he spoke, I became aware of the itch in my arse. I tried to ignore it but it wouldn’t shift. I began to reach to scratch it, but stopped myself. I could feel myself beginning to squirm in my chair. Mr Saunders stopped his spiel and looked at me.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Alan?”

“May I be excused to go to the loo?”

He nodded and I shot out of the room and skidded down the corridor into the men’s room. Slamming the door on a cubicle I dropped my trousers and briefs and began scratching. Accepting the inevitable I pushed my finger up my arse hole and scratched inside until the itching stopped. With relief, I pulled my clothes back on, flushed the toilet and went to wash my hands. As I did so, a man finished at the urinal and walked over to stand beside me. I recognised him as Roger Wilkinson, a major client, head of an important firm and attractive blond thirty-something.

I turned to look at him and he looked back, our eyes meeting. On a whim, I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. He looked a little startled but said nothing. I took his hand and led back into the cubicle I had recently vacated, locking the door behind us. I kissed him again and this time he kissed back, his tongue demanding entrance.

After a minute or two of this, I sank to my knees and flicked my tongue across his trouser-covered, growing cock. I looked up and he smiled down at me—words seemed unnecessary. I undid his trousers and eased them down, followed by his tight white briefs. His cock sprang free and I hungrily took it into my mouth, hurriedly sucking and tonguing it. It was a magnificent specimen, fat and long and I could feel my jaw being pushed almost out of position as I continued my assault upon it. As I did so, I moved my hands up to kneed and caress his arse.

He came within minutes, huge spurts of come which I eagerly swallowed. I cleaned him up and then released him, sorting out his trousers and underwear. I stood up.

“Well, with service like that, Alan, you have no fear of losing any custom from me.”

And, with that, he was gone.

I tidied myself up and made my way back to the conference room. Mr Saunders glanced at me, but didn’t stop speaking. I nodded slightly and headed back towards my chair.

“And as you can see, we will have to change our methods.”

Oh fuck! I had forgotten the trigger words that the boys had set in my mind. As soon as I heard the word ‘change’ I lost control of my bowels and began to fill my briefs with a long, mushy turd.

“Sorry, sir,” I yelled as I rushed out to the rest room again.

With a superhuman effort to control myself, I managed to restrict the flow to the start of a second turd. As I slipped into the cubicle, I felt an almost overwhelming urge to sit on the toilet and enjoy the feeling of it squishing around my arse, instead I managed to drop my trousers and briefs, lift up the seat and plonk myself on the toilet.

After letting rip, I then faced the prospect of trying to clean up the mess in my briefs. Fortunately it was fairly solid shit and didn’t take too much removing, although there were a few marks left in my briefs. I grabbed the aerosol of air freshener and sprayed it liberally around, including across my briefs.

Then there was nothing for it, but to pull myself together and go and face the music.

As I stepped out of the restroom, Mr Saunders was walking along the corridor towards me. I immediately blushed, while part of my mind screamed at me about sucking him off. I had to drag my eyes away from his crotch.

“I think you should take the rest of the day off, Alan. You’re not doing yourself any favours by being here. Go on.”

He clapped me on the shoulder and smiled before walking away.

Feeling rather shaky, I made my way down towards my office. He was right. In my current state it was almost impossible to get any work done. I stepped into my office and began to gather my things together. My stomach suddenly began hurting like hell and I realised that I had disobeyed my young masters and only sucked two cocks so far. There was only one thing to do.

I flung open my office door and yelled.

“Adam! Get in here now!”

He bobbed up from a desk where he had clearly been chatting with Paul, and hurried across the room. As he barrelled into the office, I locked the door behind him. I then went and stood behind my desk.

“Adam, your work is not up to scratch.”

He hung his head.

“I know, Alan. I am trying to improve, but—”

“No excuses, Adam, you’re going to get yourself fired if you can’t do something about this.”

“I know. Do you want to fire me now?”

“No. I’m prepared to put myself out to help you. But you’ll have to do something for me.”

“What?” For the first time, he looked me in the eye.

“Let me suck your cock.”

He flinched and looked as if he was about to say something, but stopped.

“Sit down.”

“But what if anybody finds out?”

“The door is locked and the only way people will find out is if you tell them.”

He seemed to relax.

I undid his trousers and, as he lifted his hips, lowered his trousers and briefs down to his knees. His cock stood proud and erect, long and slender. It would be a pleasure to suck this—and I was sure this was my own thought.

I didn’t swallow it at once. I licked around the head for a while, noting, from Adam’s gasp, which was the most sensitive spot. I worked my way down his length and tongue-bathed his balls. Finally, I took his length, centimetre by centimetre into my mouth, until his cock was all mine. Savouring the scent and taste, I began to slowly work my tongue up and down his silky skin in time with the action of my lips. I brought my hands round and began to stroke his globe-like arse cheeks.

I enjoyed every moment of that slow torture as he gasped and shuddered under the ministrations of my mouth, tongue and hands, until his back arched and he exploded in a torrent into my mouth—a torrent I thought would never end.

I hung on to his cock for another minute or so, teasing and cleaning it, before letting go. I peeked up to see his eyes closed. I knelt back on my ankles and looked at him, until his eyes opened.

“Alan, if that’s all I have to do to keep my job, I’m more than happy—you could do that every day to me.”

I just smiled at him and stood up as he dressed and made his way out of the office.

I gathered my things together and made my way out, cheered by the well wishes of my colleagues and a big smile from Adam.

I was just passing the reception desk at the front of the building when I heard the porter muttering to himself.

“Damn thing! Oh bugger this.”

Fuck! Another trigger word. I rushed out of the building as my briefs began to soak with urine and it began to dribble down my legs.

* * *

I stepped through the front door and slammed it shut. Strangely, I then found I couldn’t move forwards. What was the matter now?

I looked down at myself and realised what the problem was. How dare I presume to wear anything more than briefs in the house? I stripped quickly down to my underwear and found I was again free to move.

I slouched (in my damp briefs) into the living room and flopped on the sofa, grabbing the TV remote control. Exasperated by the way the morning had gone, I flicked through the channels, finally resting on one.

“So, if you want to produce really fine roses, you’ll have to change fertilizers.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I was too tired to fight it. My briefs filled with shit and I began to wiggle my arse on the seat, squishing it around. Tears sprang to my eyes. How could I go on living like this? Surely there had to be something I could do about it? I flicked the TV off and went upstairs to have a shower, afterwards pulling on a clean red pair of briefs.

I had an idea and went to turn the computer on. If I could just email someone I could try to end this ordeal. No such luck. I could load up my email program, but I couldn’t send any emails that mentioned anything about what was happening. I was so fed up, I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting there playing Free Cell and Hearts.

* * *

I heard the thump on the door and made my way gloomily downstairs. Opening the door, I saw my three ‘friends’ waiting there, grinning.

“Why the long face, Alan?” asked Dale as they made their way in.

“You’re ruining my life. I can’t do my job properly with all the constrictions you’ve put on me.”

“Oh, stop whining, you dog,” muttered Scott. “In fact, that’s a great idea. You can be our dog for a while.”

I sank to my hands and feet and followed them into the living room. Part of me was screaming out about this, but part of me recognised that as a dog I was in my rightful place and shouldn’t complain.

“Sit, boy,” grinned Callum. My bottom sank to the floor as a good dog’s should.

Scott snapped a piece of chocolate off the bar in his hand and threw it through the door into the dining room. I raced after it and picked it up in my mouth. I took it back to Scott who patted me on the head.

“Good boy. You can eat it now.”

“Wait a minute,” exclaimed Callum. “Why’s our dog wearing clothes?”

I cocked my head to one side, looking up at him and whining softly. He stood up and moved behind me, yanking down my briefs and pulling them over first one and then the other paw.

“Wag your tail, little dog,” scoffed Scott. I knew where my tail was, or should be, and waggled my arse as if it were there.

“Come with me,” said Dale. I followed him to the back door, sensing that Scott and Callum had also followed.

He opened the door. “Go and do your business.”

I trotted out into the garden, the human part of me desperately hoping that no-one could see. Fortunately there are no houses behind mine and, because of the shape of the road, neither of my neighbour’s houses looks out much onto my garden. I wandered over to the fence, sniffing for any tell-tale smells, cocked my leg and pissed on the fence. Then I squatted down and produced a pile of shit, which my front paws scrabbled a little to cover. I made my way back to the house, where Scott stood with a hosepipe.

“Need to clean out little puppy up, I think.”

He turned a jet of cold water onto me, which made me bark and then whine. He particularly played it across my arse, cleaning off any mess. When he stopped, I did what any dog would and gave myself a shake before trotting back into the house.

“Oh, isn’t he cute?” mocked Callum.

“Next time,” said Dale, “perhaps we should bring him a dog bowl and some dog food.”

“And perhaps,” interrupted Scott, “next time we should bring a dog to fuck him!”

The three boys burst into laughter as this horrific thought. I stood there, shivering slightly, my dog half waiting for my next instruction, my human half humiliated and angry.

“Okay,” said Dale, when the laughter subsided, “You can go back to being a human again.”

I stood up and glared at them.

“What did you do that for? What if someone had seen me out there?”

“Bugger that!”

The piss dribbled down my leg and formed a puddle at my feet.

“Now, don’t argue with us again. Come with me.”

I found myself unable to do anything but follow Scott. He led me into the dining room and insisted I bend over a chair.

“You’ll have to be spanked for daring to disagree with us.”

He knelt down, untied his trainer and pulled it off.

“Count and thank me for each stroke.”

Inwardly I groaned. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse. I felt the sting of his trainer smashing against my arse.

“One. Thank you, Scott.”

“Two. Thank you, Scott.”

He was quite expert, never seeming to hit the same spot twice, and always leaving an uneven pause between strokes.

“Twenty. Thank you, Scott.”

“Your turn, Dale.”

Dale showed me what he was holding—it looked like a larger, thicker version of a table tennis bat—a paddle, I presumed.

I jumped as it hit me, the pain was something else.

“You didn’t thank me. We’ll have to start over.”

He caught me square on my right buttock.

“One. Thank you, Dale.”

Left buttock.

“Two. Thank you, Dale.”

Smack bang in the middle.

“Three. Thank you, Dale.”

A longer pause and then two in quick succession—one on each buttock.

“Four. Thank you, Dale. Five. Thank you, Dale.”

After twenty swats from Dale’s paddle my arse was on fire and I felt like screaming out, but feared this would bring greater reprisals. I shuddered at the thought of what Callum had in store for me.

He appeared in front of me with a length of bamboo cane, which he swished experimentally through the air.

“This should be fun,” he murmured, disappearing behind me.

Yowch! I couldn’t believe the force with which brought this thin cane down on my ravaged arse.

“One. Thank you, Callum.”

I jumped as he hit the tops of my thighs, an area little touched by the other two.

“Two. Thank you, Callum.”

I nearly cried out as a vertical sweep landed down my arse crack.

“Three. Thank you, Callum.”

He was clearly the meanest-minded of the three of them, hitting me thirty, not twenty, times and with incredible force. As he finished I could feel welts rising on my arse and feared that he might have broken the skin.

“Stand up.”

I stood. What else could I do? My hands reached round to try and ease the pain.

“Stop playing with your arse. Hands by your sides.”

“How does that feel?” Was that a hint of compassion in Dale’s voice?

“It hurts like hell.”

“So, you won’t argue with us again?”

“No, Scott. But please, please can you change my instructions for work?”

“I’ll think about it. Now down on your hands and knees, arse in the air.”

I dropped to the floor, my red arse exposed for them to see, the skin feeling like it had been stretched tight.

Scott took off his trousers and blue briefs and wandered round behind me. Without any preamble I felt his cock pushing against my arse. It slipped in quite quickly and he began to roughly fuck my arse, holding my hips, his balls occasionally slapping against my sore arse. It seemed to take no time before he froze and spurted his juice inside me. Almost immediately he pulled out and Callum replaced him. I glanced up at Dale as Callum shoved his way inside and caught a strange look on his face. Wistful? I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t concentrate beyond the feel of Callum pounding my arse.

Dale removed his trousers and black boxers and came and stood in front of me, arse facing me. This boy sure liked being rimmed! I got up on my hands and began to kiss and lick his arse cheeks, moving swiftly into his arse crack and teasing his pink rosebud. He smelt delicious and I began to poke my tongue into this pucker, again bringing forth shivers from him. Behind me, Callum yelled and then began to pump his jism in me. I moved one hand around to play with Dale’s cock, but he pulled away from me and, as Callum withdrew, took his place at my arse.

Somehow he seemed more gentle, even though I could feel him pounding away like the other two. In fact, my cock grew even bigger, sensing that I was enjoying his assault much more. Just like yesterday, Dale seemed to pour pint after pint of his come into me.

When Dale withdrew, Scott told me to stand up and wank myself off. I still didn’t want to be doing this in front of these sixteen year olds, but my hand wasn’t under my control and, with all the stimulation I had already had, it was a matter of seconds became I came, some splashing onto Dale who was standing nearest.

“Lick it off,” he said quietly. I did so.

“Now, you wanted us to change your instructions.”

“Yes, please, Scott.”

“Okay, shit-for-brains.”

This must have been another trigger word as the next thing I knew the lads were all standing in different places.

“I’ve changed your instructions, but you won’t know what they are till tomorrow.”

And with that they were gone.

* * *

It’s twenty-five past eight and nearly time for me to go to bed. I’m sitting here at my computer in my nappy, wondering what the hell my new instructions will be and, more importantly, how I can break loose from the boys’ control. I hope somebody gets to read this and can help me.

<to be continued?>

<suggestions for further humiliations etc welcome>