The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Big Red’s Little Amsterdam: Target Acquired

Author’s note:

As always, this and other examples of my erotic fiction can also be found on my website, http://dabblerx.lunatextpublications.com/

Day One

I work nights, so I wasn’t very happy about the knocking on my door at 8:30 in the morning, even if it was my day off. I jerked the door open to find this guy standing there, holding out a small box, about two inches thick by five inches wide by seven inches long. It was made of dark wood, and there was a silver symbol marked on the top face of it.

“I am to give this to you,” the man said in a wooden voice. He wasn’t bad looking, pretty average actually, although he was dressed in a suit with an expensive overcoat. Definitely not my type.

I took the box. There are a few people who know that symbol and what it means. It’s my personal symbol, I’ve used it on any number of occasions to mark things as mine. That the box had my symbol on it meant it came from a friend, or at least somebody who knew a lot about me.

As soon as I took the box, the man started and looked around. “Who are you?” he demanded. “And where am I?” I didn’t like his arrogant attitude, but I think fast on my feet.

“Look, I already told you, she doesn’t live here anymore,” I told him. “She hasn’t lived here in two years. Find another crack whore to fuck. If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the police.” I slammed the door in his face. I figured that would ensure he would leave quietly, I’m sure his boss or co-workers wouldn’t look kindly on him making a scene about some strung-out prostitute he’d been looking for.

I knew something odd was up, but wasn’t sure what. I locked the door quickly, and opened the box (it was a clam-shell type, almost what you would expect jewelry to be in), and found a hand-held computer within. But having worked for a cellphone company for several years and keeping up on the latest technology, I knew this wasn’t made by Palm or Blackberry.

About the thickness of a Blackberry, this had a slide-out keyboard, as well as a small stylus-joystick. The case was burnished metal with a clear blue rubbery coating. The screen took up most of the front face, and it was lit up.

Down one side of the screen were a number of menu buttons. The bottom of the screen had a number of tabs. A small transparent window was open, displaying the message “Program execution complete. Input new user.”

At the top of the screen was the application name.

I had a fully functional MasterPC interface.

Most people, at least those who have heard of it, assume that MasterPC is just software. I’d done some serious thinking, and had come up with a different answer. MasterPC is, in fact, a software application, but it wouldn’t do jack shit when loaded onto a normal computer. MasterPC had to be loaded onto a computer so advanced that most of us couldn’t even imagine it.

Some people have theorized that the program can utilize the entire Internet to process its commands. If this is so, then the Internet is a massive network of psychic energy.

No, the software needed specific hardware on which to run. Otherwise, the instructions the user gave the software would do nothing, unless all you wanted to do was manipulate three-dimensional art. And I was very skeptical that any such hardware would fit on the planet, much less be this compact. However, a remote interface would be about this size.

“Display all programmed limitations of this application,” I typed into the text box on the Help Tab.

“Application limited to altering sentient, semi-sentient, or pseudo-sentient organic lifeforms currently on the same planet as the current user,” the result came back. “Advanced search features are also available.”

“Are there any biases programmed into this application as to changes created within the current user or changes made to other lifeforms?” I typed.

“No.”

“Will this interface permanently deactivate at any time, or cause altered lifeforms to revert to original state?”

“Not unless specified by current user.”

“Has this application been modified by previous users?”

“No.”

“Would this application tell the truth if instructed to lie about the answers by previous users?”

The screen blinked once. “Of course.” That got a grin from me. The program seemed to be learning personality as I progressed.

“Can you identify previous users or lifeforms altered by previous users?”

“No. Functionality limited to current user only.”

“Can you, or other interfaces of this application, identify current users of other interfaces of this application?”

“No.”

I switched over to the System tab, and input an instruction. “Until directed otherwise by the current user, this interface will not allow any other lifeform to use the application.”

“Command accepted…. Processing complete,” was the reply.

I put the remote interface down on my desk and went to lie down for a while. I wanted to think. I also wanted to doze for a while; it was still way too early for me.

I tell friends that I have a mind like a steel trap: dangerous to innocent bystanders. I come up with wild ideas sometimes, and try to figure out how to make them work. This comes in handy in my job. I am primarily a trouble-shooter. Customers come to me with problems, and I find a way to fix it.

It also comes in handy for my “other” job. I write science fiction and fantasy, often in an urban or modern setting.

So I started to think, just kind of free-associating as I just sort-of dozed.

In an episode of the animated Batman series (the new one with Bruce Wayne as an old geezer), there’s process called “splicing”. People get gene treatments to alter their features, most often to look more like animals.

I’d been pretty taken by that episode. We have techniques now that can duplicate most of the same effects (such as surgery, steroids, tattooing, implants, etc.). I couldn’t figure out why more people weren’t trying for this.

And I’d come up with some ideas on my own, ones that I really wanted to try on some other people to see how they turned out. One in particular really made me horny as hell.

It should be no surprise that I am into domination. After all, anybody who has heard of MasterPC has been reading mind-control erotica, so they’re either into submission or domination.

Due to my finances and my looks, I hadn’t had much luck attracting a sub. I’d had some success at hypnosis with a couple guys, but it wasn’t enough, I guess.

I stood five foot eight, and was skinny with a bit of a gut. I had very little muscle definition anywhere except my legs (I had been a runner in high school, and it never went away). I was hairy, which I liked. I had a few years before begun shaving my head to disguise the huge bald spot that covered my head from back to front. I had a goatee stripe down my chin, and my mustache went down to the chin as well. Unfortunately, at the age of 41, my beard had gone almost completely blonde, although my natural hair color was dark brown.

“First things first,” I said to myself, and got up to pick up the remote.

I clicked New Target on the menu bar, and specified “Self”.

“Target Acqquired: Michael Devlin.”

One of the first things I did was to check the Health tab. I was surprised at some of the things that were listed there. I checked every physical item that was listed (I wondered how long my kidneys had been acting up, I hadn’t noticed) except male pattern baldness. Even mental health issues were listed, and I left some of those unchecked. After all, I didn’t want to totally change myself. A little bit of paranoia and obsessive-compulsive can be good for a person.

I made myself comfortable on the bed, propped up with my pillows, and clicked the Fix button at the bottom.

It was pretty major. Imagine sweating in some parts of your body while others have goose bumps, while itching on the inside, with muscle spasm in places you didn’t know you had muscles. But it was over pretty quickly.

I had to take off my glasses to see the screen. My eyes had been fixed.

I didn’t want to get too crazy with changes, but I did browse through the options. A couple tabs had “Advanced” buttons on them, and I checked them out too.

Some of the Advanced options were incredible, but I wasn’t interested in creating an ammonia-breathing life form.

The entire time I was checking out the options available, I was looking at a three-dimensional picture of myself. Every tab and window was semi-transparent, so the picture of the “target” (me) was still visible. As I checked and unchecked items, the changes would be applied to the picture. A couple of times I was warned by an alert that two or more items were in conflict.

I queried the help system on a couple of questions, and went to the System tab. I instructed the remote to induce sleep five minutes after I put it down, and then initiate the transformations. I would wake up an hour later, not feeling any of the changes happening.

I woke up and stretched, yawning comfortably. I got out of bed and went into the bathroom, and looked in the mirror.

My head was now naturally smooth, from my eyebrows back to the nape of my neck. My goatee and mustache, as well as my body hair, was thicker and a natural shade of red. My eyes had been changed to a pale shade of green. My chin had become a little wider, looking more masculine.

My arms, chest, and abdomen were masses of good, hard muscle, as if I had worked in construction for years with frequent trips to the gym. My legs were like tree-trunks. I stood six foot five, and weighed 275 pounds.

My nipples were the thickness of my thumbs, and rose from my pecs a good inch.

My dick was now uncircumcised (ah, the marvels of super-modern technology), and I had a morning erection of eleven inches, six inches around. My balls were the size of tangerines, and hung nice and low.

Thanks to some programming, my body hair and pubic hair would never need to be trimmed, neither would my facial hair.

I grinned at my reflection and swore in a deep gravelly Irish brogue.

I turned to the toilet and gave myself a mental nudge, cumming in long, copious spurts as I twisted my nipples.

Once I had relieved my morning erection, although my dick now followed my commands, not its own, I went to the closet. None of my clothing would fit me now, but I had figured a way past that. Extending my new power of telekinesis, I unraveled several pairs of jeans and rewove them into one. Two t-shirts were converted into a single tank-top. For the rest, I had other ideas.

I was interrupted by a knocking on my door, and I could guess who it was.

I opened the door and my apartment manager stood there, trying to look concerned and friendly. However, all she managed to look like was as if she was there to pick my pocket.

“Oh! I was looking for Michael,” she said, startled, staring up at me.

“He had to go into work for a couple of hours,” I lied. “Emergency of some kind. He told me to crash out on the couch until he got back. I’m going house-hunting today, and invited him along.”

“Oh, where are you parked?” she asked. She was digging for information, trying to find a way to claim Michael (me, actually) had violated the lease by letting a stranger park in tenant-only parking.

“Down the street,” I told her, crossing my arms. She stepped back as I flexed the muscles in my biceps.

“Well, just tell him that he is supposed to have permission to have guests stay here,” she snapped. “And rent is due on Thursday.” She stalked away hurriedly.

I closed the door and ‘lifted’ the remote interface towards me. I specified a new target again and spent some time doing some new programming.

“Target Acquired: Marie Pline.”

“You will begin gaining weight immediately, five percent of your current weight each day, for the next thirty days. Your hair will begin to fade and will not take dye or any other hair treatments. You will also offer every male resident, in writing, a reduction in rent if they sleep with you. You will be incapable of speaking normally to others, you will speak loudly in a high voice. You will be unable to keep track of your personal items for longer than five minutes, losing them and misplacing them constantly. You will blame this on people breaking into your apartment or your office. You will also proposition any police officer who comes onto the property, and become insulting if they reject or ignore your advances.”

Basically, she would be losing her job shortly. I had gotten tired of her constant antics, trying to find little infractions to evict people, reminding people of the due date a week or more in advance, not fixing things, and a lot of other complaints.

She’d be misplacing her keys, her cellphone, her purse and anything else five minutes after she put it down. She’d accuse tenants of stealing from her, and call the police. And after becoming a screaming harridan to a few of the police officers in town, she’d be out on her ear.

But I’d be long gone.

I set up a search on the remote, and soon it had a list of locations in town of buildings abandoned or left vacant for more than five years. Using my clairvoyance, I looked each of the buildings over and chose one that had a number of storefront spots on the first floor and a large number of smaller rooms and apartments on the two stories above.

Using the clairvoyance, I also looked over the selection of boots available at some finer establishments and finally picked a pair from a store in Amsterdam. I apported the boots to me, along with a motorcycle jacket of the right size and a black leather duster (you can’t reweave leather). From an online sporting goods shop’s warehouse, I teleported a case of wool socks made for my new shoe size.

I made a mental note of other items available in some of the shops, for later. My new eidetic memory would be coming in handy.

While I had been dealing with the landlady, I had thought about a couple of people who had pissed me off in the past year or so.

I had the remote interface temporarily put my voice back to the way it was before, and dialed work. “Yeah, I have to leave town, a major family emergency. I don’t know if I’ll be coming back. No, everything’s pretty screwed up at the moment, I have to get things straightened out first.” I ignored the patently false condolences I was given, and hung up.

As I teleported all my belongings to the building I’d chosen, I seriously thought about the concept of revenge. Everybody says it’s petty, but it can be pretty therapeutic as well.

I didn’t care about the people at work, other than one or two people that were more than casual acquaintances. Even the folks I had helped to get jobs there didn’t really matter to me anymore, they were just people whose names I knew. Yes, there had been hassles and so on, and a few of the management really deserved to have their lives made hell, but truth be told, they’d only be replaced by equally flaky jerks.

However, there had been a couple people who had either ripped me off or done things to complicate my life. I saw no reason why they shouldn’t pay me back. And I was going to charge one hell of an interest rate.

I mentally removed the chains and plywood blocking the door that went up to the second and third floors of the building, and used my powers to clear a couple of rooms on the top floor of the major debris.

I sat down on my couch, now in the building I’d chosen, and started some small programs.

“Target Acquired: Norman ‘Scoobie’ Merriwell. Program Scoobie_1 initiated.”

“Target Acquired: Logan Smith. Program Logan_1 initiated.”

“Target Acquired: Gene Bradley. Program Gene_1 initiated.”

“Target Acquired: Eric Yeaton. Program Eric_1 initiated.”

Once that was done, I went shopping again, but closer to home.

Within a half an hour, one of the rooms on the second floor was full of stuff I’d grabbed. Power tools, cleaning supplies, fixtures, brooms, mops, and other stuff. I’d also found, and instructed via MasterPC, several people to perform small tasks for me. Most of them would never meet me and never realize what they had done, but my power, water, and heat would be on by the end of the day, and a dumpster delivered. The telephone installer would be rushed out to fill my needs.

And I’d never receive a bill for any of it.

I’d gotten that all done when I heard the sounds of footsteps coming down the hall towards the room I was in. I looked up and waited patiently. Scoobie stepped into the doorway, and stood there, his face full of terror.

I’d met Scoobie one night outside the convenience store near my apartment. He was obviously freaked out about something, and I struck up a conversation, trying to see if there was something I could do to help (I was a soft touch sometimes). He was 19, about six foot and skinny. He had light brown hair falling down over his eyes and was dressed typically for a kid of his age. It turned out he’d been threatened by a couple of guys in a truck, and was afraid to walk home. I offered the use of my couch for the night. I had no intention of fucking him, and I didn’t. But about 4 a.m. I woke up to find that Scoobie had left, along with about $500 of my money.

Scoobie had homed in on me like an arrow, due to the program I had started. He hadn’t been the closest of the four targets, but obviously he’d found someway to beat the others to me. And the entire time he had been compelled to come to me, he’d known that I was going to punish him in ways that he couldn’t imagine. And he knew who I was, even through the changes I’d wrought on myself.

“Please, don’t,” he begged brokenly. I just leaned back in my chair and laughed.

“You looked down on me because I was shorter and smaller than you and gay,” I reminded him. “You took advantage of my generosity and stole from me. You could have been a friend; you decided to be a thief. If I had asked you not to steal from me, would you have listened?”

The program I’d made specifically for him, called Scoobie_1, compelled him to tell the truth. “No,” he admitted, as tears ran down his face. “But I can pay you back!”

“Oh, you will,” I nodded. “For the rest of your life, actually. How did you get here so fast, anyway?”

“I have a truck,” he told me.

“That’s great!” I grinned. “Because it’s my truck now. But for now, here’s how you’re going to start repaying me. Take that broom, and start sweeping out all of the rooms up here. Sweep it all into the hallway, then sweep it down the stairs to the second floor. Then start sweeping out the rooms on the second floor. By then, you’ll have some help, and I’ll have more work for you.”

The stupid kid looked relieved at that, obviously thinking that all I was going to do was use him for physical labor.

“Oh, and you’ll do it naked. Don’t worry, all of the windows are either boarded up or too filthy for anybody to see you from inside.” His face fell at that, but he still didn’t look like he understood what was going to happen to him.

He shucked off his clothes (I told him to leave his shoes and socks on, for obvious reasons) and took the broom into the next room. As soon as he was busy, I pulled out the remote and started Scoobie_2, another program that would take effect gradually throughout the day.

“And if you do a shitty job, you’ll be sucking my dick!” I yelled to him.

While I waited for the next arrival, I did some snooping around town, and found other people I needed to do small jobs for me. A clerk in the Building Inspector’s office approved a renovation plan and signed a building permit, which I whisked away as soon as she turned away from her desk. A man in the County Clerk’s office noted the change of ownership of the property for me and notarized it. In City Hall, about four people did small jobs for me without ever realizing it.

A little program caused the original owner to forget about the property, as well as his lawyers and the property management company who had left it vacant as a tax dodge.

I took time to inspect Scoobie’s work, noting that he had already shrunk in height about three inches. He was sweeping hard, and I had to wonder if he was going to leave any floor left.

“I want the dirt and garbage out of here,” I told him, sarcastically. “We’ll mop later, after we clean the walls and ceilings.”

A few minutes later, Gene showed up. He stood there in the hallway in front of me (I had been inspecting again) and kept his mouth clamped shut.

“You can either talk, or wait it out,” I told him. “You won’t be able to leave, and you’ll have to follow me around until you say it.” To make my point, I started strolling up and down the stairs and around each floor. About the fifth trip up a flight of stairs, he finally gave in, huffing and puffing.

“Alright, I was an asshole,” he cried. “I used you.”

Gene was three years older than me, 44 years old. He stood about even with my new height, and his close-cropped hair was a light shade of red. I’d met him casually when I’d first moved into town, and he had come to me for a place to stay when his girlfriend had thrown him out. He’d bragged about how much he was making an hour on his construction job, but, contrary to our agreement, he contributed none of that money to the rent, utilities or groceries. The most he’d provided was a pack of cigarettes every now and then. He’d almost gotten me evicted, because he had stayed 3 weeks past the time the landlady had agreed he could stay there. There had been no romance or other sex between us; Gene was straight.

He’d driven me broke, and the landlady had charged extra for the extra person staying in the apartment.

“You used me alright,” I agreed. “You were better than me. I was supposed to cook and clean, do my job, come home, and cook and clean some more, while you blew all your money at the casinos. You made promises, and you broke them. So, now, it’s your turn. Go get the long-handled brush, the spray bottles, and the cleanser, and start cleaning the ceilings. When you’re done in each room, you can do the walls. I want them clean, and ready for paint. You’ll do this nude. And no talking, unless I ask you a question and you are answering it, or you are acknowledging my orders. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Gene replied, already shucking out of his clothes, right there on the stairway. I followed him into the room with all the supplies, admiring the way his ass moved as he walked.

“And if you don’t do a good job, you’ll have my cock up your ass for a half hour,” I told him. The red flush spread evenly over his freckled body, as I activated the Gene_2 program.

I had a contingency program ready just in case, and it turned out I needed it when the telephone installer showed up about ten minutes later. He and I chatted easily as he installed all the necessary wiring, and he never noticed the two naked men working around him. He even gave me a free wireless router, along with some CD-ROM’s that the telephone company doesn’t allow customers to have.

Shortly after he left, lights flickered on in a couple rooms. The rest had missing or broken bulbs. I lifted some replacements from a local wholesaler who advertised they carried every type of bulb ever made.

Scoobie got a bit of a shock when I lifted him mentally to screw in the replacement bulbs. I could have done it myself, but I thought an object lesson would be good for the two men. When I put him back down, he looked like he was having a religious experience.

“What’s the matter?” I asked him.

“It just felt strange, sir,” he told me quietly, looking down at his feet. I hid a grin.

“What, when I touch you with my mind like this?” I asked, as I ran a mental finger down his back.

“Y-yes, sir,” he blurted, as he jumped.

“Well, if it bothers you that much, I won’t do it any more,” I said casually as I turned away.

“No, sir, it’s OK, it just felt kind of weird,” he replied, confused. But I had seen the erection he’d sported before I turned away.

I knew Logan’s shift at work, but I wasn’t sure if he’d wait until his shift was over to come to me. I hadn’t been specific in the compulsion, as I was experimenting a little.

I had expected Scoobie and Gene quickly, as I had realized that both of them were easier to dominate than Logan. Logan was more of a wild kid than they were.

But Logan showed up before three. He came into the room with a lost-puppy look on his face.

“I’ve been bad, and I need to be punished for it,” he told me.

“Yes, you have, and you will be punished,” I replied.

I knew Logan from work. When one of his paychecks had been short (which happened a lot at that company), he was thrown out of his apartment. I offered to let him stay with me for two weeks. One of the rules was that he was to make himself scarce when I had friends over. Another condition was that he was not to have friends over without consulting me first. In the three weeks he was there, Logan had turned my life upside down. He regularly flaunted his body at me, daring me to make a move on him (he too was straight). He drank heavily every day. He ran the TV at all hours (I never watch it). He kept screwing up my computer. And one night I had arrived home to find him fucking his girlfriend on my couch (it took a week to get the smell out of my apartment). And when he left, he took a number of my belongings with him while leaving his empty beer cans all over the place.

“You used me, and deliberately made my life hell,” I told him. “Because of your antics, my electricity was turned off for two weeks. You left a mess behind for me to clean up. So now you’re going to clean up this mess, and more. I suggest you get out of those clothes. Get the mop and the bucket from the room next door and start mopping the floors in the rooms where the ceilings and walls have been cleaned already. When you are done on this floor, I’ll have more work for you.” I gave him all the instructions about not speaking that I had given Gene and Scoobie. “If you don’t do a good job, I’m going to sit on your face for a half hour.”

As soon as he was occupied, I started another program Logan_2. Then I went looking for Eric, with the help of the remote. I finally found him hitchhiking towards Reno, where I was, about three hundred miles away. I guessed his van had broken down.

I waited for a lull in traffic on the little highway he was on, and teleported him to just inside the city limits. I wanted him to work to get to me, but I didn’t want to wait until midnight for him to show up.

After inspecting the state of the floors, I grabbed a floor-sander and a floor-buffer from a nearby rental business. I also grabbed floor wax from a flooring company.

Eric arrived two hours later, having had to walk the rest of the way. He presented himself to me, and it was obvious he was suffering. The heat out on the highway must have been murder, but he hadn’t thought to stop for water.

“I was wrong,” he told me dully. “I treated you badly.”

I met Eric when I was doing temp work on my days off for extra cash. In the middle of December, he was sleeping in an unheated van, trying to get to Las Vegas. Eric was 37, and a little over five feet tall. However, he had let his body go to pot, you couldn’t even tell he used to be an athlete. But Eric had slept on my couch for about nine days. In that time, he made promises, just like Gene, that he had never followed up on. He also was constantly talking, and had to have my full attention, even when I was writing or was on the phone. When he lost his job after only two days, and hadn’t looked for another three, I tossed him out. I had known he had enough money for a tank of gas in his van, and had not worried about him after that. However, I had discovered a stash of porn under the couch. Obviously, he had had enough money to buy porn magazines full of big-breasted women but not enough to buy gas.

“Yep,” I nodded. “Where did you get the money to buy all of those magazines under my couch?”

“I had it before I moved in,” he told me.

“Then why did you buy magazines, rather than gas, or even cigarettes?”

“I can’t stop myself,” he admitted. “And I wanted more money just in case, before I left for Vegas.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about the magazines anymore, or getting to Vegas,” I told him. “You’ll be staying here, and you’ll be doing as I say. Strip. You’ll find cleaning supplies in the next room. You’re going to scrub out all of the toilets and sinks on this floor and the next one. If you don’t do a good job, the other three guys and I will be using you for a toilet for the rest of the day.” I also filled him in on the rules for not talking.

“Yes, sir,” he nodded tiredly as he started to take off his clothes. Then he started to leave the room.

“Hold it,” I told him. I grabbed a case of bottled water from the local Wal-mart. “Drink one of these. Wait a half-hour. Drink another. And so on. You’re going to start taking better care of yourself. You belong to me now, and you’re not going to ruin my property.

“Yes, sir,” he nodded, his eyes on the bottle of water I held.

After he’d drank the water and gone to start his chores, I made some alterations to the Eric_2 program before I started it.

With the stated threats of various sex acts pushing them along, the four guys were actually getting the job done fairly quickly. But I could tell that the programming was proceeding better than expected.

It had become obvious to the first three guys by then that they were getting shorter. Gene had to get a longer handle for the brush he was using, and all three of them were finding the relatively long length of the handles unwieldy.

The programs written for each of them were gradually reducing their height. Scoobie and Logan were already down to four feet, and Gene was only a few inches taller. Eric had barely started, so his changes wouldn’t be apparent as quickly.

The programs were also redistributing weight so that they were more muscular. Scoobie was slowly bulking out, Logan was more defined, and Gene was beginning to look like a professional body-builder. By the time Eric had done two toilets (there were eight in all, six on the top floor, two on the second), his paunch had faded to almost nothing and his face was looking leaner. And each of them had an ass that would have shamed Michelangelo.

Their balls were hanging lower, and Scooby was showing some real heft down there. All of them were gaining girth in their cocks, although their cocks were getting shorter. It would not be apparent until later that they were now uncut.

Gene’s hair was now almost as red as mine, while Scoobie’s had gone as blonde as possible. Logan’s had disappeared altogether, due to an idea I’d had regarding his future development. Scoobie had been sweeping up Logan’s hair for a while now. By the time Eric was done, he too would be blonde.

With the exception of Gene, they’d all be tanned nicely by the end of the day as well.

There were other changes happening, although not as apparent. Scoobie especially followed me with his eyes whenever I was around. Even Eric was beginning to evidence some cheerfulness (I had found him a real downer when he’d stayed with me).

And due to the fact that I had boosted my own pheromones, to put the libido of any male near me into overdrive, had them all with bright red erections. The pheromones also made people more inclined to accept what I said as fact, and to concede to my wishes. I briefly thought about relaxing the restrictions against touching themselves, but decided against it. If I had said boo to any of them, they’d have cum all over themselves as it was.

After I had inspected the rooms that had been done, I took Gene and Eric aside, as the two who had some knowledge of construction.

“I’m thinking that the flooring, what’s left of it, is shit. I want your honest opinions. Should we tear out the old linoleum, or just lay wood flooring across the old?”

Gene answered first. “If we just lay the flooring over the old, it might warp and buckle, sir,” he told me earnestly “It wouldn’t be hard to remove the old stuff, it’s pretty brittle. I can show the other two boys how to do it, with the right tools.” I grinned at how easily Gene was now referring to himself and the other three as ‘boys’.

“I don’t know anything about flooring, sir,” Eric told me. “But I don’t think it would be a good idea to leave the old stuff down.”

“Describe what tools you’d need,” I told Gene. Once he’d described the knives and scrapers that would be needed, I nodded, and grabbed some from a nearby store. “We’ll work on that tomorrow,” I told them. “But we still need to get these rooms cleaned. Back to work, and be quick about it.”

“Sir, we’ll need to remove the old toilets before we put in flooring,” Gene volunteered. Eric nodded.

“Understood,” I nodded. “Now, back to work.” This time they trotted off, their cute butts waggling as they moved.

I’ll admit readily that I have a thing for midgets. Who wouldn’t want a boy whose mouth was the right height to stick your dick into? Or a mouth the right height to lick your ass? Seems a perfect solution to me. There would have to be some accommodations, but those I could live with.

I spent some time getting my hands on some cold hard cash. This wasn’t difficult. Reno has a lot of banks and casinos, where there is a lot of money sitting in vaults. It’s the only town I’ve ever been in where nobody bats an eyelash at a one hundred dollar bill.

I purposefully took the money from vaults. Not registers or the carts tellers use. That money is counted constantly, and I didn’t feel like ruining anybody’s employment (I hear the casinos are even nastier about it than banks). I took it out of the vaults because that money was considered to already have been counted, and nobody would lose their job over it (at least it was more unlikely). I considered taking a single one hundred dollar bill from each location, but then decided to take a whole bundle of hundreds. Then I took a second one from all the casinos.

I also grabbed a bundle of clothing from one of the local thrift stores. The thrift stores bundle together clothing that doesn’t meet their standards, to be shipped off to a plant where they shred the clothing and make the emergency blankets handed out in emergencies by the Salvation Army and the Red Cross. I took one bundle out of hundreds, so didn’t feel guilty about it.

Scoobie had finished sweeping out the rooms, and I told him to leave the pile of debris until later. I showed him the back stairway that led into one of the storefronts (I had to use my telekinesis to open up the stairway, they had walled it off at the bottom and the top at some point in the past) and told him to clean it up. I had Gene help him once all the walls and ceilings, except for the second floor hallway, were done. I noticed quickly that the two seemed to take every chance to bump into each other or rub against each other “by accident”.

By six o’clock, most of the work was done, and I grudgingly admitted they’d done alright. I ordered a couple pizzas and soft drinks, and paid for it all this time.

I’d taken off my shirt and pants, and was walking around in my boots and my jock. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed each of them eying my bulge quite a few times.

I sat on the couch eating, while they sat on a rug doing the same. When I judged they’d all eaten enough, I started a new program on the MasterPC handheld, designed to make them very suggestible.

“I want you boys to get rid of that trash, and come back here,” I told them. They jumped to clear away the boxes, paper plates, and plastic cups. In only a minute or two, they were back before me, standing at attention with their hands behind their backs.

“I want you all to look at each other, and yourselves,” I told them. “What do you think of your new bodies?”

“They’re neat,” Eric said quietly, gazing at the other boys. He looked down at himself. “I look better.”

“They look good,” Scoobie replied, fighting tears. “But I’m a freak now.” The contradiction confused him.

“I don’t know what to think,” Logan sobbed. “I like it and I hate it.”

“Why did you do this?” Gene asked.

“Stand in a square, facing each other,” I told them, standing up. “Put your hands on the shoulders of the boy next to you.” They followed my instructions easily, each one turning their faces towards me. “Look straight ahead. Listen to the sound of my voice. As you listen to my voice, you will be compelled to feel the body of the two boys next to you. As you touch their bodies, you will feel a need to feel every bit of their bodies. You will follow this compulsion, touching them as much as possible. You will recognize how sexy they are and you will feel very lucky to be touching them. And as you feel them touching you, you will come to love the feeling of being touched by male hands. You will love the feel of your own body. You will love the feel of touching them twice as much as you like the feeling over their hands on your body. And as you are feeling their bodies, and feeling them feel yours, you will find yourself forgetting what you used to look like, and you will know that you have always looked like this.” As I watched them, I kept repeating key phrases, in different order.

It was like watching a mixture of square dance and gogo dancing. Each of them was stroking the body of the two next to them, one with each hand. Their eyes had already begun to glaze over, and their eyelids were only half open. Eric stood with his head thrown back, his mouth open in a silent moan. Scoobie’s hands were moving fast over the two boys next to him, Eric and Gene. Gene stared first at one boy, then at the other (Logan was on the other side of him) and then down at himself. Logan’s hands had found Eric’s ass and Gene’s cock. Eric seemed to be trying to pull Logan and Scoobie closer to himself.

When I judged that they had each gone deep into the trance I had started, I told them to stop and drop their hands to their sides. Each of the four was breathing heavily, and their faces were slack.

“I want all of you to face me,” I instructed them. “Look at me, look at my body. Think of how much you want to touch it, lick it, taste it. Look at my body. You want to serve me, serve my body, in all things. Look at my body. You want my body, you want to serve it.” I repeated this several times. “Now. Feel my touch on your bodies. Feel how I own you. Feel how you must serve me.” I began stroking each one of them with my mental touch. Each of them began to quiver and shake under my touch, although they continued to stare at my body in front of them. I sat back down on the couch. “I am going to bring each one of you forward, and your final transformations will begin. You are going to accept these transformations, they will seem like your wildest dreams have come true. If anyone asks you will tell them that you came to me to help you with these transformations. They have always been your biggest dream, and you serve me because I have made them come true for you. You want nothing else than to serve me, because I have made your greatest wish come true.”

With a mental touch, I lifted Gene towards me. I freed my cock from the jock strap and started the new program, Gene_3. “Do you want to taste this, Gene?” I asked.

“Yeeeessss,” he hissed, staring at my cock.

“Taste my cock. When I cum, your greatest wish will come true.” Gene began licking my cock with his tongue (I’d made modifications to that as well, I wanted boys with nimble tongues), and began gobbling at my cock, his hands caressing my balls and my stomach. The knowledge that had been leaking into their minds, about all the techniques for pleasuring a man seemed to have worked, because he was working my cock deep into his throat. His throat muscles, his tongue and his lips played a symphony on my cock. I laid back, my legs wide, for several minutes, enjoying the sensations.

“Gene tell me what you want,” I urged him. He pulled off my cock with a lust-filled look, continuing to work my cock in one hand.

“I want you to change me, sir,” he replied. “I want you to cum, so I can become what I’ve always wanted. I want to serve you, sir. Let me serve you in the way I’ve always wanted to.”

“What will your name be after I change you?” I asked him.

“My name will be Lucky, sir,” he grinned.

“Suck it, boy,” I instructed. “Milk every drop out of my cock. You’ll need every drop to change.”

He went back to sucking my cock with new energy, seeming to stretch my cock another couple of inches with the suction. When I was sure he was ready, I gave a groan.

“Take it boy!” I roared, as I triggered the explosion of cum.

As he slurped hungrily at the cum shooting out of my cock, he began to change. His face became more elfin and boyish, his ears grew to points. I could feel the little red van dyke beard tickling my balls as it grew in. The freckles across his body brightened. As he licked the last of the cum off my dick, he grinned up at me.

“Did I do it right, sir?”

“You sure did… Lucky,” I told him. His grin widened.

“How may I serve you sir?”

“Just slide over and sit here, Lucky.” I patted the couch next to me, and he swarmed up to nestle between my body and my arm, sighing contentedly. I picked up Logan, mentally, and brought him closer, as I started program Logan_3. “What do you need to change, Logan?”

“I need… sex,” he crooned, staring at my cock.

“Come take my sex, Logan,” I told him, twitching my cock at him. “When I cum, you’ll get your wildest dream come true.” I guided Logan over my cock, and he spread his legs for me. My cock popped into his waiting ass without hesitation, and Logan began driving himself up and down on my cock.

I’d always wondered about Logan in certain regards, and he certainly confirmed my suspicions. Lurking underneath that cocky exterior had been a submissive, because he started chanting, “Want you sir, Need to serve you sir” almost immediately. And that hadn’t been at the prompting of the programs.

I was surprised to see that some changes were already starting to appear. I looked at the remote interface in my hand, and noticed that some of the changes seemed to be starting because Logan was already accepting them.

I knew I couldn’t let him ride my cock for very long. Without the necessary changes first, his body would never take the full length of my cock up his ass.

“What’s your name, boy?” I asked him, readying myself for another shot of cum.

“My name is… Nagi, sir,” he replied, in the throes of ecstasy. Sweat beaded up on his skin.

“What are you, boy?” I prodded, in more ways than one.

“I’m an imp, sir, sent to do your bidding in all things sir!” he cried.

“Then I call you, Nagi, to do my bidding,” I told him tensely. The cum shot out of my cock to coat his insides, and some of it dribbled out of his ass and down the length of my cock.

The patches of skin on his body that had begun to turn red or dark began to transform, becoming blood-red and black scales, in diamonds and chevrons. The scales that ran from his throat to his ass lightened to a pale pink. Ridges of scales ran down the middle of his scalp, the outsides of his arms, along his spine, and the back of his legs. Two budding horns erupted from his forehead, and his ears became pointed. I could feel his tail against my leg, and I lifted him off my cock with my arms. His eyes opened, showing golden eyes with slit pupils, and his cloven hooves rested on my stomach.

“Welcome, Nagi,” I told him. “My personal little sex demon.” I set him down next to me, on the opposite side from Lucky. His forked tongue snaked out and began teasing my nipple. “Lucky, what do you say?”

“Welcome, Nagi,” Lucky chirped in a perfect Irish brogue, in a tenor pitch.

“Thank you, Lucky,” Nagi replied.

I noted the progress on the remote of the subliminal program I’d begun before inducing the trance, and nodded. I looked at Scoobie and raised an eyebrow. With only that prompt, he stepped forward and began stroking my legs.

“Sir, can I be your little boy?” he asked. “Will you be my daddy, and my leather daddy?”

“I think you know what to do,” I told him.

He sat down at my feet, facing me, and gently removed my left boot, then my wool socks. He looked up at me, holding the sock.

“May I sir?” he asked. I nodded. He rolled the cuff of the sock up, and slid it over his cock and his balls. With due ceremony he lifted my foot to his face and began licking every drop of raunchy sweat.

I sighed happily and closed my eyes as he continued to lick my feet, and between each toe. He gently suckled on each one as well.

When he moved, reluctantly, to the right boot, I stopped him with my left foot on his chest.

“When I cum, what will your name be?” I asked him.

“I’ll be named after my daddy,” he told me seriously. “I’ll be named Paddy.”

Which was exactly right, because all the paperwork that I had instructed to be done that day had my new name as Padraigh O’Duine.

“Are you ready to be baptized, boy?” I asked him.

“Yes, Daddy,” he said happily.

“Then get on with it, boy,” I told him. He pulled off my right boot and sock, and began licking and nibbling at my foot and toes. After enjoying the feeling for a bit, as well as the ministrations of Lucky and Nagi on my nipples, I got ready to shoot again.

“All right, boy, get ready to be baptized,” I told him, “stand close!” He scrambled to his feet, still wearing my sock on his dick, and leaned towards my cock. I shot liberally over his face and chest.

Most of Scoobie’s transformation had already been achieved through out the day. However, his face became harder, like a miniature version of mine, and his body filled out more and became harder as well. He gave me a cocky grin as he scooped up the cum with his little fingers and sucked it down.

“Get up here, Paddy,” I told him. He scrambled up my body and I wrapped him in a bear hug as he kissed me on the lips. I darted my tongue into his mouth and he sucked at it greedily. “OK, Lucky, move over, you’ve had your share of the fun,” I growled. Lucky moved over, and I deposited Paddy in his place.

“Are you ready, boy?” I asked Eric. Eric nodded, eagerly, his eyes bright. “Well, then, get up here,” I growled.

Eric scrambled up, to lay spread over my stomach, his mouth on my nipples. My cock rode the crack of his ass, as he rubbed his cock in the fur of my stomach.

His tongue and teeth teased my nipples, as his soft ass cheeks gripped my cock between them. I relaxed into these sensations, as I watched Lucky and Paddy kiss and stroke each other’s bodies. I looked back, and saw Nagi and Eric playing tongue-tag over my nipple on that side. I grumbled happily.

“Who are you going to be boy?” I whispered into Eric’s ear. He shuddered and grinned up at me.

“My name is going to be Rut, sir,” he whispered back.

“Are you ready, boy?” I asked him.

“Oh, yes, sir, please,” he breathed.

“It happens now, boy,” I grunted. Another wave of cum came out of my cock, splattering over the back of him. Beneath the cum, dense blonde fur began to erupt, and I looked down his back to see a little tail poking up at the top of the cleft of his ass. I saw one foot kick up into my field of vision, and it was already a perfectly formed cloven hoof, dark amber where Nagi’s were black. He arched his back, giving out a low crooning moan, and I watched the two horns sprout from his forehead, shorter than Nagi’s but thicker at the base. A long blonde goatee hung from the underside of his chin in curls. He licked his lips and scooted upwards to nuzzle at my neck.

“Alright, boys, I think it is time we hit the sack,” I said after a while of enjoying the closeness of my four boys.

Arranging the four of them onto the bed with me started an argument. Paddy tried to claim pride of place on the basis of “he’s my daddy”, Nagi on the basis that I was “his summoner”, and Rut simply tried to squirm his way in. All the while, Lucky sat back and laughed.

I cleared that all up by arranging the boys two on each side. Two of the boys had their heads in the laps of the other two, and so all four could be right next to me.

As I drifted to sleep, as four little pairs of hands played with the hair on my body or other parts, I judged that I had gotten it exactly right.

Scoobie, now Paddy, had lacked a father-figure for a long time and had no idea of how to react to kindness. He also had a ready affinity for the harder side of life, as well as dirt, sweat, and grime. As my leather boy he would have all of that.

Logan/Nagi had been a closet nymphomaniac, as evidenced by his constant shoving his body at me when he stayed with me. By recreating him as an imp, a fledgling incubus if you will, I fulfilled a need in him to have sex constantly.

Gene/Lucky had always been cheerful, and a bit mischievous, although a jerk at it. By turning him into a leprechaun, I gave him a needed outlet for that mischief, while removing the obstacles being a “normal adult” had imposed.

Eric had always had an air of the wild-child about him. In another time, he might have lived happily by himself out in the middle of nowhere. Now, as the miniature satyr called Rut, he could be that nature child, self-satisfied in his need to commune with nature.

I, on the other hand, had a start on a new life, with what I wanted. It was quite possible that I might, in time, feel the need to experiment further, but for now I would concentrate on finishing my living quarters on the top floor of the building I now occupied.