The Policeman Who Blew Too Much

By Killerwhale Zeus

(MC, MM)

(12/12/2001, 19/12/2001)

Greetings to sunfiregod, Thom21, ONIX and Soxnties. Their stories

inspired many elements in this story.

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WARNING:

This story contains material suitable for adults only, including

sexual references, low level violence, nudity and adult themes.

The stories presented here are fictional and are intended as

erotic fun, most of the acts presented are reprehensible and no

normal person would engage in these things in real life. These

stories are harmless revenge fantasies (on fictional and imagined

people) and puerile sex slave stories. Try not to take them

seriously.

=================================================================

Part One

At the age of 24, Michael had spent the last five years at the most

elite police academy in the Southern Hemisphere ... and it showed.

His mind was razor sharp and his body was a lean crime-fighting

machine. His handsome features, a square jaw-line and fine teeth

complemented an already impressive package. On his last night at

the academy all the female recruits had thrown themselves at him.

Michael had been only too happy to play good cop, bad cop.

And all of this was part of the problem. Now that Michael had

everything he wanted ... he was a junior officer for the local

metropolitan branch of the police ... he was unsure of what he

wanted now. He needed guidance. At least, that's what I've decided

is the reason he came to see me.

Doctor Conway P. Smuggins, Professional Counsellor and

Hynotherapist is my name and title ... although the P. is only

real thing there. Yes, when Michael came to me he was a bundle of

raw energy, bursting with a life and vitality that I instantly

knew I had to control and channel ... hey, you can't have

hypnotherapist without the rapist. Geddit? hypnotherapist = hypno-

the-rapist. Man, I've hope I've spelt that right or else that joke

is going to make me look like a dick-head. I'm a Doctor, not an

English professor.

Anyway, as I was saying. Michael's fantastic body came to see me

one day. I recall that some other parts came along as well ... his

personality, etc, but there was only one thing I could focus on

during that first session. This man was an adonis! I could see the

atheletic muscles of a sculptured god rippling underneath the tight

white t-shirt he was wearing. His jeans contained an impressive

bulge and his face was so beautiful and his eyes were so intense it

made tears come to my eyes.

'So, Doctor, can you help me?'

'huh?' I said, snapping out of my day-dream. Not only was this

totally hot guy sitting on my office couch but I had, in my

capacity as a doctor, been writing myself perscriptions for some

fairly exotic drugs. Suffice to say I was in a good frame of mind

... a little scattered ... but man, it felt good to fly!

'I said, can you help me?' Michael repeated, glancing nervously from

me to the door and then back again.

'Oh what? Sure Sure! I can help ... you.' I had to focus. I was not

going to let this little puppy get away from me. 'Uh, what was the

problem again?'

Michael stood. 'Look, I'm sorry to bother you Doctor Smuggins but ...'

'Sit down young man!' I commanded. I reached in to my drawer and

pulled out my fake pair of doctor spectacles ... the ones I wore

when I needed to look more authoritive. 'I said sit down!'

Michael looked at me strangely, and, with a sheepish grin, sat

down. It was odd, but my spectacles had only ever inspired

obedience in people ... not sheepish submission. It was then that

I realised I had accidently put on my humourous groucho glasses

... the ones with the fake nose and moustache attached. I

quickly pulled them off and threw them back in the drawer.

'I, uh, wore those as ... um ... a comforting device ... a way

to break the ice.' Michael looked sceptical. I continued, 'You,

uh, looked uncomfortable.'

'You're right. I feel silly being here. I've never need to see a

physcologist before.'

'I'm not a physcolegi ... a pshycologest ... a pshy ... a shrink

... I'm a ... um ...' I glanced over his shoulder and at the title

on the door. I'm a rollesnuoc.'

'A rolliesnowk?'

'I mean a counsellor.'

'... and ... a ... a ... hypnotherapist' He said in a small voice.

I grinned. 'Yes. A hypnotherapist. But first and foremost, I want

to be your friend. Now, what seems to be the problem? Don't worry

... you can tell me.'

Michael took a deep breath. 'I'm afraid.'

'Afraid?' I asked.

'Yes. Of failure.'

'Ah.' I replied. 'Are you afraid of failing anything in

particular?'

'I've told you all about how I need to be a policeman. I want to

be a detective one day, but to get to that level, I need to pass

a whole bunch of tests. The first one is in less than a month.

I've always had a problem with exams.' Michael said.

'How is this exam different?' I asked.

'I'm so close. I *am* a policeman ... an entry level policeman

... but still. My dream is no longer some far off vision ... it's

a reality. Every day I can see and smell the sights and sounds

that I could only picture in my childhood.'

'Alright, alright. You've convinced me. What can I do to help?'

'My friend Bob recommended you.'

'Bob ... Bob ... the name sounds familiar.' I mused. Of course!

Bob was one of my earlier subjects. I convinced him I saved his

marriage.

'He's convinced you saved his marriage.' Michael said.

'Yes. I was able to alter both their personalities slightly so

that they were better at the things each other liked.'

'Could you alter me so that I'm better at studying. In particular

just for this one exam?'

I nodded thoughtfully. 'I'd really like to, Michael, but I can't.'

Michael's face fell. 'Oh. I was hoping ...'

'Michael. Hypnosis is not a toy. It's a tool.' I reached in to my

drawer and collected the correct glasses. 'A serious tool for

treating people with severe emotional handicaps. If I used

hypnosis to help you pass your exam, I would be putting all the

other applicants in your course at a disadvantage.'

'I see.' Michael said. 'You're right. It was just a wild hope anyway.'

I allowed a lengthy pause. 'Of course ...'

Michael's eyes lit up. 'Yes?'

'While it's true there is no such thing as a free lunch, I

would not be adverse to making you pass your exam. But there

would have to be an associated cost.'

'What do you mean?' Michael asked. 'Money is not problem.

It means shit to me anyway. All I want is to be the best

policeman I can be.'

'I'm not talking about money. As you just said yourself,

money means very little to you. If I was to improve your

personality in such a way as to make you pass a test, in the

interests of fairness, karma and balance, I would have to

reduce your personality in some other way. Consider it like

subtracting from one part of yourself to add to another part.'

'What do you mean?' Michael asked, confused.

'Well, just say I doubled your ability to recall information

you read in books. A similar, negative post-hypnotic command

would have to be put in place. The net gain in ability to you

would be neutral ... but at least you'd pass your exam.'

I admit, the idea was far fetched, but not as far fetched as

my spinning candy coloured bow-tie.

'What kind of change are we talking about here?'

'In the grand scheme of things, passing a single exam isn't

that big a deal, so the change would only be rather small.

Probably something like ... I dunno, I might make you less

tolerant to alcohol, so instead of six beers to get you tipsy,

it might only take four.'

Michael thought about it for awhile. 'Alright, that sounds

like a fair trade.'

'Okay then. Lie back and remove your shirt.'

'My what?'

'Your shirt. Come on lad, I don't have all day.' I snapped.

'Why do I need to take off my shirt for hypnosi?.'

'If you must know, subjects always respond better when they

are in a slightly vunerable state. Hypnosis requires trust

and this is one way of forcing a subject to trust his master.

Don't worry, it's not a sexual thing.'

'His M..M..Master?'

'That's the technical, professional term for the person who

is doing the hypnotising. It's the latin "Masterus", meaning

"Man In Control" as I recall, the term was first used in

its present context by the Bishop Of Kent in the year 1432,

of course it was during his trial and he was subsequently

beheaded...'

'I thought the gullotine was invented by the French a few

hundred years later.' Michael said.

'You didn't let me finished. He was beheaded by piano. They

dropped it from the top of the Tower Of London.'

'What was the Bishop Of Kent doing in London? Why did they

drop a piano on him? Did they even have pianos back in 1432?'

'I said take off your shirt!'

Michael pulled his t-shirt up over his head. I had to

swallow to keep the drool from running down my chin. In his

book, Bret Eaton-Ellis referred to young people with good

physiques as "Hard-bodies" ... of course, I was no American

Psycho, but still, I could appreciate a hard body when I saw

it. Michael had the kind of body you just want to reach out

and rub. The sort of chest you want to kneel down and worship.

The kind of arms you want wrapped around you.

'Hmm,' I thought to myself. 'I'd better use the crystal, I

don't trust my eyes not to water.' I usually did the whole

"look in to my eyes spiel" but I didn't think I'd get through

it with this hunk.

'Are you comfortable, Michael?' I asked.

'Yes, Doctor Smuggins.' He replied.

'Alright, let's begin. I want you to look in to this crystal.

Focus on the fire at the centre.'

Already Michael was looking drowsy. His arms, which were

initially crossed in front of his pecs, fell by his side and

his eyes lost focus. His loops began to droop.

Once again, I marvelled at what an excellent hypnotist I was.

I also marvelled at my foresight in spiking his drink with a

mind control drug.

'Michael can you hear me?'

'Yesss. I cannn heeearrr youuu.' He replied in a slurred

dream-like trance.

'Are you hypnotised? Answer yes or no only.'

'Yessss. I am hypnotised.'

'I said to answer yes only.'

'Youuuuu ssssaid toooo answerrrr nooo onllyyy. You ssaaaid

nooothing abbboutt yyyeeeesssss.'

'Well I meant both yes and no. Only answer my questions with

a yes only or a no only. Do you understand?'

'Yesssss.'

'Good.'

'I underrrrrrrstaannnnnd.'

'Gah.' I said. I can't believe I was losing an argument to

a fresh faced police jock. I, who had dined with the Kings of

Europe (although not in the same building). I, who had saved the

lives of millions (by not killing them).

'Michael, you told me you have an exam coming up. Is that true?'

'Yes.' He replied.

'You really want to pass that exam don't you?'

'Yes.' He replied.

'I can make it happen, but only if you really want me to.

Do you really want me to?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Then I will help you.' I smirked. Help ... enslave

... what's the difference? Now, I needed to crack open his

psyche to plant my commands very deep. 'Do you trust me,

Michael?'

'No.' Michael said, frowning.

I expected as much. I wouldn't trust me either.

'But you have taken your shirt off. That shows some trust,

at least, doesn't it?'

'Yes.'

Those lucious nipples, that smooth, smooth flesh...

'I'm a doctor. Do you trust doctors?'

'Yes.'

'So you can trust me. Okay?' I leaned forward in my chair

and gave one of his nipples a tweak.

'Y...Y...Yes.'

'You trust your friends, don't you?'

'Yes.'

'You trust me, so I must be one of your friends. Right?'

'Yes.' Michael nodded slightly in his sleep.

'Good. Good. You're a good boy, Michael, I'm sure you'll

do fine in your exam.'

Michael smiled.

'In fact, I'm going to give you the power you need to

remember everything in your text book. Okay?'

Michael's smile grew wider. 'Yes.'

'Okay, when I tap you on the forehead, you will feel

the power flowing into your brain.' I tapped his head.

'Do you feel it?'

'Yes.' He said.

'But you can't get something for nothing, can you?'

'No.' He replied.

'When I tap your head again, you will feel your

resistance to alcohol lowering. It will be only a third

of what it was. One glass of beer will have the same

effect as three. You will not learn your new tolerance ...

in your mind you will always assume you can drink your

old full amount. Okay?'

'Yes.' He replied.

I smiled. I know I had told him the effect would be

only two thirds (instead of one third), but I had only

used that as an example.

'Also, when I say the command "stud-muffin", you will

re-enter this state, deeper and more suggestable than

before. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'That's good. It feels good to obey Doctor Conway P.

Smuggins, doesn't it?'

I rubbed each of his nipples between my thumb and

forefinger.

'Yes.' He groaned.

'Very soon I will wake you up and you will not remember

this session. You will only remember that it was very

productive, very safe and that it was exactly what you

wanted. For all of this month, you will study for your

exam like never before. You will be amazed at how clearly

you are able to recall the subject material. Later this

month, in your exam, you will do well. You will be very

happy with the result and you will know it is entirely

due to me. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'Excellent.'

I woke Michael up and when he opened his eyes, he

smiled at me.

'How do you feel?' I asked.

'Really good.'

'Well then. It's done. I think you'll be presently

surprised.'

'Thanks Doctor, I feel a lot better now.' Michael

said, standing up and putting his t-shirt back on.

I stood as well, to show him to the door.

'When you pass your exam and are out celebrating

with your mates, I would appreciate it if you would

raise your glass, and drink a small toast to me.' I

said.

'Sure thing.' Michael replied, shaking my hand.

As I watched his firm butt walk off in to the

distance I congratulated myself. The line had been

baited, it was only a matter of time before Michael

was hooked, reeled in, and mounted (and I didn't mean

up on the wall). I could hardly wait until I felt some

tugging on my line.

Part Two

To my delight, it only took Michael a month to schedule a new

appointment with me. At least, I think it was only a month. I had

been really, really, really getting into those drugs.

I had spent the intervening time amusing myself by destroying

the lives of several married couples who had come to see me.

It's not what it sounds like ... I don't exist in a moral vacuum, but

then again, I'm a liar. I mean, to paraphrase my main spectacles

guy, marriage is a fine institution, but then again, who wants to

live in an institution? Oh man! The drugs!

I ushered Michael into my office and we both sat down.

'Hello Michael, what can I do for you?'

'Well, Doctor ...'

The phone rang.

'Excuse me Michael, I really must take this.' I picked up the

phone. 'Hello? ... Yes ... Yes ... Those charges will never

stick and you know it!' I slammed down the phone in disgust.

Michael was looking at me.

'Damn that Mexican Government.' I offered as way of

explanation. 'Now, what seems to be the problem?'

'Uh, I have another exam ...'

'You do? How did the last one go?' I asked.

'Really well. I got the top marks in the class, and it was all

due to you and your hypnosis.'

'Good, good. I'm glad you realise that.'

'But for my next exam, in forensics, I'm having a lot of trouble

concentrating. The subject matter is very dry.'

'I see, I see. What do you want me to do about it?' I asked,

with baited breath. Baited (geddit?).

'I want you to help me pass my next exam.'

I did a sharp intake of air, as if I had just heard something

dramatic.

'What?' Michael asked.

'It'll cost you, personally.'

'I don't care. I want to be a detective.'

'You're not concerned with what I might do to your

personality?' I asked, with some genuine surprise.

'You're a doctor, I trust you.'

'You're a fool!' I said.

'What???' Michael gasped.

'I mean ... you're a fool ... if you think I'd let you down in your

hour of need.'

'Oh, that's OK then.' He said. 'I guess I should ask what you are

thinking of changing?'

'Oh, um, as I said, it's a pretty big request. I was thinking of

making you slightly less confident around certain types of

people.'

'What? Not women?' Michael asked in alarm.

'No, no. I thought maybe making you feel intimidated by the

presence of Politicians or Dentists or something. It's very

subtle, but fair.'

'That sounds alright.' Michael said warily. 'I'm kind of scared by

them already anyway.'

'Good. Take off your t-shirt ... good. Just let me get my crystal

out, and then we can start ... stud-muffin!'

Michael's body flopped all unconcious-like over my couch.

'Michael, can you hear me?'

'Yes.' He replied, deep in a trance.

'I am pleased you came back to see me. When you have a

problem you know I can solve it for you.'

'Yes.'

'How have you been for the last month?' I asked.

'Yes.' He replied.

'You can answer with more than just a yes or a no ... How have you

been for the last month?'

'with more than just a yes or a no.'

'I didn't mean literally, Michael. Just answer my questions naturally

and truthfully ... leave the comedy to me. Now, how have you

been?'

'Good.'

'How did your exam go?'

'Really well.' He replied.

'And who was it all due to?'

'Doctor Conway P. Smuggins, my friend.' He answered.

'That's right. Tell me, have you been drunk in the last month?'

'Yes.'

'Tell me about the last time. When was it?'

'Last Sunday.' Michael said.

'Go on.'

'I had some mates around to watch the footy. It didn't go well.'

'Why not?' I asked.

'I got too drunk. I passed out during the first quarter.'

'You must have drunk a lot.'

'No.'

'How much did you drink?'

'I don't remember after the third stubby.'

I smiled. Three bottles of beer equated to nine for Michael ... that

was probably sixteen standard drinks in less than an hour. Who

knows how many he had actually drunk, five stubbies, maybe six?

'What did you friends say?'

'They laughed at me on Monday. They say I can't hold my liquor.'

'Maybe you can't. You shouldn't binge drink anyway.' For some

strange reason, the thought of Michael beginning to get tipsy after

one glass of champagne was turning me on. The thought of him

losing control early in the evening at the pub was something that

pressed the right buttons for me. Still, I wasn't going to rest on my

laurels.

'OK Michael. You want to pass your exam right?'

'Yes.'

'So I need to take something away from one part of you and add to

the part of you that studies for exams. It worked very well last

time, OK?'

'Yes.'

'When I tap you on the head, you will give yourself the skills

required to pass your exam.' I tapped him on the head. 'Now you

will pass your exam and know that it was all because of me.'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'Now, I have to extract the cost. As a policeman, you see

criminals everyday, don't you?' I asked.

'Yes.' He replied, with a frown.

'They're dangerous aren't they?'

'Yes. They can be.'

'In fact, to some people, criminals are scary.'

'Yes.'

'You find them scary don't you?'

'No.'

'Some criminals are murdereres and fighters. That can be a little

bit intimidating, can't it?'

'Yes.' Admitted Michael.

'Criminals can be intimidating, can't they?'

'Yes.'

'Criminals are intimidating.'

'Yes.'

Excellent.

'Alright, Michael. You find criminals intimidating. They are all so

big and strong and dangerous. You wonder if you can match them

in strength and speed.'

'Yes.'

'They look so grown-up compared to you ... so hardened. You worry

you can never earn their respect.'

'That's right.' He agreed.

'You will have to try and continue to do your job of arresting

criminals, but it will be hard. You feel intimidated and scared by

these people. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'OK, that should be enough. Two more things ... whenever you have

a problem or a doubt, only I can help you solve them. You should

come and see me whenever you have a really bad problem you

can't tell anyone about. OK?'

'Yes.' He replied.

'And finally, I want you to take up running. I think you should run

ten kilometres a day. Go to the gym three times a week and try to

get your body extra chiselled. Only do all this if you're in tip top

condition. I don't want you to hurt yourself. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

I woke him up and gave him a smile.

'Thanks Doctor, I feel like I could take on the world!'

'I look forward to our next session.' I said.

'I think if I pass this exam I'll be set.' He said. 'Thanks for everything

you've done for me and I wish you luck in the future.'

I smiled. Michael obviously thought that this was the last time he

would have to come here.

'You're a fool.' I said, and this time I didn't even bother trying to

cover for it.

Part Three

Michael was back in my office less than a week after his exam.

'Stud-muffin' I said, before we had even done all the small talk crap.

'Michael, how did your exam go?'

'Really well. You got me over the line.'

'Good, good. Have you been drinking?'

'Yeah, but it hasn't been fun.'

'Why? What do you mean?' I asked.

'I keep getting drunk too early. My friends all think I'm out of my

depth at the pub. It's very humiliating.' He said.

'True ... and it's going to get worse. From now on, your alcohol

tolerance is only one sixth of what it originally was. So one glass

of alcohol is the same as six glasses.'

'Yes.'

'Now. Tell me about your life. Have you been working out?'

'Yes.' He said.

'What's that like?' I asked.

'Everyday I get up early and go running. It's hard, but I really feel

the need to do it. Then on Monday, Wednesdays and Saturdays I

go to the gym for two hours.'

'What do you do there?'

'Mostly, I lift weights and other upper body exercises. I really need

my muscles to get bigger. I work on my abs until I feel like vomiting.'

'Good. You enjoy it.'

'Yes.'

'You really want big muscles. They can never be big enough, the

bigger they are, the more confidence they give you to face your harsh

life. Keep working on your abs. You like to work-out. You like to have

a good body. You like to show it off. You need to keep working on

your abs.'

They were good (damn good), but I was a perfectionist.

'Now Michael, tell me about your work. Have you arrested anybody

recently?'

'Yes, dozens of people.'

'What for?'

'Mostly drunks who needed a place to stay.'

'Anyone special?'

'Um ... there's one guy...'

My ears pricked up. 'Oh?'

'He's a hired gun.'

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'He works for the underworld, doing all their dirty work, for

money. He's scum.'

That sounded about right. 'Tell me about him. What does he

look like?'

'Tall, Solid, Caucausian, short-cropped hair. Only identifiable

feature is a large tattoo on the back. Often unkempt or unshaven.

Should be considered extremely dangerous.'

'Sounds like my ex-wife ... no seriously, good work Michael, you

described him like a real policeman would.' Probably ... I have

no idea how a policeman would describe him. 'But tell me, is he

handsome?'

Michael frowned. 'Um.'

'Would a woman find him attractive?' I rephrased the question.

Michael's face relaxed. 'I guess so.'

'What colour are his eyes?'

'I w...w...wouldn't know.'

'What's wrong?' I asked.

'Nothing. Guys just don't notice the colour of other guys' eyes.' He

said.

'Michael.' I said sternly. 'You must answer my questions fully and

truthfully. Now, other than the fact you don't notice other guys'

eyes' colour, why don't you know it?'

There was a long pause. 'I ... I ... I can't look him in the eyes.' He

finally managed to get out. He looked so cute all upset like that.

'Relax Michael, relax. Tell me, why can't you look this criminal

in the eyes?'

'He intimidates me.'

'Really ... describe that feeling to me.' I said.

'I feel uncomfortable in his presence. I feel small ... and ...

inadequate.'

Oh yeah! Jock on the defensive ... I love it.

'That's right, Michael, you are inadequate in his presence. You're

not a real man when you're in his company. Tell me, what is his

name?'

'Trent Pollard, but he has several aliases.'

'Trent ... Trent ... that's a nice name.' This was exactly what

I wanted.

Michael screwed up his face.

'What, Michael?'

'It's not a nice name. People like Pollard are scum. They make

this community suffer. He deals drugs and he gets paid to hurt

people. If I had my way he'd be locked away forever.'

I thought he was probably being too harsh on Pollard, but

then again, I'm not exactly Mary Fuckin' Poppins. 'Will he be

locked away forever?'

'No.'

'Why not?' I asked.

'Pollard has agreed to give us details on his bosses in return

for clemency.'

'So ... instead of going to jail, he'll be remaining at your

station ... in the lock-up ... for interrogation?'

'Yes.'

'For how long?'

'Two months.' He replied.

This was too good to be true. Michael was my nut, and the

nut-cracker was currently residing at his place of work!

'Alright. Michael, there are two things I want you to do for me.

That you must do for me. Firstly, you have to get on the

interrogation team. It is your primary short-term goal now.

I want you in the room with Pollard on a daily basis. You

will get your superiors to trust you on this issue.'

'Yes.'

'Secondly, next time you see Pollard, I want you to soak up

every detail you can about him ... his eye-colour, the shape

of his nose, the state of his body ... every single detail. Do

you understand?'

'Yes.'

'Excellent. You are a very good boy, Michael.'

Michael smiled ... it was like sunshine entering the room.

'Now Michael, before I forget. Why have you come to see me?'

'I...I...I have a problem.'

The difference in Michael from a month ago was quite

dramatic. Making a policeman afraid of criminals had more

effect on the ego than I would have imagined. It was interesting

from a purely scientific point of view.

'Tell me, what is your problem?'

'I have an interview next week for the detective squad.'

'What can I do?'

'Lately I haven't been feeling confident. I'm afraid that in

the interview I'll appear nervous.'

I smiled. 'I can help you with that. Whenever you are talking

to the people who are going to interview you, you will feel

confident and strong. Understand?'

'Yes.' Michael said, smiling.

'That's about it then.' I said. 'But after your interview, I want

you to come and see me every second day, regardless of

whether or not you need my help. OK?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

I woke him up and sent him on his way.

Part Four

When Michael returned to my office a week later, I had a

special treat lined up for us both. Actually, it was only going

to be a treat for me. For Michael it would probably be a

humiliating farce.

'Michael, welcome, come in. Please sit down.'

Michael sat down and looked around the office.

'Now, what can I do for you?' I asked.

'Um, I'm not quite sure why I've come here ... I just felt the

need to ...'

I enjoyed watching Michael squirm for several moments.

'Stud-muffin' I said. Michael's eyes glazed over and he leant

heavily against the wall at the back of the couch.

'Michael, when I wake you up, you will stay until I say you

can go. Every time I say your name today, you will feel

hotter and thirstier ... by the fifth or sixth time I say your

name you will be parched. It will feel like you're in a desert.

If I offer you a drink you will accept it no matter what it is

and drink it all up as quickly as you can. You will feel

instantly refreshed and quenched, but if I say your name

again, you will start feeling thirsty all over again. Do you

understand?'

'Yes.' He said.

'Good. But first, tell me about your week. Did you see Pollard?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'Did you pay close attention to what he looks like?'

'Yes.'

'Describe him to me, like you would to an artist trying to

draw him.'

Michael frowned and began to speak. 'He has blue-eyes.'

'What, pale blue? Remember, be descriptive, you're talkin'

to an artist here.' I grinned ... an unkind person might say the

only type of artist I was was a con-artist. I may not know art,

but I know what I like ... and Michael ... I LIKE.

'Um ... piercing ... really piercing. Cold and piercing blue eyes.'

'Good, good, go on.'

'Um, he has solid features, kind of a largish nose, but not out

of shape. Really symmetrical. His whole face is symmetrical.

I guess you could call it handsome. Handsome but rugged ...

like he's been in the sun a lot.'

'What about his body?'

'He's got a solid body, with a lot of muscles. It's kind of like

that Vin Diesel guy's. He's also got tattoos. One on his shoulder

and one on his back. He says he's got another, but ... uh ... it's

private.'

'I see.' It sounded good. 'And will you be part of the

interrogation team?'

'Yes. I got transferred there yesterday, as a rookie.'

'Excellent, you must be pleased.'

'I only got it because of my good marks in my exams, which

was all due to you.'

'Yes.' I said. 'Alright, tomorrow, during the interrogation session,

I want you to focus on Pollard.'

'Yes.'

'I want you to watch every move he makes, every inflection of

his voice, every cock of the head.'

'Yes.'

'And as you sit there, watching him, I want your mind to begin

to wander. No matter how hard you try, you will be unable to

totally focus on what is happening in the room. You will daydream

that the man before you is naked. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'And your daydreams are all pleasant. OK?'

'Yes.'

'One final thing before I let you go. You masturbate, right?'

'Yes.'

'Of course you do. How often?'

'Maybe once a day.'

'OK. From now on, when you masturbate, you will experience a

new desire ... a craving.'

'Yes.'

'You will need to suck on something. A zuccini, a banana ...

anything, as long as it's not part of your own body. Repeat my

instruction so that I know you understand.'

'Whenever I masturbate, I will have a desire to suck something

in my mouth.'

'Not just a desire, you will be unable to cum without doing it.

Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

I woke him up.

'You just dropped by for a chat, did you?' I asked, pretending

nothing had happend.

'Uh, yeah ... I guess so. I did well in the interview.' Michael noticed

he had been slumping and sat up straight.

'Good. That's really good, Michael.' I stared intently to see if

mentioning his name got any reaction. It did, not much of a

reaction, but he definitely flinched.

'I thought I'd come by and thank you.'

'I appreciate that Michael. You're a good boy ... Michael.'

The effect on Michael was fascinating. Despite the fact the

temperature in the office remained the same the whole time,

it really did look like he was suffering rom the heat. His face

was flushed and he tugged at his t-shirt to get some cool air

flowing.

'Michael? Are you all right?'

By now he was really sweating. I could see the stain forming

in his armpits and on his chest. He had to wipe the sweat from

his forehead. I let him stew for a minute before asking. 'Say,

Michael, do you want something to drink?'

'Oh, yeah, that'd be good. It's so hot today.'

'Yes, isn't it?' I said as I reached in to my desk bar fridge and

pulled out two ice cold bottles of beer. 'Here you go.'

'Uh, th ... th ... thanks.' Michael said, taking the stubby. He looked

at it nervously.

'What's wrong?'

'I, uh, didn't plan on drinking this early in the evening.'

I glanced at the clock. Michael had come here straight after

work, as usual, and so it was barely six o'clock. 'Don't you want

it? I can put it back in the fridge if you want.'

I could see Michael weighing up the options. I knew he really,

really had to drink the drink, but in his mind he honestly thought

he had a choice. He knew (as well as I did) that his recent

experiences with alcohol had been less than sophisticated.

'No, it's alright.' He said, opening the bottle and taking a swig

from it. As soon as the liquid touched the back of his mouth, he

was gone. Clearly he had been very thirsty and the rest of the

bottle did not even touch the sides of his throat.

I took a sip from my beer and settled in to watch the fireworks.

He placed the empty bottle down on the table and smiled at

me. 'Thanks for that, I was more thirsty than you could realise.'

He leant back and I noticed he swayed a little.

'Are you alright, Michael?' I asked.

He nodded, but I noticed his eyes were losing focus. Sure, a six

pack of beer is not much, but in less than a minute?

'Oh man, that beer has gone straight to my head.' He said, stretching.

'What? Only one beer?'

Michael look down at his feet. 'I can't explain it ... I feel like I've

sculled a whole slab.'

'You're worse than a first year uni student. I've never met a grown

man who was worse at drinking than you, Michael.'

He blushed and grabbed the corner of the couch to steady himself.

'But don't worry, I won't make you drink anything else.' I shook

my head sadly, 'Oh Michael, Michael, Michael.'

Instantly, his head snapped up and he began to eye the beer in

my hand.

'Don't tell me you're still thirsty?' I asked.

Michael nodded.

'But I'm afraid all I have is another beer. You already seem

intoxicated by the first one, I don't think you should have another.'

'Please ...' Michael's voice sounded like his throat was parched.

I reached into the fridge and pulled out another beer. 'Alright, but

take this one really slowly. I wouldn't want you to get so drunk

that a person could take advantage of you.'

Michael nodded, but after one sip of the beer he had no choice

but to down it as quickly as possible. The effect was almost instant.

He began to lurch about in his seat. He gorgeous eyes half closed,

and his mouth opened slightly ... it was heaven to watch.

'Michael? I said to take it easy!' I protested, taking the bottle off

him before he dropped it.

'I'm sshorry.' He mumbled.

'I'm very disappointed in you.' I said. 'I've got a good mind to

spank you.'

Michael shook his head and said in a drunked slur, 'Look man, I'm

sorry ... I don't know what's come over me. I used to drink ...

drink ... thirteen beers before I felt anything ... I could drink anyone

under the table. But now look at me! I'm fuckin' useless.'

'Yes, yes you are.' I said. 'Now, I want you to leave. Good luck

walking back to your apartment. I'll see you in two days.'

Michael stumbled to his feet. It was tragic. He lurched to the

doorway and grabbed onto it for support. I watched for five minutes

as he walked down the street, tripping over his feet and vomiting

in the gutter. My control of this man was absolute and I loved it.

Part Five

The Michael that came to see me two days later was a haunted man.

He sat on the couch and fidgeted nervously as I finished my

paperwork (the crossword) in silence.

'Michael, I'm surprised you've come back, after that disgraceful

display two days ago.'

Michael looked at his feet and mumbled an apology.

'But don't worry about it. I don't mind it when you get too drunk

in my office, because you're such a stud-muffin.'

Upon saying his trigger phrase, Michael's eyes glazed over and he

went in to a trance.

'No matter how embarrasing it is, you must come and see me every

two days.' I said.

'Yes.' He replied.

'Now, tell me about your life. How did your evening go after our

last session?' I asked.

'I don't really remember much of it. It took me about three hours

to get home. I got lost. I remember vomiting in the yard of a

synagogue.'

'Really?' I asked. 'That's interesting, because I'm Jewish.'

Michael looked at me. 'Then why are you eating that ham sandwich?'

I looked at my sandwich. 'It's kosher, it's been blessed by the

pope or something.'

'And the bucket of shrimp?' He asked, gesturing to my small silver

bucket of freshed harvested shrimp.

'It doesn't say anywhere in the Koran I'm not allowed to eat

shrimp.' I said.

'The Koran is for Islam. The Torah is the Jewish book.' He said.

By now I was indignant. 'Torah, Koran ... what's the difference?

They all say we're going to hell ...'

'Actually ...' Michael began.

'Silence!' I barked. Michael fell quiet. 'You will forget that

I'm Muslim.'

'Jewish.'

'I said silence!' I said. I took a few deep breaths. 'Now, what

happened after you got home?'

'I fell asleep until the next day. I woke up at about 10am. I was

late to work.'

'I see. What happened at work?'

Michael frowned. 'It was terrible.'

'Why? What happened?' I asked, leaning forward in my chair.

'We were interrogating Pollard all day. I was so tired I had

trouble concentrating.'

'Pollard, you say? He's the criminal you fancy, right?'

'NO!' Michael said. 'I hate him.'

'Oh, that's right, my mistake. Why do you hate him?' I asked.

'I've told you already ... people like that are scum.'

'No Michael. That is not the real reason you don't like him, that

is the reason you tell yourself. Tell me, how does Pollard make

you feel?'

Michael paused, he began to blush. 'I feel small. His muscles are

so big compared to mine. Whenever I'm in the room with him, I

can't help but notice how he's so much more of a man than I am.

I've never felt inferior before, but he seems so strong.'

'I see. You said you were having trouble concentrating. What was

distracting you?'

Michael swallowed and blushed even more. 'I kept day-dreaming.'

'What about?'

'About Pollard. About him being naked. I could see his huge

muscles ... so much bigger than mine. I kept imagining what his

hidden tattoo looks like.'

I nodded. Michael had followed my instructions to the letter and

it was tearing him apart.

'Now we have come to the true source of your hate for Pollard.

You are envious of him. You wish you had muscles as big as his.

He is a real man, while you are just a boy pretending to be a man.'

Michael nodded.

'When you were daydreaming about seeing Pollard naked, did you

picture his dick in anyway?'

'Not really.' Michael said.

'From now on, when you think of Pollard's penis, you will know

that it is twice the size of yours ... a real man's dick. That

is another reason you resent him. Now tell me, why do you hate

Pollard?'

'I envy him. I envy his big muscles and his big dick. He is a

real man and I am just a pretender.'

'That's right. You envy him. You hate him, but you realise that

the hate is mostly directed at yourself. In fact you secretly

admire his body and that makes you mad. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'Good. You will continue to day-dream about Pollard. But the

focus of your day-dreams will shift from his body to his cock

and his hidden tattoo. You will find yourself increasingly

curious as to what his cock must look like. OK?'

'Yes.'

'Now, tell me about what happened last night. Did you

masturbate?'

'Kind of.' Michael said.

'What happened? Remember, you must tell me the whole

truth.' I said.

'I was lying in bed...' He began.

'What were you wearing?' I interrupted, wanting to picture this

total jock in his bedroom.

'Just my normal pair of white briefs.' He said.

'Good, good. Continue.'

'I was horny, you know, and so I began to stroke my ... uh ...

I began to stroke myself.'

I smiled. I was tempted to tell Michael that he could freely

use the words "cock", "dick" and "penis", but it was cute to

see him try to retain some modesty here.

'It felt really nice, as usual, but then, I felt strange ...

like something was missing.'

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'I felt ... empty, like what I was doing was wrong.'

'What did you do?'

'I tried to go on, but the feeling was too strong, so I

stopped. It was bad, I was all horny with nothing to

do.' He added.

'Did you try sucking anything?' I asked.

'I put my thumb in my mouth for a little while but it didn't

help.' He said, embarrassed.

'Michael, from now on, you MUST cum at least once a day. You

will get so horny that your masturbation sessions must reach

an end, but remember, to be able to cum you must be sucking

something. You only feel whole and normal with your lips

wrapped around something long and suckable. OK?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'To help you realise this unconcious desire, after our

session here you will go to the green grocer and buy anything

there that would satisfy your desire. Tonight when you try

to masturbate, it will occur to you that one of those items

might help you. What you do then is up to you.' I lied.

I looked at him. 'Also, from now on, you will sleep naked, on

top of the sheets of your bed. When you get up in the morning,

you will not want to wear clothes. You will only get dressed if

you absolutely need to, like going for a jog or to work. If you

can eat your breakfast in the nude, you will. If you can clean

your house in the nude, you will. Do you understand?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'When you are in the interrogation room, your underwear will be

uncomfortable and constricting. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'Alright then, I think we're about finished for today.' I said.

There was a knock on the door.

'Come in.' I said.

Another patient on mine, Simon, entered.

'Ah, Simon.' I said. 'Welcome. Michael this is Simon, Simon

this is Michael. He can't answer you because he is currently

hypnotised.'

'Hypnotised?' Simon asked, looking as Michael stared blankly

ahead. 'I didn't think that stuff was real.'

'Why are you here, Simon?' I asked smugly.

Simon's brow furrowed. 'I ... I ... can't remember.'

'That's because you're hypnotised too.'

'I am?' Simon asked in puzzlement.

'Didn't you wonder why you, a dedicated ladies' man, decided

to wear a tight t-shirt with the words "Cock-Suckah" printed

on them today?'

Simon looked at his attire and seemed to notice the offending

item of clothing for the first time. 'What the hell? What

the fuck have you done to me, you faggot???' He demanded.

'Take a seat, Blow-job Boy.' I commanded. "Blow-job Boy" was

Simon's command phrase. Instantly he zoned out and sat down on

the couch next to Simon.

'As I was saying, Michael, this is Simon, he's a separate

project I've been working on. As well as being a homophobe,

he once borrowed a library book just before I really needed

it. He was a bit scrawny and flabby when we first met, but I've

had him doing enough working out for all three of us. He's

almost as bad at holding his alcohol as you are.'

I really had Simon on the grind, he probably spent five or

six hours a day meeting my strict exercise requirements. It

showed, his skin was glowing with vitality and his athletic

but well built muscles smoothly expanded and contracted

whenever he moved.

I looked at them both sitting there. Hard-bodies, skin tight

clothing, handsome beyond compare ... an idea was forming on

how to tighten the screws on both of these two hunks at the

same time.

'Michael, Simon, you two are now best friends. You enjoy

the company of each other so much that three days can not

pass without the two of you going out some place, like a

nightclub or the movies. You particularly like drinking with

each other, even though you both have a very low tolerance

for drink. Do you understand?'

In unison, they both replied, 'Yes.'

'Now, you are both such good friends that neither of you

think anything at all about crashing at the other man's

house overnight when you're too drunk or too far, from

home. Also, you're both such good friends that you are

willing to forgive the strange behaviour of the other.

For example, Simon, when you go around to Michael's place,

you may notice he eats his corn flakes in the nuddie.

Michael, you may notice that every day Simon puts a new

poster of a boy-band up in his bedroom. You will both

think that this sort of behaviour is odd, but will be

willing to ignore it for the sake of your strong

friendship. Okay Michael, you can go.'

I gave them both details of where the other lived and

then I woke Michael up and he left the room. Simon continued

to sit.

'I was about to send you off to Canada today, Simon, but

I've invented a new game. You will continue with all the

orders I have already given you over the last few months,

but in addition to putting boy-band posters on your

wall, every third poster must now be of a naked man. You

may go.'

I woke Simon up and sent him on his way. He only felt the

need see me once a week, so I would be seeing Michael a

few times before that. It was going to be interesting.

Part Six

'Stud-muffin.' I said. 'Stud-muffin.' I said again.

'I'm sorry sir, I mustn't have heard you correctly, do you

or do you not want fries with your order?' The girl behind

the window asked me.

'Do you mind?' I asked her, lowering my hand mirror. 'I'm

trying to put myself in a positive frame of mind.'

It was the day after yesterday. An odd thing to say, until

you realise it is not as odd as saying 'Yes, I am interested

in hearing all about your new phone plan.' What I mean is

that the session with Michael where Simon had walked in had

occurred yesterday. I was not scheduled to see Michael again

until tomorrow (the day after today) and Simon not for a week.

I took my meal of the lady and drove slowly forward.

Michael walked across the driveway in front of me as I was

about to pull out on to the road. It was the first time I

had seen him in his costime ... I mean policeman uniform.

I was impressed. The thin cotton fabric of the pants

augmented the tight buns underneath.

'Michael!' I called out, pulling into a parking bay.

Michael saw me and walked over. I opened the passenger

door for him and gestured for him to get in. He glanced

around and said. 'I can't stay and chat, Doctor, I have to

get back to the office in fifteen minutes.'

'Hop in, sit down and shut-up, stud-muffin.' I said.

Like a zombie, he marched around to the open door and got in.

'Now, tell me, where have you been?'

'I just took my lunch-break. I had a crap morning so I called

Simon up and we went and ate a good meal.'

I was moderately surprised at how quickly the two of them had

started being friends.

'How did it go?'

Michael smiled. 'Really well, Simon's good fun.'

'Did he do anything weird?' I asked.

Michael thought about it for a second. 'Now that you mention

it, I did find it a bit odd when he asked me for my

underwear.'

I had to chuckle. Poor Simon needed to find a pair of another

man's undies, used, everyday. It was surprisingly difficult

to get them apparantly, especially when you hated people

thinking you were gay.

'What did you say?'

'I didn't get a chance to reply. As soon as he asked he

got embarrassed and told me to forget about it. It was odd,

but everyone is entitled to their quirks.'

'That's right. Now tell me, why was your morning so bad?'

'We were interrogating Pollard.'

'How does that go?'

'I don't ask any questions, 'cause I'm in training. I just

have to stand there and look dangerous.' Michael said, 'It's

very boring.'

'I can imagine. What happened today?' I asked.

'I went to the gym early this morning, because my muscles

are so small and I want them to be bigger, as big as

Pollard's. Then he won't look down on me anymore. When I

finished the work out they were really pumped and I was

proud of them, but by the time we entered the interrogation

room they had relaxed again.'

'I see. What happened then?'

'I tried to concentrate, but it was so boring. I started

to daydream again ... terrible daydreams.' He said.

'What about?' I asked, muching on my Big Mac before

it got cold.

'His cock. His giant cock.' Michael whispered. 'Everytime I

look at him, I imagine him naked, so much bigger than me.'

'It must be very humilating.' I said.

'I can hardly stand it.' He replied.

'slurp' I had reached the bottom of my drink.

'And what about last night? Did you masturbate?'

'Yes.' Michael said, turning a bright shade of red.

'What happened?'

'I went to bed but I couldn't sleep.' He said.

'Why?'

'I was so hot. I felt like I was burning up, so I got rid

of my sheet and briefs. That was heaps better, but then I

started to get horny again.'

'So?'

'I started strokin' ... it felt soooo good. I just lay there,

cool and naked in the dark, rubbing ... myself ... up and

down.'

'But you couldn't cum?'

'No. Something felt out of place. I felt really empty and

... I dunno ... naughty or something.'

'What did you do?'

'I got up and went looking for something. I wasn't quite sure

what I needed, but when I got to the kitchen, I saw it.'

'What?'

'A banana I had bought earlier that day.'

'What did you do?'

'I went to eat it, but just before I peeled it, I wondered

what it would feel like in my mouth.'

'And ...' I prompted.

'I put it in my mouth.' He said.

'Is that it?' I asked.

'It felt good too. I just stood there for a few minutes

enjoying the feel of the long, soft fruit filling my

mouth, but then I started to lick it, you know, like an

ice-cream. I don't know why, but it felt so right. Like it

was natural, right?'

'I understand, I like fresh fruit too.'

'Nah, this was different. It wasn't the fruit that I was

enjoying. It was the pressure in my mouth. It felt right to

have something large and solid past my teeth. As I sucked on

it, I could feel myself get harder. I continued stroking for

a few minutes, all the time sucking faster and faster on the

banana. After a while I realised that it felt better if I

pulled the banana in and out of my mouth ... in and out. It

felt so good, better than any wank I've ever had before.

I came pretty much soon after that.'

I had nothing to say, to hear such a hot body describe his

masturbation session was the stuff dreams were made of. I

noticed too, that the thought of his recent wank had caused

Michael to stiffen too.

'What did you do with the cum?' I asked, finally.

'I caught most of it in a rag, but I had to clean some off

the floor. It was more difficult than usual because I wasn't

wearing any clothes.'

'I see. That was a waste of cum. From now on, after you

masturbate you have to lick the jism up. Do you understand?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'You will lick it up and you will enjoy the taste.

Masturbating with something in your mouth and then eating

the cum makes the session twice as good as any jerk-off

you've had before. OK?'

'Yes.' He replied.

'Are you going to masturbate tonight?'

'I don't know. Simon and I are going to the pub later, so I

might not get the chance.' Michael said, not realising he

was under orders to masturbate once a day.

'If you do, I want you to enjoy sucking on your banana, or

whatever, so much that you involuntarily start to make

little wimpering noises, moaning from the pleasure. OK?'

'Yes.' He replied.

'Excellent, enjoy your afternoon at work!' I commanded. I

woke him up. Michael looked around him in a bit of a daze.

'You better hurry up, Michael, you're late for work.' I

said.

Michael looked at his watch. 'Shit!' He said, jumping out

of the car.

'Michael!' I yelled out, forcing him to come back.

'Could you put this in the bin for me?' I asked, handing

him the wrappers from my fast-food meal. He took them

and jogged off.

I picked up my hand-mirror and looked at my gorgeous

reflection. 'You are a stud-muffin' I said.

Part Seven

I sat watching the clock tick back and forth, waiting for six

o'clock, the time Michael was scheduled to arrive. The

tension was getting to be unbearable and I resolved to

accelerate my program of humilation, degradation and

... and ... and ... well, I'd think of a third word later.

Michael knocked on the door and entered. He was spot on

time.

'Hello Doctor, I appreciate you seeing me after hours.'

'It's OK, my boy,' I said expansively, gesturing for him to

sit down. 'You have problems, severe mental problems, and

it is my duty, nay, pleasure, to help you work through them.'

I had him convinced that seeing me was part of his ongoing

therapy.

'Stud-muffin.' I said. Michael lapsed instantly into a trance,

standing there like a slab of meat. Remembering my

pledge to accelerate the program, I said loudly and

clearly, 'Michael, strip off all your clothing except for you

undies.'

Instantly he removed his t-shirt. He untied his shoes and

removed them. He tugged his socks off and then pulled

off his pants. In less than a minute I had a man fit and

beautiful enough to be a catwalk model, standing semi-

naked and zonked out of his mind in my office. It was good

to be alive.

'Michael, when we talk about Pollard, your hand will act

with a mind of its own and begin to stroke your dick. OK?'

'Yes.' He replied.

I had set him up for later in the session, but first, I had to

widen the cracks in his mind a little more. 'Now Michael,

a real man would not be able to answer this question. If you

can answer it, then I will know you have done something very

wrong.' I said.

Michael frowned.

'Tell me, what does cum taste like?'

Michael blushed a deep red.

'Stud-muffin.' I said again, driving him further into a trance.

'Stud-muffin,' The Stranger said. 'I bet that's never been

said in your court.'

'You had better start taking this seriously.' The Judge

commanded. 'And by that I mean keep your evidence relevant.

I find it hard to believe that Doctor Conway P. Smuggins is

going to do anything but further prove your own guilt!'

'You have to look beyond Smuggins.' Came the reply.

'You have to answer me honestly and truthfully.' I

commanded.

'It tastes ... good.' Michael said, in a small voice.

I noticed a tear began to trickle down his face. 'What's

wrong Michael, why are you crying?'

'Real men don't drink cum, but I do.' He said.

'Relax Michael.' I said. 'Tell me about something I know

you like. Tell me about Pollard, the criminal you lust after.'

Michael blanched. 'I don't lust after him. I hate him!' I

watched as Michael's right hand moved down past his

naked chest and enter his briefs. It began to stroke his cock

ever so slowly. Michael did not seem to notice.

'Sorry, my mistake. But tell me about him anyway. Do you still

fantasise about him during interrogation?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'About his muscles?'

'Yes.'

'So let me get this straight, you say you don't lust after

him, yet you daydream about him naked and with huge muscles?'

'Yes.'

'And what do you fantasise about in particular?'

Michael paused before answering. 'His cock. His big cock. I

wish I was as large as he is.'

'Right, so you say you don't like this man, yet you dream

about his naked body, you fantasise about his dick, you go

to the gym to get muscles like his, and, when you're talking

about him, you can't help but masturbate, even when your

Doctor is in the room!'

Michael noticed what his hand was doing for the first time and

turned a brighter shade of red. It spread from his face and

down on to his chest.

'It looks and sounds to me like you lust after him.'

'No!' Michael said, confused. 'I ... I ... just envy him.'

'Fine.' I said. 'If you want to believe that, then fine. But

you have to realise it all looks very gay to the rest of us.'

I decided to change the subject for a moment.

'Tell me, did you meet up with Simon last night?'

'Yes.' He replied. His hand stopped stroking his erect penis

and returned to his side.

'How did it go?'

'We went to the pub, but we didn't make it through the first

jug. The bar-man kicked us out for being too drunk.'

'That's terrible. You are both useless, you realise that?'

'Yes.'

'Did you go home?'

'No, I crashed at his place, on the couch.'

'Of course you did, that's because you are both such good

friends.' I said. 'Now, on to your orders for today and

tomorrow. I want you to convince your superiors that I can

get Pollard to take more easily. I want you to organise a

session between him and me, at the police station if needed.

I want to be in a room, alone, with him if possible.'

'It won't be possible. You need a policeman in there at all

times.' He said.

'Then you must convince them that you are that policeman.'

Getting to Pollard was the next important step in my plan

for Michael.

'Michael, your fixation with Pollard is going to increase

from now on. Whenever you look in the mirror and see your

reflection you will think the world "SLAVE". For a split

second, the word, and all its connontations will overwhealm

your mind. Everytime you see Pollard, either in the flesh

or in a photo, I want you to think the word "MASTER".

Do you understand?'

'Yes.' He said.

'At work tomorrow, I want you get a photo of Pollard and

take it home. Tape it to your main mirror so that whenever

you see your reflection, you can also see Pollard. Do you

understand?'

'Yes.'

'As for your daydreams. I want them to get worse. Whenever

you are in a room with Pollard, you will imagine him naked,

as usual, but from now on, you will daydream that you are

naked also, and that you are kneeling before this god of

a man. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'I want you to dream that you are sucking his cock. You will

remember your own masturbation sessions and how good that

tasted. Pollard's cum tastes one hundred times better than

yours. Do you understand?'

'Yes.' He said.

'Good. At night, when you are masturbating, you can only cum

if you imagine that the object you are sucking is Pollard's

cock. The more degrading and slave-like your fantasy is, the

better your ejaculation will feel.'

I paused. There was something I had forgotten. Michael was

still standing there in his underwear. A policeman of my very

own.

'Michael. When you were at Simon's, did you notice anything

strange?'

'He had a lot of posters.' Michael said.

'So what?' I asked.

'They were of boy-bands, like N'SYNC or Five.' He said.

'Boybands ... why is that strange?' I asked.

'Boybands are for teenage girls ... or faggots. These

posters are soft porn of men.'

'I see. Did you mention this to Simon?' I asked.

'I looked at him and he started to apologise, but then

I said "Don't worry, everyone's entitled to their own

quirks." and he relaxed a bit. He got really upset when

I joked about tearing one down though.'

'Yes, he would. OK, you may go.'

Michael turned to go but then stopped and just stood there.

'What? What is it?'

'May I get dressed?' He asked quietly.

I thought about it for a second. It seemed a shame to hide

this perfect body from the world. 'No, you may not. Now go.

You have to walk home, slowly. Take the scenic route down

the main street. OK?'

Michael left the room and I saw him walking off down the

road. Heads were turning left right and centre and I even

heard a few girls give him a good old-fashioned cat-call.

He really did have a fine body.

Enslavement! That's the word I was looking for. My program

of humiliation, degradation and enslavement. Oh, and

revenge.

Part Eight

Two days later I was in the room at the police station. It

was just me, Michael and Trent "I don't lust after him, I

think he's scum" Pollard. Pollard was just as I expected

him. Cute and Dangerous. He was very handsome, and while

Michael had the body of a model or a well-formed athlete,

Pollard had the body of a hulking brick-layer or a hired

thug.

All the recording devices were temporarily disabled and

Michael had supplied Pollard with a "drink" before I had

entered. A quick induction later and I had Trent ready to

follow my orders.

'Tell me, Trent, do you like helping the police?'

'No.' Trent said, glaring at me.

'No, of course you don't. You're only here because you have

to be.'

'Yes.'

'Don't you wish there was some way you could get revenge

on them?' I asked.

'Yes.' He said.

'I am going to make your wish come true.' I looked over at

Michael. 'Trent, look at Michael. He is everything you hate

about the police ... honest, pure, strong ...'

Trent glared at Michael. Even in his hypnotised state, Michael

flinched under that withering stare.

'From now on you will feel a desire and a need to control this

man. To put him on a lower level than yourself, so that you

feel better. Do you understand?'

'No.' Trent said.

Trent was not very bright, so I explained further. 'You want

to dominate this young man. You want him to fear and be

intimdated by you. You want him to respect and worship you.

Now do you understand?'

'Yes.' Trent said.

'The best way for you to achieve your goals is to dominate

him sexually. That is by far the best way to humilate and tame

him. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'I'm going to help you. Michael, from now on, during an

interrogation session, whenever Trent says the phrase "I

hardly touched him" you will both know that Trent means that

he is going to rape Michael as soon as he gets the chance.

Whenever Trent says that phrase, Michael, you will be

assaulted by the image of Trent pounding your ass, and even

though you will feel totally humilated and filled with rage,

the image will make you long for it to happen so much that

you are unable to respond to Trent's unspoken challenge to

your authority. Do you both understand?'

'Yes.' They replied.

'Good.' I said. 'Whenever Trent says the phrase "I don't

know, I was in bed at the time.", Michael will be overcome

with a desire to masturbate. The feeling will be strong that

he will be unable to resist it. Do you understand, Michael?'

'Yes.' He said.

'Good. Now, when you are cumming during that special session,

you will fantasise entirely about Trent and you will even

moan his name out loud. OK?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'From now on, you must do what Trent tells you. You

desperately want Trent's respect. You would do anything to

make him proud of you. Do you understand?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'Good. Good. But Trent, you are not allowed to physically

hurt Michael, do you understand?'

'Yes.' Trent said.

I almost wish I would be here to see the interrogation

sessions, what with Trent teasing Michael and Michael

wanting to please Trent ... it would be sweet.

Part Nine

My next session was a joint session with both Michael and

Simon. I was still interested in Simon, but I had some

unfinished business with Michael first.

'Michael, tell me about your last masturbation session?' I

asked.

'It was this morning.' Michael said. 'I woke up and was

enjoying my day off.'

'Go on.' I said.

'I was vacuuming my house when I saw myself in the mirror. I

looked like a ... slave. A pathetic useless slave ... and then

I saw my photo of Pollard. I instantly thought about serving

him, sucking on his dick until I got some of his wonderful

cum.' Michael's face had a dreamy expression on it. 'I

could see in the mirror how hard I was and so I had to jerk

off. I grabbed a zuccini and dreamed that it was Pollard's

cock. It felt so good that I couldn't help myself ... I

started to moan out his name ... he's so much bigger than I

am.' He said.

'What happened when you came?'

'I ate it all ... it tasted so good, but I know Pollard would

taste better.' He said.

'I see. Have you seen Pollard recently?' I asked.

Michael nodded. 'Yes, yesterday.'

'What happened?'

'It was during an interrogation, Pollard was telling us

about the activities of some people from January. Incredible

detail.'

'Did anything unusual happen?' I asked.

'I kept daydreaming about kneeling naked in front of Pollard

and sucking him off, but this time he seemed to know!'

'What do you mean?'

'He kept hinting at it.'

'How?' I asked.

'Every so often he would say "I hardly touched him." I mean,

he was talking about other people, but we both knew he was

talking about raping my ass. It was humilating. I wanted

to smash his head in, but at the same time I really wanted

him to do it.'

'I see. Anything else?'

'Yes. A couple of times he said "I don't know, I was in bed

at the time." ... he knew that would set me off.'

'What do you mean, set you off?'

'The thought of Pollard in bed, naked ... it was so

powerfully erotic that I had to masturbate. The first time

he said it, I barely made it out of the room and in to the

men's toilets before I came.'

'What about the other times?'

'I could hardly resist. Even before I left the room my hand

was down my pants. I think my supervisor saw me ... but ...

it felt so good.'

'Excellent, things seem to be coming along nicely. Now you,

Simon. How has your week been?' I asked.

Simon was looking a little disshevelled. His workouts were

tiring but effective, he had lost a lot of fat and was now

very lean and muscular. His eyes were those of a man not in

control though.

'Horrible. I can't stop ... doing ... bad things.' He said.

'What do you mean?'

'I have posters of naked men on my walls.' He said.

'Go on.'

'And every other night I have to walk the street until I

find a man who'll pay me to have sex with him. I don't want

to ... but I just can't stop.'

'From now on, when a man offers to pay you money for sex you

will do so, but then give him his money back, plus the same

amount again. You will thank him for the best fuck of your

life and tell him that he deserves to be paid. Do you

understand?' I asked.

'Yes.' Simon said.

'Very good. Now, both of you. Are you spending most of your

free time together?'

'Yes.' They replied.

'Good. And how many nights this week did one of you crash at

the other's house?'

'Five.' Came the reply.

'Good. From now on, whenever you are both staying in the

same house you will sleep in the same bed. You will not

remember how you both ended up in the same bed, but when you

wake up, you will be lying next to each other. Understand?'

'Yes.' They replied.

'In addition, Simon, when you two are in bed together, you

will always wrap your hand around Michael's penis. Michael,

whenever you are in bed with Simon your will have a strong

erection, no matter how much you want it to go down. Do you

both get me?'

'Yes.' They said.

'Good. Michael, you will be disgusted by Simon's faggy

behaviour, but because he is such a good friend, you will

forgive him. You will also be confused by your own erection.

Simon, you will also be disgusted by your actions but will

be unable to stop.'

I looked at them both. 'Now, I want you both to do an

erotic strip dance for me.' I leaned over to my tape player

and hit play. Instantly and to the strains of "The Birdie

Dance" Michael and Simon started to strip. 'Sorry!' I said,

'Wrong tape.' I replaced the tape with something a bit more

suitable and pressed play. I grabbed my bag of popcorn and

settled in to watch the show. 'And remember, I want you to

tease each other in a sexual way ... I want to see some

nipple tweaking, some bum slapping and some cock grabbing.'

Part Ten

'Michael, put Trent on the phone.' I commanded. It had been

a while since I had gone to the police station and primed

Pollard.

And now it was time for the final game.

I had called the Police station and Michael had convinced

them to let me have a private conversation with Trent. As I

waited for Michael to get Trent I thought about all the

things I had done to get to this point. It was a lot of

effort to undo the mistakes of the past.

'Hello?' Came a voice from the other end of the line.

'Trent?' I asked.

'Yes.' He replied.

'How's it going?' I asked. 'Never mind, I don't really care.

I've called you for a special reason. What do you think of

Michael?'

'I want him to respect and worship me. I want to control

him.' Trent said.

'That's right. Do you know why?' I asked.

'Because he represents everything I do not like about the

police.' He responded.

'That's right. You want to teach them a lesson. If you can

corrupt and control their prize student then that will show

them you are superior.'

'Yes.' Trent said.

'I want you to kiss Michael right now, no matter how hard

he struggles. Then I want you to put him on the phone.'

I heard a muffled sound and then there was silence for a

minute.

'Yes.' Came a small voice from the end of the line.

'Did you like that Michael? Now be honest.'

'I didn't want to ... but ... it felt good.' He said.

'That's right. You love to be controlled and dominated

by Trent. You worship his body and although you try and

resist his criminal charm, your body betrays you. Put

Trent back on.'

'Yes.' It was Pollard.

'Trent, what's the best way to stick it to the police?' I

asked.

'I dunno.' He said.

'Very well, I will tell you. The best way is to get their

best and brightest recruit to help you escape. Do you

understand?' I asked.

'Yes.' Trent said.

'Very good. You will do it tomorrow at 4pm. I will clear some

obstacles. Be here at 5pm. Put Michael back on.'

'Yes.'

'Michael, despite your reservations, you are so desperate

to gain the respect of Pollard that when he orders you to

help him escape you will so overwhealmed with lust and

self-esteem issues that you have no choice but to help him.

I have "spoken" to some of your supervisors and they will all

look the other way when bring him to me. Do you understand?'

'Y...Y...Yes.' He said.

'Put Pollard back on the phone.' I commanded. 'Pollard, give

Michael another kiss and this time a bit of a grope. Do it for

fifteen minutes before cutting him off. That should bind him

around your finger a bit more. See you both tomorrow.'

I hung up the phone and laughed. It was all too easy. Also, I

had some laughing gas being pumped into the room. I laughed

again.

Part Eleven

On the dot at 4pm, Pollard showed up at my door with Michael

in tow. Pollard looked every bit as dangerous as I remembered

him. His tattoo glowed evilly in the afternoon sun. Michael

had been through hell. Clearly his physical and mental

addiction to Pollard had caused him no end of personal heart-

ache. He clearly hadn't slept in days. The moral dilemna of

helping his God and defending his beliefs was eating him

alive. It almost made me care in some small way. Besides he

looked good ... he had a kind of chic heroin-junkie kitchen

sink look that someone on the edge so oftens has. Trent had

taken the opportunity to force Michael in to a leather collar

and I must say it was very fetching. If I had of known how

hot the young man looked in leather I would've added a leather

fixation to all our sessions.

'Did anyone see you leave?' I asked.

'No.'

'So you won't be captured?'

'No.' Pollard said.

Excellent. It was going all according to plan. 'Excellent,

this is all goind according to my plan. Both of you sit down.'

Michael waited until Pollard had sat down, before he himself

sat. Never once did the poor slave take his eyes of his master.

'Tell me Michael. What do you think of Pollard, now that

you've had a chance to talk to him?' I asked, amused.

Michael's face went all dreamy-like. 'He's perfect. Every

curve of his body, every folicle of hair ... he's the man,

and I am his slave.'

'Did Pollard ever tell you what he did to get arrested?'

'No.' He said.

'Why don't you tell him, Pollard.'

'I got busted after robbing a bank.' He said.

'That's right. I almost got caught that day too.' I said. Even

in his trance, I could tell Michael was surprised. 'Luckily

I had a pre-arranged trigger in Pollard to make him hide the

money, forget who I was and then to distract the police. He

took them on a merry cruise around the Eastern suburbs until

they tracked him down trying to hide in a pig farm. I had

the bank manager under my thumb and he was able to cover for

me ... but it was close. Do you remember all that Pollard?'

'No ... sort of ...' He said, struggling.

'That's right ... I didn't have time to reinforce the

condition ... a process that takes days ... so over the months

you've been remembering more and more. I realised it was only

a matter of time before you remembered that I was your boss in

this caper. When I heard you were willing to dob in your

friends ... well, you're here so I can finish your programming

... and when I do ... you'll be so screwed in the head that

no-one will ever ...'

'No!' Michael said. I had made him worship Trent so much that

my threat had scared him.

There was a knock at the door. Simon entered.

'Simon!' I said, startled. 'What the fuck are you doing here?'

'It's time for our appointment.' He said.

I had completely forgotten. 'Go away.' I said. I looked at

Michael and an idea formed. 'Actually, come in. I want to

teach Michael a lesson for trying to resist me.'

Simon entered and stood next to where Michael was sitting.

'Michael, when I click my fingers you will have an

overwhealming desire to suck Simon's cock. You will feel as

though you are betraying your God by taking another man in

your mouth, but you will be unable to stop yourself.'

'No.' Michael sobbed.

'Yes and with each suck you will feel yourself become more and

more addicted to Simon's cum and less and less addicted to

Trent's, until you realise that even though you love Trent

entirely, you can't stand to pleasure him and that Simon is

the one for you. But first, I want you to strip, naked. NOW'

Michael stood up and removed his clothing. He had the most

amazing body and I never got tired of seeing it. Once he

was naked, he sat back down.

I clicked my fingers. I watched as Michael fought against his

terrible compulsion. At first he tried to ignore Simon's

crotch mere feet away from his face, but soon he fell to his

knees and unbuckled Simon's pants. Simon's penis came out

freely and Michael began to stroke it and lick the shaft.

It quickly came to attention and despite his efforts to resist,

Michael took most of it in his mouth and began to pump it in

and out of his mouth.

I could hear his sobbing intermingle with little whimpering

noises as he began to enjoy it.

Surrounded by three hunky men, two of them engaged in a blow-

job, it was too much for me and I began to stroke myself.

Simon groaned and then came. Michael greedily slurped up the

result. Finished, he crawled back onto his seat on the couch

and stared longingly but guiltily at Pollard's blank face.

Business before pleasure I decided and packed myself away.

'Now, Pollard, before I wipe your brain ... and this is very

important ... where is the money we stole from the bank?'

Pollard thought about it for a long time. 'Storage locker 23C

at the CBD Post Office.' He said finally.

'Excellent.' I said, writing it down on a notepad. 'And the

key?'

'Right here.' He said, handing me his keyring. Presumably the

police had had it all the time and he had only gotten it back

during his escape.

'Two million dollars.' I said to myself. 'And three

mantabulous slaves. You've all done very well. How can I ever

thankyou?'

Michael looked at me. 'Doctor ...'

'Yes?' I asked.

'You're under arrest.' He said, standing up. From his pile of

clothes on the floor he grabbed a pair of handcuffs and grabbed

my arms. I tried to pull away but he was too strong for me. He

pulled my arms behind my back and cuffed me! I could feel his

naked body pressing into my back. At any other time it would

have been good.

'You're under arrest for the armed robbery of CitiFirst Bank,

the use of restricted and illegal drugs. The use of medical

knowledge to harm patients and for about a hundred other crimes

too numerous to list here. You have the right to remain

silent...'

'Stud-muffin!' I yelled out. 'Stud-muffin! I order you to

release me.'

'I'm not hypnotised by you, Smuggins. Most of your suggestions

have been removed' Michael said.

'Trent, Simon, defend me!' I cried out. The two brutes just

sat there.

'Sorry, Doctor, they've been immobilised. We policemen have

our own hypnotists too, you know.'

'But ... what about the addictions ... the masturbations ...

the blow-job you just gave Simon?' I asked.

'A good policeman sometimes has to go above and beyond the

call of duty.' Michael intoned.

By now, more police had arrived. They entered the room and

began to do normal police stuff. A female officer walked

over to Michael.

'Good work, Michael ... and it's good to see you naked. My

God you have a beautiful body.'

'You can thank Smuggins here for that.' He smirked, shoving me

towards the door. 'It's one of the suggestions I had left in.'

'This is just great.' I said sarcastically as I was taken

away. 'Next time I'm sticking with university jocks and video

store clerks ... and maybe construction workers.'

Michael stopped to pick up his clothing. 'There won't be

a next time. You're going to jail.'

I eyed Simon standing there. 'Can't I at least have Simon?'

'No.' Michael said, and then '... Oh, alright.'

The End.

=============================================================

I was aiming for something that builds up slowly.

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