tagGay MaleHow I Train My Bitch-Boys

How I Train My Bitch-Boys

bybjmichaels©

The secret of properly training a boy is conditioning his mind; opening his mind to the endless possibilities of sexual pleasure. Some men train their boys through the use of force and physical intimidation--I strongly disapprove of that method. You desire, as your end result, a boy who willingly submits to your every sexual demand because he wants to—because he craves it--not because he’s afraid of pain and punishment. A boy who loves you will serve you far better than a boy who fears you.

Granted, some men derive greater sexual satisfaction through power and control—they love the look of fear in the eyes of their boys, and as it has been said, power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. I, on the other hand, gain my greatest sexual pleasure from knowingly transforming an otherwise straight boy into my cock-hungry bitch-boy.

Men have claimed that my method is unethical and underhanded; that my use of drugs to achieve my goal totally discredits my results. I disagree. First off, Viagra and Phentermine are not illegal and do not fall into the same category as illicit drugs—one is simply a cure for ‘erectile dysfunction’ and the other is an appetite suppressant.

Secondly, my results speak for themselves; several prominent, high-powered businessmen have retained my services for the sole purpose of seducing and training boys they wish to serve them. My method has a proven success rate of 100%--how can anyone argue with that number?

My method is very basic and it came to me in a daydream. One day a thought popped into my mind and I simply experimented with it: if Viagra cures impotence in older men, what would it do for a twenty-one-year old male with a healthy sex drive?

I hadn’t had a ‘boy’ of my own in a year. My work was all-consuming, and quite frankly, I hadn’t met a boy I desired to possess. That changed when Johnny moved into my apartment building. Johnny is 5’7” and 140 pounds. He has beautiful blue eyes, semi-long, light-brown hair; a flawless complexion and creamy white flesh. He is cute as a button. I decided I wanted him to be mine. I had Johnny write the following story. I have inserted comments of my own in italics. It is the ultimate testimonial to my powers of seduction.


I was moving into the ‘Tropical Palms Apartments’ on Fletcher Avenue when I met Peter. I was struggling with two over-loaded boxes and he asked if he could help. I said, “Sure, thanks” and before I knew it we’d unloaded my whole car.

It was a hot and humid day and when we were finished the sweat was dripping off us. I offered him something cool to drink and that was my first opportunity to really look and talk with him.

We had both taken off our shirts and our bodies glistened with perspiration. I had never thought of men in terms of sexuality, but as I was looking at him I thought that if I were a girl, this is the kind of guy I’d be attracted to.

Peter is three inches taller than me and about forty pounds heavier, but I didn’t see an ounce of fat on him. I guessed him to be in his mid-thirties. A Roman sculptor couldn’t have chiseled a finer chest and physique. I guess you could say he was very handsome, too.

None of that mattered to me, like I said; I was strictly ‘hetero’—I had absolutely no interest in him outside of maybe being friends with him.

He was also quite interesting to talk to—he was definitely a Type-A personality. Intelligent and funny--a good listener, too; he had the rare quality of making you feel like he actually cared about what you had to say.

He asked what I was doing for dinner that night, and I told him my girlfriend, Amy, was going to cook me a ‘moving-in’ meal.

“That’s great,” he said. “Well, at least c’mon down to my apartment and we’ll have a shot of ‘Ambrosia’ to celebrate your move.”

“Yeah…okay…” I said. That was when I learned how difficult it was to say ‘No’ to him.

His apartment was pretty much like mine—only with nicer, more expensive furnishings. In one corner of the room he had set-up an exercise area complete with barbells and weights.

So that’s how he got that great body, I thought to myself.

He disappeared then came back with two shot glasses filled with a clear liquid.

He toasted me: “Welcome to the building—here’s looking forward to a beautiful relationship!”

His words caught me off guard—I’d never heard a guy say he wanted a ‘relationship’ with me before. I shrugged it off and we drank the shot. It had a slightly sweet flavor; it was pretty good. I thanked him and went back to my apartment.

That was the beginning of Phase 1. The liquid he drank was Phentermine—an appetite suppressant with an unusual side-effect: impotence. My shot glass just had water in it.

Amy came over at six. She brought food she said had taken all day to cook. I wasn’t hungry right-off so I fixed us a couple Martini’s. We sat on the couch and drank and talked and kissed and petted. Amy was a beautiful girl, slim, with 34-B breasts. I had my hand under her shirt feeling her breasts through her bra. It was then that my ‘problem’ began. I noticed I wasn’t getting ‘excited’--Amy noticed , too.

“Something wrong, darling?” she asked when her hand pressed against my crotch, and my usual erection wasn’t there.

“Ah…no, I don’t know,” was all I could say.

We decided to eat dinner. She had gone to all this trouble and now, sitting at the table, I figured I’d better force myself to eat. After four swallows of food I excused myself and went to the bathroom and vomited. Amy said I was sick and needed rest so she put away the food and went home. She’d told me to go to bed.

My roommate came home from work. He’d moved his things in the day before because he had to work today. His name was Greg, we worked together and decided we could afford a nicer place to live if we pooled our money and lived together. He was a good guy.

I didn’t feel sick so I went with Greg to the swimming pool. Peter was there and I introduced them. I sat next to Peter while Greg was swimming.

“What happened to your date—I thought Amy was bringing you dinner?” asked Peter.

“I don’t know…I didn’t feel well…she went home…”

He smiled that nice smile of his and said, “That’s too bad…”

We got to talking and he mentioned some energy pills he was taking…how they worked great for him. I told him I’d try them. We went to his apartment and he gave me a small bottle. There weren’t many pills in it.

“Take one in the morning…let me know when you run out.”

We sat and talked for over two-hours. He was a fascinating guy, and he was able to draw me out. I’m usually a pretty quiet guy. I was beginning to like him a lot.

“Ever lift weights?” he asked.

“No…I’ve never really exercised much,” I said, aware of my slight beer-belly. “I guess it shows.”

We laughed then he showed me some ‘reps’ he did with the weights. He had me lay on the bench and he ‘spotted’ me while I did the ‘reps’. I struggled at first, but he adjusted the weight and I was able to lift them easier. I enjoyed it.

The next few days came and went. I won’t bore you with all the details but Amy came over three days straight, and I couldn’t ‘perform’ for her. She was beginning to get frustrated and angry with me.

One night she said in a nasty tone, “Maybe you’d rather be with Peter. Do you get a hard-on when you’re with him?”

I blushed a deep scarlet and said, “Of course not!”

I knew something was wrong. I was growing increasingly irritable at work, and customers were complaining about me. The manager told me if he heard anymore complaints he’d let me go.

I went to Peter’s every day to exercise. It was very addictive. He had me doing fifty sit-ups a day and then work with the weights. My beer-belly was beginning to noticeably disappear, and my chest was beginning to develop a ‘definition’, as he called it, and it was a good way to work off the sexual tension I felt from not ‘getting-off’ for almost a week.

My birthday was that Friday. Peter came into the store and said he wanted to buy me dinner to celebrate. Since neither Amy or Greg mentioned anything to me about a party, or even acknowledged my birthday. I agreed and Peter picked me up after work.

Peter and I had a fantastic time. For whatever reason, I was able to eat and we feasted on crab legs and filet mignon. I was ravenous. I’d never eaten that much food before.

When we arrived home I said good night to Peter and went into my apartment. The lights were dim and I heard music playing. Then I thought I heard a noise coming from Greg’s bedroom. As I went to investigate, I saw Amy’s purse on the coffee table.

Something’s not right here, I thought to myself.

I listened at his bedroom door then I burst into the room. They were naked and Amy was on top of Greg—she was sliding up-and-down Greg’s cock. I was stunned and furious. I screamed at them and stormed out of the room. I pounded on Peter’s door.

I poured my heart out to him for the next hour.

Phase 2 was the most difficult part of the plan. It required expert planning and precision timing. A mistake here and the entire operation would be ruined. I had ingratiated myself with both Greg and Amy. He enjoyed my company but Amy was wary of me. When Greg saw Johnny’s new physique, he asked what I could do for him. I gave him some pills and mentioned some exercises he could try. The pills I gave him were a form of Viagra.

I conspired with the two of them to have a surprise birthday dinner for Johnny. I had observed how Greg and Amy acted when they were together. Greg’s eyes cried out with lust and desire whenever she was around. She was very flirtatious with him. It was a natural fit.

Before I picked up Johnny that night, I phoned Greg and told him Johnny had to work overtime—that he wouldn’t be home until ten. I told him he and Amy should just go ahead and eat, and they may as well drink the champagne I’d bought. After that I let nature take its course. I calculated that after taking Viagra a few days, Greg would be hornier than a goat. If he hadn’t have seduced Amy—he might well have taken her by force. But she’d been without sex too, so I didn’t think it would come to that.


The only other problem was what would happen if they compared notes and discovered that Johnny hadn’t worked overtime—I figured the subject wouldn’t come up. Greg and Johnny worked different shifts and rarely saw one another, and now, they wouldn’t even be on speaking terms.

At dinner that night, I poured some liquid Viagra into Johnny’s wine. I had taken him off the diet pills two days earlier so the Viagra would have its desired effects—I wasn’t disappointed.


Peter sat next to me on his couch as I fought back my tears. He was very comforting and supportive. He put his arm around me and stroked my back and shoulders. I was grateful to have such a good friend.

“I have a present for you,” he said, and handed me a small box.

I ripped it open and found a pair of navy blue gym shorts and a jockstrap.

“Now you’ll be properly dressed for lifting weights…go ahead and try them on,” he said.

I was a little embarrassed but I went to the bathroom and took off my clothes. I hadn’t worn a jock since high school gym class; I had to figure out how to wear it. Then I slipped into the shorts—they were very short, indeed, maybe to mid-thigh. I left my shirt off thinking I wanted to lift some weights.

I blushed when I saw Peter looking at my outfit. He had a wide smile on his face.

“You look fabulous,” he said. “C’mon, I’ll spot you.”

I followed him to the weight bench and lay on my back. The leg bands of the shorts were flared open and I was afraid he could see underneath.

Don’t be silly, I thought. I was wearing a jockstrap and anyway, Peter was all man—he wouldn’t be looking at me ‘there’.

He gave me the barbell and told me to do 25 reps. That was more weight than I was accustomed to; I counted to myself as I worked the barbell up and down. He touched my thighs to re-position my legs—Jesus—I sprang a boner—I hoped he didn’t notice it.

My God what a beautiful boy! So delicate and smooth. I intentionally placed my hands on his thighs and he instantly became hard; there was a bulge in his shorts. With his small bone structure I guessed he had a tiny penis. I was doing Amy a favor. I was sure Greg’s cock would bring her much more pleasure than Johnny.

This was the last time I would have him lift weights—I wanted a pretty-boy who was in shape—not a strong, muscle-boy. I would increase his sit-ups to 200 a day. I wanted his tummy to remain flat and firm.

This boy was going to provide me with countless orgasms, but for now, I decided it was time for Phase 3 to begin. It was time to give him the greatest sexual satisfaction he would ever know. In just a few days, he would become addicted to my touch and my soothing voice. I loved Phase 3—it gave me the rare opportunity to play role-reversal—I would play the ‘bottom’ to his ‘top’. My own cock throbbed inside my boxers. He didn’t even notice when I stripped to my shorts.


I was almost finished with my reps. I was sweating and I couldn’t ignore the hardness of my cock. It had been a long time since I felt this aroused—I didn’t know what I should do. Peter had surely noticed it by now.

When I reached 25, Peter took the barbell and set it on the floor. I was breathing hard and he told me to lie still. My cock was throbbing in my jock—the tight strap between my bottom-checks rubbed against my anus—it was very arousing.

Peter’s voice was low, as he said, “Alright—time for an oil massage—lie on your stomach.”

I didn’t know what he meant but turned over and waited—after all, he was my ‘coach’.

When his strong hands began kneading the flesh on my back, I groaned and pressed my erection into the bench. The oil he was rubbing on my skin was warm and sensual. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the massage.

When I felt his hands tugging at my shorts and jock I protested.

“Peter—no,” I said, but he was insistent.

“Raise up—I’m going to make you feel good,” he instructed.

My mind was reeling but my body was crying out for attention. I raised my hips and felt my last remaining modesty peeled down and off. I was naked on the bench and he began massaging my legs.

He poured oil on my bottom-cheeks and massaged them. A continual moan escaped my lips—I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted. A finger slipped between my cheeks and rubbed oil on my anus. My body jerked and spasmed—I was close to cumming.

“Turn on your back,” he whispered. I felt his hands helping to turn me over.

My cock trembled when it came into his view. I was humiliated that he could see my arousal. Then I felt his hands on my cock and scrotum. He squirted more oil and massaged my balls. My God it was fabulous—I’d never felt anything like it. His oily hand stroked my cock.

Suddenly, Peter took my cock into his mouth—I cried out—he sucked my cockhead and stroked me to the best orgasm of my life. I shot a week’s worth of pent-up lust into his mouth and he swallowed it all. Afterwards, I felt both gratitude and shame. I didn’t know what I should do. My mind was confused and unsure.

Peter helped me to my feet. My legs wobbled and he caught me before I fell.

“P-Peter…I’m not gay—I’m not gay…. “ was all I could say.

“I know—I know—I couldn’t resist—you’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen—I wanted to do something special for you on your birthday—don’t be mad—c’mon, we’re going to take a shower—I’m going to clean the oil off you.”

I was powerless to refuse. He took my small hand and led me to the bathroom. He stepped out of his boxers and I saw another man’s hard cock for the first time in my life. I couldn’t take my eyes off it as we stepped into the tub.

He lathered me all over with soap and the hot water beating down on us felt wonderful. His hands on my body worked their magic.

He whispered in my ear. “My God you’re beautiful—Johnny, you are so beautiful….”

When his tongue darted in and out of my ear and I felt his hot breath—my penis became hard again. He lathered it and softly stroked it. He pressed the bar of soap between my bottom-cheeks and moved it back and forth over my anus. I swooned and fell into is arms. We kissed; a long, lingering meeting of our lips and tongues.

I felt humiliation and shame at my weakness—my total lack of self-control.

He turned off the water and dried me. I felt like a helpless little boy in his hands. I mumbled that I had to go home, but he said, “No—they’re probably still sucking and fucking and I don’t want you to get hurt again” then he said, “I want you with me tonight—I’ll take care of you.”

It seemed that saying ‘No’ was not an option.

We walked naked to his bedroom. Our stiff cocks bobbing ahead of us. This was all so different—so weird—but when I felt his arm around me it felt so natural. I couldn’t fight him—I forgot all about resisting him.

When he flipped a light switch a small lamp next to the bed came on with a dim red light bulb—it gave his bedroom an aura of sexuality. The bedspread had already been turned back. He had me lie on my back. He gently lay on top of me. His weight pinned me to the mattress. I became both thrilled and alarmed. A naked man was lying on top of me on his bed. My penis began to throb. My damn penis was giving away my conflicting emotions.

He stroked my face and hair and repeated over and over, “You’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen—you’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen….”

I began to feel beautiful. A warmth rushed through my entire body. I put my arms around his broad back and hugged him. We kissed—we kissed for a long time. His lips were hot and his tongue searched out my own. My cock throbbed and pulsated against his flesh. I was dizzy—my mind was lost in a fog. He kissed his way down my body. He massaged and kissed my breasts and nipples—oh how he sucked and fondled my nipples!

My balls ached for release. I writhed and squirmed under his ministrations. When his mouth took possession of my cock I cried out. I was generally pretty quiet during sex, but not tonight. My moans and groans of pleasure filled the room.

When his tongue and fingers teased my cock, I begged him to suck it—I pleaded with him to let me cum. He took my entire cock into his mouth; I’d never known this kind of excitement even existed. I could feel every inch of his velvet tongue on my throbbing penis.

When his finger pushed against my anus I screamed out loud—my hips bucked wildly as I shot stream after stream of cum into his sucking mouth. The nerve-endings on my cock seemed super-sensitive as I spasmed and thrashed about on the bed.

When he had emptied my balls, he lie on top of me and kissed me. I threw my arms around him and gratefully kissed him back. His tongue was coated with my cum but I didn’t care—I sucked at it and reveled in the creamy, salty flavor.

We lay side-by-side, kissing and stroking one another. He took my hand and placed it on his hardness. I flinched—I’d never touched a man’s penis, but he held my hand and moved it slowly along its length.

“Help me cum, Johnny…please help me cum….”

He had been so good to me I wanted to repay his kindness. My fingers curled around his girth. He showed me how I should do it for him. My hand moved back and forth on his hot and smooth flesh. I stroked him as he whispered in my ear.

“Tell me how you like my cock in your hand, Johnny…tell me how much you love the heat—the texture—the smoothness in your hand…say it, Johnny—tell me you love my cock in your hand.”

His voice was so soothing—he had given me the greatest pleasure I’d ever known…

“Yesss…I love the feel of your cock, Peter—it’s so smooth and hot—I love the feel of your cock in my hand….”

“Tell me you want to make me cum, Johnny…tell me you want to stroke my cock until I shoot my cum….”

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