Paul's Problem

Ms Vellen did not show up that evening.

The next day, Paul was taken to the chamber. A doctor was there. He injected a new drug in to Paul. As the poor man began to fall asleep, he saw the doctor lift up a scapel.

When Paul awoke, he found Ms Vellen leaning over him.

'How are you, Paul?'

The look of concern on her face made Paul realise that maybe she did care for him. His devastingly good looks and powerful body had finally broken down her defences, he decided. In his deepest, sexiest voice, he said, 'I've been better.'

With a choke he sat up. His voice was completely different. Despite his attempt to talk sexily, his voice had come out disturbingly high. It also had a lisp.

'What the hell have you all done to me?' he demanded.

'We told you. You're going to be a subvervient gay slave. Part of that is a re-adjustment of your personality and abilities. We've given you a slightly effeminate voice and a lisp so as to undermine your self confidence.

It was working, realised Paul. He did not want to speak.

'But don't worry, we're nearing the end now. After we've finished, you won't be worried about your voice anymore.' she said. Ms Vellen began to massage his penis. It was quickly hard.

'What do you mean? Am I going to like my new voice?' He groaned from the good feelings.

'Heaven's no. There'll just be more important things for you to worry about.'

Ms Vellen sensed that he was close to coming, and stopped. She left him there to finish the job himself. Which he did. Paul looked at the jism pooling on his flat stomach and wondered if he was supposed to desire it. He did not. The thought of swallowing it mad him gag.

Still, he craved salt, and as a test he placed a small amount on his tongue. As soon as it hit the back of his throat, a wave of intense pleasure, as strong as an ejaculation, washed over him. Even as he gagged from the thought of sperm in his mouth, his body rewarded him.

The next day was very similar to his second day, with headphones and a monitor. Except this time instead of pleasurable feelings, the sounds evoked horror and disgust in him. The images that appeared on the screen were of sexy women in provactive poses. Close-ups of cunts and breasts. Paul felt so ill that he vomited often. There was no relief as the drugs they adminstered kept him awake all day.

He was wheeled back to his room. After about an hour, he began to feel almost normal. Paul was contemplating getting out of bed and doing some exercise when Ms Vellen entered the room. She strode over to him lying on the bed and placed her hand on his chest. She kissed him and then climbed on top of him. Sitting astride of him, she began to massage his body. 'Make love to me, Paul. I want your hot body.' she demanded.

It was his dream finally come true, and Paul roughly tore her clothes off. He began to kneed her huge breasts with his hands, elicting a moan of pleasure from her. After a few minutes, he began to feel queasy, and his cock remained limp. Ms Vellen tried to get it hard by grabbing it with her hand and stroking it, but it remained shrivelled and small. She lowered her mouth on it and began to suck. Paul felt a pang of envy, quickly followed by disgust. He pushed her off and began to stroke his penis himself, desperate to get a raise. Ms Vellen watched with clinical amusement.

'Just give me a minute,' he said, wincing at the gay lisp that came out of his mouth.

'I'm waiting...'

After five minutes, he had an erection. Smiling at the impressive size, Ms Vellen climbed on again. Instantly it went soft.

They continued this merry dance for about ten minutes before Ms Vellen left, horny and disgusted.

Paul was humiliated by his performance. He had not failed sexually since he was an awkward teenager. As a vice president he had never lost control, ever.

Had they made him gay? Paul was still repulsed by the thought of sex with men, but now, he was also repulsed by sex with women.

The next day, Paul awoke to find the door to his room open. Not caring where his good luck came from, he ran out of the door and down the hall. There was only one other door open.

Paul walked through it and found himself in some sort of waiting room. There was a large screen television, tuned to the same sports channel that Paul found so distasteful in his room. There were five men there, Paul recognised one of them as the well built model from the front of the magazine. The others were probably from the other issues. His first thought was that of envy. If he worked out a little more he could be better than them.

'Hi' said one of them.

Paul decided to talk in spite of his wussy voice, 'You've to help me ... I've been kidnapped.'

The men just laughed. One of them turned to him, 'Calm down, man. Watch some television with us.'

Paul realised that these people were in on the whole game. Dejectedly, he slumped in front of the television. Presently the two strongmen guards came to collect him.

Back in the chamber it was more devices attached to his erotically sensitive areas. The images on the screen were that of naked men, and men have sex with other men. The pleasure built up all day, until he was finally returned to his room.

When he recovered from his stupor, Paul wondered what changes the program had wrought on his brain today. He glanced at the magazine cover and discovered his sense of revulsion of sex with men was still there ... yet ... his body seemed to think overwise.

The sight of those rock-hard abs and sharply defined pectoral muscles made sent blood rushing to his dick. Despite the lack of desire in his mind, his body began to tingle with sexual desire.

Perplexed by the flood of mixed feelings surging through his mind Paul wanted to get away from his room and those images. He walked in to the waiting room, and found the same five guys there. To his humiliation, the sight of the cute guys caused his gown to tent undeniably.

'Quite a boner you've got there, mate.' said one of them.

Paul's face burned with embarrassment as he sat down, 'Look. I'm not gay, okay?' His voice lisped on the last word. As he sat there, Paul wondered what else the scientists had done to his brain. He looked across the room at one of the men, a young, buff jock with blonde hair and blue eyes. The man looked at Paul, and rather than look away, Paul found himself smiling coyly at the man. Without thinking, he leaned forward and let his legs part slightly, assuming a classic flirting pose.

'What the hell am I doing?' Paul asked himself. 'I just subconciously flirted with a guy!'

He glanced up from his feet to see if the man was still interested. He was. Paul shook himself and declared again, 'I'm not gay.'

The others said nothing. They did however, share an amused glance. One of them yawned and flexed his muscles. Paul watched it happen, and while he felt no desire, his dick began to leak pre-cum, which began to stain the front of his hospital game.

The other men noticed this leak and began to laugh.

Paul could not stand it any more and returned to his room.

Paul found himself wearing the helmet with the probes buried in his brain the next day, while images of virile young men pulsed in front of his eyes. By the end of the day, he found himself appreciative or well formed bodies.

In his own room, he was drawn to the the gay porn magazines. For the first time he opened the cover. The strong bodies contained in the pages had him erotically hypnotised. Without touching his dick, he was able to cum just from soaking in the vision of the hunky men in front of him.

Paul tried to resist his own temptations, but he felt compelled to go the waiting room. He told himself it was just for company, but in reality his heart was leaping at the chance to see hot male flesh in real life. He was already sporting an erection, so he took the gown off and fashioned a makeshift pair of shorts out of it.

The men in the room seemed to have been waiting for him. They grinned when he entered.

One of them gestured to him, 'Why don't you come over here and sit down next to me?' he asked.

Paul sat down next to the man. He was so close, the warmth of the other human radiated out. Paul willed his body to soak it all up. It was taking every bit of his will power not to reach out and stroke the man's bulging bicep.

The man knew this and flexed it impressively.

Paul did not how to repsond to the new feelings in him. When he was a vice president, he had enjoyed a steady diet of beautiful women. When he wanted one of them, he had just taken. He realised now that he had never actually lusted after all of them. He had desired them, he had felt attraction for them, but he had never been captive to his own emotions like he was now.

Paul reached out to fondle the man's skin.

The two guards appeared at the door with Ms Vellen.

'Time to go, Paul.' she said.

Paul allowed himself to be led away.

The next Paul did not go to the doctor. The doctor came to him. Paul was churning through a thousand stomach crunches, obsessed with having the perfect six-pack, when the two guards came in and grabbed hold of his arms. Paul struggled, but their grip was vice-like. A doctor walked in carrying a syringe filled with a pale liquid. He then said the only thing that any doctor said while Paul was at the facility.

'This will help you solve your salt cravings.'

The doctor stabbed the needle in to Paul and injected the liquid in to him. The medicine quickly left Paul weak and feverish. He crawled in to his bed and spent the rest of the day in agony. By the evening, his fever had broken and other than a dull ache in his stomach, he was fine. Paul's meal arrived and he ate it quietly. He identified the dull ache in his stomach, as a craving for salt. The was meal was as bland as usual.

It was not until the next day that he began to suspect that the injection was causing his craving to be enhanced. Paul did not have time to test his theory, as he was whisked away to the chamber for the last of what Ms Vellen called 'Behavioural Programming'.

This involved programming him to always say the first lust filled thoughts that fill his head, to prefer wearing tight gay clothes, to seek out dangerous relationships and hundreds of other little things.

When Paul woke up in his room, his head felt like it had been through a masher. He fell out of bed and moved to the exercise bike. He glanced at one of the open gay porno magazines, it was a hulking danger man exposing his tight butt to the camera.

'That is one tight piece of arse.' he said out loud. Paul was puzzled, but frankly past caring. He sat on the bike and began to pedal, 'Fuck I'm horny today.'

Paul stopped pedalling, 'Did I say that or think that?' he asked himself.

Ms Vellen walked in. When Paul looked at her, it was without lust.

'Come on, Paul, it's time to test your new attitude. We're going to meet some men.'

'I hope I'll finally get to suck some dick.' He said, recoiling in horror even as the words escaped. 'What have you done to me?'

'It's just a standard "improvement" we make to all our men. You're now inclined to say the first lust-filled thing that enters your mind. Now come along.'

Paul meekly followed Ms Vallen. She led him to a room where clothes were waiting for him. They were humiliating skimpy. They did not cover his midriff at all. The t-shirt was stretched taut across his chest, his nipples showing through. The pants were shiny black leather, so tight that it was like a second skin. Despite their obviously less than vice-president like appearance, Paul found them extrememly to his liking. In fact, he realised he liked them too much for it to be a natural appreciation.

The van pulled up outside the gay nightclub.

'Don't try and escape Paul, or we'll kill you.' warned Ms Vallen, 'Have a good time.'

One of the guards gave him a shove and he stumbled out of the van and on to the footpath. Unsure of himself he walked in to the club. He walked up to the bar, hoping to use their phone to call the police.

Lots of cute gay guys were standing at the bar mingling. Paul could not help but say to one of them, 'You have one hell of a hot body.'

Five minutes later, they were pawing at each other in a darkened corner of the nightclub. Paul found his entire will power fading and he just wanted to please this man. He recognised what the ache in his stomach was, he was craving semen. As well as wanting to give this man a blow-job, he knew that he would enjoy it.

The whole situation was horrible. Paul's rational mind wanted to return to the world of pie graphs and office manouvering that was the role of a vice-president. Yet, every fibre of his sexually heightened body wanted more kissing, more fondling and more sex.

Paul sank to his knees and took the man's hard member in his mouth. He began to suck on it like a pro, the pleasure centres of his brain began to fire and soon Paul was enjoying it more than the man. The hot jism gushing down his throat caused Paul to cum. The cramps in his stomach vanished.

The next day was his final day at the facility. There was a short hypno session in the morning and then in the afternoon, Ms Vellen came to take him away for the last time.

She led him in to the van and it drove off. Sitting in the back, Paul could not stop the tears from beginning to run down his pretty-boy face.

'Why have you done this to me?'

Ms Vellen looked on him with pity, 'It's nothing personal Paul. We're just a bunch of twisted, twisted individuals.'

'But why me?'

The van stopped. It had arrived at its destination. Ms Vellen paused before answering. 'It's because of your bubble butt and your perfect features. As I said, we're twisted, twisted individuals. Did I mention we were shallow?'

They had arrived at his place of work; The Activity Company Ltd Pty.

'We're here to hand you over to Chris. We've made you totally subservient to him. You'll do his bidding, suck the cock of anyone he wants you to. You'll also be unable to resist trying to pick up the cute guys in your office. All the guys back at the office are taking bets for whole long you'll last. I've said two months. Try to resist your gay carnal urges for that long, please. For me?' said Ms Vallen.

A life of slavery to his arch-rival Chris? The very thought sickened Paul, yet at the same time he came in his pants. He felt resigned to his fate ... or was that also part of his re-education?

Paul began to walk to the revolving door at the front of the building. He turned to look back at the van and Ms Vallen once more. He found himself more attracted to the two burly security guards that accompanied her.

'I'd love to see them naked.' He said to no-one in particular.

The sound of a chopper interrupted Paul's chain of thought. It had steadily grown louder over the last minute, but now it was a deafening roar. It came flying from around the corner of the building and landed in the middle of the road, blocking the van. A fleet of vehicles roared around the corner and surrounded the trapped kidnappers. Out jumped several dozen soldiers. They arrested Ms Vallen and the guards. One ran up to him.

'Mister Farrow?' He asked.

'Yes I am.' Replied Paul, not sure what was happening.

'We're here to rescue you.' said the soldier.

'I'd like to strip you out of that uniform and fuck you.' said Paul, placing his hands around the soldier and fondling his butt. The soldier was obviously well trained, 'I'm sorry sir, but this is for your own good.' The soldier clubbed Paul on the head with the butt of his rifle.

When Paul woke up, he was in a normal hospital. He was doped up on drugs and unable to feel a thing. A doctor was there to talk with him. 'Mister Farrow, I know you can't reply, but I want to reassure you that you'll be okay. The police have been monitoring Ms Vallen and her cohorts for almost a year now. We have the top commonwealth scientists now installed in the lab and they are able to reverse the procedure that has been done to dozens of men such as yourself.'

Paul was astounded. He had been rescued! Even in his semi-comatose state, he was sure of one thing. Chris had gone too far this time. They both worked at only a computer game company ... it's not like it was anything worth fighting over. They didn't even make very good games.

The End.