The Appointment

By Tattcub
published May 22, 2020
1163 words
Summary

Alex has a huge desire. The Institute and Doctor respond. (First part)

Hi all,

I know it’s been a while so here’s my latest dip into mind and body fuckery.

Hope you’re all good.

More to come

All the best

TC

Doc# Hello, welcome. Do come in. Take a seat. Subject# Thank you. This is a real surprise/ Doc# Shhh, that’s okay. Let’s get you settled first. Sit down. Subject# Here? Doc# Yes, there. Sort of obvious really, dear boy. It’s the only chair. Subject# I was only just aski/ Doc# /Don’t ask any more questions. You know the rules. You’ve signed the contract. You’re property now. You may as well sit back and enjoy the ride. For as long as you can remember it. Too much thinking. You’re here to solve that right? Subject# Wait, you can’t. I thought. Doc# Always the same. “You can’t, I thought.” Well, “dear boy.” I can and there’s no thought to be had anymore. Not by you at least. You. Are. My. Clay.The things you shall see with the furies and powers I can mould. Lay back. Close your eyes. Remember, for the last time. Now, are we sitting comfortably? Then, let’s begin.

Doctor Personal notes#

I think the first meeting with a subject is always telling about the subject. Often, they are just voyeurs, they want to have a sneak peek at the goods as it were. We don’t allow that at this institution so with the sneaky peekers they get a lost 24 hours and are placed back in their hometowns. It wouldn’t do to have to many people go missing. It would draw too much attention. Our true subjects will be getting quite enough of that later. Others are looking for lost friends or loved ones. Those we tend to send back with the usual “They’re okay, just want to be alone story.” Or even “Trying to find themselves gone travelling.”

We can’t use anyone in the process which is why we must be careful about it. More selective. Mind control is easy, genetic manipulation and Psi grabbing are much more difficult. You’ve heard hypnotists say that the best subjects are willing? Well, in this case it’s true. Certain people have just the right mindset for what we do here at the Institute. They have a certain intelligence, a certain depth of longing. They have very definite urges and fantasies. Everyone has a darker side, a side that even though acknowledged needs to be managed, catered to, explored. The current subject whose name was Alex Travers, he’s a prime example.

Most of the days of his adult life Alex worked his slightly pudgy pale white ass off. For what? A pittance of a wage and being the nice guy, he allowed everyone at work and at home to step on him on their way up. It’s a shame really, because he’s not a bad looking guy. Well, with a little work and self-esteem he would have been more, acceptable to his peers. He may even have gotten the girl. Or the guy. No that it matters to him anymore. Or at least, soon it won’t. Now, he’s just clay. Ready for moulding.

Anyway, on with our story, Alex was a good guy, conscientious, honest, kind to his mother. All that extraneous nonsense. He worked hard and went on dates. Had relationships, mediocre at best and tried to live.

He failed because of one thing. Desire. His own desire to be exact. He had a craving, a dark urge that drove him. He had a fetish for two things. The first was straightforward and common. He loved muscle. Thick, hard, worked for earned to the core. Muscle. The bigger, the more rugged, engorged, the freakier the better. He’d spent substantial portions of his pittance of a wage wandering the various sites and paying various men of muscle to ogle theirs just for a while. It satisfied his lust, briefly. Then it was there again. Rapacious and unforgiving, all encompassing. Through the many pointless, trite and disappointing successes in his life all were overrode by his obsession with muscle worship. That and the ultimate wish, to be one of them.

That wasn’t his dream in toto. Not at all. His ultimate desire was to lose his intelligence. To dumb down, to become that monster jock that had always made him explode to climax in all the stories. He had his favourite authors, purveyors of dark fantasy. His Favourite websites. Visited untold times, so much fluid spent and wasted when he could have been what he wanted had he been willing to put in the work. With his brains he would have been able to do it well. The problem with desire is, it likes a short cut. It is the desperate schoolchild of emotion. Fantasy needs to be fuelled, fulfilled and finished. It is so hungry and is never, ever satiated. Alex wanted the short cut, so he went looking. Hours into the dawn turned into nights, into weeks, into months. He searched, skulked in forbidden places in anonymous digital garb. He hid his searches and started fresh every night, full of hope and inescapable longing to be, other. One night, he’d fallen asleep at his work desk, laptop still on pants still around his ankles and a waste bin full of hardening Kleenex. His favourite site was on the screen one he’d culled many hours of muscle driven fantasies from. His favourite authors aired their wares here. Absman, Willie Cici, Onix, Derek Williams and Aardvark. All of them spoke to him. They all whisper in his dreams and his wants. His needs. They all knew, all understood this primal urge he had. He was among friends here. Ludicrous, grotesque, dense carved muscle, veiny and hard as carved stone. None of them cared who he was. None of them, in these stories ended up knowing who they were. All lost to the muscle.

It was then he noticed his mail window blinking. It was odd as he always made sure to log off his work and personal emails when dredging for muscle. He didn’t want anyone to discover his secret. What he thought of as his shame, but it was irresistible. He spent hours watching and thinking and wanking to these gods.

He paused, nervous. It didn’t have a message in the subject, just a thumbnail. It was off a guy, obviously jacked unbelievably. He had his to tight shirt pulled up and was showing his abs off for the camera, sticking his tongue out in a classic douche jock pose. Backwards ballcap keeping his dirty blond hair out of his vacant blue eyes. Alex licked his parched lips and clicked on the message. There was one reason he clicked and no other. The guy in the picture was him.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

Hot
Mind control
Wanking material
Writing
Idea
You've created tags exclusively for this story! Please avoid exclusive tags!