Hey Mikey! Chapter 4

By Darr Fall published March 2, 2013
Summary
The conclusion to the "Hey Mikey" series.
Chapter 4.

It was a beautiful spring day, and the drive through our sunlit Maine town was peaceful and quiet. Mattie said nothing to me as he drove, and I said nothing back. There wasn't much to say. The transformation into Chuck's personal cocksucker had not been easy on him. I helped him as much as I could with advice and encouragement. I knew intimately what it was like to feel weak and effeminate against a strong, powerful alpha male. I had felt that way ever since the first time a jock caught me staring at his body in gym class. But we had been so different, Mattie and I. Mattie couldn't see himself blowing a jock in his darkest nightmares. I never had to be asked twice.

I should have been worried too. Worried about my future. Worried about the opportunities I stood to miss going into a state school instead of one of the several top-tier ivy leagues to which I had been accepted. I should have been worried about all those things. But all I could think about was Derek. Will he be interested in having a permanent cock slave? Will he be disgusted by the very thought? Will he beat me into a pulp for coming to his home now to satisfy my lustful cravings for his manhood? Sure, Chuck made me do it. But Chuck won't be there. Nobody but Derek will be home. Chuck said he'd make sure of that

And so, on this beautiful sunny day in our beautiful sunny town, Mattie pulled over outside the typical New England house where Chuck, Derek, and their family lived.

"You remember what to say?" Mattie asked quietly.

"Yeah," I replied, taking a deep swallow. As I opened the door, my palm left a trail of sweat across the handle. "Good luck," he said.

"Thanks".

With that, I stepped out, blinking in the surprising sunlight, feeling its gentle spring warmth on my skin. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath of crisp spring air, and walked. Into the driveway, past the basketball hoop, into the footpath, and up two steps to the front door. The seconds of walking seemed to last an hour. My trembling, sweaty finger found the doorbell. A buzz. Silence. More silence. Maybe he wasn't home. Maybe I could turn around, get back into Mattie's car. Ride home. Go to bed. Sleep it off. Maybe Chuck's suggestions would wear off over time. Maybe everything could still go back to the way it was. Maybe...

Footsteps. Fast, firm footsteps of a star athlete. Down a flight of stares. Across the floor. A turn of the handle. A swing of the door. Derek.

He was beautiful. Wearing only a tank top with a football team logo, his beautiful pecs, pumped shoulders, and thick, strong, muscular arms bathed in the sunlight, radiating their own sensual heat. His body wasn't monstrous and overwhelming as Chuck's. It was just athletic. Just strong. Just beautiful.

"Can I help you?". I looked into his eyes. It was so hard to escape his eyes. His beautiful, inviting, irresistible green eyes. So hard to keep my train of thought. So hard to speak. But I knew I had to. This was not a choice.

"Chuck wishes you happy birthday, sir" I managed to pronounce meekly, bowing my head.

"What?" Then, comprehension dawned. "Oh." He frowned. Then he stepped away from the door and motioned for me to enter. As I passed him, feeling the heat and strength of his body so close to me, I barely even heard Mattie drive away. I was here now. Enslaved and alone, with no idea of what would be done with me. Or to me.

He motioned to a couch in the living room, and sat across from me in a loveseat, looking me over quietly for a few moments.

"So, Chuck sent you?" he finally asked in a baritone that decidedly belonged to a man, not a boy.

"Yes, sir". I sat, nervously eyeing his eyes for a hint of reaction. His expression was still and impenetrable for a few more moments. But then...

"Bastard!"

"What?" I exclaimed impulsively? Quickly remembering to add "sir"

"I told him I didn't want this!"

"He said you'd like" I started to say

"No! What a fucking moron! One time, just one time, he asked me if I'd received a blowjob from anyone. I said yes. He asked who gave me the best blowjob I've ever had. I said you did. Several times. He asked me if I would have preferred you didn't give blowjobs to anyone else. I can't lie to my brother. I had to say yes."

It seemed a stone had been lifted off my shoulders.

"Then you do want me to pleasure you! I am so happy to hear that, master!" I exclaimed gleefullly. I stood up, walked over to where he sat, and crouched on the floor in front of him. I was instantly awed by the beautiful calves of this star athlete's legs. And stealing a glance up his shorts, I found myself mentally worshipping his beautiful thick thighs. I slowly and methodically put my finger on his inner thigh, gently running it up and down. Teasing my master. Caressing my master. Adoring my master. With every stroke back and forth, my expertly teasing finger found its way closer and closer to my master's cock. That's how he had always liked it.

"Mmmmm..." Derek moaned. So deep. So manly. So beautiful.

"Let me pleasure you, Master," I cooed seductively. "Let me satisfy your every need, master", I whispered as I allowed my fingers to reach his waste, slowly pulling down the front of his gym shorts, noticing the protrusion in his crotch tremble and grow. He lifted himself up slightly, and guiding his shorts down his legs, my hands took in the firmness of his skin and the shapes of all the muscles bulging from his thighs, just a little soft not in relaxation.

As my hands pulled his shorts past his knees and let them fall to his ankles, I ran my fingers along the insides of his thighs, up and down, slowly and rhythmically. I had learned, watching Chuck hypnotize all those people, what a powerful a rhythm could have. Soon, I would have my master ensnared in my own rhythm, falling helplessly under the spell of pleasure I was weaving on his powerful legs.

"That's right, Master. I can make you feel sooooo good, Master." I kissed his right knee gently with my lips, and slowly began approaching him closer, planting a trail of gentle, seductive kisses up his athletic thigh. My fingers, so lightly caressing his inner thigh were edging closer and closer to touching master's manhood. The thick bulge in his underwear, was still growing, straightening, hardening.

"Mmmmmm...." the athlete moaned deeply, his head rolling in pleasure.

"That's right, Master. Doesn't it feel sooooo good to let me please you? Because nobody can please you like I can, Master," I continued in a singsong whisper, allowing my fingers now to gently caress the base of the stud's shaft and titillate his balls through the thin cotton sheen of his underwear.

As his cock thickened and throbbed, I let my other hand travel up his inner thigh around the outline of his balls, and to that sprinkling of pubic hair right above his cock, teasing and caressing that area, gently pulling his underwear just a notch lower, until I could tease the base of his cock.

"I live to please you master," I said, as my lips finished kissing their way up the stud's thigh. And then, ever so lightly through his underwear, I kissed the tip of his cock with my lips, sucking in just so slightly.

He seemed lost in pleasure.

"I live to serve your every whim, master!"

Another kiss on my master's manhood, longer now, more powerful, drawing him into me, my lips expertly gliding down his cock as my hands glided around it.

He breathed out a deep sigh. And then, suddenly, he turned rigid. He started to tremble a little. At first I thought he was having a seizure, but looking at him again, I found myself reminded of how Mattie had trembled desparately trying to resist Chuck's hypnoseduction.

"No!" my stud cried suddenly, and with a powerful motion of his muscular arm, found my shoulder and pushed me away. I fell on my back, as the master stood up, his meaty thighs tightening. He bent down, pulled up his shorts, and before I could say anything, ran up the stairs and out of my sight. A moment later, I heard a door slam on the floor above.

I was crestfallen. Had I failed? Had I upset my master? I was the school's best cocksucker. I knew it! He knew it! He said himself I'd given him the best blowjobs he ever had!

I also knew defeat was not an option. Chuck imprinted his words with all his muscle power in the innermost depths of my mind, and they would not give way. Upstairs, there was a high school football stud, upset at the cocksucker who had been sent to pleasure him. I had to be at fault. There was no choice. I had to make amends for whatever I had done. I had to write this wrong.

Without making a sound, I found my way upstairs. All the bedroom doors were ajar, except for one, at the far end of the hall. I walked over nervously and knocked gently.

"Master?"

"Go away"

"Please, master, tell me..." I started to implore.

"I said GO AWAY!" The anger in his scream felt like a knife in my belly.

"But why, master?" I was sobbing now, cold tears rolling down my cheeks. It had been so long since I last cried, but the terror and the misery of my master's rejection were collapsing on me with full force. "I beg you, master, please tell me what I did wrong," I implored in between sobs, my tearful voice desperately needing to penetrate the door that seemed a mile thick. "I need to..."

The door opened and my master stood on the other side. His face had taken on a slight share of red, especially around the eyes.

"Please," he said quietly. Don't cry."

He stepped back into his room. I followed. He sat on the side of his bed, leaving plenty of space next to him. I took that as my cue to sit beside him. Days ago, I could have only dreamed to be where I was now with the person sitting next to me. Today, though, I was grief-stricken. Through the blur of my tears, I looked into his green eyes and saw... I couldn't tell what. Maybe sadness. Maybe longing. Maybe something else."

"I never wanted it like this," he said and lowered his face into his hands.

"What do you mean, master?" I asked nervously.

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" He suddenly screamed, moving as if to lunge himself at my throat. And then, just as suddenly, he sunk into the bed where he was sitting and once again took his face into his hands.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

I was stunned. Speechless. Frozen.

"It's not your fault," he said finally. "My brother's a dumb, stubborn fuck. When he gets an idea into his head, he..." Derek broke off and sighed deeply. "I never wanted this."

I did not know what to say. Did I dare speak again.

"But you said you told him..."

"I told him I wanted to have you to myself, yes. But not like this! I don't want you to be my slave! I don't want anyone to be my slave! Chuck plays these bullshit games with people's heads. I don't want any of that! Chuck is sick. I always want to tell that bastard that he... but..."

"I thought you enjoyed that..."

"Dude, I don't want another blowjob. Yeah, you're good at it. Magic mouth Mikey, I know. Everyone in schools knows. Cause that's all they want. That's all you are to them. A warm mouth on their dicks..." He paused. I gaped at him silently.

"But not to me." Another eternal pause.

"Remember that time you popped in after school? You'd left something in the locker room, remember? And I cornered you and made you miss the bus so you could stay and blow me. Remember that?" Was I supposed to speak? He kept waiting.

"Yes," I finally replied. I remembered. Something had been eating Derek that day, that much was obvious. I could have never imagined his beautiful features turn so menacing as he compelled me to service him.

"And then I let slip about that cunt of a teacher who was going to fail me in math," Derek went on remembering.

"Yes", I replied again.

"And you offered to help me."

I had. There had been something unbearable about seeing this beautiful stud this bent out of shape because of a grade.

"Yes," I replied. He waited, as if to gather words that would not come. The silence was becoming painful.

"You didn't accept," I said, breaking the silence.

"How could I," he replied with a hint of self-loathing, "when I had just abused you like that?" He paused. "You could have gotten me kicked off the team, for what I did to you, Mikey. Maybe expelled. Maybe thrown in prison. Instead, you showed me kindness, the kind I've never seen from anyone."

There was such sincerity in his eyes now. Such tenderness.

"School's fucked up. Everyone sticks to their own kind. Jocks hang with jocks. Nerds with nerds. Fags with fags. Nerds are afraid of jocks. Fags are afraid of jocks. And here you were... Being kind to me after I..." He turned away and covered his face with his hands. It took a few moments for him to recover.

"I can't lie to Chuck. When he asked if I wanted you for myself, I said I did. And I do. But not as a slave. Not as a cocksucker. Not as a servant. I want you the way you are, Mikey. For the person you are inside. Do you understand? Not for your magical mouth, Mikey. For your magical soul."

His expressive green eyes were so gentle now, so full of kindness.

He tenderly lifted his hand and touched my cheek so gently, that I felt the warmth of his palm more than I felt his touch. As his hand caressed my cheek, my eyes caught the slight movement of the muscles protruding from his powerful arm. I couldn't believe someone so strong could touch so gently. And that he was touching me. His eyes were tracking my face nervously. Maybe he was waiting to see if I would pull back. Shrink away. But I couldn't. It took me a while to find my hand, but when I did, I willed it to move, to rise to my face, and run my fingers across Derek's hand, gently pressing int into my cheek. His eyes blurred for a second, and then he smiled. It was the warmest, sweetest smile I had ever seen. Our eyes stayed locked on each other for a few moments, and then he pulled back his hand and turned away his eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"This isn't you. You're not the one touching me back. It's all that bullshit Chuck ramrodded into your head. This isn't the real Mikey."

"It's me " I replied emphatically. "I know it is. At least, I feel like it is."

"Hmm..." he seemed lost in thought, and then looked at me again.

"You said you live to serve my every whim?"

"That's right," I replied robotically. The reminder brought the full power of Chuck's programming crashing down on my brain again. Desperately I willed my mind to fight the numbness stomping out and suffocating my thoughts, my feelings, my identity. Once again, I was losing it all.

"I live to serve your every whim, Master".

"Then my whim is this," he paused, thinking for another second, and then proceeding to speak slowly and methodically. "My whim, in fact, my greatest wish in the world is that everything Chuck made you into disappear. My whim is that you become the same Mikey you were before Chuck got to you, with all the free will you always had."

"Ha!" I cried triumphantly inside my head against the onslaught of control from Chuck's programming. "Be gone!" And it was gone. I felt my thoughts lighten, and take flight freely inside my mind.

"There," Derek spoke, eyeing me carefully. "How do you feel?"

I sat still, not moving a muscle.

"Better. Lighter. Like myself. Thank you..."

His eyes still seemed filled with doubt.

"...Derek"

His eyes seemed to light up when I said his name.

"Not master?" he asked eagerly?

"No," I replied. "Just me. Thank you, Derek" My hand, without any thought or warning, rose up and reached to caress Derek's arm. It took a split second before I saw what it was doing and bade it freeze in mid air. Blowjobs were blowjobs, but I had never dared to make an advance at an athlete before.

"It's ok, Derek encouraged. "You can touch me."

My hand reached his shoulder, cupping it gently and tenderly, my palm barely long enough to wrap around its thick curvature. I caressed him slowly and tenderly, guiding my palm down his arm, trying to fill my touch with all the affection I felt for the beautiful boy. I moved down, feeling his thick tricep protruding out even from his completely relaxed arm. And just on the other side, there was that thick bicep, that beacon of power; the kind that had filled so many of my dreams...

Suddenly I realized I had lingered on his muscles way too long. I was supposed to show him affection, not feel him up. I pulled back, ashamed of myself.

But Derek smiled. "Find anything you like?"

I swallowed hard and, in spite of myself, nodded.

He raised his arm now and straightened it forcefully, compelling his enormous tricep to erupt in a thick rock hard mass. And then, tightly and methodically, he bent his arm at a right angle, forcing his giant bicep to congeal in to a thick and powerful globe.

"Go ahead," he encouraged, almost playfully. "Feel it". I reached nervously with my hand. It felt hard as rock, but warm. Pulsating. Alive. With every nerve in my skin I tried to sense every pore, every vein, every little bump and fall. How powerful the man in front of me was. And, unlike his brother, how little he made me fear him. Derek loosened and tightened his bicep slightly and slowly, so I could feel it move and grow under my hand. I was lost. Mesmerized. Entranced.

This was wrong. Derek was way too nice for me to perv out on him like that. Forcing myself to return to my senses and regain a molecule of self control, I jerked my arm back.

"I'm sorry," I whimpered.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Mikey", Derek said, caressing my cheek. It's ok. "There's nothing wrong with wanting what you want." He smiled, and flexed his arms over his head teasingly. "I worked hard on these guns," he said, kissing his right bicep. "I'm happy you enjoy them."

"Thanks," I said. He was so kind. Too kind. Over something that happened months ago? I was starting to feel scared, and with good reason. Every scrawny gay kid in school knew that any seductive teasing from a jock usually ends in a beating. A wrestler once came up to a friend of mine wearing a singlet. Almost my friend into the lockers with his pec almost engulfing my friend's face and his thinly-concealed crotch grinding right into my friend, the guy invited for him to follow him into an empty athletics storage room, flexing casually all the way. My friend was in heaven the whole way there. And he was in a hospital shortly thereafter.

Maybe that's what Derek wanted for his birthday: to throw some birthday punches at a helpless little fag who had no choice to show up. As a slave puppet, I'd take them quietly and peacefully as my due. So he freed me first, making sure I had my free will and all my senses.

"Well," Derek said, after looking at me methodically, "in for a penny, in for a pound." And with that, he raised his arms over his head, and, while flexing them as revealingly as possible, reached down and pulled off his tank top. As his tank top slid up, I watched it reveal his chiseled abs, graced by the faintest trail of hair down the middle. And further it slid, revealing bulletproof-looking pecs, broadening to his now familiar wide shoulders and awe-inspiring arms. He was beautiful but fearsome sight. Instinctively, I shrank back in fear.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"I can't do this. I'm sorry, Derek."

"Did I do something wrong?"

I drew a deep breath. It took a few moments to collect myself, steel myself, and will myself to speak the wretched truth, even as tears welled up in my eyes.

"Maybe you mean well, Derek, and if you do, I'm sorry. But for as long as I've been in school, guys like you had only two reasons for going after guys like me: beatings and blowjobs. You didn't want the blowjob..."

"Oh, god," Derek shuddered.

"Maybe this time it's different. Maybe you're different. But I can't just make everything I know about people like you disappear."

"Mm-hmm." He said, absent-mindedly. He just sat there, thinking for a while. I started moving away slowly.

"I'm sorry you're afraid, Mikey." He finally said. "But I can't just let you go. I've been waiting for this day too long. Please forgive me, for what I'm about to do."

I froze. My voice seemed to drown away in fear. I could do nothing but stare at him wide-eyed, begging for my life with my eyes. With the speed of a striking cobra, he reached out and grabbed my wrist. I closed my eyes, waiting for the blow. Maybe he'd have the kindness to knock me out in one punch, so I wouldn't be tortured by the kind of pain someone this strong could inflict.

But the blow never came. Instead, he took my hand with his free hand, and released my wrist. With his thumb, he began outlining circles on my hand.

"Open your eyes, Mikey" he said. My eyes opened of their own accord.

"Look at me." My eyes obeyed. His gaze was firm and unyielding, and his body was flexed in a fierce and intimidating pose. He was flexing each of his pecs in turn, in the rhythm of the circles his thumb was massaging into my palm. The sight of his bouncing pecs overwhelmed me, and I could not look away.

"That's right, Mikey. Just look. Surrender to my strength, Mikey. Give in." He flexed his free arm, popping the thick round bicep, letting its peak rise and fall in perfect rhythm with the bouncing of his pecs and the massage of my hand.

"Come closer," he said quietly. My mind was reeling, but my body complied, moving back toward where he sat on the bed. He unflexed his free arm, gently found my temple and began to inscribe the same circles as his other hand, both hands in perfect rhythm with his pecs. I felt that familiar sensation of having my thoughts fade into someplace distant, coerced away by the athlete's strength and lulled to sleep by his methodical hands.

"It's ok, Mikey, I won't hurt you," he said quietly. His rhythm began to slow. So did my breathing. So did my thoughts.

"Take off your shirt, Mikey," he said his voice perfectly, calculatedly even in tone and volume, clearly practiced to penetrate my numbed brain.

His hands freed mine, and my hands found the bottom of my t-shirt, and raised it over my head. Once my head was through the collar and my arms free of its sleeves, Derek lifted the shirt off me, and threw it onto a chair. I felt a shiver run down my smooth skin. I was naked, exposed, entranced, paralyzed, and helpless. Derek reached out and gently took my hand, resuming his hypnotic massage with his thumb. He slowly pulled me toward him, and lied back on his bed. Like a well-trained ballerina, I found myself following where his powerful arms so gently led, next to him on the bed. My head fell on his outstretched arm, with my face staring straight into his focused green eyes. His fingers found the back of my heard, and resumed their hypnotic ministrations. His other hand, found the small all of my back, and proceeded to continue ensnaring me in his power. His pecs too resumed their rhythmic dance of seduction and sedation.

"That's right, Mikey, " he cooed. "Just relax. Just let go." His rhythm and his voice were slowing down. My breathing, pulse, and thoughts helplessly followed. My eyelids, had begun to flutter.

"You're safe with me, Mikey. No one will hurt you. It's ok to relax, Mikey," he said softly. "It's ok to give in."

I barely noticed my eyelids come down. Caressing my back with his palms, Derek pulled my slack, limp body gently into his embrace. I felt myself melting in his body heat into that mass of muscles. Barely conscious, I couldn't find a the strength to make a single movement, utter a single sound. I felt weak. Helpless. Violated.

"I'm sorry, Mikey," he said, in a voice softer than a whisper. "I promised myself I'd never do this. God..." My face, resting lightly against his, suddenly felt a drop of something moist.

"I can't believe I did that to you, Mikey. I'm so sorry." Another tear. "But I had to, Mikey, please understand. I couldn't let you go, Mikey. Couldn't let you run away in fear. If you had walked out, we'd be back where we started. The beautiful shy gay kid afraid of the big bad jock. And the big bad jock... afraid of what he was feeling. I couldn't bear that, Mikey." He kissed my forehead with the gentleness of a breeze. "I love you, Mikey. Do you understand?"

My body still couldn't be bothered to move, but my head turned slightly, my lips somehow finding his cheek. A sound finally escaped my mouth. I could only hope it sounded close enough to "I love you." The warmth of his body melted away the last of my thoughts, and the world faded away.



RATA-TAT-TAT!!! RATA-TAT-TAT!!!

A moan escaped my lips, as my brain trying to remember where my eyelids were and how to open them. Next to me, Derek sprung up, and with the speed and grace of a star athlete, jumped over my still mostly slumbering form and, without pausing to put a shirt on, ran down the stairs.

I couldn't hear who was at the door, or what that person and Derek were saying to each other. Stumbling out of bed, I groped around for my discarded shirt, and, in my disheveled state, found my way down the stairs.

"...have to stop coming here," I heard Derek saying impassionedly.

"Please, Derek, I'll do anything!" The voice was familiar. "I'll wash your car! I'll mow your lawn. I'll give you everything I make at my job! I'll borrow, I'll steal. Anything... please let me stay."

It was Jaime. Matt and Chuck's friend. The one Chuck had hypnotized into being Derek's love slave for suggesting that Derek might be gay. Oh, the cruel irony!

"Dude, we've been through this, Derek replied. I'm not interested in you, bro! Come on..."

It was then that Jaime saw me standing on the stairs.

"Hey, Jaime," I said, trying to muster as pleasant a smile as I could.

Jaime's face turned furious. "What the fuck?! You push me out, but you let this faggot cocksucker stay here?"

The change in Derek was lightning fast. In a split second, he lunged forward, and grabbed Jaime's head into an inescapable headlock, grinding his face fiercely into his tightened bare chest.

"If you ever call him that again, you dumb little fuck," Derek roared through clenched teeth, squeezing his grip around Jaime's neck tighter and tighter, "I'll..."

"Derek!" I called out. Glancing at me, he seemed to recover his temper and released Jaime.

"Go find Chuck," he bellowed into the Jaime's face, poking him hard in the chest. "I don't give a fuck where or how. Tell him I said this shit is nowhere near funny, and that I'm going to break you if you ever come here again."

With that, he slammed the door in poor Jaime's face.

"No one will ever insult you like that again," he said forcefully.

"It's ok," I said, taking his hand and tenderly looking into his eyes.

"No, it's not. You've been taking this kind of crap way too long. No one insults the people I love." He smiled at me tenderly.

"Come on," he said, and with that he reached around my back with one hand, down to my knees with the other, and scooped me up into his arms, as if I weighed no more than a folded sweater. My head came to rest on his thick meaty shoulder, as he began walking up the stairs.

The sun was setting, bathing his room in an crimson shade of gold. He looked so beautiful in that light.

"Chuck and I will have to have a little talk," he finally said.

"About Jaime?"

"About Jaime, about you... but mostly about me." He paused. "I'm done hiding, Mikey. Hiding from Chuck, hiding from my friends, hiding from myself. I know who I am and I know what I want. And what I want is this incredible, beautiful angel resting in my arms."

He laid me down tenderly on his bed, and slowly lied down beside me, gently pulling me into him with his muscular arm. I saw the green of his eyes, felt the warmth of his skin, and melted once again.

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Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed the story and, perhaps, reached your own happy ending. Let me know what you thought at darrfall@yahoo.com.

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