A Straight Line

By Patrick D. Lambert
published August 18, 2020
4910 words

When sex and obedience aren’t enough to calm the lust burning in Cheke’s body, it’s time to switch to another type of control.


A straight line

Disgusting little pig. That’s what crossed the tiger’s mind as he watched the polar bear on his knees, licking his paws, jumping from digit to digit, taking special care of each one of them, like a starving male enjoying the last bite of his plate. HIs tongue moved in circular patterns, and his nose sniffed deeply; that salty smell and taste was beyond his imagination, and it was notorious in his expression. The face of a disgusting little pig.

But he was happy being a pig. Alex had lost his dignity since the day a boar spat on his face before cumming. It changed him. And the bear slowly started to get deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole that was his debauchery. Of course, he still had his limits, and Cheke was slightly disappointed with that small piece of shamel.

Said thoughts didn’t invaded at that moment, of course. He was too busy seeing what many would consider a stud acting like the lowest whore he could imagine. His shaft was fully erect, dangerously close to that point where it began to hurt, and his balls begged to shoot his load—in, out, anywhere! But the white tiger loved those moments with his little pet, his stupid little slut who loved every command given by his master.

“Good slut.You’re being particularly obedient tonight. I should neglect you more often,” Cheke mocked him.

The bear whined, but Cheke wasn’t sure if it counted as an answer or he was just too desperate to taste more than his paws. He probably wasn’t even listening to what the tiger had to say that wasn’t an order. The beefy stud—who made bottoms drool as they saw him walk down the street in his suspenders and pink shirt—knew very well his place. A shame, some might believe, but for Cheke, having a male bigger than him sucking his cock and looking up at him with admiration and gratefulness was perfect. Not beyond perfect, though.

“I believe it’s a good time to give you a treat.”

He moved his paws away from the bear’s face; it’s pads and digits covered in warm saliva. Alex seemed a little disappointed at first, but the sight of the thick rod mere inches away, with its tip gleamy and precum dripping brought back his smile. Already on his fours as the dog he was, his little tail did a pathetic attempt to show his excitement. The fat slut moved closer, finding no objection from his master, and, after a couple of cautious licks, shoved the entire length down his throat.

The white tiger moaned. Slightly shorter, with the average frame of an office worker with no time to exercise and a belly that resembled the gut of a drinker, there was no redeeming quality in him beside his paws and the impressive tool that the bear was sucking so eagerly. And yet he had a fine piece of ass earning his right to get fucked and breeded by an average white tiger. Talk about charisma.

Maybe a little more enthusiasm. With both hands over Alex’s head, he held him firmly against his crotch, leaving the bear no room to breath. The tightness of his throat and how it contracted around his meat was almost as good as his hole, and feeling the bear slapping the bed asking him to stop just made it better.

“Yeah, choke on it, whore! Eat it all!”

He was getting better. 8 inches of pink, throbbing meat aren’t easy to swallow, but Cheke was particularly proud of every time Alex lasted one more second than before. Of course, he couldn’t just hold him forever against his groin, and only when he needed some air the dumb bear remembered his natural and superior strength over the tiger.

His maw drooled. His eyes had tears rolling down. The runny nose aggravated the disgusting look on his face. But fuck him if that didn’t turn on the tiger. The more pathetic Alex looked, the more horny Cheke was. The beautiful and perfect sight of a slut that cared for nothing but sex was exactly what the tiger needed. Because, despite how good sex with Alex was, the bear had started to become a little… boring.

Where was the problem? Cheke had maintained a master-pet relation with Alex for the last two years. The polar bear’s curiosity sent him right into the tiger’s maw after wandering around in an online forum about pups and how to handle one—it’s not too hard to imagine what kind of pups. He said “I’m just looking for references”, but even through the monitor, Cheke felt the excitement in his words as he asked for more and more info in a semi-professional manner that fooled the rest of the users.

It was sheer luck they lived in the same city, but his charisma was what demolished the walls Alex had raised. And now, the initial chemistry had vanished, and Cheke’s interest in Alex started to fade away. Not that they were close; Cheke valued the sex with him over anything else, and considered Alex more of an acquaintance. That said, Alex was too good to let him go that easily.

The red crocodile stopped for a moment to look over the monitor. It was strange to see the white tiger idle like that—whenever he crashed at his place he was either playing or scheming a way to put his cock between the huge reptile’s paws. That Saturday night, however, he seemed somewhere else. He wasn’t worried about him, but it did bother him the completely neutral expression in his furry and usual dumb-looking face.

“I gotta admit I’m curious of what got your mouth shut for more than one minute,” he asked, moving part of his attention back to what he was writing on the screen. Not even the sound of his huge claws dancing over the keys of his laptop pulled Cheke out of the trance. Lambert frowned at his silence, but still dismissed the sudden thought that something serious had happened to him. “Something stupid, I’m sure,” he muttered.

“Just thinking,” Cheke finally replied, not conscious that a couple of minutes had passed since the crocodile spoke.

“Huh? Did you say something?” Lambert mumbled, his attention now deep into the story he was working on.

Cheke sat on the cheap-looking blue sofa, put his paws over the middle table, laid back, turned face down against the rough fabric, then rolled down to the floor, all of it while Lambert’s tail lashed faster and harder with exasperation.

“Are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on with you tonight?” he exclaimed, raising his fingers away from the keyboard in fear of breaking it.

The tiger groaned and did a lazy attempt to get back on his paws, failing to do so. Lambert sighed, his inspiration long gone now. He pondered the reason of why he maintained the friendship with Cheke, conscious of how obnoxious cats could be at certain moments—as soon as he put the screen down his eyes looked directly at the soft, pink pads of his paws, and he had to stop looking for an answer. Not that that was the only reason, but the crocodile wasn’t discreet about what he wanted from the tiger either.

“I don’t know,” Cheke meowed.

“Then stop whining and let me work.”

“But I need your advice,” he rushed to say, finally jumping back to his paws with the grace that characterized a cat.

“How am I gonna give you advice on something you don’t even know?”

“Because I don’t know what to do,” he whined.

“You constantly ignore my advice.”

“And that’s why I need it.”

The crocodile frowned, and Cheke thought for a moment that the table would end up at the other side of the room any minute now. But Lambert took a deep breath and put his laptop aside. While big, the crocodile didn’t have a bad temper, he was just surrounded by cats.

“What is it this time?”

Cheke smiled and took a seat in front of him, both legs crossed over the chair.

“It’s just this friend I have. Remember him? I told you about him. Big. Fat. Huge slut. You wouldn’t believe he’s that submissive if you find him on the street.”

“You basically described all the fuck buddies you have—”

“Polar bear!” Cheke added.

“—and from whom I have no interest in knowing about,” Lambert continued, expecting the tiger to make a correction. “Should I remember how bad you are at telling a story? I would rather watch a cheap straight porn movie than listen to what you did in the bedroom with someone.”

“I have invited you to a threesome several times.”

“Yeah. No. I know your game. I won’t fall for it again.”

“Boring,” the feline replied with a disappointed grin, extending the last syllable.

“And what’s your problem with that bear anyway? He didn’t want to lick your paws?” Lambert smirked in a way that reminded Cheke of a smug lion he met several months ago who didn’t believe the tiger had that kink.

“Hey! That’s an important thing for me,” his protest was accompanied by his index finger hitting the table. “I don’t see you complaining. But that’s not the problem. He’s just boring. I mean, he doesn’t say no to anything I want to do. But it had become so…” he snapped his fingers in the air to find the word he was looking for.


“Yeah! Mechanic. Like a cheap porno. Get on your knees, Suck my cock. Lick my paws. You know, I try to put some flavour asking him to act like a stool, things outside sex. But he’s so eager and desperate to fuck, and don’t get me wrong, I love that! But I want more,” he waved his hands in the air to put some emphasis in the words, and looking even more ridiculous at Lambert’s judgement. “Is it wrong for me to ask for more than just sex?”

“Yeah, it’s called relationships, you moron. You should try to have one.”

“Jeez, no.”

“Maybe you should look for another fuck buddy?” his suggestion came with a shrug. “You have a lot of them.”

“No, I like him! He’s… what’s the word…” the tiger pulled the fur from his chin, “special. He’s ok with being treated like shit, and that’s exactly what makes it so good. But it’s still sex. I need something to spice things up!”

“What about those fancy magic tricks? With the clock and that?”

“Hypnosis isn’t magic,” Cheke’s expression was somehow funny to Lambert, who knew how deep the tiger was into that stuff. “And I don’t use a clock. That’s just some bullshit from T.V.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re afraid you might like it.”

“Leave myself at your mercy is the last thing I would ever do. But I bet your boyfriend wouldn’t mind.”

His cheeks burned under the white fur, not because of any hidden feeling, but in shame of his singleness. He shrugged and looked away.

“Surprisingly, that’s one of the few things he’s not ok with. He keeps talking about consent every time I suggest it,” his embarrassment grew along with the things he had planned in a possible scenario where the bear accepted.

Lambert, however, was skeptical.

“Really? You want me to believe that consent is a problem?”

“I-I wouldn’t force him. He has to agree if we’re gonna try hypnotism. I’m not a psycho!”

“No, you’re not. And for the record, I love eating pussy. Now, did we finish telling lies or are you gonna keep trying to convince me you have principles?”

Lambert knew him too damn well. Both were into some really weird, kinky stuff, and sharing anecdotes and fantasies was one of the things that got them together in the first place. And sometimes Cheke forgets that little detail. The smug expression from the crocodile reminded him he was in a safe place. He wouldn’t judge him.

For the record, he was also glad Lambert acknowledged his lack of principles.

It was past midnight when Alex received a message from his tiger asking if he could crash at his place. The bear had a lot of work, commissions that school had forbidden him to finish—at that rate he wouldn’t finish any of them before the month ended. Alex already wasted a lot of time not only with Cheke, but other males who craved for a piece of his fat ass.

But he was too weak to say no. Too weak and too horny.

When it comes to cocks, Alex didn’t have a favorite. He was a slut, and he carried the title with pride. If someone wanted to fuck and breed his hole, who was he to deny such pleasure? After all, a cumdump has to be available no matter the hour and regardless of what he’s doing.So if he received a message, he had to accept. Cheke was just another cock, nothing particularly special on him.

Of course, he wasn’t that deep yet. When he invited the tiger in, dressed in nothing but his tight underwear, Cheke was disappointed to see Alex rushing back to work instead of going down his knees.

“Just let me finish this!” he diminished the tiger’s lust as he sat back onto his comfy and expensive-looking chair.

A pinch of dignity, Cheke assumed, seated at the edge of the bed and watching the bear focused on the flat screen that a british bull gifted him as his sign of gratitude for… “being a talented artist”, as Alex always explained before changing the subject. Truth is, he didn’t waste a cent in some of the stuff he had in his bedroom and most of his wardrobe. Disgusting little pig, but at least he was smart and knew how to take advantage of his biggest attribute—a thing that Cheke want to get rid of.

“I can come back later if you want. Don’t want to be a bother,” the tiger suggested, taking a quick look at Alex’s messy but still impressive room.

“No, no! I’ll finish in a moment!”

There was no room left in the shelves, occupied by heavy books and collector’s figures of japanese video-games and animated shows. As the devoted Disney fan he was, several posters decorated the walls—a couple even signed by their respective director! A generic wooden desk he probably used to study, cram-full of notebooks, books and unfinished sketches.

Next to the hamper were clothes that didn’t fall in it after the attempts from the bear to score two points whenever he undressed after a long day at school or the motel; tank tops and loosen clothes and jackets that barely concealed the fatness of his body, and some tight boxers and jockstraps stained in cum—he kept those to himself, to remember the musk of those nasty males who breeded him, for disgusting as it might look.

The room was a mess, and it reek of sweat and cum. But Cheke didn’t mind; it was appropriate for a pig, after all. The bear also carried that musk with him, even after taking a bath. It became his natural scent, and it fit with his filthy nature.

“Maybe you should take a rest,” the tiger drew circles in the fur of his left arm. It gave him an idea. Subtle, and perfect for the occasion.

“Yeah, I could find a sugar daddy and let him pay all my expenses,” there was a slight tone of frustration in his voice, followed by the clicking sound of a key pressed over and over again.

He said it as a joke, but such a thing wouldn’t be impossible for him, considering how easy it was for males to fall for him—some even in love, as Alex said once. But he wasn’t a whore. No, the bear might love cocks, but even he had his limits. And Cheke didn’t like that.

“You just need some positive reinforcement.”

Was then the right time? Such things needed preparation, Cheke knew it very well. Putting someone into trance takes time and relaxation—that if the person has agreed to the hypnosis; trying it without his explicit consent was something different.

A massage could or couldn’t prove relaxing enough. Maybe some incense added to the mix, as he discovered time ago after a session with a lion. But no other smell would penetrate the dense musk in Alex’s room. And if he finds out what he was doing…

Fuck it! It was good enough to worth the risk. He wanted to cross his own limits, to defy his morality and go deeper into his perversions. After years of practicing hypnosis, it was time to see how much he could play with someone else’s mind.

“I don’t think I’d be capable of doing what you’re doing.”

“What, a circle? Oh, I can’t do it either.”

“No, no, drawing in general. I’m not that good.”

“It’s a matter of practice. I couldn’t draw a straight line at the beginning. I still fail at it sometimes,” he muttered that last part.

“Yeah, but I don’t have the time to practice. But that’s fine. Watching you is more than enough for me,” he stood up from the bed and walked towards the bear and his naked shoulders, placing his hands softly over them. “I think you do a great job.”

“I wish I could say the same. This thing is driving me mad.”

Alex was drawing a circle over and over again, pressing undo, not satisfied with the result. Too big. Too small. Shapeless. He couldn’t bring to life the perfect circle he was looking for. And his strokes denoted his growing anger. To Cheke’s eyes, Alex acted like the novice artist who wanted to skip the years of practice and study—ironic, considering how much time he had put into it. Luckily, that set the mood for what the tiger wanted.

“I need to finish this commission now. The client sent me a message asking for a refund if I don’t send a WIP tonight.”

“He’s gonna understand if you tell him you’re very busy. Drawing takes time, after all. Something so seemingly simple like a circle needs a lot of effort. A square, a rectangle, a triangle—those are an easy task even for someone who hasn’t touched a pencil in his life. It’s just a straight line after another. But a circle? That’s what needs some effort. There’s no way to know if you’re going in the right way. Only after the line reaches the starting point, that’s when you know if you did it right; most of the time, you didn’t.”

Alex hesitated in pressing Ctrl+Z. He made an oval, not a circle. Perfect timing. Cheke barely pressed through the thick skin of the bear’s shoulders, but it was enough to attract his attention in what he was saying.

“There’s nothing wrong in that. Try again. And try again. And try again,” he made sure to say those commands every time Alex pressed the undo command. It set a similarity between the actions and the words—words said in an almost unnoticeable husky voice. “A circle has to be perfect, after all. You need to master such a simple action if you want to consider yourself an artist. Straight lines have no personality, no life, after all. It’s just point A to B, an inert frame of life that expresses nothing but boredom. It’s in the curve where you can find the movement and action; the shape of our bodies; the life of everything,” his hands moved down, slowly drawing the outline of his muscles. “Don’t you agree?”

No answer. Maybe his words weren’t strong enough. Hard to tell considering the poor preparation. But if he could set an idea, a simple trigger…

Alex continued drawing. He made the circle that would set the shape of the head. Not perfect, but good enough to work with. He wasn’t paying much attention to the tiger claws around the sides of his belly, following the curvature of it. Up and down, drawing grooves in the white, sweaty fur.

“I guess…” he finally answered Cheke’s question, ignoring the seconds that passed since he asked it.

“You just need to take a look outside. Nothing is a straight line. Everything has the shape of a circle; whether if it’s too obvious or barely noticeable, there is a curve everywhere. The proof that you can shape everything into something more… vivid,” again that husky voice. Cheke crouched down enough for his maw to be as close as it could be to the bear’s ears but keeping the right distance for him to ignore it. “That’s why you can’t take something as simple as a circle. You need to make sure it’s perfect.”

Perfect. A word that follows and punishes every artist. What he had on the screen was enough. He would erase it anyway. It was nothing but a skeleton to set the facial features. But now the bear was drawing the snout, after finishing the eyes. And he noticed the slight curve in the nose, and he found it too squarish. And the eyes looked like rectangles. And the circle wasn’t symmetrical in the lower half. It wasn’t perfect. It was just a sketch, and Alex couldn’t ignore how shitty it looked.

“That’s what your client can’t see. It takes time to reach perfection. You can’t take a straight line and bend it that easily. You need to know how to bend it. To give it the shape you want. To mold it in the direction you desire. A circle isn’t an easy task, and it has to be perfect if you want to draw anything else. Because everything has the shape of a curve.”

The eyes. The mouth. The arms. The entire body was composed of curves and circles. Alex wasn’t satisfied with the sketch and started it over; this time from the head. He should have started there from the beginning. It was the most important part of the body, after all. So he drew a circle and pressed undo. And did again. And again. And again. And he couldn’t get the perfect shape he was looking for, now obsessed with the idea of it and the importance it has on his style.

“Yes, you’re doing great. There is no life in a straight line. No movement, No action. Nothing. You need to mold it into a circle, to inject it with life. And you have the power to do so. I can’t. I’m not good at drawing. But you can. You are good at drawing. And you like it when I tell you how important a circle is in your life. Because it makes you feel good, capable of doing something that I can’t. And you like when I tell you you’re capable.”

His words had to come in the right tone. A sound in the background, like the thought you are trying to ignore; not too loud to distract him from what he was doing, so his mind could link the meaning behind the words with what he was doing.

And he was doing a great job. The circle in the screen became closer to perfection. Molded to his will. A simple line now filled with expression. He kept undying his stroke over and over again, not too far-looking from a robot. And the more he did, the more he enjoyed it. He couldn’t understand why something so simple was bringing him so much joy; maybe the fact that he was achieving what many artists weren’t capable, or the sheer aspect of the circular shape triggered something in his mind that was beyond his comprehension.

His left hand’s fingers lost strength and stopped applying pressure on the keyboard. And the Undo command erased the stroke one last time, leaving the bear to repeat the same circle over and over again, a perfect shape that, circle after circle, started to turn into a spiral, descending to the center as the bear’s fixation with it grew stronger after every stroke. So beautiful. So perfect. If he could achieve that magnificence…

Yes. He was a great artist. He was a genius. And he liked when Cheke told him he was a genius.

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

“It is,” the bear muttered, his mouth now open and his shoulders down.

“Yes, it is. You’re doing a great job. You are an amazing artist. Better than me. Better than everyone. And it’s true because I’m telling you. And I wouldn’t lie to you. You are doing something anyone else can’t. And you are doing it because I’m telling you to do so. To be perfect. And I wouldn’t lie to you. Because I love you. Because I want you to be perfect. That’s why you listen to me. Because you want to look and be like that circle, perfect in every aspect. And only I can help you reach that level of perfection. So you will listen to me, no matter what. Because I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Those words meant nothing. Alex wasn’t even paying attention to the babbling behind him. The tiger only spoke nonsense to him. The circle demanded his full attention; the spiral in the white canvas kept dragging his mind and his consciousness. It had to be perfect in every aspect. He wanted—no, craved to reach the center of the spiral, reach its—his—final form, lost himself in the pure beauty of a shape perfect in every aspect. A circle in plain sight that demanded a closer look to see the little details, almost invisible to the eye; a trap for the weak of mind and body.

Faster. Harder. The tiger feared for a moment for the pen and tablet to break under the pressure, but even him was exalted for the effects of his own mantra, for his power and control over a weak and pitiful mind too distracted to notice how quickly his vanity pushed him into the maw of a beast hunger for more than just sex, a mind that have seen potential behind the disgusting slut that the bear was.

A drone.

And when the bear reached the center, something snapped inside him.

An unfamiliar ceiling. Where was he? Oh, right, the motel. A contact from Growlr invited him. It always ended like that, after all. And he always woke up looking at an unfamiliar ceiling. Never his own.

Huh, he never considered that idea before. It wasn’t because he had no privacy at home, but he wouldn’t mind waking up in his bed, with someone by his side whose face he could recognize.

But no, it always ended with him looking at an unfamiliar ceiling. Naked. Sweaty. His ass leaking and his sour mouth with the salty taste still in it. With the shower running. And someone humming a song he couldn’t identify. With his clothes across the floor and his underwear ripped. WIth his legs and back sore after several positions that didn’t put his commodity as a priority.

But of course, he never considered those things before, too absorbed in his lust to think of himself. He wanted to serve and obey, that was all. A cock was a cock after all, and he only wanted to have one in his mouth or ass, on his chest or between his paws.

Except that night.

That night, he wanted so badly to be somewhere else. But where?

He sat in the bed and looked towards the bathroom. Inside, a beefy male was taking a shower, getting ready to leave or go for another round. He would eventually get up and go there, with his mouth or ass ready to take another load. But now, a part of him asked why he had to do that. What that male meant to him.

Alex didn’t give importance to the circular movement his finger drew over the sheets. It was a tic, nothing else. But it, somehow, soothed him. Like the careness of a tender lover. It meant something. It made him think of Cheke. And the mental image of the tiger soothed him.

Because he approved his lifestyle. Because he supported his debauchery.

Because Cheke wouldn’t lie to him.

Mind control
Wanking material
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