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After-Effects Part 1

by TheTurretCube

After-Effects Part 1

They fired him a week ago. Until just before then, no one was really sure what was going on. Well, there was the occasional clue. He was certainly the best-looking teacher in the school. Or maybe that’s just the way I remember it because that idea was put directly into my head, so I have no real choice but to think that. After the changes he put us through, who can know for certain? I do remember that, whenever he walked into the classroom, EVERYONE was at rapt attention. The guys would soon cross their legs, the girls’ hands would drop into their laps, and everyone would openly stare at him with attraction and admiration. And the class period would seem to fly by. When the bell rang, I couldn’t ever quite remember what had happened, but I always felt great. And so did everyone else, judging from their facial expressions.

But gradually, I felt personality changes coming on. Slowly at first, but then growing stronger and stronger. And somehow I knew they were related to those classes with Mr. Rodwell. And I knew it wasn’t just me; I could sense changes in the other students leaving Rodwell’s class with dazed smiles on their faces. But of course no one talked about it. It felt like we somehow COULDN’T talk about it, and that Rodwell had something to do with that.

Before I started in Rodwell’s class, I had a problem. After he was gone, I was left with a much bigger problem. It involved Will.
I grew up with Will, attended the same schools, and mostly shared the same teachers and classes throughout our lives. He lived near me, and as young kids we often played together. He was usually the “leader” in whatever we did, and I followed willingly. But as we both neared puberty, our relationship changed considerably.

We spent less and less time together, as he moved into the “jock” clique in school, while my friends were mostly among the quieter kids with fewer social options. Even in classes that we shared, we didn’t have much to do with each other. He wasn’t being snobby or anything, we just had completely different interests and hung with different crowds. And on those occasions where his fellow jocks gave us nerdier types trouble, he immediately sprang to our defense and defused the situation without seeming righteous about it, just laughing it off and getting everyone else to laugh too. He was an overall great guy, a full member of the popular crowd, but impossible even for “outsiders” to dislike.

Meanwhile, I continued my development as a shy, somewhat submissive guy, skinny as a rail, with no athletic pretensions. Academically, I was better than average, but by no means in the top ten percent. My looks, I felt, were average at best. So I felt I didn’t really have much to recommend me.
The problem I had was this: as we got deeper into our teenage years, I became more and more aware of my gayness, and in particular my attraction to Will. It wasn’t just his great upper body, penetrating green eyes, beautiful straw-colored hair, long legs and big hands—am I going on too long?—or the fact that he was now eight inches taller than me. His overall personality—totally self-confident, dominant, decisive, always ready with a shit-eating grin that just melted me—made me somewhat obsessive about him. And these days he barely seemed to notice my existence. From his behavior, and from observing where his eyes roved around the room when he thought no one was looking, I knew he was absolutely straight. But I couldn’t control my fantasies about him, and of course I didn’t dare tell him about them or my sexual orientation, for fear of losing him even as an acquaintance. We lived in a medium-sized city in a very conservative section of the state, where gayness was a serious violation of the religious and cultural norm. And while Will was a great guy, and not at all mean, he was also a fully conforming, upstanding member of the local culture.

I had an ongoing dream, something I would jerk off to constantly. In it, Will and I were living together in a household, with a puppy. Will was head of the family, I was... well, I wasn’t quite the wife, and I wasn’t quite a serving maid; I guess my status was somewhere between Will’s and the dog’s. I would work naked around our house—actually it would be HIS house, everything and everyone in it belonged to him—cleaning and cooking. Will would come home tired from work. The dog and I would meet him at the door, and we would both find ways to relax and please him. I might bring him a chair pillow and the puppy might bring him his slippers, or the other way around. If he wanted a foot massage, I would happily provide it, pausing to enjoy the aroma of his oversized feet that had been confined all day in his workboots. If something at work had made him angry and he wanted to hit something, I would let him pound on me, beat me up until he felt better. Yes, that was my fantasy.

Then we were both put into the same 11th grade English class, and everything changed.
It was now a week after Rodwell’s sudden departure. At the end of my last class of the day, as I lingered putting away my books and the room emptied, I noticed Will standing outside the door, looking at me, clearly waiting for everyone to leave. I was somewhat surprised since as I mentioned, he and I hadn’t interacted much in recent years. When everyone else had left the classroom, he entered, shut the door, came over and took a seat next to me, and looked at me wistfully, as if trying to make a decision. As his big frame sprawled on the chair, I struggled and somehow succeeded in averting an embarrassing hardon.

“I... I need to tell someone this. And I’m not sure who I can trust, except you. We’ve been buds forever, and I know you’re a nice guy. It’s about Rodwell. I’m sure he... did something to me, changed me in a terrible way. I think he changed everyone in that class, and I think the changes are still there even though he’s left.”

Despite my misgivings, I had to respond openly. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been changed too, and it’s a really awful change. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it. But... why are you staring at me like that? Did Rodwell make you gay or something?” I tried to keep the hopefulness out of my voice.
“Nah, he didn’t make me a FAG.” I winced, hoped he didn’t notice. “It’s even worse. What he did... what he made me... I don’t really know how to say this...”
“Hey, you can trust me with anything. You know that,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess so, but don’t get disgusted when you hear this. I want us to still be friends no matter how grossed out you are by what I’m going to tell you. And if I tell you, you’ve gotta tell me what Rodwell did to YOU. You know, so there’s no possibility of one-way blackmail or anything.”
Now I was really intrigued. What could be worse, to Will, than being made queer? And was it worth telling him my new, deep dark secret? Or would telling him my newly acquired perversion chase him away from me for good? I swallowed and said, “Go ahead and tell me. I promise we’ll still be friends, and then I’ll tell you my nasty Rodwell secret.”

“OK, um... he made me... well... Before I tell you this, I gotta tell you something you probably don’t know, since you’re not on any of my sports teams. I’ve been getting shit about it for years. But... I’m kinda... small down there.”

“I mean my cock is... smaller than most other guys’. Like five inches. Actually more like four and a half. Hard. And not very big around. It looks really pathetic on my built bod. It’s embarrassing, y’know?”
“Um, OK, but Rodwell couldn’t have changed you PHYSICALLY with his hypnotism, could he?”
“No, no, of course not. But he made me... well... I guess what it’s called is a size queen.”
Now I was completely baffled. “But you said you’re not gay!” At the same time, my subconscious began considering new possibilities, and there was an uncontrollable stirring in my pants.

“No, I’m not ATTRACTED to guys with big cocks. I don’t want to have sex with them. It’s just that I can’t help... RESPECTING guys with big cocks, the bigger the better. I can’t help staring at their packages, and I feel like I have to do whatever they say, however disgusting it is. It’s hard because sometimes guys say things they don’t really mean, but if they’re hung, I can’t help wanting to obey. Like in the locker room the other day, Richardson, you know him? Built a bit thin, he’s tall but I’m a lot stronger than him, but he’s hung at well over 8 inches. Well, he was joking about something I said, and he just came out with, ‘Eat me.’ He says it all the time, ’course he doesn’t really mean it. But it took all the energy I had, all my willpower, all my strength not to drop to my knees in front of him and start working on his cock with my mouth. Not because I wanted to, but because he SAID so. He musta wondered why I started to sweat so much all of a sudden, clench my fists, bite my tongue, bend and straighten my knees a few times. I had to run out of there, which I’m sure seemed weird.

“And then another time, Tommy Wilson, you know him, the blond wrestler, he’s no taller than 5?5? but he’s hung too, over seven inches, which looks incredible on a bod his size. Well, once he got pissed at me and said, “Eat shit!” And again, I hadda run out of there right away, to the boys room on the second floor, where there’s a plugged up toilet out of order with shit floatin’ in it, and I leaned right over it, and I had to fight myself again, telling myself over and over that he didn’t really mean it, as I struggled to keep myself from dunking my face in the bowl. I managed to stay out of it, but I thought about Tommy and I thought about that toilet all afternoon. Couldn’t concentrate on anything else. I could only imagine what might happen if those guys found out about what really happened to me.
“But the absolutely WEIRDEST thing...”

“What? You mean there’s something weirder that what you’ve ALREADY told me?” I shifted position so he wouldn’t see my growing excitement.
“Yeah, believe it or not. You know Moose Harley, of course, he’s in our class.” Moose was the number-one physical specimen of the senior class, although for academic reasons he had been in Rodwell’s 11th grade class with us. I’d wondered about what Rodwell had done to HIM, but I never saw a sign of anything different about him than before. He was 6?8? and certainly built the biggest of anyone in the school. I didn’t need to see him shirtless to know that, he wore tight shirts all the time that showed off his physique. Or maybe he couldn’t help it, and there just wasn’t a suitable shirt size that could contain his upper body properly. He had short-cropped blond hair, and he just didn’t look like a high school student, more like a major-college football player, or maybe a Marine. And I mean a Marine SERGEANT, not a private or corporal. Before my transformation, I had never thought of him in a sexual way. There was no way I could construct a romantic scenario in my head involving Moose. He was just like a force of nature.

I said, “So I guess Moose is hung pretty big, well that’s no surprise. Did he tell you to do something?”
“Actually, no. A couple of days ago, when I was showering late—which I need to do now to avoid, y’know, staring and obeying problems—he came in the shower room to talk. He was already dressed, but that wouldn’t have saved me from obeying him instantly if he had ordered me to do something. He seemed real subdued, almost shy, which really isn’t like Moose. And he spoke in a voice quieter than I’d ever heard from him. All the time his eyes weren’t meeting mine, he was sort of looking down at my chest. He looked like he was about to confess to something awful, and sure enough, he was.

“He told me he was having real problems since Rodwell left. I told him to tell me all about it. At that point he couldn’t stop talking. He told me Rodwell made him totally obedient to guys with hairy chests. And you know me, I’m pretty furry there.” Yes, I knew. In the old days, I had often imagined my head resting in the soft bed of brown hair on his chest, maybe licking the hairs clean one at a time. It was in stark contrast to my own body hair situation: virtually none under my head and above my waist. Not even much under my arms. It made me look far younger than I really am, which I always hated.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen Moose shirtless”—I hadn’t, and would certainly have remembered if I had—“but he’s totally smooth. Not a hair on him. Even his crotch doesn’t have much, which just makes his incredible powertool look that much more amazing. I mean, if HE had said “Eat me” instead of Richardson, I would have been helplessly on the floor in a flash, I sure wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. But here he was telling me that... HE was forced to obey ME! And he was asking me not to accidentally say anything that might, you know, cause him to do something nasty that he couldn’t help doing. And he asked me what Rodwell had done to ME. Since he asked me, and I could easily see the outline of his cock in his pants, of course I was unable to refuse him. I told him my problem, and I promised him I’d be careful not to give him any accidental orders. Not that I would have wanted him to do anything for me anyway. I mean, like I said, I’m no fag!” This time I didn’t wince at all.

“And when I asked Moose not to give ME any accidental orders either, he agreed, naturally, while he was still staring at my chest. So we’re safe from each other, I guess. But I still have the... er... situation with a few of the team members, and so does he. So, that’s my big problem.
“OK, I’ve told you my horrible Rodwell secret. What’s yours?”

I let a long amount of time go by before I answered. All that time, I was shamelessly stroking myself through my pants. Will, who had not been looking directly at me for the last part of his little speech, noticed me doing it and gave a start. But it was too late for him. He wanted to know what happened to me, and now he was going to find out. But I was sure he wasn’t going to be happy about it.
I unbuttoned my fly and released my rapidly-hardening cock. I wasn’t wearing underwear, so there was nothing constraining it from popping out of its prison. And I watched the expression on Will’s face as his eyes dropped down to my pants. It was a kind of mixture of horror and awe. And I could just imagine what he was going through.

You see, I may be somewhat short, I may be really skinny, I may be totally smooth, I may look younger than I am. But in one department I am certainly in the top one percent of the school. My cock is almost nine inches long. I may not be number one in the school—I’m guessing Moose is, if everything is as proportional on him as it isn’t on me, and if there’s any validity to his reputation—but I must be in the top five or so. Out of eight hundred. And for Will’s purposes, that was more than enough. His eyes locked onto my hard cock and could not move off. I continued to stroke it for maximum effect.
“OK, Will, now I’ll tell you what Rodwell did to me, just like I promised. But before that, let me tell you about myself before Rodwell got to me. Maybe you already guessed I was gay. In junior high, you helped me out from time to time when other guys would pick on me and call me names. But you probably never knew, I had a real crush on you. Maybe crush is the wrong word. I think I actually—loved you.”

He seemed to get a somewhat shocked look, but his eyes never left my cock.
“Yeah, it’s true, I did. I knew I couldn’t ever tell you outright, because I knew you were straight, you weren’t comfortable with the idea of ‘fags’, and you could never stay my friend once I was out. In my fantasies I lived with you and loved you. I did anything for you, I wanted everything for you. I was totally submissive and didn’t want anything else for myself. You were the center of my fantasy world, and pleasing you was my only pleasure. But Rodwell changed all that. He changed me almost completely. You want to know how, don’t you?” Immediately Will sort of squeaked “Yes” in a high-pitched voice, but I could tell, it wasn’t his personal desire to know, he was actually kind of afraid to know (and he was right to be afraid). But it was his obedience to my cock that forced him to say yes. I had told him that he wanted to know, and so he was forced to agree. I had believed this was going to be hard, but it was going to be much easier than I thought.

“Well, when I realized how Rodwell changed me, I thought I would never be able to have any kind of relationship. He completely changed the way I think about people sexually. And the new way was totally impossible to act on. I mean, I’m a small sort of guy, I can’t force anyone to do anything. But Rodwell made me into a total top, and somewhat of a sadist besides. When I see a guy, I get excited only by the idea of dominating him, stripping out and rewriting his identity completely, changing him into my unwilling personal fuck toy, and punishing him. Sometimes, I want to have him tied down or chained up, and I want to cause him actual physical pain. Better yet, I want him to cause himself pain, just to please me. I want him totally broken and humiliated, and I even want him to help me to hurt him. Naturally, no one would put up with that, and I’m not physically up to forcing them to. So yeah, I still thought of you, and now I also thought of Moose and the rest of your team, not as my masterly lovers but as my programmable fuck dolls and torture toys. And that wasn’t gonna happen. Until now.”

Now I could see fear in his downturned eyes, and I was ready to lay it all out. “I WANT you, and now I’m going to TAKE you whether you like it or not. No sex just yet, only humiliation and light punishment to start. Worship, spanking, forced masturbation in front of others, stuff like that. Got it?” I saw him start to shake a bit.
“But... but I’m not gay. And I don’t like pain...” squeaked Will, eyes still staring helplessly down at the imposing sceptre between my legs.
For maximum impact, I pulled my oversized balls out of my pants, and stroked my cock to its full length in all its glory.

His eyes opened even wider than before. “I know you’re not gay and don’t like pain. But tell me—does that really matter?” I drew my finger around the head of my cock, pulling his stare to that end of my monster. Then I moved the finger down slowly to the base, watching as his gaze followed the finger along the length of the cock. A few moments went by. He was sweating just as he had described in his confession, muscles twitching, fighting himself, but we both knew it was going to be a losing effort. And finally, he broke. He looked up at into my eyes.

“No,” he said in his normally low voice, but in a defeated tone. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever you say, whenever you tell me to, with no question and no argument. I have no choice. It’s what I am now, I can’t fight it. When I see that cock, all I want to do—all I NEED to do—is obey. What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it doesn’t, baby,” I said. I stroked his hair gently; he recoiled a bit at first but soon seemed to accept my superior touch. I tried to let my cock get soft and stuff it back in my pants, to make sure my control over him continued when he wasn’t looking at it directly, but the thoughts of my newly-revealed future possibilites were making it difficult to soften up.

“Now I have a job for you, little Willy. I think that’s the right name for you now, don’t you? It can’t really be ‘Will’ because you don’t have one anymore. Your will is MINE. And you should call me Thomas when we’re alone. Only equals, not inferiors, should call me Tommy. I think you calling me Thomas and me calling you little Willy will help you remember why you have to do whatever I tell you, right?” He gave a small involuntary nod.

“Your first job is to enslave Moose to me, using the power of your hairy chest. I don’t think I’m big enough to beat you into submission when I feel like it, but Moose sure can do it for me. I want to remake you two into my punishment jocks, my sex slaves, and my muscle for enforcing my will around the school. Got it?”

“But Tommy... Thomas, I promised Moose not to give him orders. And his cock is bigger than yours!”
“No, little Willy, that’s not what you told me. You said you promised his cock not to give him any ACCIDENTAL orders. And trust me, the orders you’re going to give him will be totally intentional. But just to be safe, until you’ve stroked your furry chest in front of him and programmed him to know that he has become my personal property, you need to keep your eyes away from his crotch, got it?
“Once Moose is under control, this weekend the three of us can drive to the big city, where there’s a store with all kinds of neat punishment toys we can buy, for me to use on you and Moose, or for the two of you to use on each other for my viewing pleasure.

“And if we can figure out the weaknesses programmed into the other members of Rodwell’s old class, I can start to expand my harem. You know, I’ve always thought Cal Redmond was really cute, in a pretty long-haired blond boy-band sort of way. And I could swear that after Rodwell’s English classes, I’d see him staring at guys’ feet, especially those wearing flip-flops. I wonder if a few commands from Moose could have him desperately licking the sweat out of Moose’s size 17 football shoes.
“Once Cal’s in the group, could you imagine the combinations? Moose changed into a statue while Cal licks and nibble-tortures him, all while he’s not able to cum. You two jocks naked, chained hands and feet to a wall while Cal applies a penis whip. Moose slung over your lap while you use a frat paddle on Moose’s huge reddening butt, while Cal worships your feet. And that’s just the lighter stuff!

“Soon it’ll be the job of the three of you to help me think up ways to crank up the humiliation and torture, and we’ll turn up the sex element, too. I know a few of the gay guys in the school who I’m sure would love to join in, no hypnotism necessary!”
Will continued to stare at my cock, a petrified look on his face, knowing that a new life was beginning for him. At that moment, I thought I heard the classroom door shut quietly, but it might have been my imagination.


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