See that college kid tweaking my nipple?
Well, the little shit tried to cast a spell on me so that I’d do whatever he wanted, so that he could invade my mind and remote control me.
Apparently when he looks at this body he sees genetics, and not the focus and dedication it took to get it this way, and to keep it this way.
So little Donnie Dipshit here casts his spell, and tried to get into a contest of wills with me.
That didn’t go well for him.
I was at home, getting ready to go to sleep when I felt something penetrate my mind, the same way a dude’s manhood would penetrate my manhole.
I sat up and pressed the palm of my hand against my temple, trying to figure out what was going on. “Damn, this is weird.”
My eyes were squeezed shut as this thing made of thought and desire and naivete squirmed its way deeper into my mind.
Thinking it was a migraine or something, I controlled my breathing and calmed myself down. Lower my blood pressure, get a grip, handle it the same way as a workout injury or overexertion.
Never felt any pain, but my cock inflated itself like a balloon within about two seconds. I sure as Hell wasn’t thinking about anything sexy, so I went further with my relaxation exercise, moving to rhythmic muscle contraction and relaxation.
The further I got into my own head, the more I began to figure out there was something else in here with me.
Either I was going nuts, or it was real. In either case, treat as option 2.
I changed tactics, and went to the breathing exercises I used to pump myself up for a workout. My hands wanted to move downward toward my erection, but I was too deep into what was a well practiced routine for me, and I kept myself in check.
After a couple of minutes of frustration, Richie Cunningham gave himself away.
“Obey me - my magic commands it!”
I’m not going to claim my meditation gave me instant insight into what was going on. It let me fight off the little prick, and that made him push so hard that he crashed into my calm resolve and and the details spilled into my mind.
Poor little Nevile Wantsmybottom didn’t really know what he was doing and didn’t understand his own fucking spell. It gave him a way in, bored a hole into my mind, but that was it. The rest was up to personality dynamics and willpower.
I can’t explain it too well, it was like I got an image of someone holding a power tool and not knowing how to use it.
So I changed tactics again - I grabbed the conduit he’d opened and yanked it further inside, to where my discipline lived.
“No! Stop! You can’t do this! I’m your Master!”
I ignored him - it was easy, like being able to ignore whining when you’re dealing with a brat. It was annoying, but ultimately meaningless.
So I widened the opening on my end and pushed through, back toward him. The conduit itself resisted, and so did Opie Taylor, but in a tug of war his willpower was one 10 year old and mine was an NFL offensive line.
So I broke the one-way gateway built into the conduit and reached through as hard as I could.
I think my attack landed square in his libido, since that’s what was fueling this misadventure in the first place.
Long story short, he didn’t stand a chance as I demanded information straight from his mind. I’d plunged so deep I got whole concepts rather than words.
That’s when I kind of felt sorry for the little creep. Had no self confidence at all, severe inferiority complex. He ain’t my type, but it’s not like he’s Quasimodo.
So rather than be brutal about making my point, I decided that I was going to reprogram the little fucker.
Since I was in deep enough that I was dealing in concepts, and frankly he was terrified of me, I just shoved into his head that I was HIS Master, that he didn’t want to change that, that I’d picked him to serve me, and that was who he was.
So that pic is us now. He does what he can to please me, whether its tweaking my nipples or giving me a massage or a blowjob, and he gets the ego boost of being MY little bitch, of being able to say he’s associated with me.
Not gonna lie, I know that doesn’t make me a good guy or anything, but fuck - at least this way at some point he can move to being someone else’s happy sub rather than a lonely loser forever.
Our minds are still connected, and he’s happy to maintain the spell so his master can keep him. I give him mental commands, feel what he feels, see and hear what he does. I have him work other magic for me, too, sometimes.
He’s nothing special, cock-wise, but he’s not bad. Having him jerk off while I’m at work or working out is a nice remote controlled stress relief.
Moral of the story? Muscular doesn’t mean dumb, and magic doesn’t always work like magic. Be careful what you fucking wish for rather than work for.
Comments