"Teacher's Pet"

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CHAPTER 4

[As always, this is fiction only, not real. All characters are hypothetically consenting within their own hypothetical universes.]

That had been over a month ago now, and the boy was entirely conditioned. The first week, he'd been kept in that case in the closet almost the entire time.

The second week, he was given some freedom, but only while dosed heavily with LSD and hypnotically activated into service mode; the week after that was the week of magic mushrooms, with a constant supply of hallucinogens and aphrodisiacs fed into his system. 

The boy's mind all but melted away.

His thinking was reorganized. 

His mind reprogrammed. 

He is no longer able to touch his cage without permission for anything other than cleaning.

The need to touch is still there, but the ability is gone. Any attempt he makes to touch his cock cage without permission fails before it reaches his fingertips. 

He's completely unable to leave the house without permission.

Any attempt to touch the deadbolt of the front door fails before it reaches his fingers. Both of these have been tested thoroughly into the boy's deep frustration. 

Any time the boy tried to speak out, demanding to be released or begging, the professor would simply instruct him to be quiet, and the boy would find that his vocal cords, his lips, his tongue, his mouth, were completely unable to make words. Then the man would give him a choice, serve or go back into storage. 

A few times, especially during the Magic Mushrooms week, the boy petulantly went back into storage.

High on hallucinogens, he hallucinated the leg of the man next to him. He nuzzled himself against the fabric of the man's leg, inhaling the man's scent. It was all a hallucinogen-induced fantasy, but it increased his arousal and created a deep sense of loyalty.

In the fifth week after the boy was released from the cage, following a week of Magic Mushrooms and brainwashing, he fell to his knees and rubbed himself against the man's leg, desperate for some kind of contact to his caged cock. 

No longer could he touch himself without permission. No longer could he orgasm without permission.

The boy was a horny, drooling mess. The only thing he begged for now was to suck his Master's cock. That was the kind of begging that his Master did not silence him for.

Whether through Stockholm Syndrome or brain conditioning, the boy was beginning to think of the Master as his protector. He was beginning to even love his Master, strange as it felt. His old life seemed further and further away.

Not only could he no longer remember his name, he was struggling to remember his job, his house, his parents. What had happened to them? 

Another part of his brain, much louder, told him that it didn't matter, that all that mattered was being a good boy for his Master. He rarely thought about going outside anymore.

It was impossible, so it didn't seem like a very good use of his time to think about. 

He wasted a lot of time and energy in the first three weeks to a month learning how to test the limitations of his triggers, trying to find some way around them, trying to find some way to escape, but after a month he had learned that it was impossible. The triggers were implanted so deeply within him and something about him must have wanted them to work because now he couldn't escape.

He rarely complained anymore to his Master, and when he did, it was usually about being cold. 

He didn't know where he'd lived before, but he thought that Master had probably taken him somewhere in Canada. It was very cold here.

The house bled heat, especially over the past week. 

After a month of being kept as a prisoner, as a sexual service toy for a man that he was beginning to perceive as a god, the boy received his first true gift from his Master, a uniform. 

“This is to keep you warm, boy,” his Master explained to him, “so that I never have to hear about you being cold again.”

The boy slid himself into the compression suit. 

As it zipped up, it hugged his frame, arousing him and making him feel horribly exposed. The extra long socks covered him and made his legs smooth from crotch to toe, the bolero across his shoulders gave him an effeminate look and covered his arms from wrist to shoulder. He looked down, and embarrassingly, his caged dick was exposed at the front of the compression suit, dangling in front of him.

“Well, what do you think, boy?” the professor asked and the boy blushed. He felt vulnerable, helpless.

“Go ahead, boy, take a few steps around.” 

The boy walked back and forth.

Each step made his cock cage bounce a little bit in front of him, his heavy balls reminding him of how long he'd been denied. 

His Master had allowed him one orgasm per week during weeks 3 and 4…he'd not allowed him one this week yet. The boy mewled a soft moan at the back of his throat.

“Sir, um, my cage... It…” 

“Quiet, boy,” his Master said, clicking his fingers. Immediately, the boy's ability to speak was gone. He blinked, his mouth working uselessly.

His Master smiled. 

“This way, your cage can always be on display, so that I can see it every time I look at you and know that I own you. And you can see it.  And be reminded of how denied you are. Is that clear, boy?” The boy nodded slowly. “You'll find that all of your underpants have been removed from the house.  And my underpants are, of course, off-limits.” The boy's eyes widened. 

He would be forced to be exposed this way.

All the time. Unwillingly, his dick throbbed in its cage, marking its approval of the new situation. 

The boy shook his head.  

Why couldn't he clear it? Every time he tried to think of his name, his family, his past, a thick fog of horny thoughts descended.

He couldn't even remember how many times he'd sucked Master's dick, or how many times Master had taken his ass over the past three weeks. 

It all blurred together.

A horny, terrified, humiliating mess. Little drops of pre-cum started to pool at the tip of his cage. As thinking about his past life forced him to think instead about being railed by Master.

“I see you like this idea, boy,” Master said. The boy's eyes widened and he shook his head. 

“No, no, don't deny it, boy,” Master said.  “I can see you leaking there. This is to be your new uniform, always. Do you understand?” The boy nodded. 

“Speak.”  Master clicked his fingers. 

“Yes, sir. Yes, Master.”