Vignette 4: Medication

Vignette 4: Medication (by Mafisto)

[Fantasy casting: Erik Von Detten.]

Every year since I’d bought my house in Boston, I’d rented my extra bedroom to students from abroad. It helped me pay the mortgage, and I enjoyed the company. The bedroom itself was spacious and the house, warm and cozy with a certain rustic charm, was only a short walk away from the subway: I thus had dozens of applicants to interview each year. I always chose a good looking, but straight, teen. Why? Fear of rejection, I guess. I was thirty-five, plain looking and quite shy. I didn’t want to spend an entire year with a student who’d rejected my advances.

That year, however, I had developed a serious crush on the student who lodged with me: Erik Dattan, a vapid, na├»ve, dark blonde boy surfer from California who studied in Visual Arts. Although usually in a good mood, he mostly kept to himself, and was obsessively prude: he kept his bedroom locked and was always fully dressed whenever he wasn’t in it or in the adjacent bathroom. I didn’t see him much -he tended to go out with friends at night and come back home only to go to sleep.

One day, when I came home, I found Erik standing in the middle of the living room, looking at the floor and gently swaying from side to side, a weird smile on his face.

“Is everything all right?” I asked, then noticed that he was holding a bottle of pills in his hand.

“Yeah, dude, it’s fine,” Erik said, still smiling.

“What are those pills you’re holding?” I asked.

“Just some pills…” he said. He frowned, as if thinking was very difficult for him. “New pills… For my epilepsy…” They obviously were having some kind of side effect on him. Should I call 911? I asked him how he felt.

“Great. I’m floating in space… I like those pills, dude…”

“Why aren’t you moving?”

“I can’t decide what to do, dude…”

I had never seen him even remotely indecisive: he was always busy, mostly drawing or painting in his room. But now he looked so helpless, as if he had lost all willpower.

“Why don’t you sit down?”

He nodded, walked to the sofa and let himself drop. Suddenly, he looked up from the floor and at me, a vague and pleading look. “Could you tell me what I want, please?”

I was stunned by his words. They sounded so bizarre, yet so sincere. “You want to take off that shirt,” I tried on him.

“Yeah… That’s what I want. Take off my shirt. Thanks, dude…” he said, then took off his gray and brown checkered shirt. He wore a gray T-shirt underneath.

“You want to stand up, now,” I said.

He just nodded and stood up. He stared at me, then opened his arms with a concerned face. “What now?” I couldn’t believe it! He was doing everything I asked him to, and even asked me for orders. Would he do something he’d never do normally, something against his personality?

“You’re hot. You want to take off your pants right here…”

“I don’t know if I want that.” He frowned again. “I mean, I don’t want to walk around in my underwear… Do I?”

“You don’t mind. We’re close friends now, dude. In fact,” I added, to test the limits of the medication’s side effects, “whenever we’re alone in the house, you’ll want to strip down to your boxers. It’s so much more comfortable.”

He considered that for a moment, than said. “I guess I’d want that. I wouldn’t be shy with a buddy. It’s so hot in here.” With a resigned face, he unzipped his pants and slid them off his smooth, slender legs. He wore a pair of loose checkered cotton boxers. I was examining him, taking in the sight, when he regained his senses with a startle.

“Dude? Didn’t see you come in. My epilepsy pills gave me a buzz.” He was back to his normal self. “Sorry for the mess,” he said, picking up his shirt and pants. “I better put these in my room.” He strutted to his room, stripped from his T-shirt, threw his clothes in, then walked back in his boxers only. “Do you want help for dinner?” I was in awe.

We spent the rest of the night watching TV, both of us in our boxers. The next night, when he came home, he was already shirtless and unzipping his pants by the time he opened the door. Then he took his medication again…

During the following days, I made sure I was home by the time Erik took his medication (usually immediately after school). After five minutes, the hypnotic effect kicked in, and I had about ten minutes to alter his thoughts.

First, I changed his overall behavior at home. He stopped going out at night, preferring to hang around with me. Within a few days, he also became much more affectionate towards me, hugging me, rubbing my shoulders, stroking my thighs, and letting me do the same to him. He started to keep his bedroom door unlocked, and eventually open most of the time. Second, I implanted certain triggers in his mind: talking about sports would give him a hard-on, a beer would make him reveal something private about himself, and music would make him extremely horny. Finally, I made him more and more submissive to whatever I told him when he wasn’t under. He believed and obeyed anything I told him that was the slightest bit reasonable. Despite all my efforts though, he strongly resisted, often with anger, any sexual suggestion involving my touching or watching him. And he still kept the bathroom door locked when he was taking a shower. So much still to do!

I put on some classical music one night, and he soon came out of his room with only an open shirt and a red towel around his waist. “I’m taking a shower, dude,” he said. He squeezed my shoulders and hugged me from behind.

“Huh-uh. Do you think the Celtics are gonna win tonight?”

“No way, dude!” he said. I briefly sensed his hardening cock on my butt, and then he pulled away, embarrassed.

“Give me your shirt,” I said. I no longer had to justify simple commands: he stopped, took it off, and handed it to me, offering me a good look at the tent in his towel. “You forgot to take your medication, by the way,” I said, handing him the bottle. He hadn’t, but I wanted to give him some more suggestions that night.

“Did I?” he asked, puzzled. “I better take it now.”

He took his usual dose then went into the bathroom. Soon after, I tried the door. It wasn’t locked! Finally my suggestions had taken hold. I came in silently. He stood nude with his back to me, his tight bubble ass exposed, jerking off. The floor creaked and he whirled around, grabbing his towel to cover his crotch. He was furious. “Get out of here!” he yelled. Fortunately, the medication kicked in. He closed his eyes. This was new: he usually had his eyes open with a smile. Was it because it was the second dose?

“Erik,” I tried. “Drop the towel.” He let it drop. His cut, 7″ hard cock was pointing upwards, thick and juicy; his balls hanged a bit low. “From now on, you will be completely open about sex.” I waited for him to argue this suggestion as he usually did. He didn’t -the second trance of the day was deeper, it seemed. “You won’t mind people seeing you naked or jerking off. Any sexual proposition will make you instantly horny and willing. Having sex with another man will feel normal and exciting.” He repeated my words until he came out of the trance. He looked confused, but he smiled. “What are you doing here in the bathroom?”

“Can I take a shower with you?” I asked, smiling too.

“Sure, dude. Come on in!”

I stripped and we showered. It was fantastic to finally get my hands on him. We soaped each other up. I spent a long time washing his ass. I jerked him off, rubbing my hard cock between his legs. Then, with a single whisper, I made him kneel before me and suck my dick, the water splashing on his head. He was hungry for it now – there was no way I could recognize the prude straight who had come to live with me a week ago. When we got out of the shower, I went to the kitchen to grab two beers. He walked in with a towel around his waist, probably out of habit. I pulled it off and he just stood there, nude, scratching his pubic hair.

“So Erik, do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“Sure, dude, anything.” He turned around and bent, holding the counter. “This music makes me so horny.” He was taken by surprise by the pain, and screamed, half from pain, half from pleasure. His ass was soft and burning hot. I couldn’t get enough of him. I pumped and pumped and pumped; I scratched his chest; I licked behind his ears; then I came all over his back. I turned him around and sucked his cock like a vacuum, making him twist and turn and squirm. “Dude, this feels so fucking great! Ooooohhhh… Yes, suck it. Faster… Fuck, I’m coming.” I let him spurt his warm juices inside my mouth, and rolled them in for a few seconds before swallowing.

It was a fantastic year. Erik, who had once been so obsessed with modesty, stripped for me as soon as he got home, and spent the rest of the night in the nude. While we were watching TV, we often jerked each other off. We slept together, he woke me up with a blowjob, and then we took our shower together. He shared with me his most intimate secrets, and his ass was always available for a fuck.

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