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"I'll undress you, 'cause you're tired
Cover you as you desire When you fall asleep inside my arms May not have the fancy things But I'll give you everything You could ever want, it's in my arms"
Ahmed's Cub
Ch.2 - The Cure
By Emri
"I don't know, doc. I feel like I am looking at what is left after a bomb has gone. He is not the boy he was. He ache for help and I want so much to give this to him." I said as I punched my cock into Dr. Nava's hole. He groaned and looked up at me with flecks of gray in his dark eyebrows. He had his legs spread. I'd ripped a hole in his briefs. That's what he gets for buying such expensive underwear. It always shreds the fastest.
"Fuck.... Yeah... Oh fuck," he was getting lost in my pounding. I met up with Dr. Nava almost every week. I fucked him and told him everything. He gave me help, answers, and $400. His hourly rate was much higher than mine, but I had to remind him my service was more valuable.
"You listen to me?" I barked. He snapped his eyes back up. They were filled with a hazy lust, but he nodded.
"Yes, sir. You worry for this boy, you long for him. He is the perfect angel boy I can never be for you. Right?" He looked up at me searching for approval. I nodded.
"I wish I could take away his pain. We meet every night this week for work on paper. Is due tomorrow and our presentation is ready... He open up to me. His heart ache so bad. How does he recover from this? His parents are dead," I say. Dr. Nava knows the whole story. We'd talked on the phone before I came over so he could listen without being distracted by me.
He'd asked me to wear a suit tonight. I'd bought it using his account, of course. It was pretty nice too, italian and shiny. He made thousands of dollars an hour treating Hollywood elite. He was the best.
"I have an option, but he would need to agree to it. It could solve both of your problems," he offered.
"My problem? What is my problem?" I ask as I punch-fuck his hole. He groans and momentarily zones out again. I reach down and smack his face. He's not an unattractive man and I leave a nice red mark on his pale, white cheek.
"You love him deeply but he does not identify as homosexual. I know a man who can fix that while taking away his grief. It could be a fresh start for him, and give you the boy you desire," he said and grunted in pleasure.
"Fuck yeah," I agreed. Doc's hole felt really good today. It was normally a tight fit and this time it felt like he was massaging my cock with it. It gripped me tight and I rammed him at that angle that made his cock drool.
We stopped talking about the boy for a few minutes and just got deep into the rut. I smacked my hands against his hard pecs and drove deep into his hole. His lips opened wide and he let out a silent gasp followed by a deep moan. I normally didn't let him jerk himself, but tonight he was being useful to me. He fisted his meat and started to spray all over us.
"Fuck! Thank you, sir!" He howled as I deep-dicked his happy hole. His stomach thumped as I pushed up into him and he shot his seed all over himself. I pumped a few more times before I felt myself ready to blow.
"Where do you want this, boy?" I asked him knowing what he wanted.
"To taste it, sir. Please can I?" He begged. He's a sick fuck. He likes it straight from his ass.
"Your choice." I slide out of him and grab him by the hair. I pull his face up and his mouth pops open like a hungry bird. He dives onto my cock and I start to fire down his throat. I face-fuck him as I cum. He loves it. He even makes a little pig grunt a few times when I bury his nose in my pubes. I feel his tight throat wrap around my pulsing rod as he guzzles happily.
"Fuck! Thank you, sir!" He gasps when I let him go. He's swallowed it all. He leans back and stretches out as his chest pounds for air. I lie down next to him, eager to hear his offer.
"Well? What can you do?" I ask. He looks at me with confusion then suddenly remembers my whole point of being here.
"Oh! The therapy! Ah yes. It is um... It's rather illegal and the ethics are questionable, but there is a brain therapy some colleagues have developed. It helps boys... and girls in situations like your Dylan. It's a series of treatments... How much do you know about the brain?" he asks.
"A lot. Maybe as much as you. What kind of treatments?" I prod. I never get credit from these guys. They think I'm a dumb muscle boy with a big dick. I may do that for work, but my test scores and undergraduate research projects earned me a position at UCLA. I only take my english courses at the shit college because they're cheap and easier.
Dr. Nava crawls over to his desk and grabs his keys then limps, still recovering from my dick, to a closet. He disappears then comes back with some case files. He waves me towards a glass table and lays out some papers. It's research, chemicals compounds, electro pulses, stimulation and depression of different areas. I read through it as my cock hangs soft between my thighs.
"Can they really do this? It's not just... what if it fucks him up? What if he ends up not walking or pissing himself or... too much could go wrong with this," I sigh. As much as I want Dylan, and want his happiness, it's just too risky.
"It works. It's been used many times. Dr. Colton Takada even had it done on himself years ago when he was younger. He's a remarkable researcher and has brought the procedure light years ahead. The recovery is down to nothing. It's basically twelve hours of sleep. It's rather remarkable... but very expensive." Dr. Nava opened up more files to show me some of the results. It certainly had been well-studied, at least according to the results.
"It works? How much?" I asked.
"More than a rent boy can afford, even a high-priced one like you. Standard is $60,000 and criminal implication," he said.
"What does that mean?" I couldn't believe I was considering it.
"Well obviously this needs to be a well guarded secret since there are only a few places on earth that would allow this. The boy can not know of it and you must take it to your grave. Just getting a meeting with him would require security vetting and I would have to vouch for you. I only even brought it up because you are already in a trade that requires heavy discretion." He smiled.
"I am, of course... And the cost? 60,000? All at once?" I asked. I had some savings. I would buy a home when I returned to Egypt, but not $60,000 worth.
"He might offer some help with that. There are many who want to observe the process, but of course most clients want complete privacy. Perhaps we could work something out with him if your boy is cute enough. Knowing you, the boy who captured your heart must be perfection," Dr. Nava said in a sad tone.
"I don't know... I meet with this doctor and see. You will arrange?" I knew I couldn't go through with it. It was unethical. Dylan would heal with time and changing his sexuality seemed wrong. Still, it wouldn't hurt to meet with him. I was always on the lookout for new clients.
+++
Driving home from the doctor's office I couldn't help but stop by Dylan's. It was late and I wouldn't bother him. I just needed to peek in and see him. We'd been pretty chill since the incident. He wasn't acting weird around me and he still saved my seat in class. We had done well on our project and he'd been slowly opening up to me about the pain.
I parked down the street from his apartment and crept up to the alley where his window was. There was a soft light on in his room. I ducked behind the trash cans and put up my black hoodie. His window was open and the blinds were pulled up halfway. I heard music playing at a low setting, but I didn't see him on his bed. His bedroom door was closed, his bed was made, and his small bedside lamp was on. He wasn't in.
I decided to go around to the front of the apartment. I hadn't seen a light on there, but I knew he would be home. Just as I pulled away from his window though, I heard a soft whimper. I looked in closer and listened to hear him crying softly. He sniffled and had this little whine like an injured boy afraid of being heard. I crept to the other side of the window to see if he was on the floor.
It broke my heart when I saw him. He was sitting on the floor leaned against the wall with his legs drawn into his chest. He hugged them and rocked slightly with his face between his knees.
My poor boy. How many nights did he spend like this? I couldn't leave him like this.
I took my phone out of my pocket and made sure it was set to silent. I opened the text app and typed out a message to him.
"Hey, Dyl. I am in your neighborhood. You are awake?" I sent it. I pulled back into the shadows when I heard his phone buzz on the table. He got off the floor and walked near the window to get it.
"I'm up, bro. Just really into this War-night game! :)" He wrote back. I watched him wipe his tears with the back of his hand.
"Cool. Will your aunt let you out? It's Friday. I need pizza! Long workout!" I texted.
"Yeah... Can you meet me on the big street? Ten minutes?" He wrote. He went into a mad dash stripping off his clothes. He put on a blue sweatshirt and jeans then went to splash his face. I crept away from his window then ran to my car. I wasn't exactly clean myself. I had washed up in the sink at Dr. Nava's. I would be ok.
I drove by his apartment and watched him quietly close the front door then creep down the walk. He was sneaking out for me.
We did this side hug when he got in my car. He was getting used to it and the seat was always set for him. A few days ago he had complained about me not having toys for my passengers so I had put a few toy cars and fidget cubes in the side pocket for him. He'd laughed so hard when I showed him. I'd do anything to get that happiness back to him.
The pizza place he said was "the best ever" was closing in five minute when we arrived. The owner made a special to go one just for us. It was plain cheese per Dylan's request. We took it to go and I showed him another cool little side park on Mulholland. It was becoming "our street." This time of night on a weekend, it had a few couples making out, but they stayed in their cars.
I put some nice music on low and opened the sunroof so we could watch the moon and eat our pizza. He pretended like he had been having a nice night at home playing his game. I couldn't ask him why he had been crying. I'd let him lie to protect his dignity.
We spent two hours there just talking. He asked me a million questions about Egypt and my time in the army and my friends back home. He listened happily until he accidentally asked about my family. That brought him down quick. His face looked pained and I felt my protective lion stir.
"If you could stop hurting, would you?" I asked. It was a stupid question, but I was wrestling fiercely with what Dr. Nava had told me about.
"I would... I wouldn't want to forget about my parents. They were awesome people. I just wish it didn't hurt every minute of every day. With you I don't think about it so much. We have fun together," he admitted.
"I am safe to you... You hurt so much. I wish I could take your pain. I can get you help. If you want that. I can take the pain," I told him.
"It's supposed to get easier. It's supposed to hurt less. I let it ruin my life. I couldn't even finish school. They let me fake graduate with my friends who aren't even my friends anymore. My dad was so proud of me finishing with good grades and sports... He was planning a big party for my graduation. Instead I lost my house and they took everything. I'm a fucking loser, Ahmed," Dylan wept.
I pulled him over against my chest. My dark, rugged muscles framed his angelic body so perfectly. I was made for him.
"Do you want me to take the pain? Say the words and I will. You need a father. Let me be this to you." I kissed his hair. He was a boy in desperate need of a daddy. I was in desperate need for him.
"Please... help," he said.
+++
On Monday I had a call from a strange number. I never answer those, but the ID said Takada Corporation. I expected an older, medical voice to greet me, but the man sounded young and he asked for me by name.
"Dr. Nava told me about your situation... Well to be fair I had already been thinking about you before he told me your boy needed help," Dr. Takada began.
"Me? But why?" I was confused.
"Well most of my service has been on creating submissive boys for wealthy daddies, but Dr. Nava told me about what you do and what he gets from it. Don't be mad at him, but I have also seen some of his secret recordings. It's pretty hot how you can take a powerful man and dominate him. It's a market I hadn't thought about. Wealthy men who want a boy they can control, but who also knows how to turn the tables in the bedroom," he explained.
"I'm not interested in becoming someone's boy, alpha or otherwise," I said.
"No, no, you misunderstand. It comes naturally to you. Your fiery alpha domination is mapped in your head and it's something you could help me design as an alternative to our standard services. If I could get the blueprints from your personality, I could work to combine it with the obedience my clients want of their boys. Plus you are Egyptian and the Arab world is an untapped market for me. We could work together. I am very interested," he offered.
"I will do anything to help my boy. Do you think he can be help by this procedure?" I asked.
"Of course! I researched your boy and I would love to meet him! He sounds perfect," Dr. Takada said. We talked for an hour. He said they could work do this for free if I would help him with his alpha boy research and if Dylan would agree to let him make a private documentary about it. He said it would only be shown to prospective clients who agreed to the nondisclosure.
He said they would need some taped therapy sessions with Dylan before the procedures could begin anyways so he could get a mind map and know what to go for when he got in there. They would show his pain but also his personality.
Dylan would never be allowed to watch it. I doubt he would want to anyways. It would show not only a boy in deep stress, but a boy who liked girls. They would show his transformation to being a happy, carefree boy who obeyed my every order and longed for my pleasure. That boy sounded amazing.
"I'm betting it would even be profitable for you if we brought in enough new business! I have seen your boy. He went from being an all-american jock boy to a sad case and we can bring him back but make him better. That kind of story would make my clients feel altruistic in their endeavors for submissives. I could show how we make life better for the boys," Dr. Takada said.
He told me his own story. Colton Takada had been a spoiled boy seeking wealthy daddies until he met Mr. Takada who transformed him and got him help. He became a loyal boy to Mr. Takada and even took his last name. He had gone to college and then medical school to learn about his own procedure and assist in making the technology better. He could help Dylan. He could make my shy boy whole again.
"Come to my home. I have my laboratory there and I want to meet Dylan. Let me talk to him and see if he chooses this," he offered. We agreed I'd go on Thursday after the morning course was finished and bring Dylan.
+++
Thursday had a long drive for us out to Dr. Takada's home past Calabasas. Coincidentally, Dylan was dressed perfectly in a small tank top and tight shorts. It would definitely help his case with Dr. Takada.
I told Dylan the truth... well half of it. I told him about the procedure and the solid science behind it. I also told him Dr. Takada would do it for free if he agreed to star in the documentary. I assured him it would only be shown to high level clients and his name and information would be protected. I would make sure of that!
"You really think it would work?" he asked. He sounded like he was afraid of getting his hopes up.
"The results look very solid. The doctor will explain how this works then you can decide for yourself. I just want that you feel better." I reached over and rubbed his hair. He was so perfect, so beautiful. Dr. Takada would want to help him.
We arrived at large gates at the end of a narrow road that snaked through the hills. Behind them we found a sprawling mansion built into the hillside.
Dr. Takada met us at the front door. I could tell from his smile he was immediately taken with my shy boy. He was quite attractive himself. He was probably in his early 30's and had perfect skin and a solid, athletic frame. He greeted us warmly and welcomed us inside.
"Please! Call me Colton!" He glowed when Dylan showed him respect. He sat us down in a large office and began by asking Dylan about his sadness. He played a computer animation of how the procedure worked and spent an hour explaining it to us. I could see Dylan light up with hope that his nightmare might soon be over.
Dr. Takada told us his therapist would meet with Dylan at an office near the college. He would film every minute of it but the camera would be hidden out of the way. We signed a few security agreements that Dylan would need to renew in a few weeks when he turned 18. After that, we could begin.
+++
We spent the next few weeks working Dylan's therapy. I drove him to the nearly empty front in an out of the way office park in Reseda. He asked me to sit in with him for the first few sessions, but then felt comfortable enough to do it on his own. I was glad for that. It hurt to hear his pain.
Dr. Rossmore was a kind, older man who seemed to have a way with boys like Dylan. He was overweight, bald, and nonthreatening. He had a comfortable couch brought in and even brought Dylan lunch most days.
"I'm starting to feel a little better," Dylan said as I drove him home after the seventh visit. "I don't cry as much. Some of his questions are weird, but it's cool. He asks about my ex-girlfriend! It got me thinking about her. I should call her and make amends. I know I hurt her..."
"Do you want her to come back to you?" I asked uncomfortably. This was the part of the whole thing that held me up. He deserved to have the person he wanted, not the man who would change his brain chemistry.
"Not really," Dylan laughed. "I want her to be happy though."
+++
Dylan turned 18 on a Friday, the same day I turned 24. He hadn't planned a party. He said no one would come even if he could afford one. I decided to take him and his aunt out to celebrate. We would go for brunch and skip our class at the college since I was eager to begin the real work of Dylan's procedure.
Dylan and I had concocted a story that I was taking him camping for the weekend. It was the first time I'd really talked to her since she just kind of nodded at me whenever I showed up at their apartment. She didn't ask any questions about our camping trip. She seemed relieved to have him out of the house for once.
I took them to a nice place in Burbank high above the valley. It had a huge patio with a beautiful view. His aunt was more concerned with the bottomless mimosas I'd promised her. Dylan kept whispering apologies for her when she'd make a demand of the waiter or make a semi-racist comment about Arabs.
I didn't care. She could make terrorist jokes all she wanted. After today, shy boy would be mine. Dr. Takada had told me Dylan would take quickly to the procedure and would need my full attention once he woke up. I knew he would never want to go back to his aunt's place after this.
We finished our brunch and his aunt chugged the rest of her sixth mimosa as I paid the bill. Dylan had his bag packed next to mine in my trunk. We sped back to the apartment, dropped her off, watched her stumble safely up to her front door, and then drove off to Dr. Takada's compound.
He showed us back to a guest room that was near his laboratory. It was a bright room with big windows overlooking the hills. It had one big comfortable bed that Dylan looked at with confusion as he set down his bag.
"Um... are we sharing a bed?" he whispered to me, not wanting to offend Dr. Takada.
"You'll be sleeping in the clinic tonight for your treatment then we'll have a room for your recovery," Dr. Takada said though I knew it was a lie. Dyl would be recovering in my bed as soon as his treatment concluded.
"Oh! Right! I am so grateful for this," Dylan quickly corrected.
"No worries, son," Dr. Takada sang. "Just leave your bag here and we can get started!"
He led Dylan and me to his lab where there was a leather dentist's chair in the corner near the window. He sent Dylan off to use the restroom since he would be under for awhile. He gave him a clear solution in a small cup and then had him lay back in the chair. He stripped off Dylan's shirt and put a band around his head and chest. He attached little wires to it as Dylan started to yawn. My shy boy drifted off as Dr. Takada was finishing the last attachment.
He led me over to a computer setup with eight different monitors. He opened programs and Dylan's scans started to appear. It was like stepping into a sci-fi movie. The monitors started generating thousands of reports and Dr. Takada touched the screens to move through them until he found what he needed. He clicked on a keyboard and started entering parameters and changing metrics. He made little grunts and cheers as he found what he wanted.
"Oooh he is going to be beautiful. Such a healthy brain for a boy who has experienced so much trauma. Look at his depression clouds. You see them there and there?" He pointed excitedly at the screen as I followed. It was fascinating and the way he explained it made it seem so simple. He showed me how we could shrink them and replace them with nodes that would dwell on positive images.
"Right there. It's just turning his focus. He'll still have the emotions, but they will pass through him. He will hold on to the things that bring him happiness, like pleasing you!" He worked it until Dylan's brain scan showed a very different picture.
"Now comes the cool part! Grab that headset!" He directed. He handed me some papers that looked like a script.
"You can read these or make up your own. We'll record your voice and weave it through all of his memories. As far as he can remember, your voice is what comforts him, your commands are what drives him, your pleasure is what brings him joy. He will crave hearing these things from you on a most primal level," Dr. Takada explained. "Now go! Start!"
"Daddy loves you. Are you being daddy's good boy? That little pussy needs daddy's attention? Your little pussy opens only for me? That's mine? Yeah, baby," I read the lines. It was pure filth, pages and pages of it. I was hard before I finished the first one.
I deepened my tone and spoke in a low voice as the doctor directed me. He even had me put my fingers to my lips and whistle so Dylan would respond to it. He recorded half an hour of me talking dirty to Dylan, reassuring him, praising him for obeying. I went through a list of commands, positions I liked. I got creative with it. I didn't want to sound like I did with my clients. He was more than sex for me, he was my boy.
"This is hot! He is a lucky boy. He'll crave hearing your voice and reassurance. It will calm him," the doctor explained as he made short clips of my words and sent them into Dylan's brain. I looked over at my boy sleeping peacefully with all the wires over him. His lips curled into a smile and he let out a happy moan as the doctor worked his magic.
"After this he will be so happy, like a new boy." I smiled.
"Sort of. It takes a few treatments and we will play with the dynamics. We want to test out the personalities before we make one permanent. Sometimes when we take out depression and sadness, the personality and intelligences that emerge aren't quite the best fit," he explained.
Dylan mumbled something then did a sort of laugh like he'd told a joke. He raised his hand and waved at an imagined person in front of him. "Daddy will like that!" Dylan said with a smile.
I laughed. It was so good to see him happy, even in his sleep. Dr. Takada nodded proudly.
"He is a very smart boy. He had good grades before his parents' death," I noted.
"His intelligence wasn't all that high. He must have worked very hard. I can adjust it up if we need to, but it might change his personality too much." Dr. Takada pointed at the screen.
"We will see how he turns out." I shrugged.
"And now for the stimulation. You brought the clothes?" he asked.
"Oh! Yes! They are quite disgusting. I wear the shorts and jockstrap for three days during workout!" I ran to the guest room and brought the ziploc bag that kept them "fresh."
"Perfect," he said when he opened the bag. "We'll put these near his face." He moved to Dylan who was lying peacefully in the chair with a happy smile across his lips. When Dr. Takada put the soiled gym clothes over his eyes and nose, I saw his lips curl up in disgust.
"He does not like them," I noted.
"Oh he will!" Dr. Takada moved back to the computer. He worked some buttons and menu choices and I heard a moan escape Dylan's lips.
"He is exciting himself!" I said and pointed. My shy boy's shorts were tenting up with a heavy pole. His body started to buck and twist like he was fucking something.
"Yes. We'll edge him for awhile. His brain will imprint with the smell of you. We'll recreate it to cover his first 100 masturbation memories in his brain. He will link his pleasure to your smell. He'll crave it and feel excited whenever you're near. It's part of the process of making him your boy." Dr. Takada explained.
"Huhhhh, dadddyyyy!" Dylan whined from his chair. His hands went up to my gym clothes. He squished them in his fingers and took a deep hit of them. The tent in his shorts wagged back and forth. His beautiful little body danced in the chair.
"Will he finish like this?" I asked.
"No no. We want his pleasure to come from your touch. It wouldn't be right for a boy to cum on his own without daddy's permission. The sensors are stimulating his hole. It will need your touch when he is recovering tomorrow. He'll beg for it and have a pretty severe need for bonding." Dr. Takada showed me the charts where Dylan's brain was going crazy with excitement.
After about twenty minutes of this, we took away the gym clothes. I replaced it with a warm sweatshirt that held my cologne. Dr. Takada placed it over my shy boy's chest and wrapped the arms around his back. Dylan turned over onto his side and hugged it then made little happy whimpers. The tent in his shorts settled down and he drifted into a deeper sleep.
"He will need a few hours of this. His body is adjusting. We have to transform things very slowly and he will probably need a lot of sleep over the next week. Let's go get some dinner," he said. I didn't want to leave him. This was fascinating, but Dr. Takada urged me. We turned off the lights in the lab. He showed me his portable tablet that would monitor him and alert us if the boy needed anything.
We left Dylan for a while and he showed me around his house. We had dinner outside on the patio with his husband, Mr. Takada. He was an older man in incredible shape. He said he just celebrated his 63rd birthday. Dr. Takada kept him on a strict workout regimen. The two of them were quite happy together. I hoped Dylan and I would be that happy at their age though Dr. Takada was quite a bit younger than his husband.
We went back to check on Dylan about 10pm. He had been under for almost 7 hours now and he was still peacefully resting. Dr. Takada turned off the therapy when it completed and he urged me to get some rest. We both knew that wasn't going to happen. I pulled up a chair beside Dylan and watched over him through the night.
At 4am, my shy boy stirred. Dr. Takada had taken off the wires around midnight and Dylan had curled up around my sweatshirt. I had passed the time playing games on my phone and even had a long conversation with my parents in Cairo. I was exhausted, but I knew I couldn't sleep until Dylan was awake and cleared from any danger.
"Ahmed," Dylan whispered. His voice sounded weak.
"I am here, my boy. You are safe," I answered, looking up from my phone.
"Ahmed.... Ahhhh-medddd," he sang. "That doesn't sound right, man... dude... bro," he laughed. "No... what is your name? What do I call you?" he asked with confusion.
"I am daddy?" I said with a hint of question. Was it too soon to say that?
"Yes! Daddy... wait... daddy? Yeah... you're my daddy?" he was blissed out on the medicine.
"I am, my boy. I am your daddy," I said.
"You're my daddy." He blinked up at me in the dimly lit lab. He hugged my sweatshirt and studied me with concern. He rolled over to face me and reached out to put his hand on my knee. I put both of my hands over his and covered it.
"You are mine," I said and leaned down so my face was inches from his.
"I am yours," he said. We stared into each other for a solid minute and then his lips curled up into a smile. "I missed you."
"You did? You had a long sleep, baby boy. You are to feel better?" I asked.
He nodded. He raised his head and then his lips touched mine. He kissed me. My shy boy kissed me. He used all of his strength to raise his lips to mine. I let go of his hands and put my palms against his cheeks to hold his little angel face. His lips touched mine and I slid my tongue into him. He tasted like morning breath but it was perfection.
"I'm thirsty. I have to pee. I'm so tired, daddy," he whined.
"Take your boy," Dr. Takada said from behind me. "There is a bathroom in your suite and water on the bedside table. I closed the blackout curtains so you two can get some rest. And don't forget to stimulate him. It is very important that his hole recognizes and bonds with you. Finger, tongue, whatever you like."
"I will! Thank you!" I said. I scooped up my shy boy. He clung to the sweatshirt but then threw his arms around my shoulders when I lifted him. He felt so perfect against my chest. He nestled his face into my shoulder and I carried him off to the room.
"I gotta pee, daddy," Dylan said as I got him into the bathroom.
"I know, baby boy." I set him down on the toilet then helped him push his shorts down. His cock was soft and just a few inches so I helped him aim it down into the bowl. He let loose a full bladder and wrapped his arms around me. He hummed a tune I didn't know and started to kiss my ear. It tickled but I diligently maintained his stream into the proper place.
I helped him wash up then we brushed our teeth and I pulled his briefs back up and got him to bed. I gave him some water and he gulped it with urgency. I stripped down to my boxers and pulled him against my bare chest. He threw his arm over me and nestled his face in against my heartbeat.
I was so tired and ready to finally drop off when I remembered what Dr. Takada had said. I needed to work his hole. This daddy thing was hard work, but I had to see it through.
I reached down to his firm bubble bottom and slid my hand into his briefs. I squeezed his cheeks and massaged them. The boy squirmed and whimpered weakly.
"Please," he mumbled hazily. "Please play with it, daddy. It needs you."
"Like this, boy? You want this, boy? You need daddy to take what is his?" I rubbed a finger down between his cheeks. I wanted to see it but there was no way I'd disturb the happy boy on my chest. I poked my finger against his tight little virgin hole.
He whined and pushed back like he was trying to force it inside him. I pushed at it with my index finger. I wiggled it into him and he gasped in relief. I watched his body relax. His hole had its pacifier.
"Yes, daddy. It's yours," he whined. I pushed into him. I rubbed inside his soft, pink pleasure. He settled against me and nodded off. His hole was filled. He was at peace.
+++
We slept for ten hours. I checked my phone when I woke to see it was Saturday afternoon. My boy was awake but laid against me in a sleepy daze.
"My bottom feels funny," he noted like it had all been a weird dream.
"It feels ok to me," I said. I wiggled my finger inside him. I'd never fallen asleep with my finger in a guy's hole.
"Oh, ok.... Wait!" Dylan sat up with sudden alarm. "You have your finger in me! Dude, no!" He pulled away from me and looked down with horror. His briefs were stretched out in the back where my hand had been all night.
I worried for a minute that the therapy had worn off. It hadn't worked and he was waking up pissed at me for violating his ass.
"Dylan, it's..." I started to explain, but then he cut me off. He sniffed the air with interest.
"What is that?" he asked and looked down at my chest.
I raised my arms and shrugged. His face played through a series of expressions then he leaned down to my chest and sniffed harder. He traced his nose over my pecs until he found my right armpit.
"Fuck, dude. I'm sorry. I can't help myself. Is that a new cologne? It smells incredible!" he asked. He pulled back but stared longingly at my hairy pit. I raised my right arm over my head and sniffed but I only smelled the hint of my night sweat.
"No? Is only me," I said but then I caught on. "It's ok. You can smell, boy." I adopted the alpha tone I'd used in the recordings and Dylan's face lit up, but then pulled back in disgust.
"No... I didn't mean to... It smells so good," he said. I could tell he wanted to go for it. He sat back on his heels and his knees were spread halfway open. His briefs were tenting.
"Come, boy. It's ok. Daddy is here," I whispered.
He looked down at me. His eyes showed the hurricane of emotions he was swirling through. He slowly leaned towards me and then pulled back but then leaned in again. Finally he went for it. He dove down and took a deep hit of my armpit.
"Ahhhh, dude... duuude.... Daddy," he said and looked at me with wild eyes. I nodded. I lowered my arm and put it on his back. I rubbed up until my fingers pushed into his hair. I gripped the flop of dark golden hair on top of his head and pulled his face up to mine.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. It just smells so good, so... right," he said with a tone that begged for my reassurance.
"You feel better, don't you?" I asked.
"I feel so good... daddy," he whimpered.
I let him explore me, taste me, touch me. He was shy at first, holding back and thinking it was wrong. He warmed up though and inhaled me. It wasn't a dream. He was my boy.
To be continued...
My Stories: https://sites.google.com/view/emri/ My Blog: https://emriwrites.blogspot.com/