The Policeman Who Blew Too Much

By Killerwhale Zeus

(MC, MM)

(12/12/2001, 16/12/2001)

Greetings to sunfiregod, Thom21, ONIX and Soxnties. Their stories

inspired many elements in this story.

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WARNING:

This story contains material suitable for adults only, including

sexual references, low level violence, nudity and adult themes.

The stories presented here are fictional and are intended as

erotic fun, most of the acts presented are reprehensible and no

normal person would engage in these things in real life. These

stories are harmless revenge fantasies (on fictional and imagined

people) and puerile sex slave stories. Try not to take them

seriously.

=================================================================

Part One

Michael was a rookie. A rookie in all definitions of the word. He

was a clean-cut, fresh-faced, straight-as-an-arrow, above-board,

freshly-minted, newly-graduated, minty-breathed, first-job-out-of

-uni, first-time-in-the-city, country-farm-boy-goodness

policeman. It was his first day...

... And he was shitscared.

Of course, Michael was too cool and suave to ever admit it. Sure,

he was inexperienced ... maybe even naive ... but he had been a

jock back home in the country and he had been a jock at

University. The police force might be intimidating but Michael

knew enough not to let it show. Besides, hereally wanted to be

there. Since the age of seven, the life of a policeman had been

Michael's dream job. He had vowed to himself, day and night, that

he would do anything to make that dream come true. He would do

*anything*. Let me repeat that just in case you didn't get that

valuable character trait/plot device ... Michael was so desperate

to be the best policeman in the world that he would do *ANYTHING*.

At the age of 24, he had spent the last five years at the most

elite police academy in the Southern Hemisphere ... and it showed.

His mind was razor sharp and his body was a lean crime-fighting

machine. His handsome features, a square jaw-line and fine teeth

complemented an already impressive package. On his last night at

the academy all the female recruits had thrown themselves at him.

Michael had been only too happy to play good cop, bad cop.

And all of this was part of the problem. Now that Michael had

everything he wanted ... he was a junior officer for the local

metropolitan branch of the police ... he was unsure of what he

wanted now. He needed guidance. At least, that's what I've decided

is the reason he came to see me.

Doctor Conway P. Smuggins, Professional Counsellor and

Hynotherapist is my name and title ... although the P. is only

real thing there. Yes, when Michael came to me he was a bundle of

raw energy, bursting with a life and vitality that I instantly

knew I had to control and channel ... hey, you can't have

hypnotherapist without the rapist. Geddit? hypnotherapist = hypno-

the-rapist. Man, I've hope I've spelt that right or else that joke

is going to make me look like a dick-head. I'm a Doctor, not an

English professor.

Anyway, as I was saying. Michael's fantastic body came to see me

one day. I recall that some other parts came along as well ... his

personality, etc, but there was only one thing I could focus on

during that first session. This man was an adonis! I could see the

atheletic muscles of a sculptured god rippling underneath the tight

white t-shirt he was wearing. His jeans contained an impressive

bulge and his face was so beautiful and his eyes were so intense it

made tears come to my eyes.

'So, Doctor, can you help me?'

'huh?' I said, snapping out of my day-dream. Not only was this

totally hot guy sitting on my office couch but I had, in my

capacity as a doctor, been writing myself perscriptions for some

fairly exotic drugs. Suffice to say I was in a good frame of mind

... a little scattered ... but man, it felt good to fly!

'I said, can you help me?' Michael repeated, glancing nervously from

me to the door and then back again.

'Oh what? Sure Sure! I can help ... you.' I had to focus. I was not

going to let this little puppy get away from me. 'Uh, what was the

problem again?'

Michael stood. 'Look, I'm sorry to bother you Doctor Smuggins but ...'

'Sit down young man!' I commanded. I reached in to my drawer and

pulled out my fake pair of doctor spectacles ... the ones I wore

when I needed to look more authoritive. 'I said sit down!'

Michael looked at me strangely, and, with a sheepish grin, sat

down. It was odd, but my spectacles had only ever inspired

obedience in people ... not sheepish submission. It was then that

I realised I had accidently put on my humourous groucho glasses

... the ones with the fake nose and moustache attached. I

quickly pulled them off and threw them back in the drawer.

'I, uh, wore those as ... um ... a comforting device ... a way

to break the ice.' Michael looked sceptical. I continued, 'You,

uh, looked uncomfortable.'

'You're right. I feel silly being here. I've never need to see a

physcologist before.'

'I'm not a physcolegi ... a pshycologest ... a pshy ... a shrink

... I'm a ... um ...' I glanced over his shoulder and at the title

on the door. I'm a rollesnuoc.'

'A rolliesnowk?'

'I mean a counsellor.'

'... and ... a ... a ... hypnotherapist' He said in a small voice.

I grinned. 'Yes. A hypnotherapist. But first and foremost, I want

to be your friend. Now, what seems to be the problem? Don't worry

... you can tell me.'

Michael took a deep breath. 'I'm afraid.'

'Afraid?' I asked.

'Yes. Of failure.'

'Ah.' I replied. 'Are you afraid of failing anything in

particular?'

'I've told you all about how I need to be a policeman. I want to

be a detective one day, but to get to that level, I need to pass

a whole bunch of tests. The first one is in less than a month.

I've always had a problem with exams.' Michael said.

'How is this exam different?' I asked.

'I'm so close. I *am* a policeman ... an entry level policeman

... but still. My dream is no longer some far off vision ... it's

a reality. Every day I can see and smell the sights and sounds

that I could only picture in my childhood.'

'Alright, alright. You've convinced me. What can I do to help?'

'My friend Bob recommended you.'

'Bob ... Bob ... the name sounds familiar.' I mused. Of course!

Bob was one of my earlier subjects. I convinced him I saved his

marriage.

'He's convinced you saved his marriage.' Michael said.

'Yes. I was able to alter both their personalities slightly so

that they were better at the things each other liked.'

'Could you alter me so that I'm better at studying. In particular

just for this one exam?'

I nodded thoughtfully. 'I'd really like to, Michael, but I can't.'

Michael's face fell. 'Oh. I was hoping ...'

'Michael. Hypnosis is not a toy. It's a tool.' I reached in to my

drawer and collected the correct glasses. 'A serious tool for

treating people with severe emotional handicaps. If I used

hypnosis to help you pass your exam, I would be putting all the

other applicants in your course at a disadvantage.'

'I see.' Michael said. 'You're right. It was just a wild hope anyway.'

I allowed a lengthy pause. 'Of course ...'

Michael's eyes lit up. 'Yes?'

'While it's true there is no such thing as a free lunch, I

would not be adverse to making you pass your exam. But there

would have to be an associated cost.'

'What do you mean?' Michael asked. 'Money is not problem.

It means shit to me anyway. All I want is to be the best

policeman I can be.'

'I'm not talking about money. As you just said yourself,

money means very little to you. If I was to improve your

personality in such a way as to make you pass a test, in the

interests of fairness, karma and balance, I would have to

reduce your personality in some other way. Consider it like

subtracting from one part of yourself to add to another part.'

'What do you mean?' Michael asked, confused.

'Well, just say I doubled your ability to recall information

you read in books. A similar, negative post-hypnotic command

would have to be put in place. The net gain in ability to you

would be neutral ... but at least you'd pass your exam.'

I admit, the idea was far fetched, but not as far fetched as

my spinning candy coloured bow-tie.

'What kind of change are we talking about here?'

'In the grand scheme of things, passing a single exam isn't

that big a deal, so the change would only be rather small.

Probably something like ... I dunno, I might make you less

tolerant to alcohol, so instead of six beers to get you tipsy,

it might only take four.'

Michael thought about it for awhile. 'Alright, that sounds

like a fair trade.'

'Okay then. Lie back and remove your shirt.'

'My what?'

'Your shirt. Come on lad, I don't have all day.' I snapped.

'Why do I need to take off my shirt for hypnosi?.'

'If you must know, subjects always respond better when they

are in a slightly vunerable state. Hypnosis requires trust

and this is one way of forcing a subject to trust his master.

Don't worry, it's not a sexual thing.'

'His M..M..Master?'

'That's the technical, professional term for the person who

is doing the hypnotising. It's the latin "Masterus", meaning

"Man In Control" as I recall, the term was first used in

its present context by the Bishop Of Kent in the year 1432,

of course it was during his trial and he was subsequently

beheaded...'

'I thought the gullotine was invented by the French a few

hundred years later.' Michael said.

'You didn't let me finished. He was beheaded by piano. They

dropped it from the top of the Tower Of London.'

'What was the Bishop Of Kent doing in London? Why did they

drop a piano on him? Did they even have pianos back in 1432?'

'I said take off your shirt!'

Michael pulled his t-shirt up over his head. I had to

swallow to keep the drool from running down my chin. In his

book, Bret Eaton-Ellis referred to young people with good

physiques as "Hard-bodies" ... of course, I was no American

Psycho, but still, I could appreciate a hard body when I saw

it. Michael had the kind of body you just want to reach out

and rub. The sort of chest you want to kneel down and worship.

The kind of arms you want wrapped around you.

'Hmm,' I thought to myself. 'I'd better use the crystal, I

don't trust my eyes not to water.' I usually did the whole

"look in to my eyes spiel" but I didn't think I'd get through

it with this hunk.

'Are you comfortable, Michael?' I asked.

'Yes, Doctor Smuggins.' He replied.

'Alright, let's begin. I want you to look in to this crystal.

Focus on the fire at the centre.'

Already Michael was looking drowsy. His arms, which were

initially crossed in front of his pecs, fell by his side and

his eyes lost focus. His loops began to droop.

Once again, I marvelled at what an excellent hypnotist I was.

I also marvelled at my foresight in spiking his drink with a

mind control drug.

'Michael can you hear me?'

'Yesss. I cannn heeearrr youuu.' He replied in a slurred

dream-like trance.

'Are you hypnotised? Answer yes or no only.'

'Yessss. I am hypnotised.'

'I said to answer yes only.'

'Youuuuu ssssaid toooo answerrrr nooo onllyyy. You ssaaaid

nooothing abbboutt yyyeeeesssss.'

'Well I meant both yes and no. Only answer my questions with

a yes only or a no only. Do you understand?'

'Yesssss.'

'Good.'

'I underrrrrrrstaannnnnd.'

'Gah.' I said. I can't believe I was losing an argument to

a fresh faced police jock. I, who had dined with the Kings of

Europe (although not in the same building). I, who had saved the

lives of millions (by not killing them).

'Michael, you told me you have an exam coming up. Is that true?'

'Yes.' He replied.

'You really want to pass that exam don't you?'

'Yes.' He replied.

'I can make it happen, but only if you really want me to.

Do you really want me to?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Then I will help you.' I smirked. Help ... enslave

... what's the difference? Now, I needed to crack open his

psyche to plant my commands very deep. 'Do you trust me,

Michael?'

'No.' Michael said, frowning.

I expected as much. I wouldn't trust me either.

'But you have taken your shirt off. That shows some trust,

at least, doesn't it?'

'Yes.'

Those lucious nipples, that smooth, smooth flesh...

'I'm a doctor. Do you trust doctors?'

'Yes.'

'So you can trust me. Okay?' I leaned forward in my chair

and gave one of his nipples a tweak.

'Y...Y...Yes.'

'You trust your friends, don't you?'

'Yes.'

'You trust me, so I must be one of your friends. Right?'

'Yes.' Michael nodded slightly in his sleep.

'Good. Good. You're a good boy, Michael, I'm sure you'll

do fine in your exam.'

Michael smiled.

'In fact, I'm going to give you the power you need to

remember everything in your text book. Okay?'

Michael's smile grew wider. 'Yes.'

'Okay, when I tap you on the forehead, you will feel

the power flowing into your brain.' I tapped his head.

'Do you feel it?'

'Yes.' He said.

'But you can't get something for nothing, can you?'

'No.' He replied.

'When I tap your head again, you will feel your

resistance to alcohol lowering. It will be only a third

of what it was. One glass of beer will have the same

effect as three. You will not learn your new tolerance ...

in your mind you will always assume you can drink your

old full amount. Okay?'

'Yes.' He replied.

I smiled. I know I had told him the effect would be

only two thirds (instead of one third), but I had only

used that as an example.

'Also, when I say the command "stud-muffin", you will

re-enter this state, deeper and more suggestable than

before. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'That's good. It feels good to obey Doctor Conway P.

Smuggins, doesn't it?'

I rubbed each of his nipples between my thumb and

forefinger.

'Yes.' He groaned.

'Very soon I will wake you up and you will not remember

this session. You will only remember that it was very

productive, very safe and that it was exactly what you

wanted. For all of this month, you will study for your

exam like never before. You will be amazed at how clearly

you are able to recall the subject material. Later this

month, in your exam, you will do well. You will be very

happy with the result and you will know it is entirely

due to me. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'Excellent.'

I woke Michael up and when he opened his eyes, he

smiled at me.

'How do you feel?' I asked.

'Really good.'

'Well then. It's done. I think you'll be presently

surprised.'

'Thanks Doctor, I feel a lot better now.' Michael

said, standing up and putting his t-shirt back on.

I stood as well, to show him to the door.

'When you pass your exam and are out celebrating

with your mates, I would appreciate it if you would

raise your glass, and drink a small toast to me.' I

said.

'Sure thing.' Michael replied, shaking my hand.

As I watched his firm butt walk off in to the

distance I congratulated myself. The line had been

baited, it was only a matter of time before Michael

was hooked, reeled in, and mounted (and I didn't mean

up on the wall). I could hardly wait until I felt some

tugging on my line.

Part Two

To my delight, it only took Michael a month to schedule a new appointment with

me. At least, I think it was only a month. I had been really, really, really

getting into those drugs.

I had spent the intervening time amusing myself by destroying the lives of several

married couples who had come to see me. It's not what it sounds like ... I don't

exist in a moral vacuum, but then again, I'm a liar. I mean, to paraphrase my

main spectacles guy, marriage is a fine institution, but then again, who wants to

live in an institution? Oh man! The drugs!

I ushered Michael into my office and we both sat down.

'Hello Michael, what can I do for you?'

'Well, Doctor ...'

The phone rang.

'Excuse me Michael, I really must take this.' I picked up the phone. 'Hello? ...

Yes ... Yes ... Those charges will never stick and you know it!' I slammed down

the phone in disgust.

Michael was looking at me.

'Damn that Mexican Government.' I offered as way of explanation. 'Now, what

seems to be the problem?'

'Uh, I have another exam ...'

'You do? How did the last one go?' I asked.

'Really well. I got the top marks in the class, and it was all due to you and your

hypnosis.'

'Good, good. I'm glad you realise that.'

'But for my next exam, in forensics, I'm having a lot of trouble concentrating.

The subject matter is very dry.'

'I see, I see. What do you want me to do about it?' I asked, with baited breath.

Baited (geddit?).

'I want you to help me pass my next exam.'

I did a sharp intake of air, as if I had just heard something dramatic.

'What?' Michael asked.

'It'll cost you, personally.'

'I don't care. I want to be a detective.'

'You're not concerned with what I might do to your personality?' I asked, with some

genuine surprise.

'You're a doctor, I trust you.'

'You're a fool!' I said.

'What???' Michael gasped.

'I mean ... you're a fool ... if you think I'd let you down in your hour of need.'

'Oh, that's OK then.' He said. 'I guess I should ask what you are thinking of

changing?'

'Oh, um, as I said, it's a pretty big request. I was thinking of making you slightly

less confident around certain types of people.'

'What? Not women?' Michael asked in alarm.

'No, no. I thought maybe making you feel intimidated by the presence of Politicians

or Dentists or something.'

'That sounds alright.' Michael said warily. 'I'm kind of scared by them already

anyway.'

'Good. Take off your t-shirt ... good. Just let me get my crystal out, and then

we can start ... stud-muffin!'

Michael's body flopped all unconcious-like over my couch.

'Michael, can you hear me?'

'Yes.' He replied, deep in a trance.

'I am pleased you came back to see me. When you have a problem you know I can

solve it for you.'

'Yes.'

'How have you been for the last month?' I asked.

'Yes.' He replied.

'You can answer with more than just a yes or a no ... How have you been for the

last month?'

'with more than just a yes or a no.'

'I didn't mean literally, Michael. Just answer my questions naturally and

truthfully ... leave the comedy to me. Now, how have you been?'

'Good.'

'How did your exam go?'

'Really well.' He replied.

'And who was it all due to?'

'Doctor Conway P. Smuggins, my friend.' He answered.

'That's right. Tell me, have you been drunk in the last month?'

'Yes.'

'Tell me about the last time. When was it?'

'Last Sunday.' Michael said.

'Go on.'

'I had some mates around to watch the footy. It didn't go well.'

'Why not?' I asked.

'I got too drunk. I passed out during the first quarter.'

'You must have drunk a lot.'

'No.'

'How much did you drink?'

'I don't remember after the third stubby.'

I smiled. Three bottles of beer equated to nine for Michael ... that was probably

sixteen standard drinks in less than an hour. Who knows how many he had actually

drunk, five stubbies, maybe six?

'What did you friends say?'

'They laughed at me on Monday. They say I can't hold my liquor.'

'Maybe you can't. You shouldn't binge drink anyway.' For some strange reason, the

thought of Michael beginning to get tipsy after one glass of champagne was turning

me on. The thought of him losing control early in the evening at the pub was

something that pressed the right buttons for me. Still, I wasn't going to rest

on my laurels.

'OK Michael. You want to pass your exam right?'

'Yes.'

'So I need to take something away from one part of you and add to the part of you

that studies for exams. It worked very well last time, OK?'

'Yes.'

'When I tap you on the head, you will give yourself the skills required to

pass your exam.' I tapped him on the head. 'Now you will pass your exam and

know that it was all because of me.'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'Now, I have to extract the cost. As a policeman, you see criminals everyday,

don't you?' I asked.

'Yes.' He replied, with a frown.

'They're dangerous aren't they?'

'Yes. They can be.'

'In fact, to some people, criminals are scary.'

'Yes.'

'You find them scary don't you?'

'No.'

'Some criminals are murdereres and fighters. That can be a little bit

intimidating, can't it?'

'Yes.' Admitted Michael.

'Criminals can be intimidating, can't they?'

'Yes.'

'Criminals are intimidating.'

'Yes.'

Excellent.

'Alright, Michael. You find criminals intimidating. They are all so big and

strong and dangerous. You wonder if you can match them in strength and speed.'

'Yes.'

'They look so grown-up compared to you ... so hardened. You worry you can never

earn their respect.'

'That's right.' He agreed.

'You will have to try and continue to do your job of arresting criminals, but it

will be hard. You feel intimidated and scared by these people. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'OK, that should be enough. Two more things ... whenever you have a problem or

a doubt, only I can help you solve them. You should come and see me whenever you

have a really bad problem you can't tell anyone about. OK?'

'Yes.' He replied.

'And finally, I want you to take up running. I think you should run ten

kilometres a day. Go to the gym three times a week and try to get your body

extra chiselled. Only do all this if you're in tip top condition. I don't want

you to hurt yourself. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

I woke him up and gave him a smile.

'Thanks Doctor, I feel like I could take on the world!'

'I look forward to our next session.' I said.

'I think if I pass this exam I'll be set.' He said. 'Thanks for everything you've

done for me and I wish you luck in the future.'

I smiled. Michael obviously thought that this was the last time he would have to

come here.

'You're a fool.' I said, and this time I didn't even bother trying to cover for

it.

Part Three

Michael was back in my office less than a week after his exam.

'Stud-muffin' I said, before we had even done all the small talk crap. 'Michael,

how did your exam go?'

'Really well. You got me over the line.'

'Good, good. Have you been drinking?'

'Yeah, but it hasn't been fun.'

'Why? What do you mean?' I asked.

'I keep getting drunk too early. My friends all think I'm out of my depth at

the pub. It's very humiliating.' He said.

'True ... and it's going to get worse. From now on, your alcohol tolerance is

only one sixth of what it originally was. So one glass of alcohol is the same

as six glasses.'

'Yes.'

'Now. Tell me about your life. Have you been working out?'

'Yes.' He said.

'What's that like?' I asked.

'Everyday I get up early and go running. It's hard, but I really feel the need

to do it. Then on Monday, Wednesdays and Saturdays I go to the gym for two

hours.'

'What do you do there?'

'Mostly, I lift weights and other upper body exercises. I really need my muscles to

get bigger. I work on my abs until I feel like vomiting.'

'Good. You enjoy it.'

'Yes.'

'You really want big muscles. They can never be big enough, the bigger they are, the

more confidence they give you to face your harsh life. Keep working on your abs. You

like to work-out. You like to have a good body. You like to show it off. You need

to keep working on your abs.'

They were good (damn good), but I was a perfectionist.

'Now Michael, tell me about your work. Have you arrested anybody recently?'

'Yes, dozens of people.'

'What for?'

'Mostly drunks who needed a place to stay.'

'Anyone special?'

'Um ... there's one guy...'

My ears pricked up. 'Oh?'

'He's a hired gun.'

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'He works for the underworld, doing all their dirty work, for money. He's scum.'

An idea began to form. 'Tell me about him. What does he look like?'

'Tall, Solid, Caucausian, short-cropped hair. Only identifiable feature is a large

tattoo on the back. Often unkempt or unshaven. Should be considered extremely

dangerous.'

'Sounds like my ex-wife ... no seriously, good work Michael, you described him like

a real policeman would.' Probably ... I have no idea how a policeman would describe

him. 'But tell me, is he handsome?'

Michael frowned. 'Um.'

'Would a woman find him attractive?' I rephrased the question.

Michael's face relaxed. 'I guess so.'

'What colour are his eyes?'

'I w...w...wouldn't know.'

'What's wrong?' I asked.

'Nothing. Guys just don't notice the colour of other guys' eyes.' He said.

'Michael.' I said sternly. 'You must answer my questions fully and truthfully.

Now, other than the fact you don't notice other guys' eyes' colour, why don't

you know it?'

There was a long pause. 'I ... I ... I can't look him in the eyes.' He finally

managed to get out. He looked so cute all upset like that.

'Relax Michael, relax. Tell me, why can't you look this criminal in the eyes?'

'He intimidates me.'

'Really ... describe that feeling to me.' I said.

'I feel uncomfortable in his presence. I feel small ... and ... inadequate.'

Oh yeah! Jock on the defensive ... I love it.

'That's right, Michael, you are inadequate in his presence. You're not a real

man when you're in his company. Tell me, what is his name?'

'Trent Pollard, but he has several aliases.'

'Trent ... Trent ... that's a nice name.'

Michael screwed up his face.

'What, Michael?'

'It's not a nice name. People like Pollard are scum. They make this community

suffer. He deals drugs and he gets paid to hurt people. If I had my

way he'd be locked away forever.'

This Pollard chap did not sound like a bad person to me, but then again, I'm

not exactly Mary Fuckin' Poppins. 'Will he be locked away forever?'

'No.'

'Why not?' I asked.

'Pollard has agreed to give us details on his bosses in return for clemency.'

'So ... instead of going to jail, he'll be remaining at your station ... in the

lock-up ... for interrogation?'

'Yes.'

'For how long?'

'Two months.' He replied.

This was too good to be true. Michael was my nut, and the nut-cracker was currently

residing at his place of work!

'Alright. Michael, there are two things I want you to do for me. That you must

do for me. Firstly, you have to get on the interrogation team. It is your primary

short-term goal now. I want you in the room with Pollard on a daily basis. You

will get your superiors to trust you on this issue.'

'Yes.'

'Secondly, next time you see Pollard, I want you to soak up every detail you can

about him ... his eye-colour, the shape of his nose, the state of his body ...

every single detail. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'Excellent. You are a very good boy, Michael.'

Michael smiled ... it was like sunshine entering the room.

'Now Michael, before I forget. Why have you come to see me?'

'I...I...I have a problem.'

The difference in Michael from a month ago was quite dramatic. Making a

policeman afraid of criminals had more effect on the ego than I would have

imagined. It was interesting from a purely scientific point of view.

'Tell me, what is your problem?'

'I have an interview next week for the detective squad.'

'What can I do?'

'Lately I haven't been feeling confident. I'm afraid that in the interview I'll

appear nervous.'

I smiled. 'I can help you with that. Whenever you are talking to the people who

are going to interview you, you will feel confident and strong. Understand?'

'Yes.' Michael said, smiling.

'That's about it then.' I said. 'But after your interview, I want you to come

and see me every second day, regardless of whether or not you need my help. OK?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

I woke him up and sent him on his way.

Part Four

When Michael returned to my office a week later, I had a special treat lined up

for us both. Actually, it was only going to be a treat for me. For Michael it

would probably be a humiliating farce.

'Michael, welcome, come in. Please sit down.'

Michael sat down and looked around the office.

'Now, what can I do for you?' I asked.

'Um, I'm not quite sure why I've come here ... I just felt the need to ...'

I enjoyed watching Michael squirm for several moments. 'Stud-muffin' I said.

Michael's eyes glazed over and he leant heavily against the wall at the back of

the couch.

'Michael, when I wake you up, you will stay until I say you can go. Every time I

say your name today, you will feel hotter and thirstier ... by the fifth or sixth

time I say your name you will be parched. It will feel like you're in a desert.

If I offer you a drink you will accept it no matter what it is and drink it all

up as quickly as you can. You will feel instantly refreshed and quenched, but if

I say your name again, you will start feeling thirsty all over again. Do you

understand?'

'Yes.' He said.

'Good. But first, tell me about your week. Did you see Pollard?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'Did you pay close attention to what he looks like?'

'Yes.'

'Describe him to me, like you would to an artist trying to draw him.'

Michael frowned and began to speak. 'He has blue-eyes.'

'What, pale blue? Remember, be descriptive, you're talkin' to an artist here.' I

grinned ... an unkind person might say the only type of artist I was was a

con-artist. I may not know art, but I know what I like ... and Michael ... I LIKE.

'Um ... piercing ... really piercing. Cold and piercing blue eyes.'

'Good, good, go on.'

'Um, he has solid features, kind of a largish nose, but not out of shape. Really

symmetrical. His whole face is symmetrical. I guess you could call it handsome.

Handsome but rugged ... like he's been in the sun a lot.'

'What about his body?'

'He's got a solid body, with a lot of muscles. It's kind of like that Vin Diesel

guy's. He's also got tattoos. One on his shoulder and one on his back. He says he's

got another, but ... uh ... it's private.'

'I see.' It sounded good. 'And will you be part of the interrogation team?'

'Yes. I got transferred there yesterday, as a rookie.'

'Excellent, you must be pleased.'

'I only got it because of my good marks in my exams, which was all due to you.'

'Yes.' I said. 'Alright, tomorrow, during the interrogation session, I want you

to focus on Pollard.'

'Yes.'

'I want you to watch every move he makes, every inflection of his voice, every

cock of the head.'

'Yes.'

'And as you sit there, watching him, I want your mind to begin to wander. No matter

how hard you try, you will be unable to totally focus on what is happening in the

room. You will daydream that the man before you is naked. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'And your daydreams are all pleasant. OK?'

'Yes.'

'One final thing before I let you go. You masturbate, right?'

'Yes.'

'Of course you do. How often?'

'Maybe once a day.'

'OK. From now on, when you masturbate, you will experience a new desire ... a

craving.'

'Yes.'

'You will need to suck on something. A zuccini, a banana ... anything, as long

as it's not part of your own body. Repeat my instruction so that I know you

understand.'

'Whenever I masturbate, I will have a desire to suck something in my mouth.'

'Not just a desire, you will be unable to cum without doing it. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

I woke him up.

'You just dropped by for a chat, did you?' I asked, pretending nothing had happend.

'Uh, yeah ... I guess so. I did well in the interview.' Michael noticed he had been

slumping and sat up straight.

'Good. That's really good, Michael.' I stared intently to see if mentioning his

name got any reaction. It did, not much of a reaction, but he definitely flinched.

'I thought I'd come by and thank you.'

'I appreciate that Michael. You're a good boy ... Michael.'

The effect on Michael was fascinating. Despite the fact the temperature in the

office remained the same the whole time, it really did look like he was suffering

from the heat. His face was flushed and he tugged at his t-shirt to get some cool

air flowing.

'Michael? Are you all right?'

By now he was really sweating. I could see the stain forming in his armpits and

on his chest. He had to wipe the sweat from his forehead. I let him stew for a

minute before asking. 'Say, Michael, do you want something to drink?'

'Oh, yeah, that'd be good. It's so hot today.'

'Yes, isn't it?' I said as I reached in to my desk bar fridge and pulled out two

ice cold bottles of beer. 'Here you go.'

'Uh, th ... th ... thanks.' Michael said, taking the stubby. He looked at it

nervously.

'What's wrong?'

'I, uh, didn't plan on drinking this early in the evening.'

I glanced at the clock. Michael had come here straight after work, as usual, and so

it was barely six o'clock. 'Don't you want it? I can put it back in the fridge if you

want.'

I could see Michael weighing up the options. I knew he really, really had to drink

the drink, but in his mind he honestly thought he had a choice. He knew (as well as

I did) that his recent experiences with alcohol had been less than sophisticated.

'No, it's alright.' He said, opening the bottle and taking a swig from it. As soon

as the liquid touched the back of his mouth, he was gone. Clearly he had been

very thirsty and the rest of the bottle did not even touch the sides of his throat.

I took a sip from my beer and settled in to watch the fireworks.

He placed the empty bottle down on the table and smiled at me. 'Thanks for that,

I was more thirsty than you could realise.' He leant back and I noticed he swayed

a little.

'Are you alright, Michael?' I asked.

He nodded, but I noticed his eyes were losing focus. Sure, a six pack of beer is

not much, but in less than a minute?

'Oh man, that beer has gone straight to my head.' He said, stretching.

'What? Only one beer?'

Michael look down at his feet. 'I can't explain it ... I feel like I've sculled a

whole slab.'

'You're worse than a first year uni student. I've never met a grown man who was

worse at drinking than you, Michael.'

He blushed and grabbed the corner of the couch to steady himself.

'But don't worry, I won't make you drink anything else.' I shook my head sadly,

'Oh Michael, Michael, Michael.'

Instantly, his head snapped up and he began to eye the beer in my hand.

'Don't tell me you're still thirsty?' I asked.

Michael nodded.

'But I'm afraid all I have is another beer. You already seem intoxicated by the

first one, I don't think you should have another.'

'Please ...' Michael's voice sounded like his throat was parched.

I reached into the fridge and pulled out another beer. 'Alright, but take this

one really slowly. I wouldn't want you to get so drunk that a person could take

advantage of you.'

Michael nodded, but after one sip of the beer he had no choice but to down it

as quickly as possible. The effect was almost instant. He began to lurch about

in his seat. He gorgeous eyes half closed, and his mouth opened slightly ... it

was heaven to watch.

'Michael? I said to take it easy!' I protested, taking the bottle off him before

he dropped it.

'I'm sshorry.' He mumbled.

'I'm very disappointed in you.' I said. 'I've got a good mind to spank you.'

Michael shook his head and said in a drunked slur, 'Look man, I'm sorry ... I don't

know what's come over me. I used to drink ... drink ... thirteen beers before I

felt anything ... I could drink anyone under the table. But now look at me!

I'm fuckin' useless.'

'Yes, yes you are.' I said. 'Now, I want you to leave. Good luck walking back to

your apartment. I'll see you in two days.'

Michael stumbled to his feet. It was tragic. He lurched to the doorway and grabbed

onto it for support. I watched for five minutes as he walked down the street,

tripping over his feet and vomiting in the gutter. My control of this man was

absolute and I loved it.

Part Five

The Michael that came to see me two days later was a haunted man.

He sat on the couch and fidgeted nervously as I finished my

paperwork (the crossword) in silence.

'Michael, I'm surprised you've come back, after that disgraceful

display two days ago.'

Michael looked at his feet and mumbled an apology.

'But don't worry about it. I don't mind it when you get too drunk

in my office, because you're such a stud-muffin.'

Upon saying his trigger phrase, Michael's eyes glazed over and he

went in to a trance.

'No matter how embarrasing it is, you must come and see me every

two days.' I said.

'Yes.' He replied.

'Now, tell me about your life. How did your evening go after our

last session?' I asked.

'I don't really remember much of it. It took me about three hours

to get home. I got lost. I remember vomiting in the yard of a

synagogue.'

'Really?' I asked. 'That's interesting, because I'm Jewish.'

Michael looked at me. 'Then why are you eating that ham sandwich?'

I looked at my sandwich. 'It's kosher, it's been blessed by the

pope or something.'

'And the bucket of shrimp?' He asked, gesturing to my small silver

bucket of freshed harvested shrimp.

'It doesn't say anywhere in the Koran I'm not allowed to eat

shrimp.' I said.

'The Koran is for Islam. The Torah is the Jewish book.' He said.

By now I was indignant. 'Torah, Koran ... what's the difference?

They all say we're going to hell ...'

'Actually ...' Michael began.

'Silence!' I barked. Michael fell quiet. 'You will forget that

I'm Muslim.'

'Jewish.'

'I said silence!' I said. I took a few deep breaths. 'Now, what

happened after you got home?'

'I fell asleep until the next day. I woke up at about 10am. I was

late to work.'

'I see. What happened at work?'

Michael frowned. 'It was terrible.'

'Why? What happened?' I asked, leaning forward in my chair.

'We were interrogating Pollard all day. I was so tired I had

trouble concentrating.'

'Pollard, you say? He's the criminal you fancy, right?'

'NO!' Michael said. 'I hate him.'

'Oh, that's right, my mistake. Why do you hate him?' I asked.

'I've told you already ... people like that are scum.'

'No Michael. That is not the real reason you don't like him, that

is the reason you tell yourself. Tell me, how does Pollard make

you feel?'

Michael paused, he began to blush. 'I feel small. His muscles are

so big compared to mine. Whenever I'm in the room with him, I

can't help but notice how he's so much more of a man than I am.

I've never felt inferior before, but he seems so strong.'

'I see. You said you were having trouble concentrating. What was

distracting you?'

Michael swallowed and blushed even more. 'I kept day-dreaming.'

'What about?'

'About Pollard. About him being naked. I could see his huge

muscles ... so much bigger than mine. I kept imagining what his

hidden tattoo looks like.'

I nodded. Michael had followed my instructions to the letter and

it was tearing him apart.

'Now we have come to the true source of your hate for Pollard.

You are envious of him. You wish you had muscles as big as his.

He is a real man, while you are just a boy pretending to be a man.'

Michael nodded.

'When you were daydreaming about seeing Pollard naked, did you

picture his dick in anyway?'

'Not really.' Michael said.

'From now on, when you think of Pollard's penis, you will know

that it is twice the size of yours ... a real man's dick. That

is another reason you resent him. Now tell me, why do you hate

Pollard?'

'I envy him. I envy his big muscles and his big dick. He is a

real man and I am just a pretender.'

'That's right. You envy him. You hate him, but you realise that

the hate is mostly directed at yourself. In fact you secretly

admire his body and that makes you mad. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'Good. You will continue to day-dream about Pollard. But the

focus of your day-dreams will shift from his body to his cock

and his hidden tattoo. You will find yourself increasingly

curious as to what his cock must look like. OK?'

'Yes.'

'Now, tell me about what happened last night. Did you

masturbate?'

'Kind of.' Michael said.

'What happened? Remember, you must tell me the whole

truth.' I said.

'I was lying in bed...' He began.

'What were you wearing?' I interrupted, wanting to picture this

total jock in his bedroom.

'Just my normal pair of white briefs.' He said.

'Good, good. Continue.'

'I was horny, you know, and so I began to stroke my ... uh ...

I began to stroke myself.'

I smiled. I was tempted to tell Michael that he could freely

use the words "cock", "dick" and "penis", but it was cute to

see him try to retain some modesty here.

'It felt really nice, as usual, but then, I felt strange ...

like something was missing.'

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'I felt ... empty, like what I was doing was wrong.'

'What did you do?'

'I tried to go on, but the feeling was too strong, so I

stopped. It was bad, I was all horny with nothing to

do.' He added.

'Did you try sucking anything?' I asked.

'I put my thumb in my mouth for a little while but it didn't

help.' He said, embarrassed.

'Michael, from now on, you MUST cum at least once a day. You

will get so horny that your masturbation sessions must reach

an end, but remember, to be able to cum you must be sucking

something. You only feel whole and normal with your lips

wrapped around something long and suckable. OK?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'To help you realise this unconcious desire, after our

session here you will go to the green grocer and buy anything

there that would satisfy your desire. Tonight when you try

to masturbate, it will occur to you that one of those items

might help you. What you do then is up to you.' I lied.

I looked at him. 'Also, from now on, you will sleep naked, on

top of the sheets of your bed. When you get up in the morning,

you will not want to wear clothes. You will only get dressed if

you absolutely need to, like going for a jog or to work. If you

can eat your breakfast in the nude, you will. If you can clean

your house in the nude, you will. Do you understand?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'When you are in the interrogation room, your underwear will be

uncomfortable and constricting. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'Alright then, I think we're about finished for today.' I said.

There was a knock on the door.

'Come in.' I said.

Another patient on mine, Simon, entered.

'Ah, Simon.' I said. 'Welcome. Michael this is Simon, Simon

this is Michael. He can't answer you because he is currently

hypnotised.'

'Hypnotised?' Simon asked, looking as Michael stared blankly

ahead. 'I didn't think that stuff was real.'

'Why are you here, Simon?' I asked smugly.

Simon's brow furrowed. 'I ... I ... can't remember.'

'That's because you're hypnotised too.'

'I am?' Simon asked in puzzlement.

'Didn't you wonder why you, a dedicated ladies' man, decided

to wear a tight t-shirt with the words "Cock-Suckah" printed

on them today?'

Simon looked at his attire and seemed to notice the offending

item of clothing for the first time. 'What the hell? What

the fuck have you done to me, you faggot???' He demanded.

'Take a seat, Blow-job Boy.' I commanded. "Blow-job Boy" was

Simon's command phrase. Instantly he zoned out and sat down on

the couch next to Simon.

'As I was saying, Michael, this is Simon, he's a separate

project I've been working on. As well as being a homophobe,

he once borrowed a library book just before I really needed

it. He was a bit scrawny when we first met, but I've had

him doing enough working out for all three of us. He's almost

as bad at holding his alcohol as you are.'

I really had Simon on the grind, he probably spent five or

six hours a day meeting my strict exercise requirements. It

showed, his skin was glowing with vitality and his athletic

but well built muscles smoothly expanded and contracted

whenever he moved.

I looked at them both sitting there. Hard-bodies, skin tight

clothing, handsome beyond compare ... an idea was forming on

how to tighten the screws on both of these two hunks at the

same time.

'Michael, Simon, you two are now best friends. You enjoy

the company of each other so much that three days can not

pass without the two of you going out some place, like a

nightclub or the movies. You particularly like drinking with

each other, even though you both have a very low tolerance

for drink. Do you understand?'

In unison, they both replied, 'Yes.'

'Now, you are both such good friends that neither of you

think anything at all about crashing at the other man's

house overnight when you're too drunk or too far, from

home. Also, you're both such good friends that you are

willing to forgive the strange behaviour of the other.

For example, Simon, when you go around to Michael's place,

you may notice he eats his corn flakes in the nuddie.

Michael, you may notice that every day Simon puts a new

poster of a boy-band up in his bedroom. You will both

think that this sort of behaviour is odd, but will be

willing to ignore it for the sake of your strong

friendship. Okay Michael, you can go.'

I gave them both details of where the other lived and

then I woke Michael up and he left the room. Simon continued

to sit.

'I was about to send you off to Canada today, Simon, but

I've invented a new game. You will continue with all the

orders I have already given you over the last few months,

but in addition to putting boy-band posters on your

wall, every third poster must now be of a naked man. You

may go.'

I woke Simon up and sent him on his way. He only felt the

need see me once a week, so I would be seeing Michael a

few times before that. It was going to be interesting.

Part Six

'Stud-muffin.' I said. 'Stud-muffin.' I said again.

'I'm sorry sir, I mustn't have heard you correctly, do you

or do you not want fries with your order?' The girl behind

the window asked me.

'Do you mind?' I asked her, lowering my hand mirror. 'I'm

trying to put myself in a positive frame of mind.'

It was the day after yesterday. An odd thing to say, until

you realise it is not as odd as saying 'Yes, I am interested

in hearing all about your new phone plan.' What I mean is

that the session with Michael where Simon had walked in had

occurred yesterday. I was not scheduled to see Michael again

until tomorrow (the day after today) and Simon not for a week.

I took my meal of the lady and drove slowly forward.

Michael walked across the driveway in front of me as I was

about to pull out on to the road. It was the first time I

had seen him in his costime ... I mean policeman uniform.

I was impressed. The thin cotton fabric of the pants

augmented the tight buns underneath.

'Michael!' I called out, pulling into a parking bay.

Michael saw me and walked over. I opened the passenger

door for him and gestured for him to get in. He glanced

around and said. 'I can't stay and chat, Doctor, I have to

get back to the office in fifteen minutes.'

'Hop in, sit down and shut-up, stud-muffin.' I said.

Like a zombie, he marched around to the open door and got in.

'Now, tell me, where have you been?'

'I just took my lunch-break. I had a crap morning so I called

Simon up and we went and ate a good meal.'

I was moderately surprised at how quickly the two of them had

started being friends.

'How did it go?'

Michael smiled. 'Really well, Simon's good fun.'

'Did he do anything weird?' I asked.

Michael thought about it for a second. 'Now that you mention

it, I did find it a bit odd when he asked me for my

underwear.'

I had to chuckle. Poor Simon needed to find a pair of another

man's undies, used, everyday. It was surprisingly difficult

to get them apparantly, especially when you hated people

thinking you were gay.

'What did you say?'

'I didn't get a chance to reply. As soon as he asked he

got embarrassed and told me to forget about it. It was odd,

but everyone is entitled to their quirks.'

'That's right. Now tell me, why was your morning so bad?'

'We were interrogating Pollard.'

'How does that go?'

'I don't ask any questions, 'cause I'm in training. I just

have to stand there and look dangerous.' Michael said, 'It's

very boring.'

'I can imagine. What happened today?' I asked.

'I went to the gym early this morning, because my muscles

are so small and I want them to be bigger, as big as

Pollard's. Then he won't look down on me anymore. When I

finished the work out they were really pumped and I was

proud of them, but by the time we entered the interrogation

room they had relaxed again.'

'I see. What happened then?'

'I tried to concentrate, but it was so boring. I started

to daydream again ... terrible daydreams.' He said.

'What about?' I asked, muching on my Big Mac before

it got cold.

'His cock. His giant cock.' Michael whispered. 'Everytime I

look at him, I imagine him naked, so much bigger than me.'

'It must be very humilating.' I said.

'I can hardly stand it.' He replied.

'slurp' I had reached the bottom of my drink.

'And what about last night? Did you masturbate?'

'Yes.' Michael said, turning a bright shade of red.

'What happened?'

'I went to bed but I couldn't sleep.' He said.

'Why?'

'I was so hot. I felt like I was burning up, so I got rid

of my sheet and briefs. That was heaps better, but then I

started to get horny again.'

'So?'

'I started strokin' ... it felt soooo good. I just lay there,

cool and naked in the dark, rubbing ... myself ... up and

down.'

'But you couldn't cum?'

'No. Something felt out of place. I felt really empty and

... I dunno ... naughty or something.'

'What did you do?'

'I got up and went looking for something. I wasn't quite sure

what I needed, but when I got to the kitchen, I saw it.'

'What?'

'A banana I had bought earlier that day.'

'What did you do?'

'I went to eat it, but just before I peeled it, I wondered

what it would feel like in my mouth.'

'And ...' I prompted.

'I put it in my mouth.' He said.

'Is that it?' I asked.

'It felt good too. I just stood there for a few minutes

enjoying the feel of the long, soft fruit filling my

mouth, but then I started to lick it, you know, like an

ice-cream. I don't know why, but it felt so right. Like it

was natural, right?'

'I understand, I like fresh fruit too.'

'Nah, this was different. It wasn't the fruit that I was

enjoying. It was the pressure in my mouth. It felt right to

have something large and solid past my teeth. As I sucked on

it, I could feel myself get harder. I continued stroking for

a few minutes, all the time sucking faster and faster on the

banana. After a while I realised that it felt better if I

pulled the banana in and out of my mouth ... in and out. It

felt so good, better than any wank I've ever had before.

I came pretty much soon after that.'

I had nothing to say, to hear such a hot body describe his

masturbation session was the stuff dreams were made of. I

noticed too, that the thought of his recent wank had caused

Michael to stiffen too.

'What did you do with the cum?' I asked, finally.

'I caught most of it in a rag, but I had to clean some off

the floor. It was more difficult than usual because I wasn't

wearing any clothes.'

'I see. That was a waste of cum. From now on, after you

masturbate you have to lick the jism up. Do you understand?'

'Yes.' Michael said.

'You will lick it up and you will enjoy the taste.

Masturbating with something in your mouth and then eating

the cum makes the session twice as good as any jerk-off

you've had before. OK?'

'Yes.' He replied.

'Are you going to masturbate tonight?'

'I don't know. Simon and I are going to the pub later, so I

might not get the chance.' Michael said, not realising he

was under orders to masturbate once a day.

'If you do, I want you to enjoy sucking on your banana, or

whatever, so much that you involuntarily start to make

little wimpering noises, moaning from the pleasure. OK?'

'Yes.' He replied.

'Excellent, enjoy your afternoon at work!' I commanded. I

woke him up. Michael looked around him in a bit of a daze.

'You better hurry up, Michael, you're late for work.' I

said.

Michael looked at his watch. 'Shit!' He said, jumping out

of the car.

'Michael!' I yelled out, forcing him to come back.

'Could you put this in the bin for me?' I asked, handing

him the wrappers from my fast-food meal. He took them

and jogged off.

I picked up my hand-mirror and looked at my gorgeous

reflection. 'You are a stud-muffin' I said.

To Be Continued...

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I am aiming for something that builds up slowly.

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