You awake, strapped to a bed. Where are you? What happened?
“Ah good,” comes a man’s voice, “I’m so glad you’re awake.”
Your neck is locked in place by some sort of wire cage. You can’t even turn to see who is speaking. What you can see is a few banks of screens, and a small table full of surgical instruments. Then you see it. Straight above you, some kind of drill. You have a bad feeling about this.
Finally, you think to speak.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“Ah, forgive my lack of manners,” comes the reply. “I am Dr. Ambrose. Though some call me Dr. Ambrosia.”
That sounds odd, but this whole situation is odd, and terrifying.
“As for what I want,” the doctor continued, “What I want from you… is you.”
“This is all for science.”
“The experiments, the subjects, all of it.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“Then let me be blunt, I’m going to drill into your head, then rewire your personality.”
“Some have said that, others, very wealthy others, disagree.”
“Let me go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You were specifically requested.”
“Requested? By who?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Now, it’s time for the anesthetic.”
“It will all be for the best.”
He comes into view, almost a stereotype of a mad scientist. Bushy white hair and beard. Coke bottle thick glasses, and a pocket protector. You’d laugh, if this weren’t so serious. He holds a syringe.
“I’ll be freezing all the pain sensors in your head, but you’ll be awake and able to answer.”
“Oh God, no.”
“Relax, it’s for the best.”
“For both of us.”
How was that possible? He moves out of sight again. That’s when you hear it. The sound of machinery firing up. A light on the drill above you clicks on. Then you think it, maybe this is all a nightmare? You will yourself to wake up. Nothing happens.
“Wake up!” you say, accidentally out loud.
“You’re not the first to think this is a dream,” comes Dr. Ambrose’s voice. “I assure you it isn’t… yet.”
“What the hell does that mean?” you cry out in frustration. You struggle against the straps holding you down, but it’s futile.
The drill begins to turn.
“As I say, you won’t feel a thing.”
“But what are you going to do?.”
“I told you, I’m going to rewire your brain. Alter your personality, make you into who my client wants you to be.”
“Money over morals, and science over all,” he says matter-of-factly.
The drill looks like it’s up to full speed. Sweat breaks out on your forehead.
“I know this must be scary; however I assure you, it will only last a little while. Now to begin.”
The drill begins to lower.
“No, please no!” you cry out. It makes no difference, the drill still approaches. The fear and anticipation don’t last long. You don’t feel any pain as the drill hits, and your neck is locked in place, but you do feel pressure. You close your eyes as blood runs from your forehead. It’s quickly wiped away. You open your eyes again, just in time to see some sort of strange device, like a mechanical spider, move out of view towards your forehead. You hear a few clicks and a whirr, then silence.
“Excellent,” comes Dr. Ambrose’s voice. “Now, how do you feel?”
“There’s no pain.”
“Do you feel any different?”
“I don’t think so.”
“As to be expected. Let me unstrap you.”
“You’re letting me go?”
“I’m letting you stand. No violence, please.”
You make no such promise.
He removes the headpiece first, then the right leg, right arm, left arm, left leg. You sit up and look around; the lab is like something out of a science magazine. State of the art and packed with expensive looking equipment. You spot a mirror on one wall and catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re shocked to see the strange metal spider thing is now embedded in your forehead. You reach for it.
“Don’t touch that, please,” says the doctor and your hand freezes in place.
“Because I said please.”
“Ok,” you reply. Wait, what?
“You see, the device is already functioning, and among the first changes it makes is conditioning you to obey my requests, so long as I use the word please.”
“Believe me, please.”
It all makes sense. Dr. Ambrose obviously knows what he is talking about.
“But I don’t want to be reprogrammed.”
“I could simply make you want to, but I want to experiment a bit first.”
“Sit down, please.”
You sit without question or hesitation. And it doesn’t even feel bad. You’re calming down a lot.
“Ah, it’s begun reprogramming your fear sensors. Shutting them down. You’re no longer scared, because you’re not allowed to fear. And fear is such a nuisance after all. Better to be rid of it.”
“Fear can be good.”
“Not in your new life.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not going back to your old life; you have a new one waiting.”
“Stop complaining about it, please.”
You go silent.
“Now, can you please focus on answering my questions?”
“Call me Dr. Ambrosia, please.”
“Yes, Doctor Ambrosia.”
“Now, tell me, how do you feel?”
“Surprisingly calm, I guess.”
“Yes, your fight or flight reflex is being dulled away. There’s no need to escape, there’s no need to fear, everything is fine.”
“I guess so.”
“Kiss my feet.”
“What? I don’t want to.”
“You resist, but barely, and that resistance is ebbing away with each synapse the device rewrites.”
That sounds true.
“Let’s try something easier. Stick out your tongue, please.”
You do, it’s no big deal.
“Now lick your hand.”
Why not? You run your tongue up your palm.
“Don’t you find it warm in here?” Dr. Ambrosia asks, “Take your shirt off, please.”
It is hot; it would be far more comfortable without your t-shirt. You quickly pull it off. You stand, bare-chested, feeling no shame.
“Ah good,” says the doctor, “Your modesty seems to be all but gone. Take your pants off too, please.”
They were pretty uncomfortable, best to take them off.
“Don’t wear socks and boxers; take the socks off too, please.”
You did look ridiculous. Best to remove the socks. Besides, standing in your underwear is no big deal. Who cares, really?
“By now, you should be growing eager to show off your body, eager to be watched, adored.”
You were looking pretty good, it was true. It was a pity there was no one there to see you but Dr. Ambrosia.
“And, by this stage, you should be craving approval, strongly.”
It would be nice if he said something about your body while he was blathering on. Couldn’t he see how good you looked?
“Your pleasure center is also being stimulated. You’re feeling better with each passing moment.”
You do feel pretty good, it’s true.
“Your doubts and fears are fading, forever. With each second you obey more easily, more eagerly.”
That… sounds true.
“Listen carefully to the next two words I say: Good boy.”
A shudder runs through you, a shudder of approval and joy.
“These are now the most important words you can hear. Good boy.”
This time, a wave of pleasure washes over your mind and body.
“You live to hear these words, from Dr. Ambrosia, and from your new owner.”
Owner? Who is that?
“I see you are curious, but I’ll let the device work a little longer before I reveal that surprise.”
That sounds lovely.
“You crave pleasure. Pleasure is now the most important thing in your life. Pleasure comes, by serving. Serving Dr. Ambrosia, and serving your new owner.”
There’s that word again. It feels… exhilarating.
“Imagine serving. Serving forever. Feeling pleasure from serving, so serving better, so feeling more pleasure, so serving more deeply, so feeling more pleasure, so serving more completely.”
It all makes sense now.
“Hedonism, is your life now. And you have only just begun to understand what that means.”
Somehow, you find it in yourself to speak aloud.
“Teach me, Dr. Ambrosia, please.”
“Then kneel before me.”
It feels so right to just sink to your knees. It feels so natural to prostrate yourself before Dr. Ambrosia. It feels… almost sexual.
“The device is burning subservience into you. Now, you live to obey and serve. Serve and obey. Obey and serve.”
“Nothing brings you greater pleasure than to please. You want to please. Need to please. Crave nothing more than to please.”
Pleasing is pleasure, of course.
“Soon, you will give yourself to your new owner. You will devote yourself to your new owner. You are already eager to meet that owner.”
It’s practically all you can think of. Meeting the new center of your life.
“The device is preparing the imprint procedure. As soon as you see that owner you will, instantly and forever, imprint on them. You will be theirs. You will be unable to question them. You will be their willing slave.”
It sounds amazing…
“You will bring your owner pleasure, in any way that owner desires. In return, you will receive pleasure of your own. Pull those underwear down, and get out your cock.”
It feels like you’ve been waiting your entire life for him to say that.
“You are hard. Soon, you will require permission to even get hard. When instructed, you will get hard, and stay hard, like a human dildo.”
Your cock is twitching.
“You want to touch yourself.”
“You crave it.”
Oh fuck yeah.
“But, you will never touch your cock in a sexual manner without permission, again.”
It’s true; you know it to be true.
“Hearing that makes you even more excited. The pleasure sensors of your brain are being enhanced. In time, you will feel pleasure beyond anything you have ever known.”
The anticipation is tearing you apart.
“Your new Master will grant you pleasure like nothing you have ever known. Your Master will be your pleasure. Your Master is your pleasure.”
You want to meet your new Master, so badly.
“Now, grab your cock.”
You obey instantly. Just grasping your rock hard dick feels better than anything you can remember.
“Your sexual desires grow with each passing second. Your will fades. Your disobedience is gone. There is no hesitation, no doubt. The little voice inside your head, the one that wanted you to run, will never speak again. You are a pleasure puppet. This is what you were destined to be,”
A pleasure puppet? Whatever that means, it sounds great.
“There is nothing too perverse. There is nothing too kinky. There is nothing you will not do for your Master.”
At this moment, it’s true. At this moment, nothing else matters but Dr. Ambrosia’s control, and your hand on your aching cock. You’ve never had blue balls like this before.
“Soon, you will masturbate. You’ve never wanted to jerk off more in your entire life.”
You’ve never wanted anything more in your entire life.
“And soon, your Master will be revealed.”
It couldn’t be soon enough.
“Now, start jerking your cock, very slowly.”
Finally, you have permission. Finally, you can stroke.
“Even this slight stimulation will set your new pleasure circuits ablaze.”
It’s like a wave, washing over you. Your cock has never been this sensitive.
You obey without hesitation. The mere idea of not enthusiastically following Dr. Ambrosia’s every command is foreign to you.
“Now, repeat each line I say. With each repetition, the phrase is burned into your open, suggestible mind, forever.”
You’re so eager to begin.
“Repeat: I obey my Master, always.”
“I obey my Master always.” It seems so obvious.
“Repeat: I submit to my Master completely.”
Another repetition, another new fact.
“Repeat: My Master’s pleasure comes before all else.”
I still didn’t know who my Master was; yet I already knew Master was the most important thing in my life.
“Repeat: Obedience is pleasure.”
“Obedience is pleasure.”
“Repeat: Submission is bliss.”
“Submission is bliss.”
Your cock is alive with pleasure; but not as much as your heart. You begin pumping, feeling more pleasure than you have ever felt, and you’ve barely begun.
“Your old life is gone. You will not miss it. It fades, like a dream.”
It’s hard to think of anything before today, before now, before this incredible pleasure took hold of your cock.
“You seek to be a good boy. You are a good boy.”
The thrill of hearing those words is even more than the pleasure of your cock.
“You want to be a good slave. You are a good slave.”
Again, such a thrill. Such pure, and total, ecstasy.
“Stroke harder. Stroke faster.”
You’ve never wanted to follow an order more than this moment.
“Let the pleasure build, but do not cum. You will cum when you see your new Master, and receive permission, not before.”
Of course, as always, it makes perfect sense. You will never cum without permission ever again.
“The anticipation grows like the pleasure. Building. Building. Building.”
You have never felt like this before. You never knew it was even possible to feel this good. What would it feel like to meet your new Master? What would it feel like to cum?
“Your Master will be your everything. Your Master is your everything.”
Everything, yes, yes, of course. What else could possibly matter?
“Your Master matters more than the family you once had. More than the job you will never return to.”
Job? Did you have a job? Perhaps once… no longer. You were no longer an employee, you were a slave.
“There is no philosophy left in your mind. You are a hedonist, and nothing more.”
Hedonism, sounds right, feels right, is right.
“Your Master is coming, and then you will cum.”
Each second of waiting is an eternity, an eternity of anticipation and pleasure.
“Your Master approaches. Seeing your Master is all you want, all you need, all you care about.”
You want it, need it, crave it.
“You need not think. Thinking is too hard.”
It is, it’s so hard. Wait, what are you thinking about?
“Your Master will think for you. Your Master already thinks for you.”
Whatever your new thoughts may be, you know they will be wonderful. You know they will bring you nothing but pleasure.
“Your Master is coming. You will cum. Your Master is coming. You will cum.”
So close, to meeting your Master, and to cumming.
“Is slave ready?”
You nod, vigorously.
“Remember, you will cum only when your Master grants permission.”
Need, permission. You need permission. You have never needed anything more in your entire life.
“Watch as the door opens; watch as your Master appears.”
It feels like a million years as the door opens. Then, your Master enters.
For a second, you are able to recognize your old boss, and wonder how he afforded all this.
Then, your Master speaks.
And it is over; my last true thought of my own is…