Work Text:
"Good evening, Mr. Hatcher."
He startles from his place on the sofa chair as the doctor returns.
"Hello, Doctor," he says, folding his hands, trying to look intentional and not, just, tense . He wonders if he should stand up or not…
"You may stay seated," the doctor waves his hand casually as he closes the door.
So, he stays, and wearily watches the doctor as he waits for the man to sit down, but he detours at his desk. Waiting still, he taps his shoe repeatedly against the carpet. It's obscenely soft, to the point where he doubts the doctor will hear. Besides, it helps him gather his thoughts.
It's really late… he always stays late here to work on assignments because no one comes into the old psych building. Not since they built the new expansion in the central location. This one is out of the way comparatively. It makes for a quiet workspace though.
He's seen the doctor occasionally. During the day, he's appointed by various professors to run the occasional demo for seminars. He seems extremely knowledgeable, but the man doesn't seem to have a class of his own.
He's in this building frequently enough though. Some nights he even sees the man stepping in or out of one of the rooms. He's never interacted with the doctor though, not more than a smile of acknowledgement.
But that's been fine. The man never indicated distaste to his presence, so… it was never an issue.
So why did the doctor call him over to his office? And through another door into a study? He thought maybe the doctor wanted to share something relevant to the classes, or maybe to scold him for being here so late. But why? Why this so suddenly? Why is he—
"So, Mr. Hatcher," the doctor says, and the boy startles again. The man is facing him, and sitting down into the cushioned seat opposite of him. "It's quite late isn't it?"
"I didn't mean to be trespassing," he says automatically, already anticipating the worst. "I'm just doing work."
"You don't like the new building?"
"I do!" He insists, too eagerly. What answer will make the best impression!? "It's fine. But it gets crowded."
The doctor smiles, and the boy feels like he's at least answered favorably.
"Yes," the man says. "Much more noise and foot-traffic there. Hm… you like this building?"
"I do," he responds, more sincerely. "It's… uh… cozier."
The doctor smiles again. "That's right. I like the old-fashioned architecture myself. That's why I keep my office here."
The boy nods along. It is very nice. If he were a professor, this is the kind of office he would want to keep, with a nice sequestered study to work within, away from pestering ears. It's very nice.
"Hm… do you like it?"
The boy realizes he was distracted, studying the warm lighting too much.
"Yes," he says quickly. "It's, um… very comfortable in here."
"That's good," the doctor smiles, and then there's a pause just long enough for the boy's self-consciousness to creep in.
"Um…" he starts, needing to say something . "Am I in trouble?"
"Certainly not," the doctor responds, looking so reassuredly calm. "Just interested in conversing with a like-minded scholar."
"Oh, alright," he lets himself settle a bit more. So maybe the doctor does have something related to the seminars he wants to discuss.
"Hm, something I wanted to ask you though, are you tired?"
He flinches with guilt, but shakes his head. "No, no, I would've been here another hour or two."
"Is that so? You look tired, you know?"
"I do?" He tries to play it off, but he can't really deny it.
"You do." The man confirms. His tone is nonchalant, forgiving even, but he still feels like he's been caught somehow…
He breathes a small laugh, trying to cover up his guilt. "Yeah. Just some stress."
"Hm… you know, I have some techniques that are very good for removing stress. I'd love to extend my services."
"Oh no, I couldn't possibly!" He doesn't even know what that would entail.
"Nonsense," the man insists. "And you may consider it a learning opportunity, insofar as explaining the subjectivity of one's mind, what encourages calming responses, how to generate positive associations, and how to apply that knowledge."
"Oh." He says, considering the information. It actually does sound interesting and relevant to the work he's been studying. "That does sound interesting…"
The doctor smiles. "It is. And it's effective.
"That sounds… very enticing then."
"Hm," the doctor smiles at him. "Then let's start with fewer words, shall we? It will aid your calming to be concise with your answers. Don't overthink your responses. Simply state your truths."
"Oh, um," he considers, and squirms. Guess this is happening? "Okay. I can do that."
"Ah-ah, more concise; more certainty. Be sure and true to yourself."
He sits a little straighter, and speaks as clearly as he can for the man, "Yes."
He smiles. "Very good. You will be sure of yourself, and answer confidently and concisely, understand?"
He nods. "Yes."
"Very good. You will remain seated, and let yourself be comfortable, understand?"
Hm, yes, it is comfortable. He settles a bit more. "Yes."
"Good. You will listen to my words, and hear the suggestions and thoughts for your consideration, understand?"
Okay… so all he has to do is listen. "Yes."
"Good. You will listen and consider my words. You may close your eyes at any time. You will gradually relax. Relax, and let yourself be calm, breathe evenly, and let yourself relax."
Hm… this looks like it's going to be a guided meditation, or some kind of light hypnosis. The doctor has always mentioned the suggestibility of the mind, but the boy himself had never been subjected to one of these demonstrations… he wonders if it could be effective…
He inhales, and exhales in slow intervals, willing himself to relax as instructed.
"Understand?"
He jolts a little, realizing his gaze was settled at the carpet and he wasn't really listening.
"Sorry, I, ah, uh—"
"No guilt, none of that," the doctor shakes his head. "If you don't respond in time, I will merely ask again. You do not need to worry about punctuality, understand?"
He sighs in relief, and lets himself relax back into the cushioned seat. "Yes."
"Very good." The man says, and then he returns to his statements. "You are relaxing. Calmer and calmer. Breathe in… and out… in… and out… in… out… in… out…"
He focuses on his breathing, getting the intervals right. It's easy to fall into a rhythm.
"In… out… in…"
His eyes wander to the carpet again, noticing all the little shapes there. It's a really ornate carpet, perfectly indicative of the old-fashioned styling the whole building exudes...
"out… in… out…"
It has a lot of curling shapes, fleur-de-lis, and twisting vine-like lines...
"Keep your breathing even, understand?"
"... Yes." he says, relieved for not missing his response this time. And all he has to do is relax. It's easy.
"In… 5… 4… 3… 2… out… in… 5… 4… 3… 2… out… relaxing breaths… calming your mind… casting out your worries… only think of your calming breaths. In… 5… 4… 3… 2… out… in… 5… 4… 3… 2… out..."
He keeps his breathing even and in-time with the counting pace. It's easy. his eyes return to the carpet and occupy his visual senses with the wild shapes.
"In… 5… 4… 3… 2… out… in… 5… 4..."
He wonders if he could trace a path from one end of the carpet to the other.
"Out… in… 5… 4… 3…"
Or if there are dead-ends in the lines. Stopping and starting all though-out.
"... 4… 3… 2…"
It's soft too. He couldn't even hear his shoes when he walked on it. That must mean it's good quality.
Chair is good too. Really comfortable. Warm too, but looks too old-fashioned to be heated. Must be warm because he's sitting in it. And the office is warm. But comfortable warm. Good warm.
"Understand?"
His consciousness jolts a little and he's about to utter a groggy whaaaat? , but he stops himself, remembering the doctor's suggestion.
Right, the doctor doesn't want him to fret about that. Okay. Nothing to panic about. Just calm. The man will repeat himself if it's anything important.
"Your body is relaxing, understand?"
Ah. Yes, he understands. It's true, he's relaxing.
"Yes." he says, slurring maybe.
"Very good. Your body is relaxing. You are feeling calm. Resting is becoming easier for you. Continue your breathing. Breathe… breathe… let yourself sink into calm…"
It registers that his vision is fuzzy, he realizes his eyes are half-closed. He could open them back up, but…
Let yourself sink into calm… let yourself breathe… and drift…
his eyelids settle and blanket him in a warm dark. The soft lighting of the room and the warm colors all throughout make a warmly dark haze inside his eyes.
Nice… this is nice…
Yes, it makes it easier to listen to the doctor, without the carpet pattern distracting him…
"You're drifting… drifting… easily… freely… it's easy to be calm… so easy… so simple…"
He looks at the dark spots of color behind his eyes. Indistinct, hazy shapes, swelling, spiralling maybe. Disappearing. Dark, warm. Floating vaguely, maybe.
"Understand?"
It's relaxing… it's nice. Really warm. Really nice, really simple. He's relaxed. Really calming. It's nice…
"Understand?"
He's drifting… it's relaxing... it's easy… it's nice… it's easy…
-
The doctor pauses. He tries again, just to be sure.
"Your body is relaxed, understand?"
The young man remains breathing, but makes no acknowledgement.
The doctor smiles. Perfect.
"Your body is relaxed." he says. "That is your truth. Where you are. You are relaxed, calm, and free of stress. This is relaxing. Your body is relaxed."
He pauses, and lets the boy's half-conscious mind nibble at those details.
Then the doctor continues.
"You arrived to calm so easily. It's easy to be calm. You can be calm at just the sound of a word. The word relax makes you so calm. Every time I say the word… relax … you return to this… calm… so relaxed…"
He pauses again, letting the words absorb and settle into the boy's brain, then he speaks again.
"Now, wake up a little, just a bit, come back now, just a little, juuuust a little now…"
The boy twitches at the unfamiliar words, stirring his consciousness.
"You're so much less stressed now, understand?"
"Mn… yes…"
"Hm… you're so… very calm, understand?"
He seems to settle more at that reassurance. Because it's true. He is calm.
".......... Yes……"
"That's right. You have been so calm… it's so easy to be calm. Even just single words make you this calm. The word relax … and sinking … and deeper… and sleep … all these words make your body so… relaxed ... understand?"
"... mn............... Yes…….."
He smiles. "Very good. It's easy to relax. Easy to forget."
There's the slightest twitch in his expression, uncertain of how to interpret the input.
"Your mind is so heavy with thoughts and memories," he explains. "Letting them go releases that tension. It makes you so much more calm to just let them go . Understand?"
It takes him a little longer, like he's contemplating it, until, finally, "... Yes…"
"That's right." The man smiles. "Your memories and thoughts are loose. When they fall away it doesn't bother you. It feels relieving to have less to think about. Understand?"
"Mn…" he watches the boy squirm pleasantly. "Yes…"
" Very good. You feel so good. Very wonderful…"
"Mn…" he makes a little sound and smiles sleepily.
"You feel wonderful because you are following my words." He says. "These suggestions are making you feel much more relaxed . You listen to them, and obey them. You are obeying them now."
He sighs, because it's true.
"You just feel… unbearably good , so… so good… in fact, you feel it most right between your legs. A pleasure that is unmistakable. You feel an orgasm building within you."
He squirms in his sleep, starting to moan a little.
The man smiles at the lovely sight, and continues to mold him, "That's right, you feel so amazing , you're right on the edge, right there , just so close, and… and… "
The boy moans, unconsciously desperate.
"You know when you go over that edge, my words will be so much more true. The pleasure permanently sets them in your brain. You don't have any resistance to my words. When I say the word 'cum' you will cum."
The boy's breathing becomes increasingly shaky, needy, and desperate. He moans helplessly between breaths, just twitching, writhing, and—
"Cum."
He gasps, and he cums heavily. He moans, grasps at the chair, and shakes through his overwhelming orgasm.
The doctor reclines back in his chair and observes.
He's moaning, moaning, feeling so, so good! So!... So… good… so…
"Relax."
Calm… so calm…
The boy's body settles.
The doctor smiles.
"When you wake, you will be unaware of the orgasm you just had, understand?"
"Mn… yes…"
"Very good. When I say 'wake' you will become more aware. Understand?"
"..... yrsss ……."
He stifles a chuckle. A little incoherent, but the response confirms the boy's comprehension. So he proceeds.
"Wake."
-
He sighs, feeling so… so… elated? So calm and relaxed…
Wake
So calm… sort of sleepy, but mostly… refreshed? Like he just had a long workout.
"Wake"
His eyes struggle open and he starts to remember where he is. The context. That's right, he's in that doctor's office. he was doing… a… an exercise or… something…
Right. He was going to talk about helping the mind with stress, right? It… huh, he thinks it actually worked? he's so much calmer, so…
"How are you feeling?"
"I…" he takes stock of his feelings and sensations, almost boneless with how relaxed he is. He feels... flushed… and... he thinks the sound of the doctor's voice is doing that to him, and he doesn't want to think about that right now. "Well, I feel… calm. Like… really calm! You did that?"
He smiles. "That's right. Are you ready for the next step?"
"There's more?"
"Of course. A single pass will only have temporary results. You'd like to see a life-long effect, wouldn't you?"
He feels shocked, but can't find any desire to doubt the doctor. "You can do that?"
"Of course. Settle back now."
His body sags into the seat before he has time to really think about it. But he's reclined, and… comfortable, so it's fine.
"Relax." The doctor says, and the voice is calming.
Things are immediately hazy. Almost too much, too quick. He wonders if he should—
"Relax." The doctor says again.
The boy relaxes, and it feels right.
Relax .
He breathes evenly, automatically, and just relaxes. It's much nicer to just relax this way.
Deeper… deeper…
He's calm. Not much to think about except how calm he is. That's nice.
You don't need thoughts and memories. They're so heavy. Let them go.
He tries to consider where he is, but… well, it really doesn't matter. What matters is that he's calm, right?
The concept of where he is, or why he's here slip further and further away, but he doesn't contemplate or chase after them. He doesn't need them.
Feel lighter, feel your memories escape you. Let them leave, and feel so wonderful as they go.
He feels warm and pleasant and his mind feels increasingly fuzzy. Something feels a bit off, like maybe he should wonder how he got here, or retrace his steps. This morning, he—
Cum
The fuzziness expands through his whole body and swells into numbing pleasure that dissolves his train of thought. When the tide of it ebbs, there's nothing left on the shore of his mind. Nothing troubles him.
Relax
He relaxes. Nothing to be concerned about. All calm. No worries.
Wake
he stirs a little, feeling more… contemplative? Confused?
"Wake."
He opens his eyes and he's… in a warm room with a man. Panic starts to set, but then he remembers it's… the doctor. And
… he's… what is he here for again?
"Um…" he starts, pauses, and laughs through insecurity. "What are we doing again?"
"Sleep."
"Uh…" he starts but immediately drifts.
"Relax." he hears, but then he's not in the room anymore.
He's… floating, he supposes. It's warm, dark, comfortable.
Deeper… deeper…
So comfortable… so calm…
Answer my questions, understand?
He's vaguely aware of conversation, but suddenly he's not having a conversation anymore, so he forgets.
What is your name?
Something bubbles into his thoughts. his name is… Ferris. Ferris Hatcher. It feels very certain.
That is not your name.
Or… no… it doesn't feel so certain. It's… it's. No it's definitely Ferris, he remembers people saying—
You remember having no name.
he remembers… what did they say… they said…
Your memories are so heavy. Relax, and let them go.
He stops thinking about whatever was bothering him and feels a lot more calm now. He's calm. What was he thinking about? Wasn't he trying to figure something out?
You have no name.
His name maybe? He… has no name, he thinks. If he had a name, he would remember it, right?
You have no name. Understand?
He… has no name. Of course.
Yes.
Very good.
It feels right to think that
It makes you feel so good to know you have no name.
He… smiles, he thinks. It feels comfortable. he doesn't have to think about being called or anything. He just… is! He doesn't need a name, that's why he doesn't have one.
It feels so good to listen to these words, and to obey them.
he feels so blissful, like everything just makes sense. He doesn't have to worry about a thing.
Cum.
His body floods with pleasure and certainty. Yes, this is just how he is. No name, just himself. Nice and calm, so filled to the brim with certainty and truth.
Relax
The overwhelming numbness of it ebbs away, leaving him so sated and comfortable. He just basks in it, with nothing else to consider.
Cum.
It sweeps over him again, and it's all he feels. Overwhelming pleasure, his mind feeling fuzzy and misplaced.
Relax.
He was just feeling overwhelmed, he thinks, but now he's calm, and it's okay.
Wake.
He… needs to wake up, maybe…
Wake
Consciousness floods in, immediately confused. he feels heavy and can't quite place what's wrong.
"Mn…" he groans, starting to push himself up in the cushioned seat surrounding him. What is…?
"Sleep."
Was something wrong? he's calm now, so… nothing is wrong, no, not if he feels this relaxed. Floating… floating around with nothing.
Open your eyes.
He… he tries opening his eyes.
It's bright. And dark. Blurry, and hard to discern things through sleepiness. He's not so sure where he's at though.
Panic begins to grow, and he—
"Sleep"
He's calm… drifting… drifting nicely… calmly…
Open your eyes
His eyes open, a little dizzy-feeling, but he tries to look around and understand where he is.
… What is this place supposed—
"Sleep"
He feels like he's swaying in the fuzzy dark. He feels like he's sleeping, but he feels upright. Is he laying down or not?
Open your eyes
His eyes must have been closed, because they are opening now, revealing a hazy room. What could it be?
Sleep
He's not sure if the room goes away, he's not exactly thinking about it. There's just vague, dark colors in front of his eyes, and he's calm.
Open your eyes.
The colors get brighter, and more distinct, maybe.
Relax
He's so calm…
Open your eyes
He sees a room. A little fuzzy and unimportant, but he sees it. And a man, he thinks. The man is looking at him.
Relax… and open your eyes...
His vision blurs but just as quickly it refocuses. Not perfect, but enough to discern the shapes. There's a man, in a white coat, talking to him, maybe.
Keep your eyes open, and be calm.
Yes, he's talking to him, but it's fine. He's saying… he's not one-hundred percent sure, but the things he's saying are helping him be calm, he thinks.
Your eyes are opened, and you are relaxed.
His eyes are open, and he's relaxed. He… the man… he looks like a doctor… he just said that, and it's true. So… yes. That's good.
" Say it. "
"My… eyes are opened… and I am relaxed." He's compelled to say it. It's… weird. his voice feels blurry. He's not sure if he said those words or only thought them. But his mind hears them and they're true.
"That's right." The doctor says, and the confirmation of his words feels so right. "Your eyes are opened, and you are relaxed."
He breathes deeply. Yes… so relaxed…
"You will keep your eyes open."
He keeps his eyes open, just feeling calm in this room.
"You are feeling warm, aren't you?"
"Yes…"... he is feeling warm.
"You would feel better without your jacket."
He… he thinks he would feel better without his jacket. His hands hover uncertainly. Is he taking off his jacket?
"You may remove your jacket." The voice permits, and his hands move right away. He peels his coat from his body and feels a little cooler.
"Very good." The doctor says, and the young man feels a swell of fulfillment, like he did something perfectly right.
"You may remove your shirt." The doctor says.
He doesn't remember asking to, but he must have. It's quite warm in here. So he must have. He does it. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his body, already feeling relief as air hits his skin. He thinks maybe he wouldn't usually do this in front of another person… but he thinks the doctor said he could, and it's warm. And he wanted this, so he should have it. It feels nice.
" Very good." the doctor's voice praises him, and he feels so pleased, so reassured. "You feel so sure of yourself."
He does. It's true. Everything he says is true.
"You feel so nice and calm."
It's true.
"You feel so good and filled with pleasure."
It's true.
"It culminates between your legs, straight to your cock, like an orgasm building within you."
It's true.
"You feel that orgasm building."
It's true.
"You love the truth of my words."
It's true.
"You listen and obey these words, and they are true."
It's true.
"When you cum, more heavy memories will drop away from your mind, and leave through your cock. You don't need them. You will let them leave your body with your seed. You do not need them."
It's true.
"Cum."
He hears himself moan as orgasm suddenly and instantly swells in him, numbing his mind and sending overwhelming pleasure through his whole body. Cum spurts in the confines of his pants, leaving his thighs sticky with his self. And it only continues. He's cumming… cumming… cumming…
He's…
He…
He's breathing heavily, gripping at the… it's a cushioned chair… his nails are digging into it… and his… his shirt is gone? His… his pants are damp. It's… it's damp. He's damp.
He… feels a sudden pulse between his legs, his ass tensing once, then again, as if he's just… just...
"Did I…"
He stands suddenly, trying to shield himself, looking for his shirt, trying to hide any dampness on his pants, so confused and exposed. The doctor stands too, but it's honestly the least of his worries.
"DID I…" he struggles to articulate himself, red-faced with embarrassment, sweating, feeling uncomfortably wet between his legs, uncertain of where he is and why he's done this, and—
He sees the doctor's hands raise in a calming gesture. "Relax."
"Relax!? I!—" he feels suddenly hazy, unbalanced, and confused.
"That's right," the man says kindly, holding his shoulder to balance him. "There you go. Deeper, deeper…"
Each word is like a hammer, knocking him down… down… down... narrowing his perception of the world. It makes it easier to just… relax? What's going on… he's calm, but… the… what… huhhh…
"Eyes open," he hears the doctor say, and it helps him cling to consciousness, but he still feels like he's swimming. The man is holding him afloat.
"Why am I…" he starts, but doesn't know how to finish his sentence. Why is he… sweaty?
"Relax." The doctor says, and guides him back down onto the seat he left. "You are relaxed. Repeat that truth to me."
"I am… relaxed…" he says surprisingly easily, and it feels calming to say it. Saying it makes it more true, he thinks.
"That's right." The man confirms. "Keep your eyes open, and say it again."
"I am… relaxed…" he says, and he feels more sure of it this time.
"When you relax , you will keep your eyes open, understand?"
"... Yes…" he says, a little lost, not sure what to think about.
"Relax."
He sinks into the chair again, and he watches the doctor smiling at him, backing away and sitting calmly into a chair across from him.
"You are calm. Understand?"
"Yes…" he says. It's true.
"Things like names are heavy, and fill your mind far too much. You do not need to remember names. You have no name. You do not need a name. You have no name. Understand?"
"Yes…" it's easy…
"Every climax you experience erases your lingering memories." He says. "That is good . It feels so good to lose memories. You love having less to think about."
He loves having less to think about…
"Cum."
He cums, moaning, shaking, feeling disorientated and thoughtless in the bliss of it.
"Relax" the man speaks suddenly, before he's even really finished, and he begins to sink back down.
"Relax." The doctor says again, as his orgasm inches to a stop, and then he's calm, collected in his place.
"Cum." The man says again.
And, automatically, he does.
It courses through him. he moans, writhes, feeling like he's losing something more than just cum, feeling like he's going to breach the surface of some kind of ocean, and—
"Relax."
He settles, sighing softly. Calm.
The doctor smiles at him.
"You feel amazing."
He does.
"You feel warm."
He does.
"You feel very warm."
He does…
"You know you will feel better when you remove your clothes."
He knows.
"You feel no shame about removing your clothes."
He feels no shame about removing his clothes.
"You want to remove your clothes."
He… wants to remove his clothes…
"You may remove your clothes."
He exhales in relief. He's so warm and he can take off his clothes. It'll be easy, he just…
He slips his shoes off with his heels, and it's easy. He pulls his socks away and stands on the carpet, almost overwhelmed by the texture of it under his bare skin. He finds the waist of his pants and pulls them down his legs, forcing the material lower, and lower, until he is able to simply step away from it.
His… his hands hover at his hips… he thinks he's troubled, but he can't think of why…
"You may remove your boxers." he hears the doctor say.
He feels relaxed enough to remove his boxers. He grips the elastic and slides them steadily down his body. They drop easily, and he steps away from them, feeling the air of the entire room wash over him.
"Very good" he hears, and the words let him smile placidly. "Now. You want to be on your knees."
He wants to be on his knees.
"You may get on your knees."
He kneels instantly, barely thinking about the motion before he's doing it.
"You do not think."
He… doesn't think much he supposes… he's calm…
"You… are empty."
Is he empty? He's calm but…
"You are relaxed, because you are empty ."
He sways. He's calm because he's empty. There's nothing to worry about, so he's calm.
"Understand?"
"... Yes…"
"Very good." The man's voice praises him, and he feels empty and calm.
"Now…" The doctor stands and moves beside him, putting a hand on his head. "Let your mind remove your memories. Anything that's left, you don't need. Understand?"
He breathes "Yes" and instantly the man replies, "Cum."
And he does.
He moans. Trembling, pushing up into the palm, feeling it press on his head, feeling his mind being compressed and wrung dry by his orgasm. It shakes him helplessly as he just lets it ravage him, letting it wash his mind of its details.
"Relax." he hears, the hand is gone from his head, the sensation ebbs away, and he feels lighter. like his mind is less full, less noisy. Just calm. He feels dizzy and loose.
"You are calm." The man says. "Understand?"
"Yes…" he responds sleepily.
"That's right." The doctor smiles. "Now, try to think, and tell me what you remember, about today, yesterday, any time you remember."
His mouth opens automatically, wanting to respond, but his mind doesn't have an immediate answer.
He's…
Why is he here? What is… what is his name? Who is this… doctor? He remembers the doctor maybe, but now he's not so sure. Maybe if he could figure out what he was doing before today. Yesterday? He… what does he do? Who did he talk to? Where did he… come… from?...
The floor… is… fuzzy? He's… kneeling?
He stumbles up to his feet and wobbles. He looks around and… can't make connections to what he's seeing.
"I… uh…" He starts, but he doesn't know what to say. He feels weak, tired, and confused. He takes a step and feels so heavy. He wobbles and uses the… the doctor, to stop from falling.
"I need…" he starts, then wonders what he needs. He doesn't… need anything… but… he's confused. He doesn't understand what's going on.
"Hm?" The doctor tries to encourage him on.
"Um…" He sees… the man, the doctor… he knows this is the doctor. "... What… is… happening?
"Hm… you were moving onto your knees."
"I was… moving onto my knees?"
"That's right."
"Oh," the boy sways, and the doctor keeps him from falling.
"Hm… you will feel better on your knees."
"I'll feel… better on my knees…"
He doesn't resist as the man guides him down. "There you go…" the man says sweetly as they go. "Just like that…"
He's limp, and folds easily to the floor, onto his knees where the doctor releases him.
The man smiles upon him. "And that's better, isn't it..."
"Yes…" he says half-consciously, half-aware of the material under his knees suddenly.
"It's easier, isn't it."
"Yes…" it's easier…
"Your head feels nice and light, doesn't it?"
He feels… dizzy…
"... Yes…"
"That's right," the man smiles, and pets his hair.
He receives no reaction.
"Feel calm… and relax…" the man says, letting his hand continue its motions, reinforcing his programming with the soothing sensation.
The boy looks entirely limp, on the edge of unconsciousness.
"Very good," the doctor says, and the boy's body shivers splendidly. "Now listen to my voice, and focus only on that, understand?"
"Yes…" he mumbles, half-focused on the man's voice, half-delirious and unable to think.
"Good. You're sinking again, deeper, deeper. Say it now, deeper… deeper..."
"Deeper… deeper…" he drifts, feeling heavier and more distant…
Hazy… hard to… make sense…
"Wake"
He hears, and feels something like he's floating up from drowning depths. he inhales, unconsciously seeking clarity, and—
"Relax."
He exhales softly, sinking down further, limp and docile.
"Wake."
He twitches, half-conscious, half… something…
"Relax."
He's… calm…
"When you wake, you will be relaxed , understand?"
"... Yes…"
"Very good. You will feel this way asleep and awake, understand?
"... Yes…"
"Very good. You feel no resistance, understand?"
"... Yes…"
" Very good. Now… you are on your knees."
He's… on his knees…
"You want to be on your hands as well."
He wants to be on his hands as well…
"Put your hands to the floor."
Slower than he knows, he puts his hands to the floor.
"Eyes up" he hears, and he looks back up at the doctor.
"Stare forward."
He does.
"Very good," and his body shivers with compliance. "This is your position. It is comfortable and it feels perfect. You don't want to move, because you feel so perfect in this position. Understand?
He feels… perfect like this…
"... Yes…"
"Very good," the man affirms. "Now… feel calm, and relaxed, and… wake."
He… doesn't know how to feel. Calm?... He… his body is in this position… on his hands and knees… it feels… fine?...
He blinks up at a man smiling upon him.
"Be calm, listen to my voice, and follow my suggestions. Understand?"
"... Yes…" he says, slowly.
"Stare ahead, be still, and let your mind empty itself, understand?"
"... Yes…"
"Very good. Now… what are you?"
"I…" he starts, compelled to respond, but he has no answer.
"You don't know what you are."
"I... don't know what I am…"
"You… are an object."
"I… am… an… object?"
"That's right." He affirms. "You are a thing . You don't think. You don't move. You simply… exist this way, to be observed."
He absorbs that information, but doesn't know what to make of it.
"Do you know what you look like?"
"I…" he starts, pauses, and the doctor waits for him to finish. "No…"
"You have four legs affixed to the ground." He explains, then touches his back. "And a flat back atop."
He pets the smooth surface of skin, and the boy trembles unconsciously as he considers the words.
"Just like a table." The man goes on. "You are just like a table."
"I am… just… like… a table?" he considers.
"A table is an object. You are an object. That is your truth."
He… he's an object…
"You are a thing. Something to be observed or acted upon. You have no input. Because you are an object. Understand?"
"... Yes…" he says slowly, contemplating the truth of it.
"Cum."
He gasps into weak moaning, suddenly overcome with orgasm, unable to contemplate any longer. The truth just… is. The truth feels like this. He… he must be. A… a thing… an… object…
The doctor paces as the orgasm completes, and then he speaks again.
"You… are nothing . Nothing but an object. Think it, and believe it, because it is your truth. You are a simple object, a thing to be observed. You are an object. Say your truth to me now.”
"I… am an object…" he half-moans from the lingering effects of his orgasm, from the overpowering truth of it.
"That's right." The man confirms, and the boy's whole brain embraces it. "Keep your hands and knees to the floor. You will not move them. You cannot move them. Understand?"
"... Yes…"
"Very good."
The doctor pauses and pets his patient's hair, letting that information sink and reform his brain properly. He makes no sudden movements, merely staring blankly ahead.
"You are an object." He confirms again for him, and his mind accepts it easily. "You are a thing, nothing more than an object to behold. That is your truth. When I say 'speak' you will say the words "I am an object". Understand?"
"Yes…" he manages to breathe the word.
"Very good," he praises. "Now, speak ."
"I… am… an object"
He smiles. "Yes, that's right. Now, that phrase is your truth. And each time you utter it, it will become more and more ingrained for you, understand?"
"... Yes…"
"Very good. And each time you hear that truth, each time you process it, you will experience a full-body orgasm. Each orgasm will make the truth stronger and your body stiffer. understand?"
"... Yes…"
"It will become harder and harder for you to move, even to speak, but you will keep persisting. You will continue repeating your truth internally when you can't move. Each climax will make your muscles stiffen into place. Understand?"
"... Yes…"
"Very good. When you finish an orgasm, you will be compelled to speak your truth. When you feel the orgasm stop, you will speak. Understand?"
"Yes…"
“Perfect. Now, speak.”
“I... am… an object.” the words leave him in time with his breathing, and almost immediately upon completion, his body shakes in an automatic climax. He moans as the orgasm rattles him, thinking nothing else as the ecstasy swells.
The doctor smiles, and observes.
Gradually the orgasm subsides, and his muscles become slightly stiffer. When the tremors from the climax cease, his mouth opens again.
“I… am... an object”
He moans helplessly as orgasm shakes him again, bursting with the truth of his words, cementing them gradually. The intervals of his thoughts feel farther and farther apart now, and are merely composites of what he hears.
“I… am... an object” he hears, at the same time as he thinks it, and then he moans as the truth courses through his body, confirming the words
The man's smile renews itself and he leans close to his ear.
"It's so hard to move ," he whispers, with an aching lilt. "So hard… so hard to move. It's so hard to move… so hard to move… "
The boy's orgasm stutters to its stop, and the words echo in his brain, masquerading as thoughts.
It's so hard to move...
“I…… ‘m…. ‘n... ob… j’ct” he barely manages, trembling with the strain of it and then trembling through the triggered release. It’s becoming difficult to even moan now. When the orgasm stops, he’s stiffer than before. The stillness, however, signals for him to continue.
“........ ‘m…….. mn ……….ob….. j…….”
He cums.
And begins again.
The man smiles at the progress. The words become hardly parsable, and his climaxes more subdued, but the doctor himself doesn't require the auditory comprehension or visual excess. All he needs is for the subject to understand.
And seeing his eyes roll back in orgasm confirms his understanding
The doctor moves to sit in his chair, watching his subject grow gradually more and more still, more and more like the piece of decor he has sought to create.
In time, he hardly twitches at all. his eyes stare forward, and his mouth opens and closes in small movements resembling speech. his words are inaudible, but nonetheless acknowledged by his programmed mind. His cock jumps and spurts intermittently, gradually wrung dry, but the muscles there continue to tense with each orgasm.
The doctor watches for some time, until the figure becomes entirely still, and then for some time longer, observing the boy's stiffened body, so much like a simple piece of furniture.
A lesser artist would consider him complete, but, of course, his standards are much more particular. There is still a more-than-ideal amount of brain activity occurring in the vessel.
Thus begins the more delicate part of his work. The refinement.
He returns beside his subject and sees no reaction from it, conscious or otherwise. Simply, he remains in the loop he set for him without any input of his own.
He leans beside his head, and speaks, "You are an object. A simple, unthinking object. You do not think. You are empty. You are an object. That is your truth. Understand?"
He pauses, the expected amount of time he would have spoken if he could, and the man smiles. As opposed to a show of obedience, the silence is the sign he was hoping for. It means his dear possession is solidifying. Its body is settling well into its mold.
“When I say ‘speak’ you will tell me your truth,” the doctor says. “When I say ‘cum’, you will have an orgasm. When I say ‘be still’ you will not move a single muscle. Understand?”
He pauses, letting the information absorb into what's left of the simple mind, and then he leans in again.
“Speak.”
The boy's jaw twitches, but there's no vocalization.
“Speak.”
Again, and his body hitches slightly.
“Speak.”
“.....mmmmnnn… mmn”
“Speak.”
“Mmmmmmnn….. Mn….. mnn”
“Speak.”
“Mnn.. an…. Mn…. j….”
“Speak.”
“I” he practically gasps. “ammn….. an…. ob….. ject”
he gasps a breath in as the conditioned orgasm swells through him, but the doctor leaves no time for it to run its course.
“Cum.” he says, and the orgasm renews itself.
“Cum.” he says again, and the body hitches as the orgasm resets
“Cum,” again, and the body gasps automatically, overwhelmed by the mounting pleasure
“Cum,” he insists, “Cum, cum, cum, and… be still.”
In the midst of a gasp, his breath cuts short and he goes still. The body trembles with the exertion, but the command is all it can process.
“Cum,” he says, and the vacant boy inhales the rest of his gasp, barely able to hitch his body before “be still” is uttered swiftly, and he jerks to stillness.
“Be still, be still, be still,” the man soothes, until the trembling subsides to a satisfactory degree. “Now… speak.”
“I… am… an—”
“Be still.” He says before the boy can finish verbally, and the command overtakes the compulsion. he goes silent, and still, but the words still echo and complete in his mind. An orgasm begins, and the doctor catches it.
“Be still.” He says, and the body struggles to obey against the natural strain of the climax.
“Be still.” He reiterates, and movements begin to cease. “Be still,” he says again, and it strengthens the freezing response. “Speak.”
“I…. am… an—”
“Be still… be still… speak.”
“I……... am…...... an—”
“Be still…... speak.”
“I...…………….. am—"
“Cum.” He interrupts, and the body obeys. The doctor gives the commands in quick succession, “be still. Speak, be still. Cum. be still. Cum. be still, cum, be still, be still, speak, be still, cum, be still. Be still. Be still.”
The body writhes with twitches and helpless hitches of breath, but the doctor never lets its mind feel sated. With his commands, he guides the boy toward more and more subdued responses. Gradually, his body anticipates the command to freeze into place.
Soon, it will learn to never unfreeze.
The man spends some time doing this, calibrating the brain, then he pauses to observe his handiwork. Yes… entirely still now. And, just to confirm…
"Cum." He says, and he watches the result. The body remains unmoving. He can see the muscles in his ass pulse with orgasm, but his expression remains blank; wide-eyed and distant.
Excellent.
"Each time you cum, your vision will darken, understand? With each orgasm, your mind will become slower. You will continue to reflect on your truth. You are an object. That knowledge will make you cum. When you cum, your vision will darken and your mind will become slower. It will become harder and harder to process anything. Your orgasms will become longer, and longer, and your processing will be slower and slower. When you can no longer finish your thoughts, your orgasms will automate. When one orgasm stops, another will start. Forever. This cycle will never stop. Understand?"
He pauses, allowing the time for the brain to parse the information, etching the program into his mind. As the orgasms begin, each climax is another irreversible etching of the program, solidifying its permanence. Each orgasm is another lock welded shut.
The program will never be removed from the boy now.
The doctor returns to his chair and observes.
The boy is still. Hardly a sign of life, save for the contractions of his orgasms.
Within his mind, it is similarly desolate.
I………. am…………. an………… object…...
The thought moves slowly through his brain and triggers an orgasm upon completion. His vision blurs and dims as the sensation wracks his body.
I……..………..…. am…………………..…. an……………..…… object….....
Again, his vision blurs and darkens as he cums. He's hardly conscious of the shapes and colors in the room. They don't register, only in the barest sense in how his eyes feed the information to his brain. his brain does nothing with the information.
I………………………………..………….………..... 'm…………………………...……………..…. 'n………………………….…… ob.. ……….ject……………….…
His vision darkens, the words echo slowly.
I………………………………..…………. ………………...…..... 'm…………………………...……………..……………………. 'n…………… …………….…… ob………………..j'ct……………….…
It gets darker, quieter.
…………..I………………………………..…………. ………………...…..... 'm…………………………. . ………………………………………...………...……………..……………………. 'n…………………………... …..…………………………………………... …………….…… o…...b…………………….…..j…………………………..…..c...t……………….…
Darker, and slower.
………………...…..m………………………………..………………………..
……..
…………... ………………...…..... ………… 'm…………………………. . …………………………
………………………………………...………...……………..……………………. …………………...'n…………………………... …..…………………………………………... …………….…… o……. ………..b…………………….…..mn…………………………..…..j…......t……………….…
His vision flickers, resistant to fail, as if some part of his body is struggling to keep his senses active, but the subsequent orgasm that floods through him dissolves any fail-safes. His vision dips from hazy to total darkness. A part of his brain tries to reactivate the vision, but the effort is too quiet, too feeble. He isn't even aware of it.
………………...…………..………………………………..………………………..
………………………...
…………... ………………...…..... ………………………. ……..'m…………………………. . …………………………
………………………………………...………...……………..……………………. ………………………………...mn…………………………... …..…………………………………………... …………….…… o……. ………………………………………………...…..b…………………………………………..…..mn…………………………..………...…......……………….…
In total darkness, and total unawareness, the parts of his brain trying to restart any processes fail repeatedly and gradually settle, conditioned to unresponsiveness.
………………...…………..………………………………..………………………..
………………………...
…………... ………………...…..... ………………………. ……..'m…………………………. . …………………………
……………………………
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
…………...………...……………..…………………….…………………………………………………………………...mn…………………………...…..…………………………………………...…………….……...…….……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...…..…………………………………………..…..mn…………………………..………...…......……………….….
The process continues, allowing his brain to dissolve itself. His thoughts are mere twitches, becoming unable to consciously parse his single truth.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
………………………………………...………...……………..……………………. ………………………………...m.…………………………..………………………………..............…………………………………………... …………….…… ………...……. ………………………………………………...…..…………………………………………..…..n…………………………..………...…......……………….…
Nearing total silence, the brain slows more, settling more and more into conditioned stillness.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...…..…………………………………………..…..n…………………………..………...…......……………………………….………………………………………………
When there is no more conscious processing from the mind, the body will be fully autonomous, independently operating on the programming the doctor designed.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….…………………………………
When the mind is empty, the subject will truly be an object
…
.
.
.
The doctor reads for a few hours, then looks upon his work with a smile. A lovely display.
He approaches it, and admires it, smoothing a hand through its hair and down its back. Just as an inanimate thing should, it remains rigid in place, no twitch of acknowledgement.
He pets it again, letting his hand come to a rest at its lower back.
He leans toward its ear. "Speak."
…
…
It does not.
"Speak." He repeats.
…
…
Again, no sign of acknowledgement. The muscles against his hand do not make the slightest twitch.
He moves his hand up the body and rests it at the neck, pressed to the throat and its pulse.
"Speak." He says.
…
…
Not a single movement. No attempt. No preparatory breath, no swallow, no increase in pulse, nothing.
He smiles, and pets the figure again. An amateur would be frustrated at the disobedience, but he knows far better. The body and mind are both beyond processing the command. There is no longer enough brain activity left to execute the task. It cannot speak, and cannot move.
He moves his hand underneath it, sliding along its dripping cock to its as and feels for the pulsing, finding it immediately. The contractions are unceasing and rhythmic, like heartbeat. He smiles and wipes his hand clean.
His work is nearly complete. All that's left is the preservative measures.
It takes some time, preparing the IV drip and waste disposal mechanism, but when it's complete the set-up is discrete.
He has the body affixed to a rolling base he can move easily around the study, then sits to admire the living thing, trapped in eternal, thoughtless orgasm; the purest expression of a climax there could be.
That's all this thing is.
Itself, an orgasm.
He has it labeled as such with a plaque beneath it, etched with the word "Orgasm".
He smiles and sips his drink, well-earned, and observes the culmination of his work.
The lovely visage of a young man, handsome and lithe, expression empty, perfectly frozen, truly unthinking, with only the feedback loop of its orgasms capable of sliding through its mind.
He touches the thing and remembers hours ago when the sweet boy was moving freely, speaking to him. That boy is gone now, gently removed from his own body, sweetly obliterated.
There's no person left in this body. Only his programming. The thing is a testament to his skill.
After indulging himself and appreciating his work long enough for tonight, he moves it under his desk and into a small compartment. He smiles as he slides the hidden door gradually shut, watching how his project remains unmoving, and even as he locks it within, there is silence.
He exhales a deeply satisfied breath and drinks again. It will be there for his viewing pleasure, whenever he wishes, empty, alive, thoughtless, for as long as he wishes. The endlessly cumming thing has no self remaining. It simply belongs to him as a thing for his own observational indulgence, like any piece of art. And it will remain this way for the rest of its life. A permanent testament to the programming enforced upon it. He will leave, and it will be here when he returns the next afternoon, and every day after.
The doctor drinks again and reclines. Perfect.
Perfect.