The Telemachus Story Archive

How to sooth a burning passion
Part 1 - Drivers beware
By Dylan

Drivers beware

or: How to sooth a burning passion

Andy was in a rush.

He needed to report to his new university within the next 24 hours to sign in, but he drove by car and had several states to conquer and more than thousand more miles to drive before he would reach his goal, his new Alma Mater.

Even though Andy was no nerd, he had won a scholarship in computer science, and the university Caltech, the well known California Institute of Technology, already waited for him .

Right now his trusted old Toyota Prius, the stereotypical joke of a car for nerds, it seemed, limped on battery, since the gas tank was empty, and Andy did not need a diploma to figure out when the battery was empty, too. As he saw the sign " GAS and cold drinks" he left the rural highway, and followed the street where the gas station would be, trusting the sign.

As he stopped in front of a typical, rundown station with only two pumps, he realized he was only in need of gas, but also a cold drink and a restroom. Relieve just in time, it seemed, as he left the car.

No one was outside, and the heat hit Andy with a vengeance, so he opened the door to the office, shop, and whatnot the gas station seemed to be. An old, wrinkled, smoking man behind the counter looked up and asked. "Gas, son?"

Andy was puzzled for a moment, but the man meant him, that was clear. He nodded while he started to say: " Yes please Sir, Premium, full!" The man nodded as well, seemingly liking the respectful ways of the young man.

"I bet you wanna use the restrooms while I fill it up, right?" And pointed to a door in the back of the shop, while he got up and evidently wanted to go out to service the cars needs.

As Andy had stopped the car, left it and walked in, more than one thing had happened at once. The old man had pressed a button, and the hidden cameras picked up the athletic youngster, someone in an office somewhere quite far away made a decision, and after this man pressed another button, the old man knew Andy would be the next target for a well hidden organization.

Andy, totally oblivious, walked into the restroom, actually a little surprised to find it old,as expected, with a faded paint job, but clean and not the least stinking the way he had dreaded.

He was alone, the old guy was filling up his Prius, so he didn't bother with locking a door, but simply opened his tight jeans. His dick, aching for release, was starting to piss a hefty yellow stream, and Andy sighed as his bladder stopped cramping the way it had done for the last mile or so.

His dick actually started to harden, and, almost without thinking, he jerked it a little, forgetting time and place.

He almost jumped as the old man's voice could be heard: "Shes full, boy!"

Andy did not dare to jerk off, since he knew the man would maybe realize what the young guy did in his restroom. Andy did not want to look like a pervert, so pushed his hardon back into his jeans, and he did not tuck the shirt in to hide the most prominent bulge his fat dick was forming.

The old man must have seen it anyway, and he smirked as he said:

"No need to rush, sonny, we're alone out here. Go ahead and toss your salad all you like, boy!"

Andy was blushing deep as he declined the offer, and fumbled out his wallet to pay for the gas. The man gave him the creeps, and the way he called him "sonny", "boy", or "son" creeped him out a little. The old man took Andy's credit card and swiped it through he machine, and a beeping sound indicated something was wrong. He tried it once more, and read the code the machine gave him. Andy was counting his cash already, as he looked into the barrel of a gun, an impressive looking sawed-off shotgun, like the ones you see in movies.

Andy lifted his hands in shock, and it took only a minute before a patrol car stopped in front of the gas station. Andy was handcuffed and didn't even realize everything happened much to quick to be real.

The fat sheriff searched him for hidden weapons much too thoroughly, feeling up Andy's ass as well as his privates, and the hardon of the young man gave the man of the law a fresh reason to paw the boys crotch, to seek for the weapon the youngster surely had.

As Andy tried to explain, tried to offer cash to pay his bill, he was simply hit into the head by the old mans shotgun, and lost conscious.

He did not see the tow truck that had appeared and loaded up his Prius. He did not feel the way he was lifted in a van that had appeared as well. He did not hear the order the sheriff gave the tow truck driver : "And make sure the damn GPS is dead before you crush that rice burner!"

The organization seemed pretty well set up, and Andy had no real chance.

As he woke up again, he was inside a holding cell, no amenities, not even a mattress on the floor, just a stainless steel bowl as a toilet and a stainless steel sink with a simple round faucet, mounted into the wall. Nothing anyone could use as a weapon. Andy was naked, his phone and wallet was gone, and he clearly saw cameras in all four corners of the room, mounted high up, in solid looking glass bubbles only peeking out a little bit, perfectly protected from the vengeance of a frustrated inmate trying to escape the 24/7 surveillance. But for now Andy was not in a vengeance, he was not frustrated, he had no fight in him. All he could think of was: WHY?

The bright lights blinded him, and he sat down, just to feel a electric jolt. The cell was designed to keep him awake, and he did not even had the chance to sit or lay down, because the floor would power up as soon as he did anything else then standing. There was a bar right high enough to hand there on his hands, and he had to use it a few times during the hour, while they set the current of the floor so high he could not even stand. His only chance was hang.

He started to yell for help, but, as he had guessed from the beginning, no one came.

After several hours a section of the wall opened and some bars of dry chow were pushed in, right at the floor, no plate. He could stand on his feet for the time being, and he felt a nagging hunger, so he eat the bars and drank water, using his hands to lap it up.

After a few hours he passed out, powerless, and his body convulsed by the electric current the floor sent through him.

As he woke up, he was laying in a nice white bed, smelling fresh, in a room with a cool breeze, even a arrangement of flowers on a table by the bed. He was too weak to lift his arm, but a nurse walked in and gave him a sip of ice cold soda, and it tasted like heaven. He asked something, at least he started, but she didn't answer. He asked again, and she ignored him as if he was invisible.

He had gained some strength again, and he grabbed her arm and wanted to pull her back, force her to answer.

By then pure electric power exploded inside his body again, his muscles convulsed, and he screamed for a second before passing out again.

As he woke up again, he felt the electricity again, but relatively mild, like a soft whisper, like a wake up call. He opened his eyes and tried to understand, and the current intensified. He jumped up and stood right as the power was turned up again, and now it was only a mild reminder of the sleeping electricity that waited for his next mistake.

Again the slot opened, again some bars of slave chow emerged.

"...What ..why you calling this SLAVECHOW??" his brain seemed to argue with itself.

He chewed, swallowed the dry bars, washed them down with some water, again using his hands only. He realized he had no chance, and as he started to get weak again, he sat down, still with his feet holding him up, in a way apes sit on their own lower legs, without touching the ground.

In the beginning of his time in this dungeon he had still thought , about rescue, about rebellion, about breaking away. But now he stopped thinking.

The scientists who had developed the program were long gone, dead, or retired. They had worked for the Chinese government, and most likely they, at some point, had gone through the same treatment. The program had been called " A break for the better" and was meant to teach rebellious people a better way to use their energies. In China the men and women going through the program had been somehow dangerous to the government or the party, but here the program was just use to make the boys and men nice, easy, mindless toys.

The programming of the toy could be ordered. Usually the standard was the sexy dumb himbo, loyal, always in a good mood, and always ready to do sexual favors to their masters or the friends of their masters.

In some cases the instructions were more specific, and a devoted boy who fulfilled a selected, more unusual fetish was no real problem, it maybe just took a little more time . And money, obviously.

The young man formally known as Andy was not even preordered yet, he was just a welcome coincidence. The organization had the county under a tight control, and the men in power, like the mayor and the sheriff, were paid to control and reign.

Surveillance cameras controlled every street in and out of the small county, and license plates, car models and brands, and the face pictures of drivers were automatically scanned and searched, in computers nationwide. If the data showed a likely candidate for the program, he usually got caught at a gas station, a motel, a restaurant or a simple restroom. Just in case a prospective candidate would not need a stop, the sheriff would stop him, under the fake charges of speeding or something else.

A good looking boy or young man without relatives, who would no be missed soon, was almost never escaping the program.

While the young man formerly known as Andy looked blindly at the blank wall, he was watched on several monitors, or a spiltscreen view on a single computer screen, depending who was involved in the online meeting that took place right then. The men forming the board of directors were used to meet online because of practical reasons, and one of them, besides security considerations, was the simple fact that the board of directors, or the managers as they themselves called them, were living all over the world, and all of them had yachts, planes, private islands and estates well hidden or in plain sight, but usually they never met in person. Even the facilities, or training centers, as they called places like the one Andy was held , were in places all over the world, and even if the installations were solid and perfectly hidden, they could be abandoned easily, quick, and without traces.

The men attending the video conference were all powerful, rich, and making their decisions without thinking about the young men in the facilities.

They now looked into another candidate, who was in the underground training center for weeks now. The screens showed him, kneeling on the floor, sucking a trainers dick . The young man was black, beautifully muscled, and if didn't work with a trainer to polish his skills at sucking dick or taking cocks or fists up his ass, he worked out. His daily diet of slave chow and extra injections had been carefully adjusted, so his body had no excess fat and he looked like a sculpture the best Greek or roman artist had carved form the most expensive stone.

The managers watched as the trainer deepfucked the slaveboys throat, and he stopped, basically cutting the young mans breathing. The very young man was so well trained that he had overcome the instinct of fighting, even as he almost passed out from the lack of oxygen. The men watched him actually pass out, and they saw the trainer cum all over the black boys face and upper body. He was so turned on by the power he had about the fate of the boy that he simply could not hold back.

The trainers in those facilities were actually trained as well, trained to have lost all sense of human compassion. As one of the managers once said, those trainers were the most important asset the company had. Many customers bought a trainer or two in a package deal with a bunch of slaves, just to handle the slaves, officially. But in private they admitted that watching the trainers handle those slaves turned them on immensely, and most trainers were much to dumb to realize that they were on heavily guarded private mansions or islands, and practically imprisoned or enslaved themselves.

The screen by now showed the passed out black athlete being manhandled by two trainers, tied over a barrel, and assfucked and facefucked . The boy had been ordered specifically, by a rich man whose son had asked for the boy for his birthday. They had been classmates, and the blacks only mistake was to write better grades than the rich boy. Greed and envy driven, the rich kid decided the black boy needed to learn a lesson, and his dad spent one million to make sure the black disappeared.

The son not even played with this newest toy of his, since the black was not interesting any more after a few month of training. But his dad wanted him, and so the training was carried out, and today was the final test.

The screen showed the boy suck dick again enthusiastically, while the man fucking him already grunted and moaned, since the boys spectacular ass was basically milking his dick.

The boy was trained to take anything someone dished out, forget it, and take the next. He was always disgusted in the first moment, and a willing sex object a moment later, so using him was always like a fresh situation, a first time, a new rape or devirginizing, and a quick sluttification right after.

The managers had smiled about the bucket list of the clients, but after only 3 month they had accomplished anything the clients wanted.

The black boy looked like a living Ken doll, acted like a well programmed sex toy, and the videos they filmed and sold to highly paying pervs all over the world paid all expenses twice without even selling the product. A true Win-Win.

The other man in the facility right now discussed by the managers, the newly acquired young man formerly known as Andy, was far away from being at that stage, though. Since he was not presold, or preordered, he for now just needed a basic training. No human interference for now, or for the next time, since they had found out that the initial breaking process was much quicker if the object , the sex toy, did not interact with humans while he was going through the basic stages .

The first new step in the training process was now to press a button.

A new button, nothing that the young man had experienced before.

The cell changed, the faucet disappeared, and a thick dildo like object appeared.

The slave would not get food, the pressed bars of slave chow, any more. The only food and liquid he would be presented was the ooze coming out from the tip of the dildo.

The managers actually were thrilled to supervise how long it took for the salve to understand what the dildo did.

The most effective way to get food was to make the dildo slide deep into someones throat, and to milk the dildo, actually make him cum. The sensors built in the surface of the rubber food dispenser made sure the boy sucking it, fucking their face on it, were fed relative to their performance.

Every new boy went through this stage of training, and before a boy did not understand the method, he would basically be starved. But the stuff oozing out the tip of the dispenser smelled good enough to at least taste it. Once a slave had licked the tip of the dildo for the first time, he was hooked, usually.

The training current of electricity was turned off as long as a slave kneeled to suck the dildo. The food and the lack of pain as long as the slave performed well was the positive reassurance that was a mayor part of the scientific method the company used.

Any boy broke under the methods they used, and while he was trained, he was formed into the ultimate dream for any pervy rich and depraved customer. Andy was no exception.

He would end as a means to sooth a burning passion.

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