The Telemachus Story Archive

Weaponised Master
Chapter 4
By Tyler Bernard

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The Mazean people began that day like any other. They had taken to wearing a form of monastic robe, and they moved through the daily tasks of their life coldly, emotionlessly, because their enemy was always close, waiting. They grew crops in the fields by hand, the machines that once sowed and ploughed the fields now little more than rust. The civilisation was on its last legs – all their great works were crumbling into dust as their emotionless, slow moving masters spread across the landscape. The Xyxian blobs were everywhere, and they had gone beyond just taking the occasional body for daring to have sexual thoughts. Now, they responded to almost any visible sign of emotion by sucking the poor man or woman into their bowels, for long drawn out absorption.



But that morning was different. Across the main continent, thirteen young Mazean males, trained and indoctrinated for all their lives, all aged in the equivalent of their early 20’s, quietly put down their farming implements and, one by one, began walking, slowly, towards the ruins of the main city. The rebellion was beginning.


Zack awoke, suddenly. Where the hell was he? Lying on a wooden bunk in some sort of medieval-looking cell, apparently. Straw covered the floor, and the walls were made of stone. A small barred window, high up, let daylight in. A steel door appeared to be the only way in. The place stunk. He could hear noises outside, the sound of conversation, like some kind of market. He looked round the room. There was another bunk, and someone was sitting on it, staring at him. A short-ish, unremarkable man, maybe in his thirties, dressed in a filthy looking T-shirt and jeans. One arm was wrapped in a bloody bandage, and a scar ran across his cheek.


‘Oh, you’re awake at last...’ Said the man

Zack sat up. Aching pain wracked his body, especially from his crotch. He reached down to rub it, and encountered some sort of small, bulging, bright red jockey shorts. He reached inside the shorts and felt to rub his dick, and was surprised to find that something, inside his trousers, seemed to get in the way, something solid and inflexible, like a shield round his cock... He looked, and saw some kind of clear, plastic sheath around his cock and balls, making it impossible to reach his own flesh. He pulled at the sheath, but it was attached between his balls and his body, he could not remove it without tearing his own cock off. He felt a sick feeling in his stomach. Who would want to restrict his manhood in that way?

He did a quick survey of the rest of his body to discover the rest of his clothing consisted of a tiny tight white t-shirt, so small and tight it left nothing to the imagination, it didn’t even reach down as far as his navel. On his feet were some long black lace-up boots, brightly polished, and he also had some sort of oversize shoulder pads, like an American footballer would wear, only these were made out of some sort of chromed metal. There was also two chrome chains, criss-crossing his torso. What the fuck is all this shit, he thought. What am I doing in this ridiculous costume...He also saw there was something around each wrist and ankle, a sort of tight semi-transparent white tube, with a kind of faint, greenish glow coming from it. He felt his throat and there was something there too, like a plastic collar... He grabbed the collar and started to pull on it, hard. Some sort of buzzing noise began in his ears, and he felt a tingling sensation on his kin.


The other man jumped up. ‘Jesus, don’t do that! Are you mad? It will take your head off...’

The other man had seemed so horrified that Zack released the collar. After a few seconds the buzzing subsided.

‘Where am I?’ he asked

The man, with a puzzled look on his face, answered him.

‘In the cell, of course.’

‘What cell? Who are you? What is this thing around my neck?’

The man came over and sat down next to Zack.


‘Oh shit. They tortured you bad this time, didn’t they? One of the other prisoners told me those drugs they use, they have some sort of mind-wiping effect. Don’t worry, it’s not permanent I’m told. You won’t have told them anything, I’m sure, or they wouldn’t have brought you back here alive. If you’d told them where the fleet was, they would have no further use for you. Do you remember anything? Anything at all? What’s your name, for example?’’

Zack rubbed his forehead.

‘Er... wait... Jake... Jack... Zack. That’s it, Zack...’

The man sighed.


‘Well, that’s something at least. Anything else you remember?’

‘ I remember being on an island. Some sort of light in the sky, and then getting picked up, lifting into the air... and then... no. That’s it’

‘ Jesus, that was almost a year ago. Don’t you remember any of the rest? The Invasion? The rebellion?’

What was this guy talking about? Zack looked at the man, puzzled. And then at that moment, as if a tap had been turned on in his head, memories began to return. Memories of cities on fire, buildings falling, people screaming and fleeing, something in the sky above beaming down destruction,

...jumping forward to being part of some long trail of evacuees, snaking across the landscape,

...jumping again to being corralled in some sort of holding pen by strange, tall, pale green skinned men in bizarre clothing, watching another human being destroyed with some sort of ray gun... a tide of anger rising up in him as he ran at the strange man, knocking him to the floor...


‘Wait, I think something’s coming back...’

The other man smiled. ‘Good’

‘I remember only bits and pieces – I saw someone killed by some kind of weapon. I attacked the - the thing - who did it...’

‘Yes, the great uprising. You struck the first blow against them. You inspired us all when we felt we were all finished, and we escaped from the prison camp, and under your leadership took one of their ships and began to fight back...’

‘I remember. Its only bits and pieces. But I remember’

‘Thank god it’s coming back. Because we can’t do without you, Zack. The rebellion would fall without you. You are our only hope...’

Zack listened to the words, and everything made sense. They confirmed what he had always dreamed. Yes, he was going to save the world. He was the saviour of mankind. They could beat him and torture him, but it made no difference. He was destined to beat them all...


‘Do you remember anything else? Do you remember who I am?’

Zack looked directly into the man’s face. There was definitely something familiar about it.


‘Your second in command? The one who was at your side through the whole war?’

And a name formed in his head. ‘Cedric’

Cedric smiled. ‘That’s right, Cedric. Now let’s work out how to escape from this place’

Zack nodded his head, vigorously, and then he blacked out.


Sitting at the desk in the control room, Cedric removed his headset and looked over at Zack where he lay, strapped to the operating table in the main laboratory, naked, asleep, the face mask pressed over his eyes. He sighed. Tall green aliens? You are our only hope? All it needed now was flying saucers. It sounded like the worst kind of cheap B-movie, which was not a surprise as Cedric had stolen most of the visual imagery from any number of Films and TV shows that he had seen over the years. Still, it seems to be working. He had sensed the pride, the vanity rising in the boy as he relentlessly flattered and massaged his ego.

He liked the sensation of the headset, the way you could think about something, and actually feel it becoming real in the other person’s head. He realised he had been a bit unfocused, his mind had drifted onto the boy’s sexy body, and he had accidentally implanted those images of the boy’s sexy clothing, and the plastic chastity device over his cock, one of his own fantasies downloaded and burnt into the boy’s own brain. He could already see some uses for this technology in the future, but he would have to be careful. If he became overcome with lust when using the headset, and let his mental image into the boy’s brain, he would break the spell he is creating, and that would not do at all. His new alien friends might have to postpone their plans while he started again.


The scientist had explained how the headset worked, when Cedric had first described the plan he was going to use to humiliate the boy. The headset would let you influence the young stud’s mind, place images and scenarios in front of him, but the mind control did not extend into making the boy do anything you wanted, unfortunately. No, you could implant images into the boys mind, as he had done with the image and smell of the cell and the accidental image of the boy’s sexy costume, and the fake memories of the rebellion and the invasion of earth. But you could not get the boy to break his own moral code. It was like hypnosis, it could trick you, but it could not make you do something you did not want to do. Plus, it only worked in short bursts, hence the need to put him back to sleep at the end. No, Cedric’s plan involved more than just a few mind tricks.


It had gone well for the first attempt, he thought. Sure, the story had come out as being more cheesy than he thought, but it was having the desired effect on the boy. His ego and self belief was beginning to inflate like a balloon, and Cedric was standing by with a pin to burst it...




The main city on the Mazean planet had seen better days. Once, it had been a thriving, modern place, with towers reaching into the sky, nightclubs and parks and art galleries, and a population of millions. But now, only a few thousand Mazeans lived there, carrying out a meagre, grey existence, wandering the overgrown avenues, weaving carefully in and out of the millions of Xyxian blobs which wallowed and shivered in the streets and houses, trying not to react in any emotional way to the sight of the part-dissolved corpses inside those semi-transparent membranes.


But on that day, a baker’s dozen of new, young  men entered the city for the first time, quietly, slowly, making no move that would attract attention. They were dressed in the now standard, grey, hooded monks’ costume, and they stepped peacefully and emotionlessly towards the central tower, once the pinnacle of the people’s engineering power, pointing over two miles into the sky, now partly collapsed but still an impressive sight at about three quarters of its original height. They took their time, slowly approaching from all directions. They had a mission to complete. They entered the ruined lobby of the building at the exact same time, and, without even acknowledging each other’s presence began the long, slow process of climbing the stairs.


Zack awoke from his slumber, back in the stone jail cell. His lace up boots, shoulder pads and T-shirt had disappeared, and he was clad now only in the red jockeys. He was alone, his companion Cedric had disappeared. For almost the first time in his life, Zack felt concerned for another human’s wellbeing. A voice in his head told him that this man was his most loyal foot soldier, and he had put his life on the line for Zack many times before. Was he being tortured now, somewhere deep inside this fortress? Would he reveal the location of the fleet?  Did he even know the location of the fleet? A voice popped immediately into Zack’s brain.


‘You are the only one who knows where the fleet is.  The fleet is on Mars’, it said. ‘The fleet is waiting to strike at the heart of the enemy, strike a knockout blow that would save the earth. But the fleet was vulnerable for the next few days, until they had finished repairs and refuelling. If the fleet’s location is revealed before they are ready, the human rebellion would be destroyed, and the earth, and everyone on it, would be doomed’.


His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laugher. A deep, booming, evil, alien laugh. The door of the cell, which was much wider than he remembered it, now much more like a garage door, slid open, and two young men, of his sort of age, with fit, athletic bodies, entered the room, side by side, semi naked except for skimpy leopard skin loincloths, hands held in front of them as if in prayer, looking only at the floor. Zack thought he vaguely recognised one of the boys. Had he seen him at the island?

Zack was horrified to see that their hands were in that pose because they were tied together with some sort of pale white rope or chain which spiralled and twisted around them like ivy, and then disappeared off behind them. The same sort of binding was around their necks, and also emerging from beneath the loincloths. They strained and pulled, and he realised from their movements that the cord must be tied around their cocks in the same way it enveloped their arms and throats. The cords were pulsing and writhing, and went off behind the boys to where they appeared to attach to some sort of wagon or trolley which they strained to pull behind them. It was clear from the way they walked that it was the rope around their cocks which was taking the full weight of what they towed. On top of the trolley, a creature sat, a fat, ugly creature, about the size and height of a massively obese human male. It had a human head, bald and sweaty, and wore an open chested ornate cloak. It was the source of the laughter.


He then realised they were not ropes connecting the boys to the trolley. The sickly white strands actually went inside the cloak that the creature was wearing, at what on a human would have been crotch level. He realised with a sick feeling that the bindings were actually tentacles emanating from the alien’s body. The two young studs had alien tentacles wrapped around their arms and necks, and around their cocks. He saw other tentacles flailing in the air, touching the doorframe and the walls as if examining them. Another tentacle slipped across one boy’s naked butt, like a huge tongue. Everywhere the tentacles touched, a shiny, transparent, sticky residue was left, dripping down the walls in large pasty blobs. He looked back at the boys and realised they were covered in the extrusion too, all over their hair, and their muscular chests and arms, with long trails running down their inner thighs to the floor.


One of the boys looked up at Zack, fear and disgust in his eyes, and, in a weak and fearful voice, said the words ‘Help me’.


An anger boiled up in Zack, and he bounced up off the mattress, ready to face the creature head on. He made it halfway across the cell before the alien, still laughing, raised some kind of remote control device into the air. Zack stopped dead. The wrist, ankle, and neck restraints he was wearing, which up until that point had glowed pale green, now glowed a vivid red, and they  stopped, in mid air, as if they had suddenly been welded in place to some invisible solid frame. He struggled and pulled against the bindings but they didn’t even wobble. Then, the alien did something with the remote, and the glowing red devices began moving apart, stretching Zack between them. He was powerless to resist, he may as well have been trying to keep two eighteen wheeler trucks from moving apart. The wrist devices moved outwards and upwards, and the ankle devices also moved out and up, physically lifting Zack from the floor. He felt like he was being torn in half. But then, the movement stopped as suddenly as it began, and he was stuck there, spread-eagled, his feet floating about 12 inches above the floor.

The boy who had begged for help suddenly cried out. Zack saw that the tentacle disappearing behind the boy’s loincloth was swelling and twisting, as if it was applying huge pressure to what it had hold of. Another thick, smooth tentacle emerged from within the alien’s cloak and advanced up to the boys head, and began slowly wrapping round and round the head, covering the eyes and nose like a horrific mask, forcing the head back so that he would have been looking at the ceiling, if his eyes had not already been obscured.  The boy’s mouth was wide open and yelling from the pain presumably coming from his cock, and the face tentacle, after looping round his head four or five times, peeled away and rose high into the air, paused briefly, and then dived directly back directly into the boy’s mouth. The boy’s cries were immediately muffled as the large tentacle filled his mouth. Zack could see something that looked like fluid pumping along inside the pale skin of the tentacle, and he saw that same gooey slime emerging from the corners of the boy’s mouth. He could also see the boy’s throat swallowing, over and over again. Zack felt like he was going to be sick. He wanted to turn away, but the neck collar held him immovably in place.


In the laboratory, Cedric stood over the naked body on the operating table, and watched as it writhed and pulled against the bindings it imagined was holding it in place. He was fascinated by the beautiful body and the way it reacted. Cedric had a tube of lubricant, and he squirted some of it onto his own fingers. He concentrated on the mental image he was creating in the headset.  

He had chosen to make his former travelling companion, Fiery Bright Braulio, into the alien slave who was currently sucking on tentacle, and for the other he had chosen that Texan, Cameron. He had dressed them mentally in a fantasy Tarzan outfit, because that was another one of his favourites.

He wished he could have physically involved them in a three way metal mind-fuck, but they were not available – at that very moment they were being prepared by another pair of outsiders deep in the bowels of the ship for their own personal hell. It did not matter, the headset amplified the thoughts in his own mind to a point where he himself could hardly tell they were not real, and they would appear totally real to Zack. Cedric would get his chance with those boys sometime in the future, anyway. He concentrated hard and visualised the alien’s first words.


The alien turned and looked at Zack, suspended helplessly in the air. It talked in a strangely metallic voice, distorted and high pitched, but in some ways strangely familiar.


‘I like the taste of human males. These two will serve me well for now, but I particularly look forward to breaking the Earth’s champion in as my everlasting slave. So, the sooner you tell me the location of the fleet, the sooner we can begin our fun’

Zack pulled and struggled against the bindings, horrified at the thought that he might end up like those two tortured studs.


‘I will never be your slave!’ He roared

The alien smiled, and another, thick white tentacle emerged from its cloak. The tentacle moved slowly, effortlessly across the room towards the suspended figure.  Zack saw it approaching, across the room, a huge, unearthly eel of putrid white flesh, twenty feet long now and holding in the air like it was defying gravity. It headed straight for his face, and he tried to recoil, but that was useless, he closed his eyes, and then – nothing. Cautiously he reopened them. It had paused, just a few inches away from his eyes now, close enough to see it in detail. He saw that the end of the tentacle was about the thickness of his wrist, but was not just smooth and featureless like it had first seemed, instead, many hundreds  of tiny white tentacles covered the end, all  just about a centimetre long, and they all squirmed and twisted, like a fisherman’s bucket of bait maggots. They stunk too, a rotten meat smell, almost unbearable, and he saw that the little micro-tentacles  were the source of the slime, for, every few seconds one would pulse and squirt out a blob of the fluid with a pronounced ‘plop’ sound.


‘You will be my slave’, said the alien, ‘and what is more, you will be my willing slave, you will give yourself up to me forever, willingly.’

Zack had seen that horrible thing enter the other boy’s mouth, and he was not going to let it happen to him. He kept his teeth and lips closed, but he spat out a response through his clenched teeth.




Leaning over the laboratory table, Cedric smiled. Everything was going perfectly. He visualised the tentacle moving down towards Zack’s stomach. His own cock was hard as stone, and he opened the front of his gown to let it out into the air. The height of the operating table meant that his cock was just above the level of Zack’s stomach.


Zack watched the alien tentacle moving down, and stopping just above the skin of his navel. Ever so slowly, it moved in to touch the muscular stomach.


In the lab, Cedric placed his two lubricant smeared fingers on the hunk’s naked stomach. He slowly drew a shiny circle around the navel, and then dipped one finger into the belly button hole. With his other hand, Cedric stroked his own firmly erect cock, faster and faster. It was if the boy was having a seizure, he was thrashing around so much. He ran the two fingers up the body slowly, touching each nipple one at a time, dripping extra lube onto his fingers as he went from the tube he clutched between the other two fingers and his thumb.


Zack’s mind amplified the sensation to unbearable levels, To the helpless stud, the sensation was indescribable, slimy and cold, but with a burning persistence, as if tiny suckers were plucking and pulling at his skin, and leaving microscopic barbs buried in the flesh, or as if some sort of acrid paste was dissolving off his top layer of skin wherever he was touched. He had never felt so helpless or out of control, but his mind kept reminding him of his mission, over and over again. For some reason the voice in his head sounded short and breathless

 ‘You will survive... ahh... this. You are the...uhhh... saviour of the earth. He will never take you as his AAAHH slave, you will always resist him. Oh god... this is fucking great.... I mean, this alien scum will be dead, crushed AAH AHH AHHH and bloody beneath your feet soon. OH GOD  UUGH AAAHH...’

 He forced himself to visualise that popular image from his dream, of himself, astride the enemy corpses, now formed of limp, dead, multi-tentacled fat bodies, and he held his Excalibur like sword high in the air in a posture of victory. However, for some reason, instead of the busty blonde girls who normally clung to his legs in the dream, now he had visualised the two enslaved hunks clinging, naked, to his thighs, still damp with alien slime. He tried to force the girls back into the image, but the boys would not be moved.

And, as he opened his eyes briefly, he saw the two boys, the quiet one still immobile, but the penetrated one... it looked like some reaction was happening in the boy’s body, as if his very muscles were beginning to dissolve, as if the manhood was being sucked out of him.

He seemed to be going a blotchy yellowy-grey colour, his perfect youthful skin becoming tired, stretched, and those fine, chunky arms and legs with those athletic biceps and thighs were turning into shapeless, thin tubes. The prominent pecs were  flattening out, the round and shapely ass sagging and flattening, the stomach six-pack in contrast ballooning and swelling, losing all definition and becoming taut and stretched like a well fed beer gut. The boy even appeared to be losing the hair from his head, a huge patch of skin showing through on his crown, and all the time that tentacle kept pumping and pumping...

The voice in his head, meanwhile,  was getting higher and higher pitched. Zack could now not tell the difference between the voice in his head and with the voice coming from the alien.


‘Oh Shit, aah, aaahh, uuhh UHH UHHHHH AAARRGG’ It moaned.


And then, with a final mighty groan from the Alien/Voice, a bumper load of slime erupted from the tentacle and deposited itself across Zack’s stomach.


And Zack faded again into unconsciousness.


Cedric stood at the table, panting. He removed the headset with his lube-covered hand, but kept his other hand clamped to his own cock. He was sorry he had to terminate the session there, but if he had kept it going any longer, the whole illusion might have started to unravel. It was already getting to the point where characters were getting confused. He needed to maintain clarity from now on, so no jerking off while on the headset.


The hunk was now sleeping, and would sleep until Cedric woke him for the next session, in a few hours time. Cedric stood, his hands still sticky and damp, looking down at the shiny snail-trails he had created across the boy’s stomach and chest with his fingers, and the white spunk deposits he had just sprayed onto the boy’s six pack from his own cock. He put his hand into the whitish pools, and began smearing it up and down the muscular chest, dripping it onto the nipples, putting a few drops onto the boy’s lips.

He might not be able to jerk off when he was engaged in mind control, but he’s not engaged in that now, is he? The stud won’t experience any of this, so no reason he should stop what he was doing...


He reached back down to his cock and, with his other hand, began a long and detailed hands-on physical examination of the naked sleeping body.




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