Date: Mon, 4 Mar 2019 20:17:45 -0800
From: Emri S. <tarzanacide@gmail.com>
Subject: Ahmed's Cub - Ch. 2

Please remember to support Nifty so this site can be free and open for
years to come... and men to cum...


http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html


"I'll undress you, 'cause you're tired

Cover you as you desire
When you fall asleep inside my arms
May not have the fancy things
But I'll give you everything
You could ever want, it's in my arms"



-----------------

Ahmed's Cub

Ch.2 - The Cure

By Emri

-----------------

"I don't know, doc. I feel like I am looking at what is left after a bomb
has gone. He is not the boy he was. He ache for help and I want so much to
give this to him." I said as I punched my cock into Dr. Nava's hole. He
groaned and looked up at me with flecks of gray in his dark eyebrows. He
had his legs spread. I'd ripped a hole in his briefs. That's what he gets
for buying such expensive underwear. It always shreds the fastest.

"Fuck.... Yeah... Oh fuck," he was getting lost in my pounding. I met up with
Dr. Nava almost every week. I fucked him and told him everything. He gave
me help, answers, and $400. His hourly rate was much higher than mine, but
I had to remind him my service was more valuable.

"You listen to me?" I barked. He snapped his eyes back up. They were filled
with a hazy lust, but he nodded.

"Yes, sir. You worry for this boy, you long for him. He is the perfect
angel boy I can never be for you. Right?" He looked up at me searching for
approval. I nodded.

"I wish I could take away his pain. We meet every night this week for work
on paper. Is due tomorrow and our presentation is ready... He open up to me.
His heart ache so bad. How does he recover from this? His parents are
dead," I say. Dr. Nava knows the whole story. We'd talked on the phone
before I came over so he could listen without being distracted by me.

He'd asked me to wear a suit tonight. I'd bought it using his account, of
course. It was pretty nice too, italian and shiny. He made thousands of
dollars an hour treating Hollywood elite. He was the best.

"I have an option, but he would need to agree to it. It could solve both of
your problems," he offered.

"My problem? What is my problem?" I ask as I punch-fuck his hole. He groans
and momentarily zones out again. I reach down and smack his face. He's not
an unattractive man and I leave a nice red mark on his pale, white cheek.

"You love him deeply but he does not identify as homosexual. I know a man
who can fix that while taking away his grief. It could be a fresh start for
him, and give you the boy you desire," he said and grunted in pleasure.

"Fuck yeah," I agreed. Doc's hole felt really good today. It was normally a
tight fit and this time it felt like he was massaging my cock with it. It
gripped me tight and I rammed him at that angle that made his cock drool.

We stopped talking about the boy for a few minutes and just got deep into
the rut. I smacked my hands against his hard pecs and drove deep into his
hole. His lips opened wide and he let out a silent gasp followed by a deep
moan. I normally didn't let him jerk himself, but tonight he was being
useful to me. He fisted his meat and started to spray all over us.

"Fuck! Thank you, sir!" He howled as I deep-dicked his happy hole. His
stomach thumped as I pushed up into him and he shot his seed all over
himself. I pumped a few more times before I felt myself ready to blow.

"Where do you want this, boy?" I asked him knowing what he wanted.

"To taste it, sir. Please can I?" He begged. He's a sick fuck. He likes it
straight from his ass.

"Your choice." I slide out of him and grab him by the hair. I pull his face
up and his mouth pops open like a hungry bird. He dives onto my cock and I
start to fire down his throat. I face-fuck him as I cum. He loves it. He
even makes a little pig grunt a few times when I bury his nose in my pubes.
I feel his tight throat wrap around my pulsing rod as he guzzles happily.

"Fuck! Thank you, sir!" He gasps when I let him go. He's swallowed it all.
He leans back and stretches out as his chest pounds for air. I lie down
next to him, eager to hear his offer.

"Well? What can you do?" I ask. He looks at me with confusion then suddenly
remembers my whole point of being here.

"Oh! The therapy! Ah yes. It is um... It's rather illegal and the ethics are
questionable, but there is a brain therapy some colleagues have developed.
It helps boys... and girls in situations like your Dylan. It's a series of
treatments... How much do you know about the brain?" he asks.

"A lot. Maybe as much as you. What kind of treatments?" I prod. I never get
credit from these guys. They think I'm a dumb muscle boy with a big dick. I
may do that for work, but my test scores and undergraduate research
projects earned me a position at UCLA. I only take my english courses at
the shit college because they're cheap and easier.

Dr. Nava crawls over to his desk and grabs his keys then limps, still
recovering from my dick, to a closet. He disappears then comes back with
some case files. He waves me towards a glass table and lays out some
papers. It's research, chemicals compounds, electro pulses, stimulation and
depression of different areas. I read through it as my cock hangs soft
between my thighs.

"Can they really do this? It's not just... what if it fucks him up? What if
he ends up not walking or pissing himself or... too much could go wrong with
this," I sigh. As much as I want Dylan, and want his happiness, it's just
too risky.

"It works. It's been used many times. Dr. Colton Takada even had it done on
himself years ago when he was younger. He's a remarkable researcher and has
brought the procedure light years ahead. The recovery is down to nothing.
It's basically twelve hours of sleep. It's rather remarkable... but very
expensive." Dr. Nava opened up more files to show me some of the results.
It certainly had been well-studied, at least according to the results.

"It works? How much?" I asked.

"More than a rent boy can afford, even a high-priced one like you. Standard
is $60,000 and criminal implication," he said.

"What does that mean?" I couldn't believe I was considering it.

"Well obviously this needs to be a well guarded secret since there are only
a few places on earth that would allow this. The boy can not know of it and
you must take it to your grave. Just getting a meeting with him would
require security vetting and I would have to vouch for you. I only even
brought it up because you are already in a trade that requires heavy
discretion." He smiled.

"I am, of course... And the cost? 60,000? All at once?" I asked. I had some
savings. I would buy a home when I returned to Egypt, but not $60,000
worth.

"He might offer some help with that. There are many who want to observe the
process, but of course most clients want complete privacy. Perhaps we could
work something out with him if your boy is cute enough. Knowing you, the
boy who captured your heart must be perfection," Dr. Nava said in a sad
tone.

"I don't know... I meet with this doctor and see. You will arrange?" I knew I
couldn't go through with it. It was unethical. Dylan would heal with time
and changing his sexuality seemed wrong. Still, it wouldn't hurt to meet
with him. I was always on the lookout for new clients.

+++

Driving home from the doctor's office I couldn't help but stop by Dylan's.
It was late and I wouldn't bother him. I just needed to peek in and see
him. We'd been pretty chill since the incident. He wasn't acting weird
around me and he still saved my seat in class. We had done well on our
project and he'd been slowly opening up to me about the pain.

I parked down the street from his apartment and crept up to the alley where
his window was. There was a soft light on in his room. I ducked behind the
trash cans and put up my black hoodie. His window was open and the blinds
were pulled up halfway. I heard music playing at a low setting, but I
didn't see him on his bed. His bedroom door was closed, his bed was made,
and his small bedside lamp was on. He wasn't in.

I decided to go around to the front of the apartment. I hadn't seen a light
on there, but I knew he would be home. Just as I pulled away from his
window though, I heard a soft whimper. I looked in closer and listened to
hear him crying softly. He sniffled and had this little whine like an
injured boy afraid of being heard. I crept to the other side of the window
to see if he was on the floor.

It broke my heart when I saw him. He was sitting on the floor leaned
against the wall with his legs drawn into his chest. He hugged them and
rocked slightly with his face between his knees.

My poor boy. How many nights did he spend like this? I couldn't leave him
like this.

I took my phone out of my pocket and made sure it was set to silent. I
opened the text app and typed out a message to him.

"Hey, Dyl. I am in your neighborhood. You are awake?" I sent it. I pulled
back into the shadows when I heard his phone buzz on the table. He got off
the floor and walked near the window to get it.

"I'm up, bro. Just really into this War-night game! :)" He wrote back. I
watched him wipe his tears with the back of his hand.

"Cool. Will your aunt let you out? It's Friday. I need pizza! Long
workout!" I texted.

"Yeah... Can you meet me on the big street? Ten minutes?" He wrote. He went
into a mad dash stripping off his clothes. He put on a blue sweatshirt and
jeans then went to splash his face. I crept away from his window then ran
to my car. I wasn't exactly clean myself. I had washed up in the sink at
Dr. Nava's. I would be ok.

I drove by his apartment and watched him quietly close the front door then
creep down the walk. He was sneaking out for me.

We did this side hug when he got in my car. He was getting used to it and
the seat was always set for him. A few days ago he had complained about me
not having toys for my passengers so I had put a few toy cars and fidget
cubes in the side pocket for him. He'd laughed so hard when I showed him.
I'd do anything to get that happiness back to him.

The pizza place he said was "the best ever" was closing in five minute when
we arrived. The owner made a special to go one just for us. It was plain
cheese per Dylan's request. We took it to go and I showed him another cool
little side park on Mulholland. It was becoming "our street." This time of
night on a weekend, it had a few couples making out, but they stayed in
their cars.

I put some nice music on low and opened the sunroof so we could watch the
moon and eat our pizza. He pretended like he had been having a nice night
at home playing his game. I couldn't ask him why he had been crying. I'd
let him lie to protect his dignity.

We spent two hours there just talking. He asked me a million questions
about Egypt and my time in the army and my friends back home. He listened
happily until he accidentally asked about my family. That brought him down
quick. His face looked pained and I felt my protective lion stir.

"If you could stop hurting, would you?" I asked. It was a stupid question,
but I was wrestling fiercely with what Dr. Nava had told me about.

"I would... I wouldn't want to forget about my parents. They were awesome
people. I just wish it didn't hurt every minute of every day. With you I
don't think about it so much. We have fun together," he admitted.

"I am safe to you... You hurt so much. I wish I could take your pain. I can
get you help. If you want that. I can take the pain," I told him.

"It's supposed to get easier. It's supposed to hurt less. I let it ruin my
life. I couldn't even finish school. They let me fake graduate with my
friends who aren't even my friends anymore. My dad was so proud of me
finishing with good grades and sports... He was planning a big party for my
graduation. Instead I lost my house and they took everything. I'm a fucking
loser, Ahmed," Dylan wept.

I pulled him over against my chest. My dark, rugged muscles framed his
angelic body so perfectly. I was made for him.

"Do you want me to take the pain? Say the words and I will. You need a
father. Let me be this to you." I kissed his hair. He was a boy in
desperate need of a daddy. I was in desperate need for him.

"Please... help," he said.

+++

On Monday I had a call from a strange number. I never answer those, but the
ID said Takada Corporation. I expected an older, medical voice to greet me,
but the man sounded young and he asked for me by name.

"Dr. Nava told me about your situation... Well to be fair I had already been
thinking about you before he told me your boy needed help," Dr. Takada
began.

"Me? But why?" I was confused.

"Well most of my service has been on creating submissive boys for wealthy
daddies, but Dr. Nava told me about what you do and what he gets from it.
Don't be mad at him, but I have also seen some of his secret recordings.
It's pretty hot how you can take a powerful man and dominate him. It's a
market I hadn't thought about. Wealthy men who want a boy they can control,
but who also knows how to turn the tables in the bedroom," he explained.

"I'm not interested in becoming someone's boy, alpha or otherwise," I said.

"No, no, you misunderstand. It comes naturally to you. Your fiery alpha
domination is mapped in your head and it's something you could help me
design as an alternative to our standard services. If I could get the
blueprints from your personality, I could work to combine it with the
obedience my clients want of their boys. Plus you are Egyptian and the Arab
world is an untapped market for me. We could work together. I am very
interested," he offered.

"I will do anything to help my boy. Do you think he can be help by this
procedure?" I asked.

"Of course! I researched your boy and I would love to meet him! He sounds
perfect," Dr. Takada said. We talked for an hour. He said they could work
do this for free if I would help him with his alpha boy research and if
Dylan would agree to let him make a private documentary about it. He said
it would only be shown to prospective clients who agreed to the
nondisclosure.

He said they would need some taped therapy sessions with Dylan before the
procedures could begin anyways so he could get a mind map and know what to
go for when he got in there. They would show his pain but also his
personality.

Dylan would never be allowed to watch it. I doubt he would want to anyways.
It would show not only a boy in deep stress, but a boy who liked girls.
They would show his transformation to being a happy, carefree boy who
obeyed my every order and longed for my pleasure. That boy sounded amazing.

"I'm betting it would even be profitable for you if we brought in enough
new business! I have seen your boy. He went from being an all-american jock
boy to a sad case and we can bring him back but make him better. That kind
of story would make my clients feel altruistic in their endeavors for
submissives. I could show how we make life better for the boys," Dr. Takada
said.

He told me his own story. Colton Takada had been a spoiled boy seeking
wealthy daddies until he met Mr. Takada who transformed him and got him
help. He became a loyal boy to Mr. Takada and even took his last name. He
had gone to college and then medical school to learn about his own
procedure and assist in making the technology better. He could help Dylan.
He could make my shy boy whole again.

"Come to my home. I have my laboratory there and I want to meet Dylan. Let
me talk to him and see if he chooses this," he offered. We agreed I'd go on
Thursday after the morning course was finished and bring Dylan.

+++

Thursday had a long drive for us out to Dr. Takada's home past Calabasas.
Coincidentally, Dylan was dressed perfectly in a small tank top and tight
shorts. It would definitely help his case with Dr. Takada.

I told Dylan the truth... well half of it. I told him about the procedure and
the solid science behind it. I also told him Dr. Takada would do it for
free if he agreed to star in the documentary. I assured him it would only
be shown to high level clients and his name and information would be
protected. I would make sure of that!

"You really think it would work?" he asked. He sounded like he was afraid
of getting his hopes up.

"The results look very solid. The doctor will explain how this works then
you can decide for yourself. I just want that you feel better." I reached
over and rubbed his hair. He was so perfect, so beautiful. Dr. Takada would
want to help him.

We arrived at large gates at the end of a narrow road that snaked through
the hills. Behind them we found a sprawling mansion built into the
hillside.

Dr. Takada met us at the front door. I could tell from his smile he was
immediately taken with my shy boy. He was quite attractive himself. He was
probably in his early 30's and had perfect skin and a solid, athletic
frame. He greeted us warmly and welcomed us inside.

"Please! Call me Colton!" He glowed when Dylan showed him respect. He sat
us down in a large office and began by asking Dylan about his sadness. He
played a computer animation of how the procedure worked and spent an hour
explaining it to us. I could see Dylan light up with hope that his
nightmare might soon be over.

Dr. Takada told us his therapist would meet with Dylan at an office near
the college. He would film every minute of it but the camera would be
hidden out of the way. We signed a few security agreements that Dylan would
need to renew in a few weeks when he turned 18. After that, we could begin.

+++

We spent the next few weeks working Dylan's therapy. I drove him to the
nearly empty front in an out of the way office park in Reseda. He asked me
to sit in with him for the first few sessions, but then felt comfortable
enough to do it on his own. I was glad for that. It hurt to hear his pain.

Dr. Rossmore was a kind, older man who seemed to have a way with boys like
Dylan. He was overweight, bald, and nonthreatening. He had a comfortable
couch brought in and even brought Dylan lunch most days.

"I'm starting to feel a little better," Dylan said as I drove him home
after the seventh visit. "I don't cry as much. Some of his questions are
weird, but it's cool. He asks about my ex-girlfriend! It got me thinking
about her. I should call her and make amends. I know I hurt her..."

"Do you want her to come back to you?" I asked uncomfortably. This was the
part of the whole thing that held me up. He deserved to have the person he
wanted, not the man who would change his brain chemistry.

"Not really," Dylan laughed. "I want her to be happy though."

+++

Dylan turned 18 on a Friday, the same day I turned 24. He hadn't planned a
party. He said no one would come even if he could afford one. I decided to
take him and his aunt out to celebrate. We would go for brunch and skip our
class at the college since I was eager to begin the real work of Dylan's
procedure.

Dylan and I had concocted a story that I was taking him camping for the
weekend. It was the first time I'd really talked to her since she just kind
of nodded at me whenever I showed up at their apartment. She didn't ask any
questions about our camping trip. She seemed relieved to have him out of
the house for once.

I took them to a nice place in Burbank high above the valley. It had a huge
patio with a beautiful view. His aunt was more concerned with the
bottomless mimosas I'd promised her. Dylan kept whispering apologies for
her when she'd make a demand of the waiter or make a semi-racist comment
about Arabs.

I didn't care. She could make terrorist jokes all she wanted. After today,
shy boy would be mine. Dr. Takada had told me Dylan would take quickly to
the procedure and would need my full attention once he woke up. I knew he
would never want to go back to his aunt's place after this.

We finished our brunch and his aunt chugged the rest of her sixth mimosa as
I paid the bill. Dylan had his bag packed next to mine in my trunk. We sped
back to the apartment, dropped her off, watched her stumble safely up to
her front door, and then drove off to Dr. Takada's compound.

He showed us back to a guest room that was near his laboratory. It was a
bright room with big windows overlooking the hills. It had one big
comfortable bed that Dylan looked at with confusion as he set down his bag.

"Um... are we sharing a bed?" he whispered to me, not wanting to offend Dr.
Takada.

"You'll be sleeping in the clinic tonight for your treatment then we'll
have a room for your recovery," Dr. Takada said though I knew it was a lie.
Dyl would be recovering in my bed as soon as his treatment concluded.

"Oh! Right! I am so grateful for this," Dylan quickly corrected.

"No worries, son," Dr. Takada sang. "Just leave your bag here and we can
get started!"

He led Dylan and me to his lab where there was a leather dentist's chair in
the corner near the window. He sent Dylan off to use the restroom since he
would be under for awhile. He gave him a clear solution in a small cup and
then had him lay back in the chair. He stripped off Dylan's shirt and put a
band around his head and chest. He attached little wires to it as Dylan
started to yawn. My shy boy drifted off as Dr. Takada was finishing the
last attachment.

He led me over to a computer setup with eight different monitors. He opened
programs and Dylan's scans started to appear. It was like stepping into a
sci-fi movie. The monitors started generating thousands of reports and Dr.
Takada touched the screens to move through them until he found what he
needed. He clicked on a keyboard and started entering parameters and
changing metrics. He made little grunts and cheers as he found what he
wanted.

"Oooh he is going to be beautiful. Such a healthy brain for a boy who has
experienced so much trauma. Look at his depression clouds. You see them
there and there?" He pointed excitedly at the screen as I followed. It was
fascinating and the way he explained it made it seem so simple. He showed
me how we could shrink them and replace them with nodes that would dwell on
positive images.

"Right there. It's just turning his focus. He'll still have the emotions,
but they will pass through him. He will hold on to the things that bring
him happiness, like pleasing you!" He worked it until Dylan's brain scan
showed a very different picture.

"Now comes the cool part! Grab that headset!" He directed. He handed me
some papers that looked like a script.

"You can read these or make up your own. We'll record your voice and weave
it through all of his memories. As far as he can remember, your voice is
what comforts him, your commands are what drives him, your pleasure is what
brings him joy. He will crave hearing these things from you on a most
primal level," Dr. Takada explained. "Now go! Start!"

"Daddy loves you. Are you being daddy's good boy? That little pussy needs
daddy's attention? Your little pussy opens only for me? That's mine? Yeah,
baby," I read the lines. It was pure filth, pages and pages of it. I was
hard before I finished the first one.

I deepened my tone and spoke in a low voice as the doctor directed me. He
even had me put my fingers to my lips and whistle so Dylan would respond to
it. He recorded half an hour of me talking dirty to Dylan, reassuring him,
praising him for obeying. I went through a list of commands, positions I
liked. I got creative with it. I didn't want to sound like I did with my
clients. He was more than sex for me, he was my boy.

"This is hot! He is a lucky boy. He'll crave hearing your voice and
reassurance. It will calm him," the doctor explained as he made short clips
of my words and sent them into Dylan's brain. I looked over at my boy
sleeping peacefully with all the wires over him. His lips curled into a
smile and he let out a happy moan as the doctor worked his magic.

"After this he will be so happy, like a new boy." I smiled.

"Sort of. It takes a few treatments and we will play with the dynamics. We
want to test out the personalities before we make one permanent. Sometimes
when we take out depression and sadness, the personality and intelligences
that emerge aren't quite the best fit," he explained.

Dylan mumbled something then did a sort of laugh like he'd told a joke. He
raised his hand and waved at an imagined person in front of him. "Daddy
will like that!" Dylan said with a smile.

I laughed. It was so good to see him happy, even in his sleep. Dr. Takada
nodded proudly.

"He is a very smart boy. He had good grades before his parents' death," I
noted.

"His intelligence wasn't all that high. He must have worked very hard. I
can adjust it up if we need to, but it might change his personality too
much." Dr. Takada pointed at the screen.

"We will see how he turns out." I shrugged.

"And now for the stimulation. You brought the clothes?" he asked.

"Oh! Yes! They are quite disgusting. I wear the shorts and jockstrap for
three days during workout!" I ran to the guest room and brought the ziploc
bag that kept them "fresh."

"Perfect," he said when he opened the bag. "We'll put these near his face."
He moved to Dylan who was lying peacefully in the chair with a happy smile
across his lips. When Dr. Takada put the soiled gym clothes over his eyes
and nose, I saw his lips curl up in disgust.

"He does not like them," I noted.

"Oh he will!" Dr. Takada moved back to the computer. He worked some buttons
and menu choices and I heard a moan escape Dylan's lips.

"He is exciting himself!" I said and pointed. My shy boy's shorts were
tenting up with a heavy pole. His body started to buck and twist like he
was fucking something.

"Yes. We'll edge him for awhile. His brain will imprint with the smell of
you. We'll recreate it to cover his first 100 masturbation memories in his
brain. He will link his pleasure to your smell. He'll crave it and feel
excited whenever you're near. It's part of the process of making him your
boy." Dr. Takada explained.

"Huhhhh, dadddyyyy!" Dylan whined from his chair. His hands went up to my
gym clothes. He squished them in his fingers and took a deep hit of them.
The tent in his shorts wagged back and forth. His beautiful little body
danced in the chair.

"Will he finish like this?" I asked.

"No no. We want his pleasure to come from your touch. It wouldn't be right
for a boy to cum on his own without daddy's permission. The sensors are
stimulating his hole. It will need your touch when he is recovering
tomorrow. He'll beg for it and have a pretty severe need for bonding." Dr.
Takada showed me the charts where Dylan's brain was going crazy with
excitement.

After about twenty minutes of this, we took away the gym clothes. I
replaced it with a warm sweatshirt that held my cologne. Dr. Takada placed
it over my shy boy's chest and wrapped the arms around his back. Dylan
turned over onto his side and hugged it then made little happy whimpers.
The tent in his shorts settled down and he drifted into a deeper sleep.

"He will need a few hours of this. His body is adjusting. We have to
transform things very slowly and he will probably need a lot of sleep over
the next week. Let's go get some dinner," he said. I didn't want to leave
him. This was fascinating, but Dr. Takada urged me. We turned off the
lights in the lab. He showed me his portable tablet that would monitor him
and alert us if the boy needed anything.

We left Dylan for a while and he showed me around his house. We had dinner
outside on the patio with his husband, Mr. Takada. He was an older man in
incredible shape. He said he just celebrated his 63rd birthday. Dr. Takada
kept him on a strict workout regimen. The two of them were quite happy
together. I hoped Dylan and I would be that happy at their age though Dr.
Takada was quite a bit younger than his husband.

We went back to check on Dylan about 10pm. He had been under for almost 7
hours now and he was still peacefully resting. Dr. Takada turned off the
therapy when it completed and he urged me to get some rest. We both knew
that wasn't going to happen. I pulled up a chair beside Dylan and watched
over him through the night.

At 4am, my shy boy stirred. Dr. Takada had taken off the wires around
midnight and Dylan had curled up around my sweatshirt. I had passed the
time playing games on my phone and even had a long conversation with my
parents in Cairo. I was exhausted, but I knew I couldn't sleep until Dylan
was awake and cleared from any danger.

"Ahmed," Dylan whispered. His voice sounded weak.

"I am here, my boy. You are safe," I answered, looking up from my phone.

"Ahmed.... Ahhhh-medddd," he sang. "That doesn't sound right, man... dude...
bro," he laughed. "No... what is your name? What do I call you?" he asked
with confusion.

"I am daddy?" I said with a hint of question. Was it too soon to say that?

"Yes! Daddy... wait... daddy? Yeah... you're my daddy?" he was blissed out on the
medicine.

"I am, my boy. I am your daddy," I said.

"You're my daddy." He blinked up at me in the dimly lit lab. He hugged my
sweatshirt and studied me with concern. He rolled over to face me and
reached out to put his hand on my knee. I put both of my hands over his and
covered it.

"You are mine," I said and leaned down so my face was inches from his.

"I am yours," he said. We stared into each other for a solid minute and
then his lips curled up into a smile. "I missed you."

"You did? You had a long sleep, baby boy. You are to feel better?" I asked.

He nodded. He raised his head and then his lips touched mine. He kissed me.
My shy boy kissed me. He used all of his strength to raise his lips to
mine. I let go of his hands and put my palms against his cheeks to hold his
little angel face. His lips touched mine and I slid my tongue into him. He
tasted like morning breath but it was perfection.

"I'm thirsty. I have to pee. I'm so tired, daddy," he whined.

"Take your boy," Dr. Takada said from behind me. "There is a bathroom in
your suite and water on the bedside table. I closed the blackout curtains
so you two can get some rest. And don't forget to stimulate him. It is very
important that his hole recognizes and bonds with you. Finger, tongue,
whatever you like."

"I will! Thank you!" I said. I scooped up my shy boy. He clung to the
sweatshirt but then threw his arms around my shoulders when I lifted him.
He felt so perfect against my chest. He nestled his face into my shoulder
and I carried him off to the room.

"I gotta pee, daddy," Dylan said as I got him into the bathroom.

"I know, baby boy." I set him down on the toilet then helped him push his
shorts down. His cock was soft and just a few inches so I helped him aim it
down into the bowl. He let loose a full bladder and wrapped his arms around
me. He hummed a tune I didn't know and started to kiss my ear. It tickled
but I diligently maintained his stream into the proper place.

I helped him wash up then we brushed our teeth and I pulled his briefs back
up and got him to bed. I gave him some water and he gulped it with urgency.
I stripped down to my boxers and pulled him against my bare chest. He threw
his arm over me and nestled his face in against my heartbeat.

I was so tired and ready to finally drop off when I remembered what Dr.
Takada had said. I needed to work his hole. This daddy thing was hard work,
but I had to see it through.

I reached down to his firm bubble bottom and slid my hand into his briefs.
I squeezed his cheeks and massaged them. The boy squirmed and whimpered
weakly.

"Please," he mumbled hazily. "Please play with it, daddy. It needs you."

"Like this, boy? You want this, boy? You need daddy to take what is his?" I
rubbed a finger down between his cheeks. I wanted to see it but there was
no way I'd disturb the happy boy on my chest. I poked my finger against his
tight little virgin hole.

He whined and pushed back like he was trying to force it inside him. I
pushed at it with my index finger. I wiggled it into him and he gasped in
relief. I watched his body relax. His hole had its pacifier.

"Yes, daddy. It's yours," he whined. I pushed into him. I rubbed inside his
soft, pink pleasure. He settled against me and nodded off. His hole was
filled. He was at peace.

+++

We slept for ten hours. I checked my phone when I woke to see it was
Saturday afternoon. My boy was awake but laid against me in a sleepy daze.

"My bottom feels funny," he noted like it had all been a weird dream.

"It feels ok to me," I said. I wiggled my finger inside him. I'd never
fallen asleep with my finger in a guy's hole.

"Oh, ok.... Wait!" Dylan sat up with sudden alarm. "You have your finger in
me! Dude, no!" He pulled away from me and looked down with horror. His
briefs were stretched out in the back where my hand had been all night.

I worried for a minute that the therapy had worn off. It hadn't worked and
he was waking up pissed at me for violating his ass.

"Dylan, it's..." I started to explain, but then he cut me off. He sniffed the
air with interest.

"What is that?" he asked and looked down at my chest.

I raised my arms and shrugged. His face played through a series of
expressions then he leaned down to my chest and sniffed harder. He traced
his nose over my pecs until he found my right armpit.

"Fuck, dude. I'm sorry. I can't help myself. Is that a new cologne? It
smells incredible!" he asked. He pulled back but stared longingly at my
hairy pit. I raised my right arm over my head and sniffed but I only
smelled the hint of my night sweat.

"No? Is only me," I said but then I caught on. "It's ok. You can smell,
boy." I adopted the alpha tone I'd used in the recordings and Dylan's face
lit up, but then pulled back in disgust.

"No... I didn't mean to... It smells so good," he said. I could tell he wanted
to go for it. He sat back on his heels and his knees were spread halfway
open. His briefs were tenting.

"Come, boy. It's ok. Daddy is here," I whispered.

He looked down at me. His eyes showed the hurricane of emotions he was
swirling through. He slowly leaned towards me and then pulled back but then
leaned in again. Finally he went for it. He dove down and took a deep hit
of my armpit.

"Ahhhh, dude... duuude.... Daddy," he said and looked at me with wild eyes. I
nodded. I lowered my arm and put it on his back. I rubbed up until my
fingers pushed into his hair. I gripped the flop of dark golden hair on top
of his head and pulled his face up to mine.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. It just smells so good, so...
right," he said with a tone that begged for my reassurance.

"You feel better, don't you?" I asked.

"I feel so good... daddy," he whimpered.

I let him explore me, taste me, touch me. He was shy at first, holding back
and thinking it was wrong. He warmed up though and inhaled me. It wasn't a
dream. He was my boy.

To be continued...


My Stories: https://sites.google.com/view/emri/
My Blog: https://emriwrites.blogspot.com/