The next morning I walked into John's room and found him still comfortably hooked up to the IV lines. The powerful combination of narcotics helped increase the disoriented dream world that John now inhabited. It also made it difficult for him to form thoughts or reason through the things that were told to him. As I shook him awake, I looked deeply into his eyes and quickly placed him in a light trance. His eyes immediately glazed over.
"John," I told him, "it is time to begin your hydro-therapy. It will loosen your joints and increase your flexibility for the coming season." He merely nodded. I gave him a too-tight speedo to wear for his "therapy." John was normally very modest about his hunky jock body and would never have worn something so revealing if he had been thinking for himself. There was much about John's look and fashion choices that I would change once he was completely subjugated. I would have him wear more "flattering" clothes that placed his male pulchritude on fuller display for his discriminating male fans to appreciate. His days of respectable husband and father clothes would be over. No more golf shirts and khakis. I would want to put my latest acquisition on display. As for his workout clothes, baggy sweatpants and grey athletic t-shirts, also would have to go. Neon spandex bike pants and wifebeaters would now be his preferred choice. Cut-off t-shirts and short shorts would also be favored. So many choices to make for him, but we can deal with that later.
I went to the hydro-therapy training room to wait for John. At the center of the training room was a large jacuzzi with a built-in chair. The jacuzzi was bubbling with water, much like the relaxing tubs football players sat in to soak their sore and bruised bodies. This jacuzzi, however, was unlike any other. It was so relaxing that once John bathed in its waters his will would be washed away forever in a beautiful whirlpool of submission. Mixed into the bubbling, pulsating water was a powerful mind control drug that I had developed with my colleagues. Its chemical composition was such that when mixed into water it penetrated into the bloodstream through topical contact with the skin. Up to this point I had focussed on developing a "new" personal history for John, wiping away the All-American, well-adjusted boyhood and replacing it with all too real memories of a nightmare abusive childhood that left him deeply scarred and vulnerable to manipulation by a new "father figure." Now it was time to follow up on that vulnerability and make myself his "daddy.". The drug I had placed in the pool was designed to assist in killing off basic genetic and character traits like will power, aggressiveness and confidence. Once in the bloodstream, the drug would stun and paralyze that part of the brain that gives a person his basic personality. When followed up on by a trained hypnotist, lifelong changes can be implemented. The rugged, cocky field general John Elway that millions knew and admired would essentially drown in this warm pool of enslavement.
John shuffled into the room in a daze, packed into a tight speedo that he normally would have mocked as something a "homo" would wear. He was exquisite. I looked at him and thought how far I had already brought him. His descent would be total. I placed him first in a powerful shower so that his pores would be clean and open, thus accelerating his body's metabolizing of the drug. Once that was finished, he sat in the jacuzzi's chair as instructed. I had constructed the built-in chair to exactly accommodate John's measurements. The indented chair was measured to allow his buttocks and hips to fit snugly. There was also a built-in headrest that would allow him to recline his head backward so that he could gaze directly into the eyes of someone standing above him while the waters soothed and massaged him.
Once he was comfortably situated, I turned the jets on high. The jets had been especially calibrated and so placed that they sent powerful, pulsating blasts of water directly at various erogenous zones. The effect was one that quickly sent the subject into erotic delirium and a near-hypnotic state. All this while the drug penetrated the pores. Two jets each were directed at John's nipples. I watched with grim satisfaction as the poisoned water bubbled around his magnificent pectorals. His nipples quickly hardened and he moaned. Had he been in anything like a normal state, John Elway would have blushed with embarrassment at his girlish reaction.
Wearing a wetsuit to avoid contact with the water, I entered the jacuzzi. I stood straddled over the seated quarterback, my legs on either side of his. Daringly, I stroked his pecs and pinched his nipples. John's unseeing eyes closed in ecstasy. On top of the stimulation of his nipples, a score of different jets now began pulsating and massaging his penis. It quickly hardened and John's whole body stiffened in the chair. This reaction was immediately followed by the activation of another series of jets. These were located directly below John's anus and sent tantalizing sensations into his virgin hole. John let out a high-pitched quivering sigh, a million miles removed from the low, unwavering man's voice that he used to bark out signals to his teammates.
The next phase began. John's head was now resting in the indented headrest, facing up at the ceiling. Within the headrest were another set of jets, located just below the various muscles at the base of the neck that led directly to the brain. These jets now activated, pounding John with the most complete, bewildering massage he had ever had. The pounding and massaging of his neck muscles with the drugged water began to wipe away all of John's consciousness. His awareness of his surroundings faded. He tried to stay conscious and think about what was going on, but the pounding continued. Soon his head felt heavy. Colors -- pretty colors -- began to appear before his eyes. John felt as if the pulsating whirlpool had now entered his mind and was sending his thoughts and fears swirling away into an abyss. I watched in excited triumph as John's will was carried away on a tide.
I took a cloth soaked in the poisoned water and began to "wash" his face. I payed close attention to his forehead. Holding the saturated cloth tightly against each temple for minutes at a time. As I did this, his pupils became more and more dilated, almost like those of a person in a coma. I cupped his chin in my hand and opened his jaw with my thumb. In a near-sacramental gesture, I rung out another saturated cloth over John's open mouth. He accepted the drugged water that would bring his downfall, swallowing in large gulps. I tightened inside my wetsuit as I saw his adam's apple bob involuntarily, thinking of the uses to which I would put John's muscular throat.
I lean over him, my face directly above his. The erotic pounding of the drugged water into his nipples, crotch and ass have driven him to distraction. The pounding at the base of his brain has completely disoriented and befuddled him. The moment is here. I fix my eyes on his and they are all he sees. "John, feel the swirling, pulsating water. It is so relaxing. Its inside your head. But look at my eyes! The swirling water is in them too!" He was right, John thought. The pulsations and swirling of the water that aroused his sex and relaxed his mind was now moving in time with the motions and reflections in my big circling eyes!
"That's it, John. The pleasant surges and pulses are coming from my eyes. Look deeper into them. You must forget everything else or the pleasure will go away!"
"No! Don't make it go away!"
"That's right John, you don't want the pleasure to go away. Just keep looking at me. My eyes are so deep and beguiling. You have never seen anything quite so interesting." The pounding at the base of his brain continues and John begins to fall deeper into my eyes. By now the metabolized drugs and the pounding massage have combined to inflict upon John what is basically a stroke. His mind is paralyzed and almost completely open to re-programming. "Soon, John, I will wipe away all that you are and all that you have. You will be a blank slate and I will write a new John that I want." Remnants of his powerful will remain. Something is wrong, a small voice deep in his mind screams. "You're John Elway, this guy is trying to destroy you! Fight him!"
John begins to struggle, lifting his head up from the headrest. The quarterback who has led a thousand comebacks is not beat yet! Now he uses his iron will in a last valiant effort to save his own personhood. He struggles to look away, but I forcibly turn his head to look at me again. I see the massive internal struggle in his face as his powerful will seeks not to be drawn into my eyes and lost forever. But another part of him is drawn in and I see his eyes start to glaze and his face go slack. "John, why do you fight me? I can fulfill you. Deep down inside you are so unhappy, but you hide it. Open up to me and I can take your pain away. You know now that your whole life is a lie. You are hiding something, suppressing it."
John is struggling, confused. His eyes reflect his continued will to fight, to resist whatever trick is about to be sprung upon him. "Remember what Coach Wilson did to you?" I ask. The conditioning of the previous night has worked. It comes back to him in a rush. The look of defiant struggle is replaced by that of a stricken little boy. "How could your parents have done that to you, John? They didn't care about you, did they. They just wanted to use you to get ahead."
John, now a shattered little boy thinks, "How could they do that to me?"
I press the advantage. "They don't care for you and that hurt is such a scar deep inside you. It has never healed. Let me heal it. I love you, John. No one cares about you."
John felt empty, hollowed out. "No one cares about me."
"That makes you feel so much pain, John. Your life is nothing but pain. You are alone."
The super stud quarterback breaks into tears. "I am alone!"
"The truth is, John, that you need someone to share your pain with, to sooth you. Don't fight it John. I can be that person for you. There is something you need to say about what Coach Wilson did to you, isn't there?"
The words begin to escape John's mouth as a part of him screams in denial inside. "I liked what Coach did to me!" he cries.
"Don't be upset. Look more deeply into my eyes John. Feel the pulsating water and let it carry you. John, if you liked it that means you are gay. That means that your whole life has been a lie. Say it John, and know it is true."
He struggles against it, but stutters the words out. "I am gay. My whole life has been a lie." He breaks into a sob.
"Now, now, John. You know that you don't love your wife. She is just part of the facade you have developed to hide your true self. In fact, she is using you. You hate her. Let what you know deep down come out and admit that it is true. Say it my love boy."
The voice inside him resisting the pounding, the drugs and my swirling yes begins to wither away. The anchor of John's life is dislodged as he screams "I don't love her. I hate her!"
"Yes, John. That's right. And all of your macho leadership on the field. That is all a front. The truth is you are weak. You need me to tell you what to do."
A monotone enters his voice. "I am weak. I need you to tell me what to do."
All of your athletic ability depends on me, John. On you submitting to my therapy and letting me guide you. Without me, you cannot succeed at football or in life. Without me you will be a failure. You are nothing without me."
"Without you I am a failure."
"Without me you are nothing."
"Without you I am nothing."
"Yes, John! In your new life you won't have to struggle and fight and worry. There will be no goals or triumphs to achieve. You will be relaxed and happy all the time. You won't need to think ever again. Who needs that? The truth is that it gets hard always having to be the leader. Always being in charge. Having the other guys on the team look to you. . . No! Don't turn your head away!" I grab him and turn his face toward me again. He uses what remains of his strength and I am surprised at how much remains. I place the rag of drugged water directly over his temples and press it while he continues to gaze into my eyes. I hold his jaw and he is again staring directly into my eyes. He closes his eyes, but by now I am in his head. "Don't resist me my love. Lay down your burden. I can make you happier than you have ever been. Mindless bliss. Open your eyes and look at me." He fights hard, but his eyes open almost with a will of their own. "That's it. You're getting lost in my eyes. Lost in a whirlpool of relaxation. You're becoming addicted to it. As I was saying. You're tired of being the macho guy in charge. You want me to take charge. You're tired of girls. You don't want to be around them any more. You just want to be with me. I'm your new daddy." John struggles mightily as the light of individuality begins to leave his crystal blue eyes. Internally the struggle is being lost. He knows what is happening. He is losing his life. Feeling his personality being wiped away, and he fights it. But a growing part of him is transfixed by the man's beautiful deep eyes and what he is saying starts to make sense. John is ceasing the struggle. The old John Elway slipped away into memory and oblivion.
The next morning John arrives in the massage room for further training. I test his reflexes and do a quick probe of his mind. The conditioning of the previous evening appears to have been totally effective. Not a spark of individuality remains. Wherever I probe in his mind I find a scared, submissive boy who looks to me to make decisions. I check on John's thoughts for the upcoming season and find a paralyzing fear that he is not good enough combined with a need to begin physical and meditation training with my team so that he is able to compete. When I probe as to his thoughts regarding his business and financial affairs, I find that he feels unable to even form a plan or a thought. Again, I find a slavish determination to turn these matters over to me. Most interesting, I find apathy and complete lack of feeling toward his family, even hostility toward his wife. He has a strong desire to escape them and all that remains of his "lie" of a life. The old John is effectively dead.
This morning, I want to reshape him sexually at an instinctive level. While John has been programmed to think that he is gay as an intellectual matter, the fact is that he is very straight as a physical matter. This is confirmed by a test I run which shows that he still only gets physically aroused by pictures of women and does not respond at all to the pictures of men. Now that I have complete control of his mind, I will use it to kill off his heterosexual physical urges and make him completely homosexual. Specifically, I will make him a voracious bottom. For now, I will create in him a physical need for me and only me. A need that will drive him mad if it is denied. This will make him even more compliant.
He arrives at the massage room naked as instructed. By now, he docilely accepts everything I tell him. "John?"
"Yes daddy." Even his voice reflects his new identity as a submissive puppet. He no longer speaks in a manly baritone when addressing me. Instead, his voice is higher-pitched and lighter, with almost a quiver in it.
"I know how much you want to stop the lie you are living and come to peace with your true gay nature."
"Oh, yes, daddy."
"But a part of you is resisting that. Your body still pretends to like women. You can never be free or happy while that is true."
"Never be free."
"You want to be free, don't you John?"
"Yes daddy. Free."
"Then we must strip your body of the lie, John. Look at yourself." I take him to a full length mirror and show him his body, which any man would be proud to possess. "Look at that ugly hair, John. You have hair around your little wee wee, hair on your legs and hair on your arms. Only straight masculine men have hair on their bodies. But you are a little gay boy."
"Yes, daddy. I'm gay."
"As long as your body keeps that hair, the lie will continue and you will never be free of happy. When your hair is gone, your body will know that you are not some macho straight stud. When I shave away your hair, your phony desire for women will go away forever, John. Should I shave you and make you free and happy?"
"Yes, please daddy!"
I place him on a massage table and bring out shaving cream and a straight razor. First I lather up his arms and shave them. While his shoulders and upper arms are hairless, the hair on his thick forearms is moderately full. He sits like a good little boy while I scrape the hair from his arms. Cooing to him, "Feel as the hair leaves you how you like women less." He nods and whispers softly, "Yes."
His legs are dense with golden hair that seems kissed by the sun. They are real football player legs. Calves that bulge like baseballs and thick, muscular thighs mounted on a hard as cement bubble butt. As I shave them I drum the thought into his head. "The hair is going away. So is the lie that you like women. You like them less and less as your hair goes away." I lather up and denude him of the dusting of hair on his tight quarterback ass.
I have him hold his hands behind his head like a Greek statue as I shave the hair from his armpits. His pectoral muscles have no hair except for a light swirl around the nipples. They are quickly and easily dispatched. I scrape away the blond trail from his six-pack stomach down toward his manhood. As I begin to shave away his thick golden pubic bush, I whisper to him: "Now, John, all your desire for women is fading away. With the last of your body hair goes the last of your attraction to them. You don't want women"
He looks up at me dreamily. "I don't want women."
I begin to cover his body with a powerful hair removal liquid that kills off hair follicles permanently. "You'll be nice and smooth forever, John. Your body won't lie about you anymore. You're not some hairy macho straight man. Now you're a smooth little gay boy."
"I'm a smooth little gay boy," he says with wonder in his voice.
"Just as your hair will never grow back, so your desire for women will never grow back. You will never desire women again. Say it."
"I will never desire women again."
The burning and tingling of the hair removal liquid causes a shudder to pass through his entire body. My penis jumps in excitement.
Now that John was cured of women, it was time to instill in the superstar quarterback and instinctive total need for male sex. And for one man in particular.
"John, it is time for your massage. You want a deep and total body massage, don't you?"
"Yes, daddy."
John compliantly spread out on the table, lying on his stomach. I took out a bottle of baby oil, squirted some into my hand and began a firm and deep massage. I started with the muscles around his neck and shoulders. It was then I realized just how thick and broad he is. His neck is so muscled that my hand won't even cover the side of his neck very well. I climbed onto the table, straddling John's back as I powerfully worked the oil into him. His shoulders were those of a stallion, broad and lean, with the muscles standing in definition. As I proceeded, I leaned forward and whispered hotly in his ear. "The oil frees you John. As it works into your skin, your body becomes open to its true nature. The more the oil is massaged into you, the more you come to desire sex with men." I erotically rotate my oily hands over his strong shoulders. He sighs.
I flip him over so that he lies on his back. I now straddle his chest, with my penis in front of his face. I begin to work the oil into his barrel chest and now firm nipples. "I am the only man who gives you the oil that sets you free, John. You love me for that."
"I love you."
I pinch his firm, oily nipples and he moans. My manhood is now inches from his mouth. "Only I can make you totally free, John. But you must show me how grateful you are for your freedom. Little gay boys want to show how much they love their daddies, don't they?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"You want to taste daddy's cock, Johnny. When its inside your mouth all of your cares and fear go away. You need it Johnny. Look at it!" I sway it back and forth in front of his eyes. His blank crystal blue orbs now follow my penis from side to side.
"I need it."
"Daddy's cock belongs on your tongue, Johnny. Where does daddy's cock belong?"
"On my tongue."
My hard cock rubs along his thick lips. Slowly they open.
"You have been bad, Johnny. You were a naughty little boy with your coach. You need to punish yourself. You will always feel the need to punish yourself and the way you will punish yourself is daddy's cock. You need to shove your pretty blond head onto daddy's cock. That is how you will always need to punish yourself."
John slowly opens his mouth. At first he is shy of the cock and skittish like a young colt. He sucks it slowly. I stroke the side of his face. "Remember your shame, Johnny. Only by forcing yourself on daddy's cock can you be free of your shame." With my words he begins to suck more aggressively, starting to bob his head.
"Without your mouth on daddy's penis, all the bad feelings from when you were a boy will come back to you John." Like pushing a button. Almost involuntarily, he shoves his whole face onto my cock. Driving himself with abandon, he begins to gag in his frantic efforts to impale himself upon me. Tears stream down his cheeks and snot runs from his nose. He can hardly breath. I pinch his nose shut and close off all of his air. Now he is so driven that he won't even open his mouth off my cock so that he can breathe. He continues to convulse on my dick to the point where he spasms and nearly blacks out. I take my fingers off his nose and let him breathe again. He remains impaled on my cock. His cheeks are almost concave as he frantically attempts to suction it. I pull out before I come. John looks up with a hungry pained look. I anoint his lips, forehead and cheeks with pre-cum.
Leaving him frustrated and unfulfilled, I tell him, "John, how you feel now about my cock is how you will always feel about it. You yearn for my cock."
"I yearn for your cock."
"You think about it constantly."
"I think about it constantly."
"Only my cock in your mouth takes away your shame and pain."
"Only your cock in my mouth takes away my shame and pain."
He stares at my cock, which I have left a few feet from his face. Having created an overwhelming need for John to have my dick in his mouth, it is time to move on to his further sexual indoctrination.
I roll him bock over on his stomach and begin to massage his powerful thighs with copious amounts of baby oil. As I work the oil over his now completely smooth buttocks, I lean into his ear and seductively whisper, "You feel an itch, Johnny. The itch is inside your boyhole. And it is getting more and more irritated. You need someone to scratch it." He begins to wriggle on the table.
I pour more oil onto my hands and work it into his crack. I work my middle finger into the sweet, tight hole. That hidden, secret place; the vulnerable entry-way to his macho temple of a body shivers, dilates and accepts my finger. A deep shudder racks John's entire body. How many times I had gazed longingly at John's tight, powerful ass encased in his football pants. Mythic and unattainable. The paradox of the iconic football uniform -- demanding dominance, yet hinting at potential conquest and submission. The magnificent ass flaunted yet protected by tight football pants on so many Sundays, the hidden, secret place spoke of masculinity and power, yet also tempted anyone strong enough to violate the secret place and break the icon. Now I would enter and break Elway once and for all, in a manner that would strip him of his manhood forever. His macho quarterback butt, seen by millions every weekend would learn to serve me.
"The itch is always there, John. Only I can scratch your itch, John. Only I can make your yearning go away. Just as only I can end your shame and make you free, only I can end the desire in your boy-hole." I turn him onto his back and place his legs over my shoulders. The gobs of oil now totally coat his denuded ass and thighs. My hardened cock is inches from its target. I rub it up and down against John Elway's virgin hole as he begins to moan. "Only I can fulfill you. You are not whole without me, John. You need daddy inside you."
He begs. "Please daddy come inside me!"
I enter him. His sphincter spasms and allows me entry. He begins to twist and turn, attempting to force me deeper inside him. "That's it John. You're addicted to daddy's cock. You hunger for it." I feel myself getting closer. When daddy comes inside you, John, you will know forever that you desire only to serve daddy's cock.
He screams "Yes, daddy!"
As I pump back and forth into the Bronco legend, my hand locks on his and I slide off his wedding ring. He will not need it anymore. His body covered with oil, I bend down and force my tongue into his mouth. At the same time, I come inside him. My violation and conquest are accomplished.
The next day John and I prepare to leave the ranch. We hold hands like lovers. He blushes and looks down whenever he talks to me. His manner is deferential and submissive. No one would believe it was John Elway. He now wears a tight gold chain around his neck. John didn't used to like jewelry, but he gladly wears this exotic male necklace as a symbol of his devotion to me. It is identical to the one worn by Steve Young, Boomer Esiason and Brett Favre. Soon many more top athletes will wear this symbol of submission.
This morning I have given John his final conditioning. He will remember nothing of the last few days. He will call his lawyers as soon as he returns to Denver and instruct them to begin divorce proceedings. John can't wait to introduce me to all of his teammates and friends around the league so that they can get the benefits of my help and advice. He feels like a young, submissive bride, about to begin his new life with his new daddy.
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Part 2 |