Torres 88 by jaxzonmapiele on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

Good Torresboy!

The body that had formerly been you lay motionless, unable to move. Yellow energies held you and kept your mind blank and moldable. After a few minutes, Coach walked up, summoned by an alarm when his trap had been tripped. He smiled broadly as he saw what he had caught.

"Torresboy! Keep walking the same route every day and someone can so easily lay a trap for you." Coach began rummaging through the nearby piles, retrieving his machine, the trigger and the alarm. He held the boxy device to you. "Like it? This here is something I discovered recently. My mind eraser. It affects nerve impulses, and can be tuned to inhibit, remove or build them, although the last two take longer."

Your blank face didn't register anything. To you, what Coach was saying was like coins falling down a canyon, falling into the void without comprehension. You thought nothing, could remember nothing, you were just there.

Coach put his device and the rest away in a duffel bag he had brought. He sat beside you then and looked over his catch. He unbuttoned your plaid shirt to see your young manly muscle hairy chest and rubbed it.

"Hrrm, good structure. You'll be a fine addition. A little thin, but we can fix that easy." He looked at your empty face and chuckled. That's enough for that now. I'll have plenty of time for that later.

He untied the laces of your grey jogging pants for what would come, then placed a golden chain medal around your neck. He then pulled out the mind eraser again. "You'll need some general knowledge back, or you'll be totally useless." Coach read the screen on the device and hit some buttons. "That should do it. Vocabulary and knowledge without those unfortunate facts... now, next, a past. I'll be putting in more during indoctrination, but for now just the basics. My servant, gay bottom, been that way all your life... There... A name... Actually, I think I like Torresboy; we'll keep it. My name... there, perfect."

Coach leaned over you to check the necklace was weill in lace on your manly muscle hairy chest. Seeing that it was, he triggered the mind eraser again. Another yellow burst hit you in the head and then spiraled around it, as it built back parts of what it had taken. Then it zoomed into your eyes for the final part, writing a basic history. At the end of it, you groaned.

"What? Where am I?" You twitched, but moving the rest of your body was still inhibited. You lifted your head, the only thing you could move, and jolted. "Coach! What?"

"You've been a bad boy, Torresboy. You ran away from my care."

You searched through what little memory you had. "I–I did?"

"Yes, you did. So, we're going to have a little talk, you, naughty boy, and indoctrinate you again... Let’s start right now… Stand up and lean against the wall! Show off your manly muscle hairy body and beg Coach to use and abuse and fuck you rough for your punishment…"

Good Coach’s sexslaveboy!