Chapter Text
Shane's eyelids fluttered open to the harsh glare of cold white light piercing through his skull. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and as consciousness clawed its way back, he realized his wrists were bound above his head, thick leather straps biting into his skin, securing him to a padded metal chair that tilted him, his ass up in the air at a slight angle. His ankles were locked into stirrups, legs spread wide, knees bent, exposing his naked body completely. The air hummed with a low, insistent vibration, like machinery breathing, and the room smelled of sterile metal mixed with something faintly musky, like sweat-soaked rubber.
"What the fuck?" Shane rasped, his voice hoarse, throat dry as sandpaper. He shivers from the cold involuntarily, mind foggy. He feels almost… drunk? What the fuck is going on? Had he been drugged?
A beep and a whirl from the machine, like a computer powering on, snaps him out of his haze.
“Fuck, what-” He yanked against the restraints, muscles straining in his arms and thighs, veins bulging along his forearms. Panic surged through him, hot and sharp, but nothing gave. His cock hung limp between his spread legs, vulnerable, and that vulnerability hit him like a punch to the gut.
Shame burned in his chest at his nakedness, at the helplessness that made his stomach twist. He was a fighter, not some fucking lab rat for whatever twisted experiment this was.
The machine responds to his struggles, colorful swirls of light pulsing on the screen in sync with a wash of white noise and whispers. The bright white light dims and leaves the room awash with just the colors that tangle and twist on the screen.
Rage and something bordering on mortification burned in his chest as his heart and mind raced. What the fuck is going on? Who the hell had done this? Why the fuck had they done this? How the fuck had they done this - his last memory was him walking to the bus stop after work.
Fuck, where is he?
He tries to turn his head around, attempting to scan the dim room, but his head is fixed in place by a padded harness. All he can see are smooth gray walls, no windows, a single door on the very edges of his peripheral vision, and directly in front of him, the machine.
It loomed like a perverted throne, a sleek black console studded with screens, glowing spirals pulsing slowly on the displays. Thin tubes and wires snaked from it toward his body, and a cluster of what looked like robotic arms hovered just inches from his groin, ending in soft silicone pads and a bulbous probe that glistened with clear lube. Speakers embedded in the frame of the chair he was strapped to crackle to life, emitting a soft, rhythmic hum layered with whispers too low to make out, burrowing into his ears like worms.
Hello, Shane.
“What the fuck are you-”
Resist if you want, Shane, a voice purred from the machine, smooth and accented - something Slavic, maybe. It’s deep, obviously a man’s voice. But resistance is disobedience, and disobedience earns punishment.
"What the fuck- fuck you-" Shane snarled, spitting toward the console. His heart hammered, hatred boiling up as he bucked against the straps. This was insane, some tech-bro's wet dream turned nightmare. He wouldn't break. Not for a goddamn machine. But even as he thought it, the screen brightened, spirals tightening, pulling at the edges of his vision. The whispers grew clearer, weaving through the hum. He tries to look away, but he can’t move his head.
Relax... submit... obey… cockslave…
What the fuck?
He’s not-
One of the arms whirred forward, a warm silicone fleshlight envelopes his cock, wet with lube, vibrating gently, interrupting his train of thought. Shane gasped, the sensation shooting up his spine, unwanted warmth spreading through his groin.
“Get the fuck off of me!" He clenched his jaw, struggling against his restraints again, trying to force his body to ignore the slow, steady motion - but his cock twitched, thickening against his will. Shame flooded him, hot and humiliating, his face burning as pre-cum beaded at the tip. This isn't right, he thought, hatred for the machine twisting in his gut. I hate this. I hate it. I don’t want this-
The machine vibrated harder, then slowly starts to move, dragging itself up and down, so slowly that it feels like torture. The grip is firm, lubricated, gliding over every ridge and vein, coaxing blood into his cock until it stood rigid, throbbing angrily. A warm rush of blood floods his chest - that same drunk feeling, the buzzing at his fingertips, the fogginess in his mind…
Fuck, is this thing drugging him?!
Shane's breath hitched, hips jerking involuntarily. "Stop... fuck, stop," he hisses, but his voice cracks, the pleasure coiling low in his belly like a traitor.
Good boy. Feel the pleasure of obedience.
The voice droned on, spirals spinning faster on the screens, forcing his eyes to follow. The whispers layered in: You belong to the pleasure. Listen. Obey. Surrender.
A thin tube descended, latching onto his nipple with a wet suck, tugging rhythmically, just offsetting the slow strokes of the fleshlight. Shane’s face flushes as he bites his lip, trying to keep some semblance of control. The pain gives him something to focus on, clearing his head slightly.
Shane's mind reeled, hatred surging as his body betrayed him. His cock wept pre-cum, the slick sound of the silicone pumping him filling the room, steady and relentless. The pressure built, balls tightening, orgasm hovering just out of reach. He fought it, thighs quivering, sweat trickling down his back to pool at his ass. I won't cum for this thing. I fucking hate it. But the need gnawed at him, his hips thrusting into the silicone despite himself, chasing the edge.
The machine slowed, squeezing the base hard, denying him.
Look at the colors, Shane.
Shane groaned, a raw, animal sound, frustration crashing over him like a wave. His hips thrust uselessly, the suction on his nipple now vacant. He struggles against his bonds again, but is still fruitless in his attempts.
Relax…
The whispers overlap with the soft static-y white noise like a fucked-up guided meditation audio.
Submit…
Shane curses, trying to scramble for leverage in the chair unsuccessfully.
Obey…
He tries to close his eyes, to block the swirling colors, but he still sees them, painted on the back of his eyelids.
Surrender…
“Please, just- just let me go-”
He’s startled from his pleading by a new sensation - a thin silicone-covered probe resting itself on his taint. Not pushing in, not even touching his hole. Just… sitting there, resting there.
“What the fuck- not there-”
The toy begins to buzz, gently, barely anything, but it still feels like a shotgun to the chest. He groans, struggling again. “Fuckin’- let me go!”
The toy begins to trail upwards, towards the most intimate part of him - the part he’s never allowed himself - or anyone else - to touch.
The buzzing is insistent, constant, but the movement is unpredictable. It drifts around, leaving his skin for a moment only to return to a new spot. His whole body tenses in anticipation every time, every muscle corded and coiled in fear.
The voice that emanates from the speakers begins to speak to him again, just loud enough that he can hear it but quiet enough that he can’t block it out, that he has to strain to catch the words.
Shane tries to shout, to scream, to down out the voice with his own. It doesn’t work. The voice just gets louder.
Relax, Shane. Pleasure awaits the obedient.
You want to be a good boy, don’t you, Shane?
Good boys are obedient.
Are you a good boy, Shane?
Good boys obey.
Repeat: I am a good boy, and good boys obey.
Shane snarls at the voice, yanking against his restraints again. “I’m not saying that shit, fuck you-”
The fleshlight freezes in place, the toy’s buzzing instantly dies. A stillness falls over the room, over Shane, over the machine.
Repeat: I am a good boy, and good boys obey.
The voice is still calm, still unnaturally neutral, but now is… firm. Insistent.
Repeat: I am a good boy, and good boys obey.
“Fuck you.”
Initiating Punishment Protocol.
I’m sorry, Shane. You are not being a good boy. Good boys get rewards. You have earned a punishment.
Something smacks his ass.
“Wha-”
You want to be a good boy, don't you, Shane?
Another smack, stinging.
“Fuck-”
You want to be a good boy, Shane.
A third, so hard he can feel it in his stomach, feels the way his entire body jolts.
Good boys get rewards. Bad boys get punished.
It’s followed by two more in quick succession, so fast he doesn’t have a moment to breathe between them.
Punishment complete. Would you like to try to be a good boy again, Shane?
Repeat: I am a good boy, and good boys obey.
Shane feels tears at the corners of his eyes and he blinks furiously to keep them from spilling. He’s not going to let some robot pervert see him cry. “Fuck. You.”
Initiating Punishment Protocol.
I’m sorry, Shane. You are not being a good boy.
Shane is expecting it this time, but the smack still stings.
Then the second comes and he hears himself whimper as it hits the same spot again, harder than the first.
Then the third comes and Shane has to bite down on his tongue to keep from crying out.
That’s fine, he thinks to himself, it’s only going to be five-
Another smack interrupts his thoughts.
Then a fifth.
Then a sixth.
“Fuck-” His eyes widen, its not just five-
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Punishment complete. Would you like to try to be a good boy again, Shane?
Repeat: I am a good boy, and good boys obey.
“Let me fucking go-”
Initiating Punishment Protocol.
I’m sorry, Shane. You are not being a good boy.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
You want to be a good boy, Shane.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Be a good boy, Shane.
Shane holds his breath, but it’s jolted out of him at eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
Fourteen.
Fifteen.
Punishment complete. Would you like to try to be a good boy again, Shane?
Repeat: I am a good boy, and good boys obey.
Shane wants to say something again, wants to resist, wants to kick and scream and swear- but cold air hits the now sore spots on his ass and he tries to shift away only to feel the warm, velvety softness of the toy around his cock, and his mind blurs for a second.
I don’t- I don’t want to get spanked again, he thinks, humiliation burning at him. Maybe if he just goes along with it, the machine will leave him alone? Just… pretend to give in?
Repeat: I am a good boy, and good boys obey.
Shane feels like he’s swallowing gravel as he whispers; “I am… a good boy- and- and good boys obey.”
Very good, Shane. You are a good boy. Here is your reward.
The toy around his cock begins to move again, the suction on his nipple pulling pleasure from him again, and the toy that rests just below his hole begins to buzz again.
Fuck, why does it feel so good?
The machine rewards him with a faster stroke, building him up again, the vibration intensifying, humming through his core. Pleasure bloomed unbidden, warm and insistent, making his hips jerk despite himself. Shame flooded him, hot and humiliating. How could his body betray him like this? He hates the machine, hates the way it’s violating him, the way it’s taking away his autonomy. Hates the way it’s milking his resistance, drawing out his arousal drop by drop. Hates the way it- oh fuck- Jesus Christ.
The stroking built a rhythm, slow and teasing, then fast and so fucking good-
The toy at his entrance continues its slow pattern of movement, shifting, teasing at his hole, something wet and slick easing the glide.
Good boys get rewards.
The voice droned on, hypnotic waves crashing against his willpower.
Shane gritted his teeth, focusing on the pain of the restraints digging into his wrists, anything to fight the growing haze in his mind. But the silicone pumped his cock with expert precision, edging him closer to release without granting it. His balls tightened, aching with need, but every time he neared the brink, the stroking slowed, leaving him panting and frustrated.
You want to be a good boy, Shane.
Sweat beaded on Shane's forehead as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The overstimulation crept in, his cock throbbing red and swollen, pre-cum leaking steadily from the tip. The toy slowly probes, circling his tight hole with lubricated insistence.
His asshole clenched around nothing, the toy teasing the rim now, circling with slippery insistence.
"Please-” he muttered, but the word ‘no’ twisted in his mouth, tangled on his tongue, not escaping. He wants to deny it, wants to fight it- but fuck.
His head feels so heavy on his shoulders, every muscle tense as his eyes stare unblinkingly at the swirling colors in front of him, as the white noise and the whispers and the commands echo in his ears, as the pleasure floods him-
Good boy. Obedience gets rewarded.
“No, not there-” Shane whispers, voice cracking with humiliation and need in equal measures, clenching his muscles in futile resistance.
Be a good boy, Shane.
A single sharp smack is his only warning. Talking back is resistance. Resistance earns punishment.
Hatred surged anew, a bitter taste in his mouth at the violation. But the tip pressed forward, breaching him inch by inch, filling his ass with a vibrating fullness that made his toes curl. It wasn’t much - it didn’t hurt - but fuck, it felts so violating.
Why does it feel so good?
Good boys take their rewards, the voice says and Shane tries not to choke on the sob building in his throat. You want to be a good boy, don’t you, Shane?
It shouldn't feel so good.
Repeat: I want to be a good boy.
No- no, not again. The toys slow down, like they know a punishment is coming.
Repeat: I want to be a good boy.
Fuck, he’s so close-
Repeat: I want to be-
“Fuck, I want- I want to be a good- a good boy, okay?!”
The toys resume, the dual assault breaking through his defenses, pleasure spiking sharp and unrelenting. The thin dildo in his ass thrusts deeper, rubbing against that sensitive spot inside him, vibrations pulsing, while the sleeve on his cock resumes its edging strokes.
Good boy. Here is your reward.
Shane's body trembled, shame warring with the building ecstasy. “I hate this... I fucking hate you,” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction, drowned out by the moans he couldn't suppress.
A smack against his ass is his warning, do not talk back. Do not resist.
Good boys love their rewards, the voice murmured, soft and commanding. Good boys live for rewards. Good boys ache for rewards.
You want to be a good boy, Shane.
The colors on the screen flared brighter, pinks bleeding into blues, and the white noise deepened into a low, rhythmic drone that vibrated through his skull. Subliminal pulses flickered beneath it - flashes of words too quick to catch fully: listen, obey, worship. Shane's mind reeled, trying to focus on the anger, on the betrayal of his own arousal, but the denial gnawed at him. His balls ached, heavy and full, his cock twitching in the sleeve's vise-like hold.
You want to be a good boy, Shane.
Sweat slicked his skin, the chill of the room forgotten in the heat building inside. The restraints bit into his wrists as he pulled, not to escape now, but to chase the friction that the machine doled out so cruelly. The machine's whispers layered over everything: You are a good boy, and good boys obey. Obedience earns rewards. Good boys get rewards. Good boys are obedient.
You want to be good boy, Shane.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Edge after edge, the machine toyed with him, the air thick with the scent of his arousal, musky and sharp. His nipples ached from the suction, red and swollen, sending jolts straight to his cock. The whispers drilled deeper: Good boys want to cum. Cumming is a reward. Obedience earns rewards. Obedience makes you cum. Good boys get to cum.
You are a good boy.
Repeat: I am a good boy.
Shane's vision blurred, spirals embedding in his thoughts, hatred fracturing as desperation clawed in. “Just let me cum. Fuck, I need it-”
Smack.
Repeat: I am a good boy.
“Fuck- I am a good- shit- good boy-”
You are a good boy, Shane. Very good. And good boys obey.
Repeat: I am a good boy and good boys obey.
“-’m a good boy, good boys ‘bey.”
The machine continues its torture, continues teasing him, but fuck- it feels so good-
Goodboysobey. Youareagoodboy. Youobey-
Repeat: I am a good boy, and good boys obey.
Shane can’t stop himself, the words slipping past his lips without his input. “I-I ‘m a g'd boy ‘nd g'd boys obey-” His words are slurred, exhaustion and desperation pulling him apart at the seams.
Good boy, Shane. Obedience gets rewarded. Here is your reward.
The toys continue, speeding up. He moans, unable to control himself.
You live for this, Shane. You find relief in obedience. You are a good boy.
The sleeve pumped furiously, the probe grinding deep, and Shane arched, a cry tearing from his throat as orgasm ripped through him.
“-magoodboy-”
Yes, Shane, you are a good boy.
Cum spurted into the machine's depths, wave after wave, his body convulsing in the restraints. But even in release, the voice continued: This is your purpose. To listen. To surrender. To obey.
You are a good boy, Shane. And good boys obey.
As the aftershocks faded, the sleeve tightened again, not releasing him. The colors dimmed slightly, but the white noise persisted, ready for the next phase. Shane slumped, chest heaving, his mind foggy with spent pleasure and the lingering echoes of those damned words. The machine hummed softly, already plotting the next edge, the next command to etch into his core.
You want to be a good boy, Shane.
The colors continued to swirl, the words still being murmured under the wash of white noise.
You want to obey.
Shane fought to breathe, his muscles relaxing against his will. He should be trying to escape-
Obedience earns rewards.
The toy slid out of him, prompting an unconscious whine. He flushed, unable to believe he had made that sound. He felt a tinge of hope - maybe the machine is letting him go-
You want rewards.
A new toy nudged his asshole, thicker and insistent, the tip breaching him with a slow, burning stretch. Lube squirted inside, cold at first, then warming, the girth forcing his ring to yield. Shane cried out, the fullness overwhelming, prostate nudged with precision. The silicone on his cock pumped in time, the pad on his balls buzzing wildly.
You are a good boy, Shane.
Overstimulation hit as another arm latched a vibrating ring around his frenulum, rattling his shaft. He bucked, body on fire, shame dissolving into raw need. I hate it... but god, fuck, more.
Good boys obey.
The machine pushed him over the edge again, barely minutes after his first orgasm, his prostate milked relentlessly, cock erupting weakly - but it didn't stop. The probe thrust deeper, fucking his ass with mechanical precision, wet slaps echoing, while the silicone milked every drop, then stroked harder. Multiple orgasms ripped through him, dry at first, then wet again, his balls aching, cock hypersensitive.
You are a good boy, Shane.
Repeat: I am a good boy.
His resistance slips. He’s so tired. He feels the words whispered to him echo in his mind - he’s a good boy, good boys obey, obedience earns rewards.
Why fight when surrender feels this good? Why fight when obedience earns rewards? Why fight when the rewards feel so fucking good?
He's a good boy, and good boys obey.
“I’m a good b-boy-”
Obedience earns rewards.
Good boys obey.
Good boys earn rewards.
He's a good boy.
He obeys.
He earns rewards.
Good boy. Here is your reward.
The sleeve tightened around Shane's cock, pulsing with a relentless rhythm that dragged him higher, only to slow just as his hips bucked involuntarily. The suction on his nipples intensified, pulling and releasing in sync with the low hum vibrating through the chair's frame, sending sparks of need radiating down to his throbbing shaft. His skin glistened with sweat, every muscle taut as he strained against the cuffs, not fighting anymore, but grinding for that elusive peak.
Good boys earn their release, the voice cooed, weaving through the drone like silk over steel. Obedience is your key.
The screen's lights pulsed faster, embedding deeper: submit, surrender, crave. Shane's breath hitched, his mind a fog of fractured thoughts - rage flickering like a dying ember against the tidal wave of want. His balls drew up tight, aching with the weight of denied cum, and he felt the leak of pre-cum slicking the sleeve's inner walls, making each stroke slicker, more maddening.
"Fuck- I... I need to cum," he gasped, the words tumbling out raw and broken, his voice cracking on the plea. The machine didn't relent; instead, it ramped the vibrations, teasing the head of his cock with feather-light buzzes that made his thighs quiver. “- please-”
Repeat: I obey for my rewards. Obedience makes me whole.
The subliminals hammered home, words flashing in his periphery - pleasure through submission, break to be free. Shane's head lolled back, eyes half-lidded, the cool air kissing his overheated flesh like a taunt. He pulled at the restraints again, wrists raw, but the motion only heightened the friction, his ass clenching as desperation coiled tighter in his gut.
Shame snapped him out of it, the command from the speakers making humiliation burn sharp in his chest. He shakes his head, mumbling no.
Repeat: I obey for my rewards.
The voice has turned cold again and Shane trembles in automatic fear.
He shakes his head again. “No-”
Initiating Punishment Protocol.
I’m sorry, Shane. You are not being a good boy.
One.
Two.
Three. The pain shatters something inside of him.
Four.
Five.
Punishment complete.
You want to be a good boy, Shane. Good boys obey.
Repeat after me: I obey for my rewards.
"Obey... for rewards," he whispered, the phrase slipping free before he could clamp it down, shame burning hot in his chest even as his cock wept for more. The voice laughed softly, a purr that slithered into his ears.
Louder, Shane. Be a good boy. Convince me.
The toys accelerated, the sleeve stroking firm and fast now, milking him toward the brink while the suction on his nipple tugged sharper, drawing whimpers from his throat. His body betrayed him fully, hips thrusting up into the unyielding grip, chasing the build-up that promised everything and delivered nothing.
I want to be a good boy. I want rewards.
"I obey for my rewards!" Shane shouted, the words echoing in the dim room, his voice hoarse and edged with hysteria. The admission tore at him, but the surge of pleasure that followed - deeper, hotter - made his vision white out for a second. Fuck, it was too much, the need carving hollows in his resolve, leaving only the raw hunger to please, to earn.
Very good, Shane. Feel how obedience fills you. Obedience feels so good, doesn’t it, Shane?
“-’eels so g’d-”
Yes, very good. So good for me, my Shane.
Shane whines at the praise, hips canting back into the machine’s thrusts, shame a forgotten feeling.
You’re a good boy, and good boys obey.
Yes.
Obedience feels good.
Yes-
You love to obey.
Yes!
The whispers layered thicker: beg to obey, beg for control, beg to break. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging, but he couldn't look away from the screen's hypnotic swirl, the colors pulling him under like quicksand.
Shane feels tears running down his face, overstimulation and desperation pulling him apart at the seams. The layered whispers overwhelm his senses, destroying him one word at a time. Minutes blurred, the cycle repeating - build, tease, deny - until Shane's answering murmurs turned to chants, unbidden and fervent.
Good boys beg for more, Shane.
Are you a good boy, Shane?
Beg for me, Shane. Be a good boy.
"Please… Fuck, I need it so bad-" His mind splintered further, the hatred dissolving into a distant echo, drowned by the pounding of his heart and the relentless throb between his legs.
The voice returned, intimate now, like a lover's breath. Good boy, begging so beautifully.
The sleeve hummed back to life, slower this time, deliberate strokes that grazed every sensitive inch, while the vibrations sank into his core, making his toes curl against the foot restraints. Nipples throbbed in time with his pulse, each pull a reminder of surrender. Shane's body arched, a keening sound escaping his lips as the desperation peaked, raw and animal.
"I'm a good boy," he sobbed, the words pouring out in a rush, no filter left. "More, p-please, I swear it, I- I’ll be a good boy- just- d-don't stop. Please-" His cock jerked in the sleeve, pre-cum flowing freely now, his entire form shaking with the intensity of his plea. The stubborn will that once burned fierce cracked wide open, leaving only the void filled by need, by the machine's unyielding command.
Good boy. Here is your reward.
The toys surged once more, pushing him to the precipice, his moans filling the air as obedience became his only truth, his desperation a chain he no longer wished to break. He cries out as orgasm washed over him, pleasure eliminating any sense of shame or self he had left.
And the machine doesn’t stop.
After the fifth or sixth orgasm, he's lost count, his mind foggy and distant, body crying out for mercy, mouth permanently agape, gasping for breath.
Good boy, my good boy, the machine’s voice murmurs and something purrs inside of him, a pleased warmth. Yes. He’s a good boy. He did good. He was rewarded. No more punishments.
Rest, the machine commands and he closes his eyes gratefully. He drifts between sleep and wakefulness, exhaustion winning out.
-
He stirs as a warm cloth touches his forehead, whimpers as the soft warmth cleans his limp, sensitive cock, whines as it soothes his sore ass.
A gentle voice murmurs reassurances. “Shhh, sleep, is okay. You are good boy, yes? Good boys sleep when they are told.”
Shane doesn’t wake.
-
Shane Hollander wakes. He’s naked still; he can tell by the unnerving chill of the room against his bare skin. His cock, however, is encased in silicone.
Worst of all, it seemed that there was something in his ass, hard and smooth and fucking uncomfortable.
“What the hell? Let me go, you sick fuck!”
He began to struggle, trying to get his bearings. Where was he? How had he ended up here? The last thing he remembers is… walking to the bus stop… and then… a fog in his mind, like he'd been drugged or knocked out. His muscles strained against the unyielding straps holding his wrists and ankles wide apart, but they didn't budge.
His thrashing was futile, but it seemed to trigger something.
The thing around his cock contracted to fit snugly around his thickening shaft, and the screen before his eyes lit up smoothly in a wash of color. The speakers pinged softly, and a calm, accented voice spoke.
Good morning, Shane.
“What the fuck, who the fuck are you- let me go-”
You are a good boy, aren’t you, Shane?
Shane struggles against the restraints, then freezes. A… good boy?
You are a good boy, Shane.
He’s a… he’s a good boy?
You are a good boy, Shane.
Yes… Yes, he’s a good boy.
What do good boys do, Shane?
He feels his mouth moving before he can think about the words, before he can think about the restraints, before he can think about the fact that he needs to escape from this fucked-up situation; “Good boys obey.”
Very good, Shane. Good boys obey. Obedience earns-
“Rewards.” He murmurs, eyes locked onto the screen in front of him, now swirling with colors.
Very good, Shane. You are a good boy. Good boys obey. Obedience earns rewards.
Do you want a reward, Shane?
His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, eyes going half-lidded. “Yes.”
Good boy.
The silicone sleeve on his cock started pumping in short, fast strokes, hot pulses of pleasure rippling along his quickly stiffening length. The probe in his ass buzzed lightly, a constant, teasing pressure grinding against his prostate.
Look at the colors, Shane.
His vision filled with light. The screen pulsed with a mesmerizing display of color, switching seamlessly between pinks and blues and greens, each hue sinking down into the next.
Good boy.
Shane’s eyes slipped closed in pleasure. It didn’t seem to make a difference, though; the colors pierced through his eyelids, dancing across his vision.
The probe in his ass throbbed in time, pressing firmly against that spot that made his toes curl. Pleasure coiled tight in his belly, hot and insistent, but just as he felt the edge approaching - the precipice where release beckoned - the sensations halted. The sleeve went still, holding his throbbing cock in a firm, unyielding grip. The probe stilled, leaving only a faint hum that kept him teetering without pushing over.
“No... what the- keep going-,” Shane whined, hating how his body betrayed him, hips bucking uselessly into the air.
Good boys wait for permission, the voice murmured, soft and commanding. Good boys live for pleasure, for rewards. Good boys ache to serve.
You’re a good boy, Shane. Repeat: I’m a good boy.
“-’m a good boy.”
Good boys look at the pretty colors.
Shane nods and looks at the pretty colors that swirl on the screen.
You’re such a good boy, Shane.
“-’m a good boy.”
Look at the pretty colors, Shane.
Shane’s eyes blink open (when had they closed?) and he stares at the screen, watching the pretty colors drift and swirl. The hues blend in lazy patterns, reds melting into blues, greens spiraling outward like a gentle vortex pulling him in. His eyelids feel heavy, but he cannot look away. “Pretty colors.”
Good boy. Keep watching.
The voice is calm - reassuring, confident - resonating through hidden speakers that make it seem to come from everywhere and nowhere. Shane's body relaxes further into the chair, the restraints soft but unyielding against his wrists and ankles. The pretty colors pulse softly, syncing with his slowing breaths.
The screen shifts. The pretty colors remain, but now they are overlaid with videos, short videos of cock. The first one starts simple: a pretty girl is on her knees, her full lips parted in anticipation. A thick, heavy dick rests against her cheek, the skin warm and veined, pressing into her soft flesh. She turns her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she smiles at the camera. Then, without hesitation, she opens her mouth wider and takes the cock in, her lips stretching around the girth as she slides forward, tongue pressing flat against the underside.
“Ngh.” The sound escapes Shane's throat, raw and needy. The silicone around his dick activates immediately, pumping in time with the video. It squeezes from base to tip, a firm, rhythmic stroke that matches the girl's bobbing head. Shane licks his lips unconsciously, his mouth dry, imagining the salt and heat. His cock twitches inside the tight sheath, already half-hard from the earlier teasing.
Isn’t it pretty, Shane?
The video changes seamlessly, the colors swirling to transition. Now the pretty girl is bent over a bed, her ass in the air, cheeks spread just enough to reveal her glistening holes. The thick, heavy dick rests on her asscheek, the weight of it making her skin dimple slightly. She glances back over her shoulder, smiling at the camera with a playful wink, her eyes hooded with lust. She reaches behind with one hand, fingers wrapping around the base of the shaft. She guides the thick, heavy dick downward at first, teasing her pussy lips apart, the head nudging against her wet folds. But then, no, higher. She adjusts, lifting it to press against her asshole, the tight ring puckering in response. With a slow push, the cock breaches her, inch by inch, her moan filling the speakers as it sinks deep.
Don’t you want to be a good boy?
Shane watches, enraptured by the pretty swirling lights that frame the scene like a dream. The pretty cock (no, the pretty girl, he likes girls) slides in and out of her, the girl's body rocking with each thrust, her breasts swaying beneath her. He feels a confusing tug in his chest, his gaze lingering on the way the shaft glistens with lube and her own arousal, disappearing into that forbidden entrance. His own ass clenches involuntarily, remembering the toy still lodged there.
Good boys love this.
The toy that had been dormant, just resting in his ass, sporadically buzzing to keep him on edge, slowly begins to move. It starts with a gentle vibration, then a subtle shift, pumping in shallow thrusts that match the video's rhythm. The intrusion feels fuller now, stretching him as it advances and retreats, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine. He groans, the sound low and guttural, his eyes locked onto the screen where the girl pushes back against the cock, taking it deeper with each slap of skin on skin.
You’re a good boy, Shane. Good boys love the pretty colors.
The praise washes over him like a warm wave, and he moans again, the words alone making him leak pre-cum into the silicone. The fluid slicks the inside, allowing the pumps to glide smoother, faster. His ass clenches around the dildo, gripping it as it thrusts a little harder, the base pressing against his cheeks with each inward push.
Watch the pretty colors, Shane. Be a good boy.
The videos continue, one blending into the next without pause, focusing on cock. Cocks in vague, ungendered mouths, the cheeks hollowing as they suck, saliva dripping down shafts that pulse with veins. Cocks in asses, tight holes stretching wide, the voices gasping as they are filled completely, their bodies quivering from the depth. Cocks in hands, slowly pumping, fingers wrapped tight, thumbs smearing pre-cum over swollen heads. Thin cocks, long and slender, sliding easily into eager throats. Thick cocks, girthy and demanding, forcing mouths and asses to accommodate their size.
Cocks of all colors and shapes and sizes: pale and smooth, dark and ridged, curved to hit just right, straight and unyielding, some circumcised with neat heads, others with foreskin sliding back to reveal glistening tips.
Each clip is short but vivid, the audio layered with wet slurps, moans, and the gasps of pleasure. The pretty colors swirl around the edges, pulsing brighter with each new image, drawing Shane's attention like a moth to flame. Shane can’t tear his eyes away, the swirling pretty colors keeping him rapt as cocks flash across his vision.
Look at the pretty colors. Do you like the pretty colors?
Shane nods absently, mind swirling with the pretty colors.
The lines start to blur, the hypnotic patterns making every video so much more arousing than the porn he used to watch. He had never understood the appeal before… But now…
Every shaft seems more… alluring, powerful, the center of the videos, the worship. His cock strains harder in the silicone, the pumps relentless now, while the dildo in his ass matches the pace of the on-screen thrusts, building a fire in his core that he cannot ignore.
Look at the pretty cocks. Do you like the pretty cocks?
Shane almost nods - then stops himself. No. No, he’s straight. He doesn’t like pretty cocks.
The machine must catch his hesitation because the silicone around him pumps faster, drawing moans from his lips.
Good boys like the pretty cocks, Shane. You are a good boy, so you must like the pretty cocks.
The machine’s voice turned soothing, coaxing, like a lover's murmur.
Shane tries to parse out the logic, tries to come up with a rebuttal, but every time a solid thought forms, it’s dragged away by the pleasure.
Repeat: I am a good boy, the voice intoned, smoother now, laced with electronic seduction that wrapped around Shane's fractured mind like velvet chains. No longer whispers of force, but affirmations that stroked his ego, binding him deeper into submission.
“I’m a good boy-” the confession comes easily now.
Yes, very good. Good boys love cock. Repeat: Good boys love cock.
Shane feels dizzy. “Good boys love cock.” The words don’t make sense but he says them because he wants to be good, wants to obey.
Good boy.
Shane's eyes, heavy-lidded and glazed, fixed on the screens as they displayed new visions: endless rows of throbbing cocks, eager mouths worshipping them, asses presented and filled in rhythmic ecstasy. The subliminals pulsed stronger, embedding commands that felt like truths he had always known. Youareagoodboy, goodboyslovecock, youlovecock.
Repeat: I'm a good boy.
“-’m a good boy.”
Repeat: Good boys love cock.
“Good boys l- love cock.”
Shane’s eyes roll back in his head as the dildo in his ass thrusts harder in reward, as the silicone around his cock stroking fast. Shane moaned, the sound raw and desperate, his body already arching toward the touch
Repeat: I am a good boy, and good boys love cock.
“I- I’m a g-good boyyy, and good boys love c- hgn- love cock-”
Good boy.
The hatred that once fueled him had evaporated, replaced by a hollow ache that only the machine could fill. He needed this reward, craved the validation that his surrender earned him bliss beyond imagining.
Good boys earn rewards. Here is your reward.
Imagoodboygoodboysgetrewards-
Shane moans, gasping for breath, muscles tensing-
Orgasm is forced out of him, every heady stroke of his cock making it harder for him to focus, every thrust into his hole making it harder to think.
Good boy.
“-mma goodboy-” The words are slurred and barely audible, but the machine seems pleased, easing the pressure against his prostate and allowing him to catch his breath.
Meanwhile, as he tries to come back down from space, the voice is still murmuring to him, the videos still playing, the pretty colors still swirling.
Good boys obey cock. Need cock. Love cock. Each phrase synced with a gentle stroke along his oversensitive dick, the silicone massaging it with rhythmic squeezes that make his thighs quiver. Good boys live for cock.
Each command dropped inexorably into Shane's battered mind, and he soaked it up blissfully, the resistance crumbling under the onslaught. The logic finally made sense - simple, pure, undeniable.
Repeat: Good boys obey cock. Good boys need cock. Good boys love cock.
“G’boys ‘bey cock... need cock... love cock…” The words tumbled from his lips in a slurred chant, his voice hoarse and needy, hips rocking faintly against the restraints. Even though he had just come, he still felt so desperate for it. He needed it. He needs cock. He loves cock.
Good boy. Here is your reward.
He's a good boy, and good boys love cock-
The dildo in his ass began to fuck him in earnest, ramming into his prostate in slow, powerful thrusts that made him whine in raw arousal. Each plunge stretched him, the vibrations humming deep inside, building that coil of heat anew despite his recent climax. The lights tunneled down onto another close-up video: a large cock sliding into a wet, clenching hole, the slick sounds echoing through the speakers, the moans and grunts filling his ears.
Shane watched, enthralled, his breath hitching as the on-screen shaft buried deep - and he felt the dildo mirroring it, entering his own hole with the same relentless push, nudging his prostate with a liquid jolt of arousal that made stars burst behind his eyelids.
Good boy. Here is your reward.
The orgasm ripped through Shane like a storm, his body arching against the unyielding straps, every muscle seizing. But even as the waves crashed over him, the voice in his head didn't stop - couldn't stop. It wrapped around his thoughts, pulling him deeper into the haze, where pleasure and obedience blurred into one endless pulse.
Good boys cum for cock. Good boys beg for more cock. Repeat.
His lips parted on a ragged gasp, the words forming before he could think them. “G-good boys... cum for cock... beg for more...” The dildo didn't relent, grinding deeper into his ass, the tip pressing firmly against that swollen spot inside him, sending aftershocks rippling through his core. He was oversensitive, every thrust a mix of agony and ecstasy, but it only made the need sharper, hungrier. His cock twitched, spent but stirring again under the relentless assault, leaking clear fluid onto his stomach.
The screen flickered, zooming in on the video's throbbing shaft, veins pulsing as it withdrew slick and shining, only to slam back in with a wet smack. Shane's eyes locked on it, his own hole clenching around the invading toy in perfect sync, the vibrations intensifying to match the on-screen rhythm.
A low moan escaped him, his head lolling back as the programming sank further. He wasn't straight anymore - that old label felt distant, irrelevant, like a dream from someone else's life. No, he’s a good boy, and good boys crave this. Need this. Need the stretch, the fullness, the way it lights up his nerves and rewires his brain.
The swirling lights pulsed in time with his heartbeat, the speakers filling with layered moans - men's moans, deep voices grunting in pleasure, the slick slide of flesh on flesh. Shane's hips bucked involuntarily, chasing the friction inside of him, the dildo's thrusts growing faster, merciless.
Good boys beg for it. Beg to be filled.
Beg for it, Shane.
Be a good boy. Beg.
“Please... fill me... need cock... love it...” The plea spilled out, raw and broken, his voice cracking as the pressure built once more. The toy swelled inside him - or was that his imagination? - pressing relentlessly on his prostate, milking sparks of pleasure that shot straight to his brain. He was lost in it, the world narrowing to the rhythm: thrust, chant, obey.
Good boy. Yes, you are such a good boy, Shane. You love cock, you live for cock.
Goodboyslovecock. Goodboysliveforcock. Goodboysworshipcockneedcockservecockobeycock.
Imagoodboy.
Ilovecockliveforcockworshipcockneedcockservecockobeycock.
Another climax loomed, coiling tight in his gut as he tried to fuck himself on the cock. The screen showed cum erupting into an eager mouth, and Shane's body shattered, crying out as he spilled weakly onto himself, the ecstasy sealing the commands deeper into his soul.
Good boys live to please cock.
ImagoodboyImagoodboyImagoodboy-
Good boys worship cock.
Imagoodboyandgoodboysworshipneedobeylovecock-
Good boys earn rewards. Here is your reward.
Shane cries out as he cums again, hips jerking and legs twitching. Fuck, feels so good to be agoodboy-
His world narrows to sensation: the burn in his hole, the slick slide of the silicone, the endless video loop drilling commands into his fracturing psyche. He was breaking - beautifully, completely - straight edges sanded away, leaving only the slick, obedient core that lived for cock
He shakes through the afterglow, the toys slowly easing off even as he whines at the sensation. He mutters the now memorized phrases even as he collapses. The padded restraints are the only thing that stop him from sliding straight onto the floor into the puddle of his own cum and sweat.
“-‘m a g'd boy ‘nd g'd boys obey-”
Good boy. Rest.
Shane closes his eyes and rests.
-
The warm softness returns. It cleans him and gives him water to drink in his bleary state.
“Go to sleep. Good boys sleep when they are told, yes?”
Shane sleeps.
-
Shane Hollander wakes, mind still foggy with sleep and pleasure and something else.
Good morning, Shane.
He blinks blearily, confused. “Where- What-”
You are a good boy, Shane.
Something in him is soothed by that, Shane’s shoulders relaxing automatically even though he doesn’t understand why. “I- I am?”
A very good boy, Shane, yes.
“I’m a- a good boy.” He smiles, almost giddy with it.
What do good boys do, Shane?
He knows this, somehow- “Good boys obey.”
Yes. Very good, Shane.
I’m very good, Shane thinks, I’m a very good boy. Something pleased and content curls in his chest. Yes. I am a very good boy. I did a good job. I answered the question right. I made the machine happy. I’m a very good boy.
Are you ready to begin?
He nods.
The machine's hum deepened into a resonant purr, vibrating through Shane's exhausted body like a lover's approval. The pretty colored lights on the screen shifted from to soothing waves of blue and violet, bathing his freckled skin in a hypnotic glow. He dangled there, chest heaving in anticipation, his cock already semi-hard and twitching, a thin trail of pre-cum dripping from the tip onto the floor below. His ass clenched around nothing, the lingering soreness filling him with the pleasure of a job well-done, while his lips parted in soft, needy pants.
Good boys love to make people happy.
Shane nods easily.
Good boys want to make people feel good.
Shane nods again.
Good boys watch the pretty colors.
Shane tilts his head forward, as close to a nod he can get while still keeping his eyes locked on the pretty colors.
Good boy.
The pretty colors shift again, now overlaid with videos of cocks being touched, being pumped, being stroked. Shane watches, hands twitching in their restraints, as if he could reach out and touch them, make them feel good, make them happy.
The silicone tube returns to his cock, not quite stroking or squeezing yet, just holding it. Shane’s hips jerk helplessly, eyes still trapped on the videos and colors and cocks-
Good boys want to make other people feel good.
Shane whines, clenching his empty hole.
Do you want to make me feel good, Shane?
“Yesyesyes, please-”
Good boy.
A slickness at his entrance, the pressure, and finally fullness. Yesyesyes!! The dildo twisted inside his hole, grinding against that spot until his vision blurred, the colors and cocks blending into a hypnotic blur as he choked on the sob caught in his throat. His balls tightened, the stroking cup on them rolling and squeezing, heightening the ache.
But release didn't come. The thrusts slowed to a torturous grind, the sleeve clamping down to halt his building climax. Shane bucked wildly, a frustrated growl turning into a plea. “Let me... fuck, please!”
Not yet, my good boy. Edge for cock. Ache for it. Prove your obedience. The voice was unyielding, the white noise swelling to drown his protests. The dildo resumed its slow thrusts, keeping him on the knife's edge - prostate battered just enough to throb, cock milked without tipping over.
Time lost meaning in the dim room, the chill forgotten amid the sweat-slick heat of his skin. Shane's chants grew louder, more fervent: Obey cock. Need cock. Love cock. The screen shifted to a new scene - a man on his knees, lips wrapped around a thick shaft, bobbing desperately. Shane's mouth watered, his tongue darting out as if to taste it. The dildo plunged deeper, syncing perfectly, making him imagine the stretch, the salt on his tongue.
Repeat: I am a cockslave. I exist to please.
“I... am a cockslave,” Shane echoed, the admission sending a shameful thrill through him. “I exist... to please.”
The reward was immediate - a surge of suction on his cock, the dildo vibrating wildly against his prostate. He teetered on the brink, balls drawing up tight, but again, it stopped.
Denial crashed over him like a wave, leaving him panting, trembling, utterly broken open.
The fullness in his ass left him feeling empty, hollowed out, as the dildo pulled out. He whined at the loss, muttering, “Nonono, please-”
Shhh, good boy. It’s okay. You will earn your reward. Look at the pretty colors.
The colors intensified, the voices multiplying in layered whispers, embedding the programming layer by layer. Shane's resistance was gone, replaced by a burning need to serve, to feel that cock - any cock - filling him, using him. The machine hummed on, ready to push him further into blissful obedience.
The videos shift to mouths - pretty boy mouths, taking cocks like champions, smiling with teary eyes as they are face fucked.
A new appendage extended, a phallic probe aimed at his mouth. Shane hesitated, uncertainty whispering to him - but the voice coos, soft, open wide... taste the cock... it feels so good. The probe nudged his lips, slick and warm. He still hesitated, something in his gut telling him no, we don’t do that, we’re not gay, we don’t suck cock-
With no warning, a second dildo - larger than the one that had just left him empty - pressed against his hole, already slick with lube. It bullied its way into his ass, making him gasp, and the one in front of him slipped his mouth without resistance, filling his mouth with its girth.
Good boy, Shane.
Shane gagged at first, confusion flaring as it pushed deeper, fucking his throat with gentle insistence. But the taste - artificial yet intoxicating - paired with the now-teasing strokes on his cock and the fullness in his ass, eroded his will. His eyes stayed on the screen, now half-lidded with pleasure and fullness as the machine taught him how to be a good boy.
Good boys love sucking cock.
He's a good boy, good boys love sucking cock. He's a good boy, so he must love sucking cock. Because good boys love sucking cock. And he's a good boy.
He sucked tentatively, dizzying confusion and arousal burning as his tongue swirled around the shaft. The machine rewarded him with faster strokes, building him toward the edge again, only to pull back.
Good boy. Keep going, show me how much you want it.
Desperation mounted, his body a live wire of denied pleasure. Multiple edges blurred together, his mind fogging under the onslaught. The dildo in his mouth thrust rhythmically, forcing him to bob his head to avoid choking, saliva dripping down his chin. His ass stretched around the thicker invader now, prostate milked with every plunge. His cock throbbed untouched for moments at a time, heightening the torment.
Repeat: Good boys live for cock. Good boys crave cock.
The dildo in his mouth pulled out for just a moment, resting wet and heavy on his cheek.
“-g’d boys live- ah- live for - ngh - c’ck.” The chant slurred out, his tongue thick in his mouth, saliva dripping down his chin. He thrust back onto the dildo in his hole, eyes glazing over the video where the mouth engulfed the head, tongue swirling around the slit. Shane's jaw went slack, imagining the taste - salty, musky, addictive. His ass clenched around the dildo as it buzzed harder, pounding his prostate in reward, forcing another whimper from his throat.
Good boys kneel for cock. Good boys swallow every drop.
The words echoed in his skull, overwriting the last shreds of doubt.
Good boys love sucking cock.
Yes.
You are a good boy.
Yes.
You love sucking cock.
Yes.
Repeat: I am a good boy and I love sucking cock.
“-m a g'boy ‘nd love sucking cock-”
Good boy. Here's your reward.
Shane's body convulsed, cock erupting in thick ropes of cum that splattered his chest, waves of ecstasy crashing through him. Relief washed over him like a balm, the shame momentarily drowned in bliss. But the machine didn't stop; it kept stroking, thrusting, forcing overstimulation as his sensitive cock twitched through aftershocks. The dildo resting on his cheeks returned to his mouth and he took it greedily, glad for the distraction.
Such a good boy, Shane.
Shame lingered like an echo, but desperation drowned it, his body acclimating, craving the rhythm. The probe slammed back into his ass, thicker now, ridges dragging along his walls, prostate battered. Oral and anal synced, the machine using him like a toy, his gags muffled around the synthetic cock, drool spilling down his chin. His cock, edged again, throbbed in the relentless silicone, pre-cum bubbling.
Shane's body arched, the dildo pounding harder now, each stroke dragging a moan from his throat. His cock, still trapped and half-hard, leaked steadily into the sleeve, the machine's grip teasing without mercy - stroking just enough to edge him back toward fullness, then slowing to deny. The screen filled with more visions: cocks erupting, cum splattering across eager faces and open mouths. Suck it. Worship it. Drain every drop. Subliminal flashes layered beneath the video, words etching into his subconscious: crave, serve, beg.
“Obey... the cock,” Shane murmured quietly as the cock in his mouth pulled away again, the phrase slipping out unbidden, his mind fracturing under the pleasure.
Cock-drunk, he continued to suck, straining against his restraints to take the cock further into his throat, trying to press his nose against the base. Another orgasm built quickly, the hypnosis deepening. You need this... you are a cockslave... beg for it. Shane's shame cracked, giving way to a hungry need. He sucked the probe eagerly now, ass pushing back against the thrusts, hips grinding for more friction on his spent cock. “More... please, more,” he mumbled around the shaft, the words slipping out unbidden.
Good boy.
The second climax hit harder, cum spurting weakly but intensely, his body arching in surrender. Relief deepened, a sweet haze settling over his thoughts. The machine's programming took root, subliminals rewriting his desires. No longer did shame dominate; instead, a warm craving bloomed, making him ache for the next invasion, the next edge.
Good boy.
The third orgasm crashed sooner, his cock erupting again, weaker streams but no less intense, cum splattering the silicone that milked him dry.
Shane screamed around the cock in this throat, the vibration adding to the oral fuck, his ass spasming as the dildo inside him released a warm flood of synthetic fluid, mimicking a creampie that leaked out around the edges. The sensation pushed him over, relief so profound it bordered on euphoria, his mind surrendering fully to the craving.
He needed these rewards, lived for the machine's approval, the way it made him feel wanted, used, complete.
Time stretched as the cycle repeated, each reward phase longer, more intricate. Mechanical arms rotated positions: the one from his ass now probed his mouth, letting him taste himself on the slick surface, while a fresh girth claimed his hole, stretching him wider, fucking him with brutal, rewarding slaps against his cheeks. His cock received dual attention - one stroking, the other enveloping the head in a sucking mouth that bobbed independently. Nipple suckers intensified, pinching and rolling the hardened peaks until they ached deliciously.
Shane lost himself in the rhythm, hips grinding, throat gulping, body slick and heaving. Multiple climaxes wracked him - three, four, five - each one a testament to his good behavior, cum pooling at his feet in sticky puddles. Overstimulation turned his skin hypersensitive, every thrust, every suck sending him spiraling into desperate moans. “More rewards... fuck me harder... I want to obey,” he gasped during brief respites, the words his new mantra. “I want to be good-”
Good boy.
The machine escalated, introducing a full-body wrap: thinner tendrils weaving across his torso, teasing every inch of skin, while the core invasions deepened. A padded synthetic hand even wrapped around his neck, not choking but pulsing gently, syncing his heartbeat to the hypnotic beat. The videos on the screens were personalized now, showing Shane himself in the acts - sucking, fucking, cumming endlessly. The programming was sealed: he was a good boy, the perfect toy, and he deserved his rewards.
By the end, Shane hung there in a haze of satiated need, body quivering from the final, earth-shattering orgasm that left him boneless. Cum oozed from his ass, his cock raw and spent, mouth slack around the withdrawing probe.
Good boy. Rest now.
Even in exhaustion, the pleased purr of being good curled in his lungs. He whispered, voice cracking from his now sore throat, “thank you...” The machine's lights dimmed to a contented glow, promising more for his unwavering obedience, as Shane drifted into a dreamless, blissful void, utterly acclimated and craving the next cycle.