Balls Deep

Finally, Amy can't restrain herself any further. Her hips snap against my face one last time with a loud and painful crack, and stop. Her balls press against my lower lip, as her thick meat pulses in my throat, obstructing my airway and my sight.

All I can see is the trimmed hair and her soft, light skin. As her cock pulses, thick streams of cum pump into my throat in sequence. Kneeling in mindless submission, I don't bother to count. Amy simply sighs, “Swallow so you don't drown, fag.”

I immediately swallow the cum accumulated in my throat, and then start to swallow in time with her pulses. My stomach slowly fills with her cum, not all the way, but enough that morning hunger fades. She holds my head firmly as she cums.

She pulls back just enough to let me breathe, before pushing back in, continuing to unload inside my throat, using me as a literal cum-dump. I kneel in silent obedience, swallowing and taking it, mindless and reprogrammed how Amy saw fit.

Finally, the pulsing stops, and she steps back. Her cock slides out of my mouth and I breathe in, my lungs filling with her scent. The taste of her cock coats my tongue, as my eyes flutter and I look up at her. She smiles. “There's my good faggot.”

I smile as she pulls her shorts back up, stowing her sated prick back in her underclothes. I watch her face as she buttons, then zips, and straightens her shirt for good measure. She never stops looking down at me, and finally nods. “Deactivate.”

My eyes flutter immediately and I blink rapidly, swallowing reflexively as I look up at her for a moment. I wonder how long I've been on my knees, because I can register a tingling ache in the muscles of my legs.

“How'd it go?” I ask, as Amy holds a hand down to me. “Did you feed me while I was under?” I take Amy's hand, and she pulls me to my feet, nodding. I feel like I've got something in my stomach, but I definitely didn't eat before coming over.

“Yea. I gave you a protein drink,” she answers, “A pretty damn big one, actually!”

“Oh. Well, thanks!” I reply, “So, how'd it go?”

“You're a good subject. It was an incredible experience for me and a total success,” she says. I beam at her, happy to hear.

“Awesome!” I reply, and she grins at me, “So, time to reverse it? Or ... did you already reverse it?” Amy shakes her head, and I tilt mine curiously.

“I only volunteered for temporary, though!” I reply, and she nods, holding her hands up quickly.

“I know, I know,” she replies, “but the law says I don't have to honour that since you signed the waiver. Now don't, like, get mad, and assume that means I'm not going to, but ...” She pauses.

“All right. I'm listening.” She takes a deep breath and nods with a sigh of relief.

“Look, I need to let it settle in you for a few days. I'm not gonna reverse it right away,” she says, “Don't worry. I won't take the waiver to the government office and register you as reprogrammed, or anything.” I bite my lip firmly, but slowly nod.

“Well, okay, how long do you need me to stay brainwashed?” I ask, “And what actually happened while I was under, even? I have no memory of the last ... what time is it, now?” I look around, my eyes fluttering and widening as I see the clock.

“It's been two hours!?”

“Yea. You not remembering anything was one of my commands while you were under,” Amy answers in a very matter-of-fact tone, “I was doing tests. You're my best friend, I wanted to make sure I brainwashed you in a way that isn't harmful.”

“I took my time and made sure to enjoy myself. You know how long I've been looking forward to this,” Amy tells me, “Not as if people are lining up to be reprogrammed or anything.” She has a point, and I can't begrudge her for enjoying herself.

“All right, well, I'm glad you had fun,” I say, and she nods, “So, how long do you need me to remain brainwashed, Amy?”

“About a week, faggot,” she replies. I smile as she calls me that, without even thinking about it, or that she never used to.

“All right, Amy, I can handle that,” I reply, “One week, and then you deprogram me and return me to factory settings?” Amy snickers in amusement as I adopt the appropriate vernacular, but she nods reassuringly.

“You didn't do anything that's gonna get me in trouble over the next week or anything, did you?” I ask. She snickers.

“I know you well enough to know you enjoy being degraded and humiliated, fag!” she replies. My cheeks warm, but I still smile at what she called me, without questioning it for a second.

“Hey, it's one thing t- ... ” She holds her hands up.

“I'm kidding! I'm not gonna wreck your life this week,” she tells me, “For now, just go on home, relax, and let me run my various tests to make sure the hypnosis has settled and I have complete control over you, okay?” I sigh, but I nod to her.

“All right. Love you,” I say, and Amy nods, walking me to the mud-room where I grab my windbreaker and put it back on.

“Good faggot,” she says cheerfully, opening the door for me, “Go on, now.” I nod and head out the door, beginning to take a nice walk back home. I don't really know what she did, but she seems very satisfied with herself, and I'm happy to help.

Author's Note:
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